A Passion Most Pure

  Patrick nodded to the scruffy-looking friend on the stool next to Collin. The friend wagged his head in return, then slapped Collin on the back and retreated to the other end of the bar. Patrick ordered a ginger ale and rested his hands at the base of the glass. Collin chugged his whiskey and pushed the empty tumbler toward Lucas. He stared at the cherrywood bar as if in a stupor, and Patrick wasn’t all that sure he wasn’t.

  He laid his hand on his arm. “Collin, you’re like a son to me. What happens between you and Charity happens to all of us. We all hurt inside. What’s going on?”

  Collin took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, his eyes never wavering from the same sticky spot on the cherrywood bar. “I’m fed up, Mr. O’Connor.”

  Patrick took a sip of his ginger ale and sighed. “That makes two of us, then.”

  Collin swiveled to look at him, his eyes earnest. “Mr. O’Connor, your family means everything to me. More than anything in the world, I want to go on being a part of it.” He turned away and grabbed his drink. “I just don’t think it’s going to work.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I mean, they’re driving me crazy.”

  “They’re driving you crazy?”

  Collin glanced at Patrick as if trying to decide how much he should say. He hunched against the bar and laughed a hollow laugh. “Yeah … they’re driving me crazy. They hate each other, and I’m the reason.”

  “I know Faith had feelings for you in the past, but I think that’s over. She and Danny—”

  Collin twisted on the stool. The look on his face squelched Patrick mid-sentence. “No, Mr. O’Connor, you don’t understand. It’s not that Faith has feelings for me. It’s … well, it’s like this. I desperately want to marry your daughter. I just don’t know which one.”

  Patrick sagged against the bar. “How could something like this happen? What on God’s green earth were you thinking, man?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to marry Charity. But something happened …”

  “Like you making advances toward Faith?” Patrick singed Collin with his glare.

  Collin swallowed hard and took another drink. “I was pretty sure she’d tell you about that. It’s true, of course, and I take full responsibility for it. I was wrong. It’s just that …” Collin looked up, his eyes confused and almost pleading. “Sweet saints above, she drives me crazy! I mean, with Charity, I feel safe and warm and loved. But then Faith comes around, and I don’t know what it is. She’s got this exasperating way of stirring my blood along with my temper, and I don’t know why.” Collin slumped and swore under his breath. His gaze traveled to Patrick’s face. “Sorry ’bout that, Mr. O’Connor, but I can’t help the way I feel. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Patrick leaned forward. “Are you telling me you’re in love with Faith and not Charity?”

  Collin was the picture of confusion, slouching at the bar, hands clutching his drink as if he were holding on for strength. “I don’t know. I think so, but I’m not sure. You know, I’ve had a lot of experience with women, Mr. O’Connor, and when it comes to making love …” He hesitated, eyes flitting to Patrick’s face.

  The father in Patrick flinched.

  “Well, let’s just say, I know my way around. But when it comes to the real thing—I mean really loving someone—honestly, I’m just plain stupid. Do I want to marry Charity? I thought so. Do I love Faith?” Collin stared aimlessly at his drink. Seconds passed before he continued. “Heaven help me, I hope not.”

  Patrick sighed and swung his arm around Collin’s shoulder. “I hope not too, for Charity’s sake. No wonder you’re going crazy. Makes me crazy just listening to you. Marcy and I knew how Faith felt about you but thought it was pretty one-sided. We were sure if we could just keep her from you for a time, she’d get past it. And she’s done well, I think, especially with Danny in the picture.” Patrick noticed the scowl on Collin’s face. “Out of curiosity, Collin—how did Charity discover you had feelings for Faith?”

  Collin shifted on the stool, averting his gaze.

  Patrick waited, but Collin wasn’t in a hurry to answer. “Collin?”

  He exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead with his hands, then dropped them, palms down on the bar. “I’m afraid she caught us,” he whispered.

  Patrick leaned close. “What?”

  Collin turned and looked him in the eye. “Charity caught us—together. You might say we were otherwise engaged.”

  Patrick sprang from the stool, his heart thundering in his chest. “So help me, Collin, if you took advantage of her …”

  Collin’s hand shot up to ward Patrick off. “So help me, I never took advantage of her. Please believe me! We just kissed—pretty intensely, I’ll grant you—but nothing else happened. You have my word on that.”

  “I suspect with a ring on her finger, Charity thought she had your word too.” Patrick couldn’t help the sarcasm. The fact that Collin flinched satisfied him. “So, Charity found you like that? When? Where?”

  “It happened Saint Patrick’s night on your front porch. It had been so long since I’d been at Brannigan’s, I guess it got the better of me. I came knocking on your door just as Faith got home. She could tell I’d been drinking and was afraid you’d see me.” Collin’s look was sheepish. “The truth is I was pretty far gone. She made me sit on the swing while she brewed coffee. I was upset about something and asked if she would stay and talk.”

  Collin stopped to gulp his whiskey. “She read me the riot act, I’m afraid, telling me I needed to turn my life over to God if I wanted to be a good husband to Charity. I have to say, she was wonderful. She actually got me to pray with her, if you can believe that. That’s when it finally hit me what an incredible woman she is, Mr. O’Connor. And the next thing I knew, I was kissing her … and Charity saw it all.”

  Collin shoved the empty glass away, propped his elbows on the bar, and put his head in his hands. He moaned softly. “I am such a heel—the king of all heels! It’s not bad enough I have to hurt one of your daughters; I have to hurt two!”

  “That certainly explains the subzero temperatures around the house lately. Well, son, I’m afraid you’ve got a decision to make, and you better do it fast. Faith or Charity—pick one and let the other one go. And trust me, Collin, the answer’s not at the bottom of a bottle.”

  Collin nodded absentmindedly. “I know. But the decision isn’t between Faith and Charity. Even if I did choose Faith, she still wouldn’t have me.”

  Patrick squinted, bunching his brows. “Why not? Because of Charity?”

  Collin shook his head. “No … well, yes, that’s part of it, I suppose, but not all.”

  “Then what?”

  “This is probably going to shock you, Mr. O’Connor, but I’m not real big on God.”

  Patrick looked at Collin and blinked. “I know you’re no choir boy, Collin, but you go to church with us every week and pray at our table. I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean when you say you’re not big on God.”

  “I mean I don’t have much use for him, at least not until I’ve been coming around your family, and even then it’s been primarily pretense on my part. I don’t even know if I really believe in him. You see, I would have done anything to get you to let me see Charity, and I did. I pretended to be a good Catholic boy so I could marry your daughter.”

  Patrick’s smile faded. “I see. And Charity knows this?”

  Collin nodded. “It doesn’t matter to her.”

  “But it matters to Faith.” Patrick’s tone was matter-of-fact.

  Collin stared straight ahead and nodded.

  “Mmm … yes, I guess it would,” Patrick said softly. “My Faith has a deep devotion to God. She reads the Bible to Mrs. Gerson every week and takes Scripture very seriously. Unfortunately for you, I believe it tells her to avoid being ‘unequally yoked.’ I’m afraid the man who wins her heart is going to have to go through God first to do it.”

  Collin wilted on the stool. “That’s pretty
much what she said, more or less. So you see, the decision isn’t between Faith and Charity. It’s between marrying Charity while being in love with Faith, or going away altogether.” Collin sighed. “Not much of a choice.”

  “Which is why you enlisted?”

  Collin’s smile was weak. “Nobody would believe it was the coward’s way out, would they? I thought it would buy me time to sort things out.”

  “There is a third choice, you know.”

  Collin almost managed a grin. “I refuse to enter the seminary, Mr. O’Connor.”

  Patrick grinned back and patted his shoulder. “Close. You could actually turn to God. Stranger things have happened. Look at me. I once felt a lot like you. Then I met Marcy, and the world changed. She made me want to be a better man. That’s what the right woman does for you. Marcy’s faith ignited mine, and it’s been a flame that’s burned brightly ever since.”

  “I don’t know. It’s so hard to believe. I’d like to, honestly I would, but I just don’t. How am I supposed to change that?”

  Patrick stood and reached for his coat. “I don’t think you’ll have to—he will. You see, Collin, war has a way of illuminating the face of God. But until then, life is short, so don’t be a stranger. I want to see you at our house tomorrow for lunch after mass, no excuses. You will be civil to my daughters, and you will make it perfectly clear to both Charity and Faith regarding your true feelings. And you will apologize to both for the emotional turmoil you’ve subjected them to. Am I making myself clear?”

  Collin nodded. He looked drained.

  “And, Collin …”

  He lifted his gaze, eyes sunken into ashen cheeks.

  “The truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you. Quite frankly, you’re a son to me, and I’m confident God will steer you right, if you let him. Rest assured, I plan to pray about it for you. But, bottom line?” Patrick tossed the payment for his tab onto the bar and buttoned his coat, giving Collin a thin smile. “See to it you marry one of my daughters.”

  Collin was there at mass the next morning, waiting in the vestibule as usual, and wearing his best suit. Despite a late night at Brannigan’s, he seemed none the worse for the wear, except for the bloodshot eyes and somber mood—signs of his bout with the bottle that could easily be taken as the result of sleepless nights. Good, Patrick thought, pleased to see Collin was feeling the full effects of his misguided actions. He fought a smile as he ushered his family into the church.

  Collin nodded at Charity, whose eyes rounded with surprise. “Collin, you came! I didn’t know if … I’m so glad.” She seemed nervous as she smiled in her most alluring manner.

  “I needed time to calm down, Charity, but we need to talk.” His eyes flickered past her to Faith. “I need to talk to you both, I’m afraid.”

  The smile faded on Charity’s lips as she glanced at her sister. She nodded quietly and walked in ahead, leaving him to follow into the pew. Faith lingered behind, allowing the rest of the family to enter before her. Patrick watched the scene with a dull ache. Why did his daughters’ affairs of the heart have to be so blasted complicated? Kneeling, he made the sign of the cross and turned his attention to St. Stephen, beseeching him on behalf of his daughters’ happiness, not to mention his own peace of mind.

  For the first time in a long while, Collin felt uncomfortable kneeling beside the O’Connors in the sacred shadows of St. Stephen’s Church. Over the last six months, he had almost enjoyed coming here. The calm and peace of this hallowed place had filled him with a serenity he had seldom known in years of obligatory mass and forced catechism. But for some reason this morning, the things he’d taken pleasure in before, such as the shafts of brilliantly colored light pouring through the stained-glass windows or the sweet scent of incense in the air, now only served to provoke a cynicism within. One, he suspected, that had been resident all along but for a time had been quelled by the tranquility of this holy place.

  It certainly didn’t help that this morning’s homily was Psalm 37:4. He shifted in the pew at the sound of the words. “Delight thyself also in the Lord and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” No doubt one of Faith’s top-ten verses, he mused with a degree of bitterness. Well, maybe she believed it, and Patrick as well, but Collin suspected it was going to take more than blind faith to convince him that this Scripture—or any other—bore much merit at all.

  He leaned back and stole a glimpse at Faith out of the corner of his eye, his face angled just enough to bring her into view. She seemed oblivious to anyone else, lost in her God, he supposed, as she prayed with eyes closed and face lifted. There was an intensity in her manner that was so much a part of who she was. His lips steeled and his bitterness flared. He swore silently. Yes, he wanted her, but he didn’t want her God, and she’d made it abundantly clear it was a package deal. Oh, he was a “believer,” all right. He believed that slighted deity was making him pay, a thought that only served to harden him more.

  Following mass, he accompanied them home, where lunch was filled, as always, with the laughter and easy banter of a meal shared in the O’Connor household. And yet, Collin felt somewhat removed, as if preparing to leave this refuge provided in his otherwise lonely existence. He almost wished his day of departure was upon him, so awful was the feeling of dread at its coming.

  Patrick cleared his throat and gave him a look. Collin took his cue and stood to his feet. “Mr. O’Connor, I’d like to speak with Charity, privately on the porch, if I may.”

  Patrick nodded and excused Charity from the dishes while Collin walked to the door and held it open. She stood, glancing from her father’s somber face to Collin’s before stepping into the parlor, through the hall, and out the front door. She lowered herself onto the swing. Collin bypassed it altogether to lean against the railing. His long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he folded his arms across his chest.

  “Charity,” he began, his gaze glued to the floor, “I care about you a great deal—”

  “I love you too, Collin.”

  He looked up at her. “I care about you, Charity, I do. But understand me—I’m not sure if I love you.”

  She blinked, and he saw the hurt on her face. He continued, his tone softer. “I’m not ruling out marriage. I just don’t know how I feel—about you, about Faith. What I do know is I owe you an apology for things I’ve done, things I regret.” He took a deep breath and looked away, knuckles straining as he gripped the banister. He lifted a hand to rub at a tic vibrating in his cheek. “Especially the hurt I’ve caused because of Faith, because of feelings I have for her …”

  “You told me you didn’t love her.”

  His head jerked up. “I told you I didn’t know … any more than I know if I love you. All I do know is I want to be fair—to you, to Faith, and to myself.”

  “You don’t love me, then.”

  “I care about you very much …”

  “Enough to marry me, Collin?”

  He studied her without speaking, then looked down. “I don’t know, Charity.”

  “Enough to marry her?”

  He could feel the heat creep up the back of his neck.

  She slowly stood, a stricken look on her face. “I see. And does she know you love her?”

  He jumped to his feet and spun around to clutch at the porch railing. “Blast it all, Charity, I don’t know that I love her.”

  “But you think you do, don’t you?”

  He turned to stare at her.

  “Don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, and she collapsed into the swing. He took a step forward, even though instinct told him to stop. But the sight of her tore at his gut. Against his better judgment, he sat and folded her in his arms.

  “Charity, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” He kissed the top of her head, then softly twined his fingers at the back of her neck. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, how I’ll feel when I return. I need to sort things out. Europe will give me the time to do that. I can’t promis
e it’ll turn out the way you want. What I can promise is I’ll think long and hard about it—about us, about what’s best for you and for me.” A smile pulled at his lips. “In fact, I’m pretty sure when I’m stuck in some vile trench somewhere, I’ll be thinking very long and very hard about you.” He lifted her chin. “Especially how beautiful you are.”

  She looked up from under wet lashes, lips slightly parted, and Collin found himself fighting the urge to kiss her. He started to stand. She gripped his arm. “Collin, we’re good together! Nobody will love you like I can.”

  He pushed her hand aside and stood, eyes burning from anger and desire. “So help me, you O’Connor women are really something. Neither of you fights fair. I have you driving me crazy like this, and the other one driving me crazy with God.” He swore softly as his fingers kneaded the back of his neck. “Blast it all, I feel like I’m already behind enemy lines.”

  He stepped back, his breathing labored. A faint smile trembled on her lips. He aimed a finger at her while a spasm tickled his jaw. “Look, Charity, I told you once I don’t take kindly to teasing. I’m not going to tell you again. You just won’t see me.”

  Her smile broke into a grin. “You just can’t handle it because you love me,” she said, confidence resurging in her tone.

  He stopped and assessed her through wary eyes. “No, I can’t handle it because I’m attracted to you. There’s a big difference.”

  “Well, that’s good enough—for now.”

  He silently cursed the fact she had never looked more seductive, with her golden hair disheveled and blue eyes wide and wet. Her lips parted, full and pouty, as she observed him from the swing, while her hand toyed with the button at the high collar of her dress. He finally shook his head and laughed as he leaned against the railing, eyes focused on her fingers.

  “All right, Collin, I understand. You need time to make up your mind, so the engagement is officially off—for now. Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

  The blood coursed through his veins as he watched her, and he nodded, almost oblivious to her question. His gaze fixed on the button now unfastened against her throat. Slowly she stood and moved to his side. His heart was pounding, and she smiled as if she could hear it.