A Hope Undaunted

  “Jack!” Katie’s whisper was harsh. “Stop it . . . that’s a juvenile thing to do – ”

  “Are you kidding? It’s brilliant.” Warren grinned and stretched over the seat to steal the menu card from the next booth. With a devious smile, he upended his own water glass while Jack kept watch.

  “Stop it, Jack, now – I mean it.” Katie’s gaze shot to the counter, then back to Jack, Roger, and Warren. “I swear that sometimes you three act like children. I don’t care how obnoxious that soda jerk was, nobody deserves a prank like this.” She butted Jack out of the way in a huff and swung out of the booth. “Now, I’m going to the restroom for a towel to clean this mess up before he sees it, and so help me, if I find another upturned glass, Jack Worthington, you and I won’t be on speaking terms.”

  She spun on her heel and marched toward the restroom, an odd mix of compassion and fury rising in her chest as her eyes flicked to the empty counter. Nobody deserved this humiliation and disrespect, no matter how bullheaded they were. Her lips flattened in a twinge of conscience. Even Farm Boy.

  The thought took her back to Sister Cecilia’s first-grade class, and the memory dampened her mood as thoroughly as Jack had dampened the surface of their table. How she wished she could forget the crotchety nun whose tight-lipped disapproval represented the first real pain Katie had ever encountered in her life. A time when she’d been torn from the warm acceptance of a home where she was her mother’s cherished baby . . . to a cold, hateful classroom where she quickly became the outcast. The trauma of it all resulted in a pitiful little girl suddenly inflicted with red, scaly patches on her arms and legs. “Are you sure it’s not leprosy?” the old nun had asked in front of the class, and the memory heated Katie’s cheeks all over again.

  It may as well have been. Overnight she’d become a leper, the “odd” little girl compelled to wear sweaters and knee socks during the warm weather while other girls wore ankle socks and short-sleeved shirts with their jumpers.

  Katie absently rubbed her elbow where the psoriasis had once been, and her throat thickened at the cruelty of children – especially the boys. Leper. Monster. Freak. Her anger swelled at the names they’d called her, bullies who picked and prodded and pushed with their superior air. Moisture threatened beneath her closed lids, and she blinked to ward it off. Always the last to be picked on teams, always the butt of practical jokes, and always the target for comments so cruel, they’d left a lasting mark.

  “Just so you know, freak, I only invited you for the present,” Robert Shaw had announced when she’d arrived at his second-grade birthday party.

  The pain had cut deep – separating her not only from the children who mocked her . . . but from a family whose affectionate teasing caused her to push them away.

  Katie blinked in the restroom mirror, and her spine stiffened with the action. An unlikely deliverance had come in the form of a new school in the fifth grade, birthing a resolve so deep, it still ached in her chest. To prove to everyone – Sister Cecilia, the bullies, her father – that she was special. Somebody to be respected and loved. Somebody who would make a difference in the world. She’d made a promise to herself then that no amount of ridicule or bullying would stand in her way. With the fuel of her anger, she’d discarded sweaters and knee socks midway through that summer, embracing the warmth of the sun for the first time in years. And when school started in September and the psoriasis had mysteriously disappeared, Katie was left with the glow of new skin, a new start, and something even more astounding. She became popular . . . a feeling forever fused with a passion for those who were not.

  “Katie!” Jack met her at the restroom door and plucked the towel from her hand. He tossed it on a nearby booth and tugged her toward the door where the others were waiting. “We don’t have time for cleanup, doll – we gotta leave.”

  She skidded to a stop, her Mary Jane heels digging in. “Wait a minute, Jack – did you pay for the check?”

  “Nope, let Soda Jerk pay for it,” Jack said with a sneer that made it sound like a curse. “That’ll teach him to be rude to my girl. Come on, guys, hurry.” He opened the door and pulled her through, tripping over a scruffy-looking terrier sprawled across the side of the stoop.

  The dog yelped, and Katie twisted free with a cry. “You big bully – you hurt the poor thing.” She dropped to her knees and reached for his paw. “Hey, little guy, you okay?”

  “Sorry, Katie,” Jack said with a nervous glance at the counter, “didn’t mean to step on the little mutt, but we gotta go – now!” Without waiting for her reply, he hoisted her up in his arms and sprinted to his Franklin Sports Coupe parked down the street.

  “Jack Worthington, you stop this very instant!” Her voice rose to a shriek and her limbs flapped as she kicked and clawed to break his hold. Her irritation surged at the shock of Jack manhandling her. Jack . . . of all people! The man who catered to her every whim. In a wild lunge, she tried to gouge him, but he only clamped tighter, chuckling while he huffed to the car.

  “Calm down, Katydid, we gotta get out of here.”

  Oh, she’d calm down all right – with a well-placed clip to his jaw! She gritted her teeth. As . . . soon . . . as . . . she . . . could . . . break . . . free. Her pulse pounded in her ears over the laughter of the group as they bolted for the Franklin and jumped in. Katie’s temper boiled. Men were nothing but bullies – the whole sorry lot of them. Bloodthirsty for control over what they saw as the “weaker sex.” Ignoring her screams, Jack opened the passenger door and tossed her in.

  I’ll show ’em weak. She landed with a bounce and scrambled back up. Jack blocked her with a broad grin. “Come on, doll, it’s no big deal. We’re just having a little fun. Look, I even got you a souvenir.” He pulled her empty Coca-Cola glass out of his pocket.

  Her jaw dropped. She snatched the glass and shook it in his face. “Jack Worthington, you are nothing more than a brazen thief, and I will not be a party to this! Now, I am marching back there right now and – ”

  “Jack, hurry!” Roger’s voice held a warning.

  Katie ignored them both and darted from the car, but Jack was too fast. He picked her up with a chuckle and silenced her with a sound kiss, tightening his grip when she started to kick. “Aw, come on, Katydid, don’t be such a bearcat. Soda Jerk had it coming, and you know it. Now get in the car like a good girl – we gotta scram.”

  “How about you scram after you pay the bill?” An icy tone confirmed that Soda Jerk was in the vicinity. His voice, deadly calm from several yards away, packed as much heat as a whispered threat from the lips of Al Capone.

  Katie froze in Jack’s arms, which went as stiff as his pale face. With a slow turn, they faced an apron-clad Colossus of Rhodes, legs straddled and face chiseled in stone.

  “Put her down,” he whispered, his words as hard and tight as the muscle twitching in his face.

  Jack lowered her to the ground with a scowl and eased Katie behind. “Says who?”

  The soda jerk moved in close, towering over Jack by more than half a head. A rock-hard jaw, barely inches from Jack’s, sported a full day’s growth of blond bristle. His wide lips curved into a smile, but the blue eyes were pure slits of ice. “Says me, you little piker.”

  Jack leaned forward and jabbed a finger into the soda jerk’s chest. “Piker? Who you calling a coward, Soda Jerk? I’m not paying for anything, especially shoddy service.”

  The wide smile broadened to a cocky grin. “My service may be shoddy, rich boy, but I guarantee my thrashing won’t be. Trust me, your little girlfriend won’t like it if I mess with your face, so I suggest you pay the bill . . .” He fisted Jack’s pin-stripe shirt and jerked him up. “Now.”

  Genevieve screamed, and Warren and Roger jumped from the car. They circled Luke with fists raised. Suddenly it was Jack’s turn to grin. “So, how’s your confidence now, eh, big shot? Think you can handle three to one?”

  Katie darted around to shove Jack hard in the chest. “Stop it now, or so help me ?
?? ”

  He pushed her aside. “Stay out of this, doll.”

  Warren eased in with a quick swipe, and the soda jerk dodged with the grace of an athlete. His wide grin gleamed white in the lamplight as he egged them on with a wave of his fingers. “Come on, boys, I’ve lived on the streets all my life, so have at it.”

  Roger lunged, and the soda jerk felled him like a tree with a right hook to his jaw. Out of nowhere, Warren rushed from behind, leg poised in a kick. Big mistake. Katie winced as the soda jerk latched onto his shoe and yanked him to the pavement with a sickening thud. She screeched in horror, then charged forward, only to be looped at the waist by Jack who tossed her back in the car, flailing and screaming. He turned with a loud roar and rammed his body straight for the soda jerk, head tucked like a raging bull. In a deft move of his foot, the soda jerk tripped him and sent him skidding into the street.

  “Jack!” Katie jolted from the car and ran to his side. “Are you okay?” She helped him as he lumbered to his feet, the right trouser leg of his gray Oxford bags torn and streaked with dirt.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just let me at that slimeball – ”

  “No!” She planted two petite hands on his chest and shoved him back with more force than her small size warranted. “You’re done, Jack! Do you hear me? Or we’re through.”

  He staggered back, a bloody hand to his head. “Come on, Katydid, don’t talk like that – ”

  “I mean it, Jack, I swear.” She whirled around, her eyes singeing all of them within an inch of their lives. “Warren, Roger – get in the car. Now!”

  “Come on, Jack, are you gonna listen to her? We can take this guy.”

  She spun around, fury pumping in her veins. “So, what’s it gonna be, Jack – them or me?”

  He glanced from Katie to his friends and then back again, a nerve twittering in his cheek. His tone was tight as he exhaled his frustration. “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

  Muttered curses rumbled as the boys stumbled toward the coupe.

  With a lightning thrust of her hand, Katie lifted Jack’s wallet from the pocket of his trousers as neatly as a veteran pickpocket.

  “Katydid, what are you doing – ”

  She ignored him and marched up to the soda jerk with fire in her eyes. At five foot two, she barely measured to the middle of his chest, but she didn’t give a fig if he was seven foot five. No hayseed soda jerk was going to intimidate her! She glared up, annoyance surging at having to crane her neck. “How much do we owe, you roughhouse bully?”

  He met her fierce look with cool confidence, sizing her up with that same probing gaze that had riled her before. “That’ll be $2.48 total, miss. That’s 15 cents for three Coca-Colas, $1.80 for six chocolate shakes – ” A shadow of a smile edged the corners of his mouth. “Three cents for extra cherries – and 50 cents for the glass your boyfriend stole.”

  She peeled off two crisp dollar bills from Jack’s stash and threw them at his feet, then spun around and snatched the glass from the seat of the car. With barely concealed fury, she shoved it hard against his rock-solid chest. “Here, keep the change. Not that you’re worth it.”

  A massive palm locked onto her wrist before she could snatch it away. “Nice girls don’t run with riffraff,” he breathed.

  The intensity of his gaze forced a lump to her throat. For a split second she barely drew air, their eyes fused while the heat of his hand throbbed against her arm. Then all at once, her pride resurged with a vengeance. “Nor care about the opinions of lowly soda jerks,” she rasped, incensed at the shame that scalded her cheeks.

  She jerked her hand free and slid into the car, refusing to give in to the tears that pricked at her eyes. She threw the wallet on the seat while Jack got in and slammed his door. He turned the ignition and shifted into gear. Humiliation and silence hung thick in the air as they jostled down the shadows of the cobblestone street.

  “I’m sorry, Katydid,” Jack whispered, and she nodded dumbly, blinking hard as she stared out the window. Her body shivered and she clutched at her sides, ashamed she’d lost her temper and belittled another human being. And it wasn’t until the coupe rounded the corner and a solitary figure faded from view . . . that she allowed even a single tear to fall.

  Privilege is wasted on the rich. Luke shook his head and watched as the taillights of the Franklin careened around the corner of the two-story Sears, Roebuck and Company, leaving a squeal of tires in its wake. He stooped to pick up the two dollar bills that the feisty rich girl had flung at him, and his lips quirked into a wry smile. She was a pretty little thing, even if she was spoiled rotten. A child of privilege and obviously used to getting her own way. He peered down the dim street lit only by the flicker of neon and squinted in the direction the coupe had disappeared. Humor tugged at the edges of his mouth. He’d give her one thing, though – she had more spunk and mettle in that tiny, little wrist he’d grasped than the whole carload of her rich friends put together. Luke’s lips flattened into a hard line. Especially the pretty-boy lackey whom she obviously had on a short leash.

  Nope, there weren’t many fireballs like little ol’ “Katydid,” he thought with a grudging smile. At least not that he’d met anyway, which in the end was a good thing. He sure didn’t have time to get involved with a woman right now, especially the in-your-face kind who seemed to have a knack for taking him down. Grazing his thumb against the edge of her glass, he ambled back to the diner, only to stop short at the door. He folded his arms and cocked a brow at the mangy mutt snoozin’ between the potted urn and the red-brick stoop, legs limp in the air. “Okay, you little scamp, don’t you have someplace else to sleep?”

  The terrier’s eyes slitted open and he yawned with a stretch of his hind legs. Luke crouched to his knees. “Sorry to disturb you, Sleeping Beauty, but this is a diner, not a hotel.” He rubbed the dog’s belly and frowned at the pronounced imprint of ribs beneath the smooth white skin. He sighed and rose to his feet. “Okay, I’m a sucker for the underdog – or the underfed dog – so I’ll feed you. But just this once, and then you hightail it home, you got that?”

  The terrier popped up and stretched his front paws with another yawn, wagging his perky, white tail. Luke laughed and opened the door, then closed it again with a noisy clang of bells. Two liquid-brown eyes followed him through the glass, the pup’s head cocked in anticipation as black ears flopped over a curious black and white snout.

  Luke shot a quick look at the clock and groaned. Tenfifteen – Betty would be waiting. Sweet saints, he hated being late. He stashed the two dollars in the register, then ducked in the back to dig a half-eaten burger out of the trash, grateful he’d finished cleanup before the rich kids had left. He’d even washed the mixer after their shakes.

  He sprinted to the front and grinned at the terrier, patiently parked in front of the glass. “Here ya go, you little beggar. Eat and go home, ya hear?” The terrier snatched the food from his hand and bolted away. Luke sighed and locked the door, sparing one last glance across the store.

  A low groan rumbled in his throat. The booth the rich kids had occupied still needed to be cleaned. His shoulders drooped. Now he’d be late for sure. With a heavy sigh, he moved toward the table and stopped, shock flaring his eyes. His jaw tightened at the sight of six glasses of water, all upside down. Biting back a curse, he kicked at the booth and rattled the dishes. Man alive, what he wouldn’t give to get his hands on those spoiled little brats again – he’d teach ’em a thing or two. He exhaled his frustration and strode into the kitchen to grab a couple of towels.

  His anger suddenly tempered at the thought of one spoiled brat in particular. Hair like spun gold, eyes like blue fire, and an attitude way taller than she. Oh yeah, he’d like to get his hands on that one for sure. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. And he’d teach her, all right – a definite thing or two.

  Katie bit her lip and eased the front door closed as deathly still as possible. She held her breath when the click of the lock echo
ed in the dark hall of her house, then released it again in one long, silent sigh of relief. Thank goodness the lights were out and her parents were in bed. Jack’s watch had said almost midnight – long past her ten-thirty curfew – and tonight she wasn’t in the mood for one of her father’s “Katie Rose” lectures.

  She leaned back against the heavy oak door and closed her eyes, her mood considerably dampened by the events of the night. Jack had insisted on taking everyone home first so she and he could be alone to talk. Her lips skewed into an off-center smile. Or at least, that’s what he called it. Usually he pleaded and she forgave. He nuzzled and she reveled in the attention. Her jaw stiffened with annoyance. Except tonight. No, tonight, even Jack’s kisses, which she usually enjoyed, had failed to stir her. And all because of some hayseed soda jerk.

  “Nice girls don’t run with riffraff.”

  Guilt assailed her, and her eyes popped open as she blew out a shaky breath. What in the world was the matter with her? Jack wasn’t riffraff, he was the catch of the year and desperately in love with her. Looks, wealth, sense of humor, social standing, and intelligence – everything on her list and then some. A prospective lawyer, just like her, both slated for law school in the fall – Jack after graduating from college and she, gloriously enough, right out of high school!

  She drew in a deep breath, hope winging at the thought of attending Boston’s prestigious Portia Law School. Established exclusively for women in 1908, Portia’s generous admission guidelines required only a high school degree, and the prospect of going to law school at the same time as Jack thrilled Katie to the bone. This was her chance – an era when women were flying high into their futures – literally – like Amelia Earhardt with her world record for female pilots. A shiver of anticipation raced through Katie. Well, she intended to set a record of her own – to be the first truly independent woman in her family. To pursue women’s rights – first as a lawyer, then as a congresswoman someday. And Portia Law School was just the start. It was there where her plan would unfold to help women who couldn’t help themselves, and there where she’d sow the seeds for her own financial freedom. And in Jack, she had the perfect complement – a man who not only shared her vision, but who enjoyed the distinct advantage of connections. Her lips slanted into a smile. Connections that included an attorney father who presided over one of the most prestigious law firms in the city, not to mention winning a senate seat last year.