A Hope Undaunted Page 6

  Rising with a chuckle, Faith washed her empty glass in the sink and proceeded to dry it, casting a wary smile in Katie’s direction. “Nope, Katie Rose, as a young woman who hopes to be a lawyer someday, I’d say you have no grounds for your case.”

  Katie studied her sister for several seconds, the smile on her face fading along with the tease in her tone. She drew in a deep breath, avoiding Faith’s eyes as she idly traced the dimple of Miss Kewpie’s knee. “You don’t understand, Faith, he was . . . well, really hurtful to me.” A sudden malaise settled and she buffed her arms out of nervous habit, fingers trailing down to the tip of her elbows where the lesions had once been. She swallowed hard, remembering with perfect clarity the hurt she had felt that day – the day Cluny McGee had stabbed her through the heart. Seconds passed before she was able to even utter the words, and when she did, she expelled them in a weak and wounded whisper. “He called me a leper, a freak of nature,” she said, shocked that the very sound of those words still held the power to bring tears to her eyes.

  Faith’s smile sobered into soft concern. She reached to place a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m sorry, Katie. That was a cruel thing for him to say, I know, especially after all the taunting you experienced in school. But he was just a boy at the time, and it was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s changed.”

  Katie reflected on his harsh grip last night at the diner and suspected he hadn’t. Nice girls don’t run with riffraff. A chill skittered through her, and she quickly finished off the last of her lemonade. She thumped the glass on the table and faced her sister square on. “No, Faith, someone as ugly as he was to me doesn’t change deep down. Other kids didn’t know how much they hurt me with their barbs because I never showed them. But him – I actually opened up to him and told him how much it had hurt. For pity’s sake, he was the one who talked me into taking off the sweaters and knee socks, telling me it didn’t matter what others thought. I swear I never liked him from the get-go because he was a dead ringer for all those bullies who taunted me in school – always picking, pushing, doing everything in his power to try and control me. And then one day I finally let my guard down and confide in the little weasel, and what does he do? He turns around and wounds me with the most hateful words he can.” Katie rose to take her glass to the sink, shaking her head. “Nope, I’m sorry, Faith – Cluny McGee is one bad memory I will never forget or forgive.”

  Faith’s voice was quiet. “You need to, you know . . . or the hurt will never leave.”

  Katie peered over her shoulder at the sister whose faith in God was second to none, and wondered if she would ever experience the same calm and peace she saw in her. She returned to the task of washing her glass, then dried it and put it away. “Can we change the subject, please? Something is souring my stomach, and I don’t think it’s the lemonade.”

  “Okay . . .” her sister said slowly. “Then . . . what about Father – are you still mad at him too?”

  Katie plopped into her chair with a huff, slapping through the pages of her Vogue without a clue of what she was looking for. “Of course – wouldn’t you be? I mean, sweet saints, Faith, the man rules this house like a tyrant, always dictating what Steven and I can and cannot do.” She glanced up, brows lifted in indignation. “And now he wants to rob me of my summer with Jack so I can bow and scrape to the one person I despise most in my life?” She shivered and continued rifling through her magazine. “I’m sorry, but in my book, that puts Father at the top of my mud list . . . right after Luke McGee.”

  Her sister didn’t respond, and Katie heaved the magazine closed with a scowl. “Come on, Faith, even someone as Godfearing as you doesn’t like to be pushed around. Have you forgotten how angry you were every time Collin tried to get you to quit your job at the Herald before you got pregnant with the girls?”

  Faith sighed and propped her elbows on the table, hands clasped except for two tented fingers against her lips as she pondered Katie’s question. “No . . . no, I haven’t. I was furious each and every time, and you better believe Collin slept on the couch more than once on that very issue alone. But . . .” She glanced up, locking her gaze on Katie’s. “I also know that our love wouldn’t be as deep and strong as it is today if I had let my anger and hurt fester.”

  “You and Collin are married – that’s different.”

  “Not really, Katie. Depth of love in any relationship blooms in the soil of respect, and bitterness will only poison any respect you hope to have. The bottom line is if we want God to bless our lives and our relationships, we have to do things his way. And he says we are to respect all authority he places over us.” Faith released a weary sigh. “Which means you respecting Father or even me respecting my husband as the head of our home. We may not always agree with them, but we are called by God to respect them and their authority nonetheless. So basically, it’s a matter of trust.”

  Katie’s eyes spanned wide. “Trust? In a human being who wants to control my life?”

  “No, Katie . . .” Faith said quietly. “In a God who wants to bless it.”

  She folded her arms with a grunt, her body suddenly stiff. “So let me get this straight – I’m supposed to kowtow to whatever Father wants me to do, even something as awful as slaving for someone I despise? And then God wants me to forgive them both in the process?” Her acute annoyance escaped in a noisy blast of air. “Impossible.”

  A hint of a smile curved at the edges of Faith’s lips. “Difficult, yes, but not impossible, trust me. Not with God’s help.”

  “Oh, and I suppose if Collin forced you to do something that completely went against every shred of common sense and emotion in your body – and I’m not talking something as insignificant as grousing about your job – that you would just lie down and surrender without a fight.”

  Faith sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “No, not without a fight, certainly . . . but the fight wouldn’t be between Collin and me, hopefully.” She looked up, capturing Katie’s gaze with a silent plea. “It would be between my will and God’s. And if I’ve learned anything from painful experience, Katie, it’s that God’s will is the path to my ultimate happiness . . . and yours.”

  Katie bristled at the awkwardness she always felt when her sister wandered into the realm of “God’s will.” She quickly covered with a forced smile. “Well, I have to hand it to you, Faith, you’re a better woman than me.”

  “Not better . . .” Faith said with a quirk of a smile. “Let’s just say a little more desperate for peace.” She hesitated. “Would you . . . can we . . . pray about it?”

  With a firm shake of her head, Katie slid Miss Kewpie across the table. “No, thanks, but I appreciate the offer. There’s nothing to pray about, really.”

  Her sister expelled a gentle sigh. “Okay, Katie. Well, I better get back. Love you.” With a quick squeeze of Katie’s hand, she rose and snatched Abby’s doll on her way to the door.

  “Desperate for peace, huh?” Katie called after her, determined to end things on a much lighter note. She stood and rounded the table, following Faith to the door. “Well, come Monday morning, if that man so much as looks at me cross-eyed, you and he are going to have a lot in common.” She gave her sister a quick kiss and then flashed her a crooked grin. “And trust me, sis, when I’m done with Luke McGee . . . ‘desperate for peace’ won’t even begin to cover it.”

  3

  I mean, sweet saints, what are the odds?” Luke chuckled and shuffled a stack of applications into a neat pile before tossing them into a wire basket at the corner of his scarred wooden desk. Streaks of sunset filtered in through the second-story window of the Boston Children’s Aid Society, lending a pinkish glow to the tiny office crammed with file cabinets, unpacked boxes, and well-worn furniture. A small antique mantel clock at the front of his desk chimed the six o’clock hour as he closed a folder sprawled open before him. With a flick of his wrist, he pitched the folder into another wire basket filled to the brim with client histories to be filed. He
scribbled a quick note to himself, then shoved some final papers into a side drawer before rising to his feet, arms stretched high overhead. “Who would’ve guessed the little brat I had a crush on at fourteen would turn out to be the spoiled fireball who gave me trouble at Robinson’s?” Lifting his navy suit coat off his chair, he flipped it over his shoulder and grinned at his two best friends. “I tell you, it’s nothing short of sweet justice, because now she works for me.”

  “For us,” Parker Riley corrected with an easy smile. He leaned back in the chair in front of Luke’s desk and braced his hands to the back of his neck. A twinkle lit brown eyes that regarded Luke with affection. “You’re the assistant director and I’m the director, remember?”

  Luke reached in his pocket and dug out a crumpled piece of paper. He sailed it across the desk to Parker with another grin. “A mere technicality, Parker, my boy. But since you insist on pulling rank, here’s the name of the agent for the train to Texas. He’s expecting your call.”

  Parker unwadded the note. “Come on, Luke, I can’t read this. This is nothing but chicken scratch.” He shook his head and handed it back. “Decipher, please.”

  “Here, give it to me.” With a roll of her hazel eyes, Betty Galetti pushed a shock of russet hair away from her face before plucking the note from Parker’s hand. “When are you going to learn, Parker? I’m the only one in this office who can read his writing . . .” She flattened the sheet out on the desk, then held it up to the fading light with a wry smile. “Or his mind, for that matter. Not that there’s a lot to read, mind you.” She squinted. “Alex Chrzanowski? McGee – are you sure this is right? Your spelling is atrocious.”

  Luke aimed a massive finger in her direction, but a grin softened his threatening stance, giving him dead away. “Hey, Galetti, you wouldn’t have a job if it wasn’t for me, so I suggest you treat both Parker and me with a liiiiittle more respect.” He strolled around his desk to give her a playful squeeze on the neck. “And you can start with a home-cooked meal – it’s bingo night, you know, and Mrs. Cox said we’re on our own for dinner.”

  Betty giggled and scrunched her shoulders. She squirmed out of his reach and slapped his hand away. “Why am I always the one who has to cook when Mrs. Cox is out? Parker’s a better cook than you and me put together.”

  Parker yawned and extended his arms in the air with a tired groan. “Sorry, but I’m the poor slob who has to put a budget together for the board tonight, so I’ll be here for a while.” He rose from his chair and loosened his paisley tie, then shot her a boyish grin while rolling his sleeves. “But I’d love it if you could save me a plate, Bets,” he said with a nod in Luke’s direction, “before this guy eats it all.”

  Betty’s smile shifted off-center as she stood, rising to her lithe, five-foot-ten height. She adjusted her knee-length pleated skirt, then patted the back of her chin-length auburn bob. “Believe me, Parker, I would love nothing more than making dinner for both you and Luke, but I promised Pop I’d close for him tonight.”

  “Again?” Luke frowned, coat draped over his shoulder and a hand parked on his thigh. “You told me you were only filling in at Robinson’s once or twice, not on a regular basis.”

  “I know,” Betty said with a sigh. “But Pop’s had trouble finding reliable help, and honestly, I could use the money. After all, secretarial pay falls way short of what you two slave drivers make.” She flashed a superior smile. “Though heaven knows I do most of the work.”

  “But I don’t like you working nights,” Luke said, his voice devoid of all humor. “And neither does Parker.” He exhaled and softened his tone. “Come on, Bets, you can’t keep this up – working here all day, then working nights too. Why don’t you talk to Mrs. Cox about reducing your board? Maybe you can help in the kitchen or something, you know, to lower your rent. Or better yet, let Parker and me kick in a little extra.”

  Betty’s eyes narrowed as she folded her arms to give him a cold stare, a pose Luke recognized all too well from their years in New York. Best friends from the start, they’d been two street orphans who’d forged an immediate bond.

  “I can’t ask Mrs. Cox for a reduction in board and you know it.” Her jaw lifted the slightest degree. “And neither would you. That woman needs every dime she can get running a boardinghouse with two shiftless sons who refuse to work.”

  Parker pushed in his chair. “Then let Luke and me pitch in – ”

  “No!” The chin jutted further. “It’s bad enough you had to talk the board into giving me this job, I will not take your charity too.”

  Luke took a step forward, lips compressed as flat as his mood. “You’re as pigheaded as they come, you know that, Galetti?”

  A hint of a blush colored her cheeks, but she stood her ground, meeting his scowl, nose to nose. “I doubt that’s a true statement, McGee, at least as long as you’re drawing air.”

  A soft chuckle parted from Parker’s lips. “I’m afraid she’s got you there, my friend.”

  Luke didn’t budge. “Then I’m walking you home. I’ll be there at ten-thirty sharp.”

  Betty sighed. “I’m a big girl, Luke, you’re not responsible for me anymore.” She hefted the box of files from his desk and headed for the door.

  Luke caught up with her and tossed his suit coat over the box, then pried it from her grip. He forced a grim smile. “Somebody’s got to look out for you, Galetti. Heaven knows you have no talent for it yourself.”

  Parker put an arm around Betty’s shoulders. “Come on, Luke, give her some credit. She left the bum and moved to Boston with us, didn’t she?” He gave her arm a squeeze. “Why don’t you just walk her to work, and I’ll walk her home, okay?”

  “I don’t need you two hovering over me all the time. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Betty started to leave, but not before Luke blocked her way. “We’ll do this our way, Bets, or not at all, is that clear?”

  “You mean your way, don’t you, Luke? It’s not Parker obsessing over my safety.”

  Luke sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Painful memories tightened his gut – the guilt of their close friendship veering into something more before he’d finally broken it off. Pain he’d never meant to inflict, forcing her into the arms of a monster. Cold fury shivered him at the thought of how he’d found her that night, battered, bruised, a woman with whom he shared a bond closer than blood. And a friend he loved better than any sister. He released a weary breath. “I just care about you, Bets – is that a crime?”

  Her defenses softened, and he saw a glimmer of the feelings she still harbored for him. “No, Luke, but you’re going to have to let it go. It’s not your fault. And it’s in the past, where it belongs – leave it there. And for heaven’s sake, stop looking back . . . please? For me?” The edge of her mouth lifted along with her brow. “You need to lighten up, kid, and embrace the moment.”

  He looked quickly away, moisture threatening his eyes. “I know, but we’re family – Parker, you, and me. Neither of us are going to let anything happen to you ever again.”

  He heard her soft sigh and watched as she made her way to the door. She turned and smiled, and despite a faint shadow of sadness in her eyes, he was struck all over again at how beautiful she was. A nerve pulsed in his jaw. Especially to the wrong guys – guys that wanted a taste of her beauty, no matter the cost. Shame flooded through him.

  Like I used to be.

  “Thanks, guys. I’ll file those histories on Monday.” She turned to go.

  Luke followed in her wake, his thoughts still muddled in the past. “G’night, Parker,” he said absently. “Bets gets off at ten-thirty sharp, so don’t be late or she’ll leave without you.”

  “Hey, Luke – wait up. We need to talk about this new volunteer.” Parker nudged the wire basket aside and sat on the corner of Luke’s desk. “Given your history with this girl, I think it would be more professional if she answered to me rather than you.”

  Luke turned and shifted the box to one hip. �
��No, buddy, this one is mine.”

  “This one is yours?” Parker folded his arms and angled a brow.

  Luke grinned. “Yeah, she’s a spoiled brat who needs a firm hand, and we both know that’s not you. I mean, look how you caved when I talked you into this job . . . Boss.”

  Parker sighed and tunneled his fingers through perfectly groomed sandy hair. “You and I both know there was no coercion involved, unless it was Father forcing me to be a lawyer instead of a priest like I wanted. And Father only gave me the directorship because I’m blood. He respects you a lot, sometimes more than me, I think.”

  “No, he gave you the directorship because you’re the one with the brains and the calm and steady hand.”

  A ghost of a smile played at the edges of Parker’s mouth. “All the more reason that the volunteer should answer to me and not you.”

  Luke squinted at his best friend. His smile faded as he tried to assess the truth of his feelings. Could he be fair and impartial? Memories of a ten-year-old spitfire sprang to mind, reminding him how easily she’d gotten under his skin. His thoughts shifted to the golden-haired beauty who needed to be reined in, and his pulse picked up. A slow smile eased across his lips as he adjusted the box on his hip. “No, Parker, our ‘history’ as you call it is all the more reason she should answer to me. According to Brady, this volunteer assignment was actually meted out by her father after she defied him one too many times. He hopes that working in the real world will teach her she can’t always get her own way.” His smile broke into a grin. “And I hate to tell you this, buddy-boy, but if she answered to you, that’s a lesson she’d never learn.”

  Parker smiled and rose to his feet. “Okay, Luke, we’ll do it your way. But don’t think I won’t be breathing down your neck if I see you abusing your power.”

  “Abusing my power?” Luke’s brows sloped high, his voice wounded. “I’m a professional, Parker, I would never abuse my power.” He boggled the box and strode for the door, but not before flashing a final gleam of white teeth. “Now Miss O’Connor’s ‘power’? Oh, yeah – that’s about to be abused, and you can take that to the bank of your choice.”