A Hope Undaunted

  “So tell me,” she said in a breathless tone, “how was lunch with your father’s professor friend at Harvard?”

  Jack’s laughter rumbled low and rich in her ear, and the return press of his hand indicated his excitement for the topic. “Gosh, Katydid, we are going to love law school – especially you.” He deposited a kiss on her head and hunkered down in the swing. The enthusiasm in his voice vibrated in the air along with the crickets. “Professor Morris talked about everything we could expect – you know, how hard it is the first year, reading case studies until your eyes sink into their sockets. And then it’s like learning a whole new language as far as terminology and logic is concerned. But man alive, the cases we’ll study – things right out of the headlines like the Scopes ‘Monkey’ Trial four years ago or Meyer v. Nebraska a few years back, which Professor Morris claims is a landmark case for parents’ rights.”

  He leaned forward and grinned. “Not to mention the famous Persons Case going on in Canada right now, over whether a woman should be considered a person or not – can you believe it, Katie? Think of it – women’s rights – that’s right down your alley. I tell you, doll, I get goose bumps just thinking about it – how the path we’ve chosen will affect people’s lives for the better.” He squeezed her again, emitting a low chuckle. “Then, of course, there’s also the money we’ll make doing it.”

  Katie swiveled to face him, fervor burning in her eyes. “Oh, Jack, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this – the chance to really do something with my life and help others in the process.” With a tiny squeal of joy, she lunged into his arms, rewarding him with a kiss that made him moan. She pulled away, her voice quivering with emotion. “Just think of what we’ll be able to do together,” she whispered. With a stroke of his cheek, she blinked to clear the sudden wetness from her eyes. “Thank you, Jack Worthington, for sharing my passion.”

  He cradled her face in his hands, and the stark love and admiration she saw in his eyes was a balm to her aching soul. “Gosh, Katie, I can’t help myself. I’ve never met another girl like you, doll – so strong, so smart, so sure of herself. With most girls, it’s only the latest fashion or social function that interests them, but you – you have so much drive, so much passion . . .”

  His eyes settled on her lips with the same starry-eyed look he always wore when she was around, and somewhere deep down inside an empty hole filled up, brimming over with his approval. She closed her eyes with a wavering sigh. Approval she seldom received from anyone else.

  Especially her father.

  “I love you, doll,” he whispered, and she felt the gentle touch of his lips graze against her skin.

  With a rush of gratitude, she twined her arms around his neck, savoring the way he made her feel – loved, admired, respected.

  Special.

  He deepened the kiss, and she relented this time, allowing him to tug her back onto his lap without protest. With a gentle brace of her shoulders, he dipped her back in his arms, tingling her throat with the caress of his mouth.

  “Oh, Jack . . .” she whispered, knowing full well she should stop, but too needy to care . . .

  Somewhere through the haze in her mind, she heard the clearing of a throat, and with a sharp catch of her breath, she launched from Jack’s arms like a tadpole on hot pavement. Her breathing was as labored as Jack’s as she splayed a palm to her chest and gaped at her brother.

  “Sean! What on earth are you doing here?” she rasped, the heat in her face conflicting with the coolness in his.

  With his typical casual air, Sean slowly mounted the porch steps and deposited a bag at the base of the back door. He rose to his full height, and suddenly she noticed a basketball under his arm and sweat stains on his shirt. Beads of perspiration glistened on his face as he allowed a faint smile, but his usual gentle humor couldn’t mask the disappointment in his eyes. “I guess I could ask you the same thing, Katie Rose,” he said quietly, then cocked a hip to the wall. “I promised Father I’d drop off a part he needs in the morning, and I thought I’d do it on my way home after a game of one-on-one with Pete.” His smile faded away. “But I didn’t realize you’d be in the midst of some one-on-one of your own – ”

  “We were just talking,” Katie said in a rush, the heat in her cheeks belying the truth of her statement.

  Her brother’s lips curved just a hair as he assessed them through dubious eyes, his voice gentled by a trace of humor. “Some conversation, Katie Rose.” His gaze shifted to the man beside her. “Evening, Jack.”

  Her whisper softened into a plea. “Sean, please – you’re not going to tell Father, are you? I haven’t seen Jack in almost a month and a half, and we were mostly talking, I promise . . .” She swallowed hard, desperation choking her words.

  Jack slipped an arm around Katie’s shoulders to pull her close, his tone contrite. “Look, Sean, I love your sister, and nothing happened.”

  Sean rubbed the back of his neck. “Go home, Jack. Now.” “You’re not going to tell Father, are you?” Her voice was as tight as the nerves in her neck.

  With a weary sigh, Sean fisted the screen door handle and glanced up through lidded eyes, leveling a serious gaze in Katie’s direction. His gentle disapproval flamed her cheeks with shame as only this brother could. “Not if you promise never to do this again,” he said calmly, “and if Jack hightails it home right now.”

  Relief flooded, and she nodded. Spinning on her heel, she gave Jack a quick hug and a nervous smile. “Go home, Jack. I’ll see you at the end of summer, all right?”

  He shot her brother a hard gaze before cupping Katie’s face in his hands. He brushed her lips with his own. “I love you, Katydid, and you can count on it. You’re worth the wait, doll.” He squeezed her hand and shuffled past Sean, ignoring him as he lumbered down the steps.

  Katie watched until he disappeared around the house, then sucked in a deep swallow of air before facing her brother. The look on his face made her heart sink. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  The screen door barely squealed as he opened it. He held it for her, studying her through tired eyes. He tugged on her hair and gave her a quiet smile. “No, Katie, I’m not mad . . . just a little disappointed, that’s all.” He waited until she moved past him into the house, and then quietly closed the screen door behind her. His eyes were gentle with compassion, but his words pierced her to the core. “You’re better than this, Katie Rose,” he whispered. He turned and descended the steps, his voice following behind. “Good night, Sweet Pea. Be sure and lock the door.”

  She blinked, moisture blurring her eyes as he faded into the night, leaving her with an awful ache in her chest. Swallowing the shame in her throat, she slowly closed the door and flipped the lock with trembling fingers.

  “You’re better than this, Katie Rose.”

  Hand to her eyes, she slumped against the wood while her shoulders sagged in remorse.

  No, she wasn’t.

  At least . . . not to anyone but Jack.

  “Well, it’s your lucky night, Little Bit. The girls want you to read them a story.” Collin wrapped his arms around Faith’s waist from behind and bent to nuzzle her neck. Her shoulders scrunched in ticklish protest, which only made him squeeze all the tighter. “Don’t try to fight me, Mrs. McGuire,” he breathed in her ear, “it’s a balmy summer evening, and I want time alone with you on the porch.” He chuckled and plucked the dishtowel off her shoulder and slung it over his own. “And we both know I always get what I want . . . and so do you, apparently,” he said with a wry smile. He butted her out of the way. “You read, and I’ll finish the dishes.”

  Faith eyed the scalloped-potato casserole dish thick with baked-on crust. “Are you sure? The potatoes were in the oven way too long, and I’m afraid that dish may be crustier than you at the end of a busy day.”

  His gray eyes narrowed as he rolled up his sleeves, giving her that slow smile that spelled nothing but trouble. He flicked her with the towel while his voice became
a husky threat. “You best get those girls in bed and fast asleep, Little Bit, because there’s a full moon outside, plenty of stars, and the crickets are crooning.” He assaulted the casserole dish with the same intensity she heard in his voice, pausing to shoot her a look of warning. “I’ll be up shortly to kiss them good night, but then I want to sit on the swing . . . alone with my wife. Or I’ll be showing you ‘crusty.’”

  She was still smiling when she ascended the stairs and entered the girls’ pink gingham room, their giggles and squeals not boding well for sleep. Propped against the doorframe with arms folded and a smile on her face, she watched her stepping-stone daughters – ages five, four, and three – with pride in her eyes as they tumbled on the bed. She was grateful they were so close, although it meant they insisted on sharing the same room. A fact which, Faith noted, usually kept their high-energy personalities more keyed up than not.

  “What d’ya say we read our books in my room so we can play a trick on Daddy?” she announced, mischief curling the edges of her mouth.

  Squeals bounced off the walls as the girls bounced off the bed with a riot of curls, frilly nightgowns, and giggles that melted her heart.

  “Ooooo . . . what kind of trick, Mama?” Isabelle asked. Her eldest daughter grinned with an imp of a face framed by long auburn curls.

  Faith snatched the chosen book from the nightstand, then grabbed two more for good measure and gave them a perky grin. She hefted her youngest in her arms and planted a wet kiss on her rosy cheek. “We’re gonna make Daddy growl like a bear, right, Abby?”

  “Will he be mad like a bear?” four-year-old Delaney asked. Her freckled cheeks bunched with concern as she trailed her mother down the hall, toting a Raggedy Ann doll close behind. Faith tucked her to her side with a chuckle and then ushered them into her room. “No, Laney, Daddy will just be pretending, but it will be fun to watch, won’t it?”

  She plopped three-year-old Abby onto the bed, then crawled in beside her, bracing herself as Bella and Laney charged in on top. She settled them down and reached for Bella’s book, and then led them in good-night prayers so they’d be all ready for bed. She’d gone through all three of the books when she finally heard Collin coming down the hall. Her stomach fluttered. “Shhh . . . under the covers,” she whispered. She tucked Abby close to one side while Bella and Laney cuddled on the other. “Remember, not a peep.” She flashed Collin a grin as he entered the room.

  “What are you doing in here – ” Collin appeared in the door with a pucker in the ridge of his brow. His gaze lighted on the squirming bulk beneath the covers, and he shook his head, the frown melting into a smile as he ambled into the room with his hands on his hips. “You know, Little Bit, if you keep putting on weight like this, your nickname won’t fit any more than your clothes.” He gave her lumpy thigh a squeeze, prompting a peal of laughter from beneath the covers. Collin grinned and leaned to give Faith a quick kiss before plopping down beside her on the bed. “My, but we’re ticklish tonight, aren’t we, though?” He explored the extra padding, tickling as he went while the blanket bubbled with wild movement and little-girl giggles.

  Laney popped up out of the covers with a delighted grin. “Daddy, it’s us!”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Collin bellowed. He jerked the cover back, exposing three grinning little girls, all dressed in pink. “I thought your mother was just getting fat!”

  Bella flung her arms around his neck. “Can I have a piggyback ride back to our room?”

  “Only if you promise to stay there and go to sleep,” Collin said with a wink in Faith’s direction. He lifted Bella high in the air and positioned her on his back, then scooped both Laney and Abby up into his arms with a determined grunt. They squirmed and giggled against his chest, a picture of love in motion that brought a smile to Faith’s lips. Collin paused at the door to give her a half-lidded look obviously meant as a threat. “And you,” he warned, “head to the back porch now . . . or else.” He disappeared down the hall, along with the squeals and laughter.

  Faith grinned and jumped up from the bed, humming to herself as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. On the way to the back door, she eyed the basket of lemons on the counter and had a sudden urge to make lemonade. The perfect thing for a moonlight swing with her husband, she thought with a quick glance down the hall. She pulled out her cutting board and had one lemon half squeezed when Collin appeared in the door, his look as sour as the fruit in her hand. He rolled up his sleeves and walked to where she stood at the counter, then plucked the lemon from her hand and placed it on the cutting board.

  “This is not the back porch, Little Bit,” he said with a swerve of his lips, then promptly steered her toward the door.

  “But doesn’t a cold lemonade sound good?” she asked, licking her lips at the thought.

  “Not as good as having you all to myself on the back porch the one night we aren’t exhausted.” Collin dropped onto their wooden porch swing and pulled her close, not missing the opportunity to feather the lobe of her ear with his mouth.

  A familiar warmth surged as she leaned into his embrace, seduced by both her husband’s lips and the beauty of the summer night. She closed her eyes and snuggled close. “Oh, this is nice,” she whispered, trying to remember the last time they had taken a few moments to just sit and cuddle like this. Lately it seemed like all Collin did was work late at the shop while she tended to the girls, each too spent to allow more than a token kiss before collapsing into bed.

  “It is,” he whispered. The warmth of his sigh caressed her cheek. “When did life get so complicated, Faith? It seems like it’s been forever since I really held you in my arms . . .”

  She stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers, mesmerized by the firm line of his jaw, now bristled with dark stubble. “It’s been hard with your schedule lately, Collin, I know, and the girls really miss you. So it’s no surprise they’ve been finding excuses to sleep in our bed. But Laney’s cold is much better, so she shouldn’t be bothering us tonight, and Abby hasn’t had a nightmare since last week, so we should be safe there.” Her eyes softened as she glanced up to stare into his. “Nor am I likely to fall asleep on you, my love. That’s more your habit lately than mine.”

  Collin released a heavy sigh and leaned back in the swing, his contrition apparent in the squeeze of her hand. “I know, but things should get better with the new hire starting next week.”

  She sat up, excitement bubbling her tone. “So you finally hired someone? That’s wonderful! Who? The retired gentleman who had his own shop or the one with the accounting experience?”

  Collin drew her back to his chest, his voice an octave lower – and quieter – as it rumbled against her ear. “Neither. Brady and I went with the last person to interview for the job.”

  She felt the touch of his lips against her temple as his fingers idly toyed with the V collar of her blouse. Somewhere an owl hooted, merging with Collin’s soft moan as his mouth wandered to the lobe of her ear. He shifted her close, and the scent of musk teased her senses while his lips strayed to tease the edge of her mouth.

  Wriggling from his grasp, she smiled. “Don’t keep me in suspense – who did you hire?”

  His hand stilled on her waist while silence hung in the air, thick as the summer night.

  “Collin?” She scooted back, searching his eyes in the moonlight. “Now you’ve got me curious. Which man did you hire?”

  A knot dipped in his throat. “Neither. We hired a woman. A widow, actually.”

  She frowned. “Does she have the experience you need?”

  A weary sigh escaped his mouth as he rubbed the side of her arm. “Enough. She worked at my father’s shop years ago for a time and then at several small print shops, in bookkeeping.” “So you know her, then? Is she an old family friend?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, but it’s been years since I’ve seen her. And actually, I – well, Brady and I – felt kind of sorry for her because she’s been through a lot in her life. Her husband
died recently, leaving her with a sick boy and sparse savings, and she has no income whatsoever.” He released a weighty sigh and sagged back in the swing, fingers pinching his forehead. “She’s more than qualified, mind you, but she will require some training. I don’t suppose it was the smartest move we’ve ever made, but I – well, we – just wanted to help.”

  Faith leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, the feel of his late-day beard prickly against her lips. “I think that’s sweet – helping a widow in need. You’re a good man, Collin McGuire.”

  He didn’t smile. His gaze dropped to the long sailor tie of her middy blouse as he fondled it with his fingers. “Not always, but my heart’s in the right place.” He swallowed hard and looked up, stroking her cheek with solemn eyes. “I love you, Faith, more than anything in this world.”

  She leaned back on the swing and smiled, drawing lazy circles on the smooth plain of his arm. “I believe I’d like to see how much,” she whispered.

  With a wrenching groan, he pulled her close and clutched her tightly to his chest. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Little Bit, and I would be lost without you.”

  She squeezed him back, a prickle of concern surfacing. “Me too, Collin. Are you . . . sure you’re all right?”

  His chest quivered as a heavy sigh blew warm against her neck. “More than all right,” he said, his lips intent on exploring her throat. Her pulse was racing when his mouth finally found hers, teasing her with a gentle tug of his teeth. “Now,” he whispered, “where were we?”

  7

  Who wants lemonade?” Katie stood at the door of the back porch, pitcher in hand.

  “Oh, bless you!” Her mother said while her sisters and Charity’s best friend Emma looked up from the picnic table her father had built for the grandchildren. Marcy backhanded a limp strand of hair from her moist forehead. “This heat is relentless,” she muttered, pushing aside sewing materials strewn across the table. “And we need a break from these costumes. Goodness, I don’t remember the Fourth of July parade being this much work before. But then I suppose with six grandchildren riding on a float, it’s bound to take some time to outfit them all.”