A Hope Undaunted Page 4

  “Well, you will be civil to him tonight, won’t you?” Lizzie asked in a pleading tone. “It is Brady’s birthday, and you know how much that husband of mine has always loved Cluny.”

  Charity commenced spooning green beans on each of the children’s plates. “Civil? Our Katie?” She chuckled. “She barely treats Jack civilly, and she actually likes him.”

  Lizzie tucked an arm around Katie’s shoulders. “Katie, please. Give me your word. Tell me you will be nice to Cluny – just for tonight.”

  “Just for tonight?” Katie asked. She grinned. “Well, since the likelihood of ever seeing the little brat again is completely remote, yes, I promise you, Lizzie. I will be on my best behavior with Mr. Pain-in-the-Knickers McGee. Consider it my birthday gift to Brady.”

  “Mmm . . . Katie’s ‘best behavior.’ Sounds a tad risky to me,” Faith said, her tongue rolling inside her cheek.

  Katie gaped. “Faith McGuire – I’m shocked! I expect that from Charity, but you?”

  “What can I say – she’s a bad influence,” Faith said, licking potatoes from her finger.

  The kitchen door flew open as Faith’s husband strolled in, a tall, dark-haired man who made a beeline for the icebox. He stashed two tubs of ice cream next to the block of ice, then turned to press a kiss on the back of Faith’s neck as he snatched a piece of chicken from the plate, all in one fluid motion. “Marcy, Cluny’s here, so Brady said you can serve dinner anytime.”

  Faith slapped his hand and spun around. “Collin McGuire, you’re going to lose an arm that way, mister.”

  His wife’s annoyance prompted his trademark smile, along with a little-boy twinkle in his gray eyes. “But not the lips, eh, Little Bit? Wouldn’t want to risk those, would we?” With a tug to her waist, he gave her a lingering kiss before heading for the door, drumstick in hand.

  “Collin, wait!” Marcy crumbled the last of the bacon on top of the baked beans and grabbed two pot holders. She hurried to hand the casserole dish off to him at the door. “Here, you can pay for your thievery by taking this to the table. And would you mind herding everyone into the dining room, please? We’ll be right in.”

  “Yesh, ma’am,” Collin mumbled, drumstick lodged between his teeth.

  “Charity, will you and Faith get the children settled outside while Lizzie and I carry food to the table? Katie Rose, you can pour the drinks – we have iced tea or lemonade.” Marcy shoved two pewter pitchers into Katie’s hands, then wisped a strand of silver-blond hair from her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with humor. “And for pity’s sake, don’t spill any on Cluny, you hear?”

  Katie took the pitchers and gave her mother a thin smile. “Yes, ma’am, but don’t blame me if he spills it on himself. I didn’t call him Clumsy Cluny for nothing, you know.”

  “Katie . . .” Lizzie’s voice brimmed with warning.

  “Just – kidding,” Katie replied in a singsong tone. She shot her sister a grin and pushed through the door with her backside, both pitchers anchored tightly in hand. Male voices rumbled in the dining room, and Katie zeroed in on Brady with a bright smile. “Happy Birthday, Bra – ”

  The smile died an ugly death as the pitchers slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor. Sticky puddles pooled at her feet, but all she could do was gape, drawing in little or no air despite the extended drop of her jaw.

  Pandemonium erupted – Collin yelling for a towel and her mother rushing in, and everyone blotting and mopping and babbling words Katie couldn’t comprehend. Instead, she stood like a statue, mounted to the sticky floor as surely as if lemonade and tea were glue. The heat of humiliation curdled her stomach, rose to her throat, and bled into her cheeks, confirming once again that Cluny McGee – aka “Soda Jerk” – possessed a true talent for misery.

  His shock mirrored her own for the briefest of seconds before those wide lips eased into an annoying grin. Striking pale blue eyes crinkled in humor while he assessed her head to toe, finally settling on her face in painful perusal.

  “Well, Katie Rose,” he drawled in a teasing tone that hinted at a twang, “I see you still know how to make a splash.”

  Brady latched an arm around Cluny’s shoulders. The man matched her brother-in-law’s six-foot-three height, head to head. “You remember this little runt, don’t ya, Katie? Cluny McGee? He’s a big-shot lawyer now, but I remember how he used to pester the daylights out of you.”

  Cluny grinned, revealing a flash of white teeth against a deep tan. “I think it was the other way around, but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you are . . . Katydid.” He extended a muscled arm in a handshake truce. “No sense in crying over spilled milk . . . or milkshake, whatever the case may be. And by the way, the name has changed – I go by Luke now.”

  God help her, she wanted to whop him right upside that towhead of his! She gritted her teeth, completely incensed that he looked like a male model for Vanity Fair. The white thatch was now stylishly combed back with just the right touch of Brilliantine, and a double-breasted blue blazer slung casually over his arm, the perfect complement for tan linen slacks. His crisp, striped cotton shirt did little to hide his obviously muscular form, and Katie was appalled when more heat whooshed to her cheeks. She stared at the hand that had captured her wrist outside the diner last night and swallowed hard, contemplating slapping it away. But for Brady’s sake, she reined in her temper and cautiously placed her hand in his. Upon contact, the heat of his palm unnerved her, and she jerked hers away, hoping the gummy remains of lemonade would cling to his skin.

  “A lawyer?” she said weakly. “But . . . but . . . Robinson’s . . .” The words seemed to adhere to her tongue, as sticky as the lemonade now coating her skin.

  He winked. “I fill in sometimes . . . for a good friend of mine.”

  “Katie, we’ll wait while you run upstairs and change,” Marcy interrupted. “Goodness, I hope that dress isn’t ruined. Cluny . . . sorry, Luke, it’s so good to see you again . . .”

  Her mother’s words faded as Katie stood, fixed in a hard stare, still in a daze.

  A gentle arm circled her waist. “I told you he changed,” Lizzie whispered in her ear, “so be good, okay? And speaking of changing, you better hurry upstairs – Mother won’t be able to keep Collin and Brady at bay forever, you know.”

  Katie blinked, then glanced down at the stains on the front of her dress. She nodded, still in shock that the soda jerk was conversing with her mother. The realization of what that could mean chilled her blood to the bone. As a boy, Cluny McGee had prided himself on besting her, taunting her at will, and clamoring for control. And today, the ghost of childhood past had returned to roost – harboring a secret that could chain Katie to the house forever.

  Which meant one thing. Cold prickles of fear iced her spine as she mounted the stairs. Cluny McGee had won – again. Because no matter how much she wanted to smack that smirk off his handsome face, she couldn’t. She was forced to be nice, hoping and praying it would seal his lips. Katie groaned and entered her room, thinking an ether-soaked gag would be more to her liking. She stared at her splattered dress in the mirror and scowled. Cluny McGee was indeed the “king” of misery. She grunted and hiked the dress over her head, sailing it across the room. Humph! Long live the king – a royal pain in the neck. And may he have lockjaw forever.

  Despite almost seven years since he’d been here last, Luke had the strange sensation he’d never left. He bowed his head at the O’Connors’ table, listening to the humble tone of Patrick saying grace, and a sense of gratitude seeped into his bones along with more than a bit of longing. This had been the type of family he had craved as a boy, and just being with them again made his heart race at the prospect of a family of his own. And one, hopefully, far different than what he’d known.

  His thoughts drifted to the mother who’d abandoned him when he was thirteen, preferring the company of a drunken boyfriend to that of her illegitimate son. To her, he was an unfortunate mistake, while to his Gram, he was little more than
a burden and the evidence of sin in her wayward daughter’s life. His jaw stiffened. And to the families of the Southie neighborhood whose streets he roamed? Nothing but a bastard, unworthy of love.

  He released a quiet sigh, joining the others in the sign of the cross as Patrick finished his prayer. It hadn’t been until John Brady had taken him under his wing at the age of fourteen that he’d gotten his first real taste of being cared for, loved . . . his first true glimpse of family. And what he had seen, first with Brady and then the O’Connors, convinced him that family was worth everything he had to give . . . his love, his devotion . . . his life. A sense of longing rose within him so strong, it produced a sharp ache in his throat. He quickly reached for his folded napkin and shook it free, doing the same with the craving in his soul. He placed the napkin on his lap, laying it to rest along with his thoughts. A family of his own. Someday maybe, he reflected with a touch of melancholy, but certainly not for a long, long while.

  “So, Luke . . . how long have you been back in Boston?” Patrick reached for the mashed potatoes and heaped a mound on his plate, then passed the bowl to his left. A gentle breeze stirred a renegade strand of Patrick’s dark hair now glinted with silver at the temples. Damask window sheers fluttered behind him, infusing the room with the heady scent of lilacs and fresh-hewn mulch. Mottled sunlight flickered across a crisp, white tablecloth resplendent with a crystal vase of lilacs and the last of Marcy’s creamy, white parrot tulips. The comforting sound of children’s laughter drifted in the air, harmonizing with the chatter of birds and the yipping of neighborhood dogs.

  A silent sigh of contentment escaped Luke’s lips as he selected a crispy drumstick and a thigh from the plate of fried chicken Lizzie offered. He handed the platter off to Brady with a smile. “Thanks, Lizzie.” He glanced up. “Not long, Mr. O’Connor. About a month. But I can tell you one thing – it sure feels good to be home.”

  Marcy smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Clu – er, Luke – sorry. But if you don’t mind me asking, Luke, why did they call you Cluny as a boy?”

  Luke peered over his drumstick, the near-taste of Marcy’s chicken watering his mouth. “My given name is Clarence Luke McGee, Mrs. O’Connor, but I was so puny that one of my mom’s boyfriends started calling me Cluny instead of Clarence, and somehow, the name just stuck.” He took a quick bite of his chicken, and the sheer flavor of it brought a smile to his lips. Taking a swig of his tea, he winked. “But, since I’m all grown up, I figured a lawyer needs a respectable name, so I go by Luke now.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time,” Sean O’Connor said. Patrick’s oldest reached for the pepper and bombarded his potatoes with a monumental dose.

  Specks of the seasoning floated in the air like dust motes, causing Charity to snatch the napkin from her lap and stifle a sneeze. She sniffed and arched a brow. “Goodness, Sean, why don’t you just take the cap off and pour the stuff on? You’re as bad as Mitch. Now you won’t even be able to taste Mother’s food.”

  Sean’s blue eyes twinkled as he grinned at his sister, and his blond hair gleamed in the sunlight. “Oh, I’ll taste it, all right. That’ll be the day when a bachelor who lives on his own doesn’t enjoy his mother’s food. And speaking of Mitch, where is he?” He glanced around. “And Steven?”

  Charity snatched the pepper from Sean’s hand and moved it far away. “The love of my life volunteered to eat outside with the kids.”

  “You mean you volunteered him to sit outside with the kids,” Faith said with a chuckle. She glanced at her parents. “But where is Steven?”

  Patrick reached for the salt and shook it unmercifully over his potatoes. A frown creased his lips. “Apparently your brother had a prior engagement. Again.”

  Marcy patted her husband’s arm. “He’s a young man in college, Patrick, and you know how independent young people are today. Goodness, sometimes I think you’re way too hard on him.” She smiled her apologies at Brady. “Steven promised he’d join us later.”

  “I doubt anyone here wants to stay up that late, darlin’,” Patrick said with a droll smile.

  Sean grinned, an ear of corn in hand. “So, how long’s it been, Luke? Six, seven years?”

  “Almost seven since I left Boston after Gram died. I turned sixteen when I went to live with my aunt in New York, but I can tell you, it feels like a lifetime.”

  “Brady tells us you’re a lawyer now. We’re so proud of you, Luke.” Marcy’s forehead puckered. “You did get rolls, didn’t you? They’re not long for this world, you know, with Brady and Collin.”

  Collin looked up from buttering one of three rolls on his plate. “Hey, Sean’s no lightweight, either.”

  Dimples deepened on either side of Sean’s lazy grin. “Yeah, but I’m the good son, and Brady’s the birthday boy, so that makes you the – ”

  “Pig-in-law?” Katie stood in the door in a fresh crimson-colored shift, arms crossed and brow cocked. Chuckles rounded the table while she sashayed into the room, flicking Collin on the head as she moseyed to her seat.

  Luke rose while he waited for Katie to settle in, then sat back down with a grin.

  “Watch it, Katie Rose,” Collin quipped. “Don’t get me started on your grace and poise with beverages.”

  Katie flipped her napkin open with a smirk and placed it on her lap. The lift of her chin defied the blush on her cheeks. She avoided Luke’s gaze, obviously more interested in riling her brother-in-law than conversing with company.

  Luke squinted hard, trying to see the pigtailed brat he’d once pestered within an inch of her sanity. Her manner seemed easy and casual as she volleyed insults with Collin, but he didn’t miss the nervous flicker in her cheek or the death grip on the fork in her hand. The grin widened on his lips. She was older now, prettier and definitely more sophisticated, but underneath that head-turning facade, he sensed she was still the same little tyrant of a girl, armed with sharp quips and an aloof manner.

  Patrick cleared his throat. “Luke, I think I speak for everyone when I say how proud we are of your incredible accomplishment. Brady told us how hard you’ve worked. A law degree for the most privileged of young men is impressive enough, but to attain such heights through the sweat of your brow, working a number of jobs along with your studies, well, that is truly a remarkable feat. I commend you. Have you nailed down a position with a law firm yet?”

  Luke took a quick swallow of tea to wash down his food. “As a matter of fact I have, Mr. O’Connor, but not with a law firm. I’ve taken a job at the Boston Children’s Aid Society.” A fine mist of lemonade sprayed across the table as Katie choked on her drink.

  “Hey, Sweet Pea, you okay?” Sean patted while Katie wheezed.

  Collin leaned forward with a glint in his eye. “Yeah, squirt, are you okay . . . or do we need to remove all liquids from the room?”

  Faith elbowed her husband, then handed her water to Katie. “Maybe the pulp is giving you trouble. Here, take a drink of my water, but slowly.”

  Katie obeyed, her face as scarlet as her dress. She handed the glass back and took a deep breath, one hand to her heaving chest. “D-Did you say . . . the B-Boston Children’s Aid Society?”

  Luke blinked. “Yeah, I’m the new assistant director. Why, you know somebody who works there?”

  A low, throaty chuckle rumbled from the far end of the table. “As a matter of fact, she does,” Patrick said.

  “Father!” Katie’s voice was little more than a croak.

  “Who?” Luke asked, his gaze scanning from Katie’s horror to Patrick’s amusement.

  Color drained from Katie’s cheeks as she leaned forward, a knife clenched in her hands. “Father, no! Please . . . you can’t! This changes everything.”

  “Now, Katie, after our talk last night, you and I agreed that volunteering at the BCAS this summer would be a profitable experience for you.”

  Katie bounded to her feet. “I didn’t agree – you coerced me! Mother, please . . . this is my last summer before law school. Can�
�t you make him see that I need time to plan and prepare?”

  A tiny wrinkle creased the bridge of Marcy’s nose. Her gaze flitted from her daughter to her husband and back, reflecting her worry. “Darling, your father and I have discussed it at length, and I honestly think you’ll love the BCAS – ”

  “No!” Katie slammed her fist on the table, upsetting her utensils. “I won’t do it.”

  “Katie Rose – sit down this instant!” The edge in Patrick’s tone shivered the air, cooling all smiles in the room. With a quiet pat of his wife’s hand, he inhaled deeply, then released it slowly as his gaze returned to the daughter still rooted to the floor, her features as stiff as his. He lowered his voice to a level of warning. “Sit down, young lady, now. And-not-another-word.”

  In total fascination, Luke watched a battle being waged between the most stubborn girl he’d ever seen and the man from whom she’d obviously inherited it. Time seemed to still as Katie stared her father down, every muscle strained with resistance. He could hear her shallow breathing as her chest rose and fell in indignation, and the surge of her will appeared so strong that her body seemed to shimmer with intent, ready to explode, like a warm and shaken bottle of pop. And then painfully slow, as if all combustion had seeped out from her bottled anger, she lowered to her seat, the pout on her lips as flat as a week-old glass of Nehi.

  Patrick released a heavy breath and speared a clump of green beans. He slid his wife a sideways glance and patted her hand, obviously noting the look of concern on her face. “Now, Marcy, we both know that this is exactly what Katie needs. She’ll be working with lawyers and acquiring valuable experience before entering law school in the fall.”