A Passion Redeemed (49 page)

Faith stared, then finally sighed. "Okay, I'll help you. On one condition."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"No seduction. Just plain, God-fearing honesty."

Charity crossed her arms. "No way. That man plans on marrying another woman, and soon. I need all the weapons in my arsenal."

"Then I can't help you convince Father ...

Her lips skewed in thought as she stared at her sister. She finally plopped into the chair with a resigned smile. "Okay, deal. No seduction. I suppose it's hard to argue with a success story."

Faith grinned. "It is, isn't it? But you can have success too, you know."

"Well, I certainly intend to. Maybe not by seducing him, but I'm sure not going to let him get away scot-free." She gave Faith a pointed look. "I want to make sure that man understands what he's giving up."

Her sister's eyes were tender as they searched her face. "Just keep it on the up and up, Charity, please. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Charity released a heavy sigh and gave her a bittersweet smile. "Me, neither, sis. But I can tell you one thing. It sure can't feel any worse."

Charity squinted through the pane of glass in the door, then backed up to double-check the sign overhead. McGuire & Brady Printing Company. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She'd promised Faith she'd clear the air with Collin, but not before she gave him a piece of her mind. She pushed the door open and glanced up at the sound of a tinkling bell. She scanned the tiny shop, impressed with its neatness even though it was crowded with furniture, equipment, and stacks of paper everywhere. And no Collin.

A tall man with a thatch of brown hair tumbling over his eyes peered out from the back, telltale smudges of ink spanning his face. He blinked. "Can I help you?"

She crossed her arms. "Yes, I'd like to speak with Collin McGuire, please."

He smiled. "He's out making deliveries right now. Is there something I can do for you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Not unless you want an earful, Mr....

"Brady, John Brady." He reached out an ink-stained hand, shirtsleeves rolled up to expose a hard line of muscles knotting his arm.

She stared.

He quickly wiped his hand on his work apron, which looked suspiciously like he'd cleaned every machine in the place with it. "Sorry, tends to get a little messy in the back room."

She nodded, taking in the way his brown eyes twinkled despite the seriousness of his hard-chiseled face. "When do you expect him back?" She moved about, surveying the shop.

"Who?"

She turned and lifted a brow.

"Oh, you mean Collin. Not for a while, I'm afraid. He just left."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, you're Brady! Collin's trench mate during the war, right?"

He grinned, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. "One and the same. And you?"

She smiled and extended a hand. "Charity O'Connor, Collin's former fiancee."

With a wide grin, he pumped it with a firmness that made her wince. He immediately pulled away. "Yeah, now I remember seeing you briefly at the wedding. You missed the reception, as I recall. Collin said you weren't feeling well. Sorry about the handshake. Sometimes I don't know my own strength. It just feels so good to finally put a face to a name."

"Not one used in vain, I hope?"

The sound of his laughter lifted her spirits. "I don't believe I'm at liberty to say."

She looked at the ink smudge on her hand and wrinkled her nose. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare rag, would you?"

Leaning over a box, he fished out a towel that was even dirtier than his apron. "It's not exactly pristine, but it should do the job."

"Thanks." She wiped her hand and tossed it back.

He caught it in the air and grinned. "So what do you think of our boy, married at last?"

She smiled and folded her arms. "Well, 'our boy' is not my boy anymore, so I guess I can say I'm pretty happy for the both of them. Actually, they're perfect for each other, although I have to admit, I never thought I'd see the likes of Collin McGuire enamored with God."

Brady shook his head and leaned against the doorframe, a boyish grin on his face. "I can tell ya, there were many a moment I had my doubts. But God got him in the end." He shifted, his eyes boring into hers. "He usually does."

She cocked her head. "Oh, I forgot. You're the one who preached at him day and night till he was blue in the face. I'd love to know what you said that turned him around."

His grin softened into a smile. "Why, you interested?"

She blinked. He was attractive, but not her usual type. Too clean, too honest to suit her, none of the bad-boy gleam that always turned her head. And yet, there was something ...

She gave him the benefit of her sweeping lashes and dazzling smile. "Maybe."

He stood up straight, shocking her with his towering height. "Good. Come by anytime for Bible study with Beth during lunch hour. She's here three days a week about this time." He glanced out the front window and smiled. "In fact, she's here right now, if you care to join us."

Charity looked up to see her sister running down the street. She swallowed hard and glanced back at Brady. "Bible study? You want me to come to Bible study? That's it?"

The smile faded on his face. "Yeah, of course. What did you think I meant?"

A blush heated her cheeks. A rare occurrence, except when it came to Mitch Dennehy. The bell over the door jangled, sounding like an alarm in her mind.

Beth was huffing when she finally rushed in. Her hand all but froze to the knob as she stared at Charity, mouth and door gaping. "Charity ... what are you doing here?"

"I came to have it out with Collin."

Beth's face relaxed. Her gaze darted to Brady. A shy smile creased her lips. "Hi, Brady."

He grinned and walked over to loop an arm around her shoulders. He gave her a big-brother squeeze. "Hi, buddy, how was school today?"

Beth gazed up, her face positively glowing. "Good, Brady. I did what you said."

He planted a kiss on her head and grinned at Charity. "She's a quick study."

Charity cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I'll be going. I don't want to intrude."

Brady smiled. "Okay. Nice meeting you. Come by anytime." He turned and ushered her sister to the back room. Beth smiled and gave Charity a quick wave, then focused her attention on Brady as he reached for a Bible and plopped it on the table. He eased back in a battered cane-back chair, annoyingly oblivious to the fact that Charity was still in the room.

She blinked. What just happened? The cold shoulder? From a grown man? One preferring time spent with her waifish fifteen-year-old sister than her? She gaped at his back, irritated by the muscled span of it as he leaned over the table, head propped against one hand while flipping pages with the other. She lifted her chin. Who in the devil did he think he was, anyway? Mr. Holier-than-Thou?

She spun on her heel and charged toward the door, her pride stinging as much as the heat in her cheeks. She yanked it open with a loud clang of the bells, then slammed it closed to vent her frustration. Two men whistled as she passed, helping to temper her mood. She pressed her lips tight and ignored their smiles, jutting her chin in the air.

Bible study, her foot. When pigs-or Mr. John Brady-could fly.

The door banged closed, sending shivers through the small shop. Brady looked up with a grin. "So that's your big sister, Charity? Didn't get a chance to meet her at the wedding."

Beth bit her lip and nodded. "Do you think she's pretty? Everyone else does."

He studied the fragile hope in her eyes as she awaited his answer. He smiled and chucked her on the chin. "Not as pretty as you, Beth."

She blushed near scarlet and looked down at her open notebook. "Don't lie to me, Brady. Everyone says Charity's one of the prettiest girls they've seen. At least every boy in my class."

He lifted her chin with his thumb, his eyes serious. "I'm not lying, Beth. Charity is beautiful, there's no doubt about that. But you've got a gentle beauty inside and out, which makes you twice as pretty, to my way of thinking."

She giggled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "You always know the right thing to say, John Brady." She picked up her pencil and began to doodle, working the edge of her lip with her teeth. "So ... tell me, why have you never married?"

He looked up with a chuckle. "What?"

She lowered her gaze, quickly sketching on the paper. "You heard me. You're nice-looking and good, and you always say the right thing." She looked up and tilted her head. "How old are you, anyway? Haven't you ever fallen in love?"

This time he laughed out loud and pushed the Bible toward her. "Come on, Beth, you've been reading too many romance novels and not enough of this."

"I think you're stalling."

He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his emerging shadow of beard. He expended a weary sigh. "I'm twentysix and I'll marry when God wants me to."

"That's no answer, and you know it. Tell the truth. Have you ever been in love?"

He looked up, softening at the innocence in her eyes. He smiled. "Yes, a long time ago."

She thudded her elbow on the table and leaned in, resting her jaw on her hand. Her eyes widened in expectation, accentuating their unusual violet hue. "So, what happened?"

"She sent me a letter during the war."

"A letter?"

His lips slanted into a droll smile. "She broke the engagement."

„Why?„

He sat up and started rustling through the pages of the Bible, his jaw set. "None of your business, young lady. We're here to discuss the Word of God, not my social life."

"Do you think you'll ever fall in love again?"

He glanced up. "Don't know. It's up to God."

She paused, rolling the pencil between two fingers. "Charity's free. Do you think you could fall in love with her?"

"Do you want to study or not?"

"It's just a harmless question. Do you?"

"One last answer, then no more, agreed?"

She nodded.

"I'll fall in love with a woman if and when God wants me to, but I can guarantee you one thing right off the bat. If I do, it will be someone with a heart for God and his Word. Now. Do you want to study or should I send you packing?"

She grinned and picked up her pencil. "Nope. That's all I needed to know. Studying would be lovely."

"No? What do you mean, no?" Charity sat up straight in the chair, then leaned over the table to give Brady the benefit of her incriminating gaze.

He glanced up from the Bible. "You know what no means." His lips quirked. "Or maybe you don't."

She crossed her arms. "You're refusing to pray?"

He exhaled and closed the Bible, unwinding his long legs from around the chair. He stood and stretched. "About that, yes."

"But why? For a solid month now, you've been railing at me to get closer to God, badgering me with Scripture, and now you tell me you won't even pray?"

He extended his arms high overhead, his tight muscles straining with the effort. One of his thick, dark brows jagged up. "Railing? Badgering?"

"Oh, all right, I came here willingly, but only because I needed your help."

He strolled over to a pot-bellied stove and poured thick coffee into an ink-stained cup. He lifted the pot in the air. "Want some?"

She shivered and made a face. "That swill? No, thank you. Last time, it felt like I had tar in my throat for days."

He chuckled and sat back down, eyeing her over the rim. "God's help, not mine."

"What?"

He put the cup down and sloped back in the chair. "You came because you needed God's help. To win Mitch back, remember?"

She sank back in the chair with a sigh. "And now you won't even help me pray about it."

"I will help you pray about it, Charity. But God's way, not yours."

She worked at her lip as she studied him. John Brady was a true enigma. A quiet man with a strength of heart she had seldom encountered. A towering mystery, more enamored with the spirit than the flesh and totally indifferent to his own attraction. And certainly hers. His indifference had stung at first, provoking a challenge to turn his head. But instead he had turned hers ... to the God she long denied.