A Passion Denied

  Brady wiped his face with the towel draped around his shoulder, then flicked it at Cluny’s spindly legs. “Hate to tell ya, bud, but you still reek like her too. If you want to turn the heads of the ladies instead of their stomachs, you’re going to have to develop a fondness for baths.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think I’ll wait to get my muscles first. No sense in wasting good water until I can tempt them with more.”

  “You teaching this boy to tempt the ladies, Brady, is that what I’m hearing?” Collin slung an arm around Cluny’s shoulders and cocked a brow at Brady.

  “Yeah, Collin, spread the word. I’m a devil in disguise.”

  Collin leaned close to the boy’s ear to whisper in a loudly conspiratorial tone. “Don’t have to spread such talk, do we, Cluny, my boy? Bet every gal in town already knows, eh?” He tapped the kid on the head with a rolled-up magazine. “Here, brought you something.”

  Cluny laughed and hunkered down on the bench to leaf through a copy of The Ring magazine with Billy, George, and Dave Shade on the cover. “Wow, thanks, Collin, this is swell!”

  Brady rolled his neck and flexed his fingers. “Put your money where your mouth is, Collin, and get undressed. I aim to do some punching, and it doesn’t matter to me whether it’s you or the bag.”

  “Don’t tempt me, John. I’m in a punching mood myself. Butted heads with Faith again last night over quitting her job, so I’m more than ready to take both you and the bag on. But you’re in luck. I need you in one piece. Three more jobs came in tonight after you left. Friday deadlines.”

  Brady groaned. “That’s it. We have to hire somebody. We’re growing way too fast.”

  Collin stripped off his shirt and tossed it over the bench. He kicked off his work shoes and dropped his trousers to reveal a faded pair of gym shorts. “Yeah, I know, but I want to hold off as long as possible. Not real anxious to dole out more money to somebody who won’t work as hard as we do. I’m having a devil of a time as it is convincing Faith we don’t need her paycheck. The more we do ourselves, the more money we can make.”

  “Can’t spend it if you die from exhaustion, you know.”

  Collin stepped out of his ink-stained pants and flipped them over the bench. He sat down to lace up his boxing shoes and shot a quick glance at Cluny, who was absorbed in the magazine. He lowered his voice and gave Brady a wicked grin. “What are you exhausted for? I’m the one who works all day and then has to go home and try to get his wife pregnant.”

  Brady wrapped his fingers in a soft cloth before tugging a padded leather glove on with his teeth. “That settles it. I’m going first. I’ve got some pent-up aggression I gotta release. And since I need you at work, I’ll have to beat the stuffing out of the bag instead.”

  “That might be a good idea.” Collin stood to his feet, his gaze flicking to Cluny and then back. “Especially after I tell you what I know.”

  Brady loosened his muscles with two quick swipes of his arms. He nodded for Collin to get into position behind the bag. “So tell me.”

  “Lizzie’s seeing Michael.”

  Brady was supposed to be the one doing the punching, but he felt like Collin had just landed one square in his gut. “What are you talking about?”

  “He was sitting with her at Mass yesterday morning, bold as you please, like one of the family. You can imagine my surprise when he was still around for Marcy’s Sunday dinner last night.” Collin braced the back of the bag with taut arms, as if preparing for Brady’s assault.

  Brady bludgeoned the bag with several blows that slammed hard against Collin’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. “I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you feel like it,” Collin whispered, still gasping for air, “but you and I both know that’s not an option. You need to make amends and let it go. You’re like a brother to me, John, but I gotta tell you—she has a right to see whoever she wants.”

  “Not him.”

  “Especially him. You better face up to it, ol’ buddy. Lizzie’s in love with someone she can’t have, and he’s as close to John Brady as she’s likely to get.”

  The bag hammered Collin’s jaw without mercy for fifteen seconds of bullet-fire pummeling. Brady’s breath was ragged when he stopped. “He’s the farthest thing there is from me. He’s a liar and a manipulator who has as much use for God as he does for Lizzie. He’s using her to get to me. I’m telling you, Collin, he’s no good for her.”

  Collin stepped away from the bag to momentarily massage his jaw. “Well, no offense, John, but lately you haven’t exactly been good for her, either. And what do you mean, he’s using her? Do you really think so low of your own flesh and blood?”

  “Lower,” he hissed, then followed it with a curse that sounded so foreign to his own ears, heat shot up the back of his neck. “I pray to God he goes back to the devil where he belongs.”

  Collin arched a brow. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing prayers don’t rise quite as well when anchored by a curse.” He butted his torso hard against the bag from his waist to his shoulders, obviously steeling himself against his partner’s wrath. “I could be wrong, of course, but it’s just an offhanded guess.”

  “Shut up, Collin, this isn’t funny.”

  Collin stepped away from the bag. “No, John, I don’t think it is. Actually, I think it’s pretty sad. That the man who emulates Christ to me more than anyone alive is eaten up with hate for his own brother.”

  Few people in his life had ever been able to call John Brady on sin. At least the sins they could see. The effect of Collin’s words stunned him like a blow to the head. He sagged against the bag and closed his eyes to ward off the wetness stinging his eyelids. Shame washed over him at the touch of Collin’s grip on his shoulder, and his voice, low and intense, pierced him through.

  “John, you were the one who taught me how to forgive, remember? Years ago, when my own bitterness toward my mother rivaled yours for Michael? Nobody knows how to let go and give it to God better than you. Do it—for my sake as well as yours. I love you too much to see you like this.”

  “I thought I had, Collin. I thought I had.”

  “That was before Lizzie, my friend. If you truly believe he’s a threat to her, talk to her, tell her why. Then pray for her and leave it in God’s hands. But first you have to deal with your hate for Michael, or it will hinder your prayers like it’s hindered your life.” He looped an arm around Brady’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe that may have been the first lesson I was privileged to learn in John Brady’s School of Hard Knocks.”

  Brady wiped the sweat from his forehead with the side of his arm. “Yeah, well, I was pretty sure it was going to come back and haunt me one day, and I was right. Even so, you’re a good friend, Collin. I’m not sure I deserve you.”

  Collin grinned. “Oh, you deserve me all right, ol’ buddy. Give me those gloves and I’ll show ya just how much. And when I’m done pulverizing you like you did me, we’ll head back to your place and deal with this foul stench in your life.” He leaned toward Brady and wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air. “Both of ’em.”

  God help her, if Mitch grunted one more time, Marcy was going to jump out of her skin. She sat on the edge of a school-style wooden bench in the large, sterile waiting room, knuckles knotted in her lap while he paced back and forth like the wipers on Patrick’s new Model T. It was bad enough Charity had gone into labor early—she was not quite eight and a half months—but a muscle twitched at the back of Marcy’s eye every time Mitch lurched to and fro in short, spasmodic motion. Her eyes tracked him as he made another pass, his back stiff and his throat emitting a grinding noise with each annoying stride.

  She shot to her feet. “For heaven’s sake, Mitch, can’t you sit down?”

  Lizzie looked up from her book while Faith touched Marcy’s arm. “Mother, why don’t we get some fresh air?”

  Mitch grunted, his hand knuckle-deep in a pass through his short
, cropped hair. “What’s taking so blasted long?”

  The look of fear in his eyes soured Marcy’s stomach with guilt. She moved to embrace him in a hug, the top of her head barely reaching the midway point of his chest. “Mitch, forgive me, please. I’m on edge just like you. This is your wife and your baby, I know, but this is my daughter and my first grandchild. And so help me, God, I do believe if those nurses don’t part with some information soon, I may just gouge out an eye or two.” She patted his arm and forced a smile. “And trust me, they won’t be mine.”

  He exhaled and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll hold ’em down.”

  Her laughter melted into a sigh. She dropped onto the bench and patted Faith’s hand. “Thanks for the offer, but wild horses the size of Mitch Dennehy couldn’t drag me out of here right now. What time is it?”

  Lizzie turned a page of her book, never missing a beat. “Eight fifteen.”

  “Mother, I’m hungry,” Katie moaned. Tangled blond hair sprawled down the sides of her white middy blouse as she slumped low on the railway benches that bordered the room. Her navy pleated skirt draped over knees stretched so wide, you could see her white sateen bloomers.

  “Katie Rose, for mercy’s sake, ladies don’t sit like that, for the hundredth time. And you can’t be hungry. Lizzie said you ate like a fiend when she took you to Woolworth’s.” She eyed Steven with suspicion. “Please tell me you’re reading the book due for your report on Friday and not that silly magic handbook.”

  Color merged with the freckles in his cheeks. “I left it at school. On accident.”

  Marcy shook her head and blew out a noisy puff. She put a palm to her forehead. “For the love of all that is good, where in the world is your father?”

  Mitch ground to a halt. “You let him know, didn’t you?”

  She peeked out beneath the edge of her hand. “I assumed you did.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he groaned. “I just made a dash for the door because I thought you two would talk.”

  She released a slow, heavy breath. “No, we didn’t. I left a note for him at home, of course, but he’s probably still at work. Lizzie, would you mind giving him a call, please? I saw a phone in the hall. I’m sure he’d want to be here.” She glanced at Faith. “Did you talk to Collin?”

  “No, I came right here when you called, but I left a message at Clancy’s Gym. He’s working out with Brady tonight. I should call again, though. I’ll bet he didn’t get it.”

  Mitch resumed his roaming. “How long can it possibly take to have a baby?”

  “A lot longer than eight hours, most likely,” Marcy said with a crooked smile, “especially for the first one. Keep in mind that she’s been in labor since noon when Mr. McKenzie and I brought her in. I swear, I was so grateful to see his car in the driveway, I almost kissed his neck.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just hope he didn’t miss his meeting.”

  Mitch came to a standstill. His blue eyes darkened to gray. “I should have been the one taking her to the hospital, not some lecherous neighbor who’s always gawking at your daughters.”

  “Bruce McKenzie is not lecherous, Mitch Dennehy, and well you know it. For pity’s sake, the poor man’s a widow, so naturally he perks up when he sees a pretty girl. Besides, I already told you that Charity refused to let me call because she didn’t want to put you through another episode of false labor. And quite frankly, I saw no reason to worry anyone. Her contractions have been steady and slow, and I know how long it can take. And you know how stubborn she is.”

  He jerked the tie loose from his neck with renewed anxiety. A button from his now disheveled shirt came along with it, pinging against the wall. It skittered across the black-and-white linoleum floor, spinning like a top.

  Marcy arched a brow. “And she certainly knows how crazed you can be when it comes to this baby.”

  Lizzie breezed back in and bussed her mother’s cheek. “Father’s on his way. He’s coming from the Herald.”

  Marcy sighed. “Naturally.”

  Lizzie squinted at Mitch. “Did you know you’re missing a button?”

  With a soft whoosh, the steel double doors flew open. They ricocheted off antiseptic-white walls with a loud bang. A rush of questionable air infused the stuffy waiting room.

  “Do we have a baby yet?”

  Collin and Brady were a matched set—hair rumpled and matted from sweat. They wore matching work shirts that looked like they’d been doused with a hose.

  “Where have you been? I left the message with Clancy hours ago.” Faith hurried over, stopping short of a hug.

  Collin pushed the hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. It spiked in a stiff, wet peak. “Sorry, but Clancy forgot until we arrived at Brady’s. But at least he called there, and here we are. A bit ripe, but accounted for. How’s Charity?”

  “No news yet,” Lizzie said, glancing up at Brady. She stared at his hard-muscled chest, now sporting a sheen of sweat above several neglected buttons, and heat warmed her cheeks. She quickly looked away, embarrassed that even the overly musky scent of this man did not offend her. “We think she’s fine, but we don’t really know. Haven’t seen a nurse in over two hours.”

  “Sorry we stink, Lizzie, but men don’t smell real good when they work out, you know.” Cluny butted through with a grin.

  Lizzie smiled. “Yes, I know.”

  He suddenly spied Katie asleep in the chair and wriggled his brows. “Mmmm . . . Sleeping Beauty. Maybe I’ll wake her up.” He disappeared with a gleam of trouble in his eyes.

  “Beth, can we talk?”

  She turned, suddenly shy. “Sure, Brady. Outside in the hall?”

  He nodded and held the door while she sidled through. She made a beeline for a bench at the other end, and he followed, settling on the far side. He seemed on edge, his back stiff against the wall and muscles knotted with tension. “There something you want to tell me, Beth?”

  She studied his profile, enamored as always with the clean, strong cut of his jaw. He had sculpted cheekbones that could have been chiseled in marble. Like the busts of Greek gods she had seen in the Museum of Fine Art. His long, dark lashes, which never failed to amaze her, tapered from lids that remained half-closed, underscoring his obviously sullen mood.

  She sighed. “What do you mean?”

  He turned in slow motion, a Greek god with heat in his eyes. “I mean the promise you broke. To stay away from my brother.”

  “I’m not seeing your brother.”

  “Collin says otherwise.”

  She rose up high on the bench. “We took him to church a couple of times, yes, and sometimes he stays for dinner. That doesn’t exactly qualify as ‘seeing him,’ you know. And Collin has a big mouth.”

  “Collin’s my friend. Which at the moment, I’m not sure I can say about you.”

  Lizzie folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. Suddenly he didn’t smell so good. “For the third time, I am not seeing your brother. And I’m supposed to say no when someone asks to go to church?”

  “If it’s him, yes. He’s using you, Beth, plain and simple.”

  Heat washed into her cheeks that had nothing to do with the fact he’d moved close, barely inches from where she sat. She shot to her feet. “How dare you! The only one who’s using me is you. Using my friendship as an excuse so you don’t have to deal with bitterness toward your brother. For pity’s sake, he’s reaching out—to God and to me. And if you think I’m going to let you badger me into giving him the cold shoulder—”

  He rose to loom over her, his lips stiff in a hard line. “He wants more than a shoulder, Beth, guaranteed. I’m warning you for the last time—stay away from him.”

  “Warning me?”

  He blew out a strained breath and took her hand in his. “I’m asking you.”

  She flung his hand away, unwilling to be placated this time. “More than a shoulder? Not every man wrestles with the same demons as you, John Brady. And so what if your brother wants more? Maybe I
should too. God knows it’s probably the closest I’ll come to being courted by a Brady.”

  She shoved him out of the way and started for the door.

  “Beth, wait!” He latched onto her arm and forced her to turn. “I’m sorry. I handled that badly. But I was angry. Hurt. You promised you would stay away from him.”

  “No, Brady, I promised I would fall in love with a man who seeks God. But I’ll qualify that right now, for your own peace of mind. I’m looking for a man who loves God with all of his heart and lives for him too. That’s a pretty tall order. And unless you’re looking to propose, I suggest you stop acting like a jealous suitor and more like my friend. And a brother to Michael.” She removed his hand from her arm. “Have a little trust, will you? In God, if not in me?”

  He pushed his hands in his pocket and nodded. “You’re right.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath. “You’re growing up, Elizabeth.”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  The double door swung open, and Cluny darted through. Brady pulled Beth from the path of the door. “Take it easy, bud, you almost clobbered Beth.”

  “Sorry, Lizzie. Hey, Brady, do you have some change? I saw Life Savers in the vending machine in the lobby.” He winked. “Katie’s favorite.”

  Brady dug in his pocket and tossed him a quarter. “Bribery won’t work, you know.”

  Cluny snatched it midair with a grin. “Collin says it will. Thanks!” He disappeared.

  Lizzie lifted a brow. “For your information, John Brady, bribery can work. If the person you’re bribing wants something badly enough.” She turned on her heel and pushed through the door, skewing him with a look. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

  “Come on, Katie, I’ll buy you a roll of Life Savers. Look, I have enough for five rolls.”

  She folded her arms. “What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing, just go with me to the lobby.”

  Her gaze thinned. “We’ll come right back?”