A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1)

by Julie Lessman

  It had been over a month since Patrick had agreed to allow Collin to see Charity. The dictates had been strictone visit a week, on Sundays, for lunch following church and staying through dinner. He was never to be alone with Charity, and under no circumstances could she go anywhere with him. And if either Collin or Charity broke any of the established rules, the relationship was over. Although her father had never suggested Collin join them at church each Sunday, he was always there nonetheless, standing in the back of the vestibule in his best suit, freshshaven and hair neatly combed. And so it went, Sunday after Sunday; Collin slowly became a part of their lives, a fact that suited almost everyone in the family.

  Faith watched him out of the corner of her eye, pretending total absorption in her book. Collin had such a natural way with people when he put his mind to it, much like her father. He instinctively knew when to jump up and lend a hand to Marcy or tease Katie out of a near-tantrum. Sean seemed to enjoy his company, as Collin was always a ready and challenging partner at chess. He wrestled with Steven and talked poetry with Elizabeth, and yet somehow always managed to keep his eyes on Charity. Even her father had to admit that perhaps he'd been wrong about this man so intent on loving his daughter.

  Through it all Faith remained in the background, never speaking to Collin, seldom looking his way, and more often than not, sitting up in her room or burying herself in a book. She noticed that he, too, seemed to avoid her, conveniently preoccupying himself with Katie, Steven, or the dog whenever she spoke. The first few weeks had been almost unbearable, but she found her faith seemed to grow to meet her need. Little by little, the dread that set in on Saturdays began to diminish, and steadily Faith could feel her enthusiasm for Sundays returning once again.

  Collin was beginning to speak to her now, a word here, a question there, and she even found him watching her upon rare occasion. She could feel herself starting to relax when he was in the room, and it occurred to her that he had been right. She was getting used to it. And so was he, apparently. But there were times, she was reluctant to admit, when she would see him gaze into her sister's eyes and suspected it would be a long while before her feelings would wane. A very long while-and a lot of prayer-she realized as she got up to leave the room.

  Her mother was finishing up the last of the dishes as Faith entered the kitchen. She seemed so tired. Faith walked up behind and put her arms around her shoulders. "Why didn't you say you needed help, Mother? I would have been in here in a heartbeat."

  Marcy turned, her smile weary. "I know, Faith, but actually it was rather nice having a few moments alone. I don't know what's wrong lately. I seem to be much more impatient with Katie than I ever was with you and the others. It's just getting older, I suppose. I seem to wear out so easily these days."

  Faith took her mother's arm and steered her into a chair. "Here, you sit down, and I'll finish up. Or better yet, why don't you go in and sit with the others?"

  "Oh, that sounds so nice! I will, I think. Thank you, Faith. I love you."

  Faith smiled over her shoulder. "I love you too, Mother. Now scoot. Go sit with that husband of yours."

  "I'll be asleep within ten minutes, fifteen minutes at the most," she said, laughing as she headed through the door.

  Faith shook her head and smiled as she reached for the mixing bowl. The kitchen door swung open again, and she lowered her voice to a threatening tone. "I'm warning you-don't make me carry you out of this kitchen. . ."

  "I'd like to see you try," Collin said with that teasing tone of his. Faith's heart tumbled in her chest. She turned as Collin stood at the door, an empty glass in his hand, and a swell of the old familiar feelings tripped through her. Why is this happening again? I've been fine for weeks, and now my stomach chooses this moment to do flip-flops? She attempted a laugh, then turned to the sink, hoping he wouldn't notice that her hands were shaking.

  "Oh, I thought you were Mother. You have to force that woman to take a break, you know." She put the shaking to good use by scrubbing a bowl with relentless determination.

  She heard him walk to the icebox, open it, and pour himself a glass of something. Without a word, he leaned against the counter and sipped. She sensed his eyes and felt a blush warming her cheeks. What in blazes does he think he's doing? She attacked the next mixing bowl with even fiercer intensity, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her curiosity.

  He drained the glass and ambled to the sink where he stood, glass in hand. Faith ignored him-and the flutters in her stomach-and reached for more soap. She put it in the water and swished with her fingers until bubbles puffed high.

  "How are you at whist?" he asked.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Whist," he repeated. "Charity's convinced she can trounce me, and I need a partner." He handed her his dirty glass. "Wanna play?"

  She snatched it from his hand and scrubbed as she had never scrubbed before.

  "You may want to sterilize it," he said with a hint of a smile.

  The heat in her face fanned to hot as she ceased her scouring. "I've got dishes to do."

  "We'll wait," he said. "That is, if you're any good."

  She turned to face him, eyebrow cocked. "Good? You want good? How do I know you can even keep up with me?"

  He grinned. "My, we're a bit full of ourselves tonight, aren't we now?"

  Her lips curved into a smile. "You should know." She dismissed him with a sweep of her hair and heard him laugh as her hands dove into the suds.

  "I'll try not to disappoint you," he drawled.

  The door creaked closed as he left, and she sagged against the sink, sucking in a breath. Her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding, but by gum she would teach him a thing or two about whist before she was through. And somehow, the thought cheered her.

  It was a near-massacre. Collin worked hard to keep from breaking into an all-out grin. The look on Charity's face told him it would be unwise, so he jostled Katie on his knee instead. He wrapped his arms around the little girl as he positioned the cards in his hand. Glancing across the table at Faith, he fought the inclination to smile. She was a gritty-faced cardsharp, her green eyes focused as she surveyed her hand, picking up tricks as smoothly as a riverboat hustler on a peaceful river. She pursed her lips in satisfaction and carefully placed her trump card down.

  Charity moaned as she pitched her remaining cards on the table and stood up. "Come on, Katie, I'll put you to bed."

  Sean sighed and tossed his cards in as well. "I'm right behind you, Katie girl. I know when to call it a night."

  "No! I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna watch some more."

  "No, you're going to bed," Charity said, her tone as threatening as her mood. "Mother wanted you asleep a while ago."

  Katie pasted herself around Collin's neck, a look of panic in her eyes. "No, Collin, don't let her take me, please!"

  Collin flashed his little-boy grin. "Come on, Charity, it's Christmas Eve. Twenty more minutes won't matter."

  Charity pushed her chair in abruptly. "That's what you said twenty minutes ago and then twenty minutes before that. No, Collin, don't try to get around me with that smile. She's going to bed." She reached to take hold of Katie, who clung to Collin like a newborn monkey.

  Collin pried her arms from his neck and kissed her on the forehead. "Katie, you know what I forgot? Tomorrow's Christmas, and if you don't go to bed, you might sleep through it."

  Katie blinked. "I wouldn't do that," she whimpered.

  "You might, if you don't get your sleep. I would hate for you to miss Christmas just because you're too tired to get up. Besides, you want to be a good girl for Santa, don't you?"

  She nodded, and he gave her a squeeze. "That's a girl. Do I get a good-night kiss?"

  Katie yawned before her little mouth puckered. She kissed him sweetly on the lips.

  "What, no butterfly kiss?" he asked.

  She giggled and pressed her cheek to his, fluttering her lashes against his face. A broad grin stretched across his lips. "Good nig
ht, Katie," he whispered, then handed her over to Charity, who groaned at the weight.

  "Katie Rose, you're getting way too big for me to carry you."

  Sean jumped up. "I'll take her up if you'll get her ready for bed. Good night, you two hustlers. I hope your conscience keeps you awake tonight."

  "I'm sure you have plans to gloat while I put Katie to bed," Charity said with a smirk.

  Collin laughed. "I promise, we'll get it all out of our systems before you get back."

  She shot him a searing look before following Sean and Katie from the room.

  Faith and Collin grinned at each other.

  "We make a pretty good team," he said as he leaned back in the chair.

  She smiled and nodded, appearing to avoid his eyes while she picked up the cards. "You kept up pretty well, I noticed."

  "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

  "School. You happen to be looking at the reigning champ of St. Mary's class of 1916."

  "You don't show a lot of mercy for someone so devoted to God," he remarked dryly.

  She was shuffling the cards with ease as her eyes suddenly locked on his. "Mercy's not exactly my strong suit," she said.

  "What is?"

  She grinned and cut the cards. "Well, I'm pretty good at self-control, and I suppose you could say I have perseverance. I've got a stubborn streak, so I guess it comes naturally. You wouldn't be interested in a quick game of rummy, would you?" Her green eyes issued a challenge.

  He felt a smile slide across his lips. His pulse quickened as the color deepened on her cheeks. Her eyes quickly dropped to assess the cards in her hand, and all at once, he was as high-strung as a cat. He hated the way his blood was coursing through his veins without warning. Was he interested in a game of rummy? A swear word bubbled into his thoughts. No, he wasn't interested in rummy! And the cold realization did nothing to temper the heat he was feeling. After a month of devoting himself to Charity, a month of hoping these feelings for Faith were behind him, she still affected him more than any woman alive.

  "Sure, why not?" He palmed the cards she dealt and breathed in deeply-quietly-as he arranged his hand. He willed himself to be calm and relaxed. Like her, he thought, stealing a glance. She was oblivious to the flood of feelings she'd just unleashed in him. Completely focused on the game, gauging her cards with a cool gaze, her face unreadable except for the slightest tilt of her lips. She picked up and discarded.

  "Perseverance. Yeah, I'd say you have that in spades," he said, reaching for a card off the pile. "You were a plucky little thing, even with braces on your legs." He looked up, his eyes softening as they fixed on hers. "Charity told me about your sister. I'm sorry."

  She nodded and took a deep breath, the bridge of her nose creasing while she scrutinized her cards. "Thank you."

  "Do you miss her?"

  She looked up. "Yes. Very much."

  He stared back. There was heartbreak in those green eyes, but something else too. So much strength, so much inner peace ... so much faith. He couldn't imagine two of her. He swallowed. "What was she like?"

  A soft smile lighted on her lips. She gazed past him with a faraway look in her eyes. "What can I say? Hope was a part of me, my best friend, my 'other self."' She smiled again, snapping out of her reverie. "Or, at least, that's what we used to call each other." She picked up a card.

  He grinned. "Don't tell me-I'll bet you were the good twin."

  She laughed. "You'd lose your money on that one, I'm afraid. No, I was the 'handful,' according to my father, the twin with the penchant for trouble." She glanced up, her eyes twinkling. "That wild temper, you know." Collin smiled, and she continued. "Hope was ... well, she was one of the softest, kindest human beings I've ever known. Her voice, her manner, the way she walked, played ... all spoke of a gentle heart."

  Faith rested her hands on the table, cards braced low, almost facedown. The distant look was back in her eyes. "I remember playing dress-up with mother's hand-medowns. I'd parade around, stylish as you please, in the prettiest and fanciest clothes I could find, all heaped high with gobs of Mother's best jewelry. And Hope would take what was left, never complaining, never worrying about having the best. She always seemed the happiest when she could make me happy."

  Faith took a deep breath, her gaze fading into a blank stare. "She was an angel from God. I loved her with all my heart. . ." Her voice trailed, and she suddenly blinked, moisture glazing her eyes. "Still do."

  "So, what are some of your other strong suits?" he asked quickly, hoping to steer the subject away from the sadness he'd obviously inflicted.

  "Well, I like to think I'm loyal, I have a deep faith in God, and I suppose I'm a good listener. Especially if you want to tell me what's in your hand."

  He glanced up with a wry smile. "No, thanks. But I do seem to recall you made a pretty good sounding board when we were in school. Did I bore you to tears?"

  "Of course not," she said with a laugh. "You were the exalted senior, and I was the lowly freshman. What else could I be but mesmerized?"

  He picked up, frowned, then threw the card back down. "To tell you the truth, I don't even remember what I rambled on about."

  She looked up, a slight blush stealing into her cheeks. "You don't remember? You had so many dreams, so many plans for your future. You had it all mapped out, as I recall. You wanted to work the printing business with your father. He was going to teach you, and you were going to grow it."

  The muscles in his face tightened as he discarded. "Yeah, I remember now. What a pie-in-the-sky dreamer I was."

  "No, you weren't! You wanted to make your father proud."

  "Like I said-a dreamer." He snatched a card from the deck, then hurled it back.

  "There's nothing wrong with dreams, Collin. You could still make him proud, you know."

  He leveled his gaze on hers. "And how would I do that now? He's gone, and everything is gone with him. The dream died when he did."

  "I don't think so." She put her final card facedown on the pile. "The dream lives in you, not your father. Gin." She looked up with a touch of defiance in her eyes.

  He tossed the cards on the table with a faint smile. "You haven't changed much since high school, you know that? I think you're a bigger dreamer than I was."

  "Maybe. But I think you could have carried on with the business when he died. After all, you still had his shop, his equipment, and most of all, you had the fire inside to fuel it all. Honestly, Collin, if you could have seen the look on your face whenever you spoke about your future, you would have known you could make it a success."

  He gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward, his eyes burning. "Do you think I didn't want to? You don't think I wasn't crushed? The person I loved more than anyone in this world died! And any chance I might have had got buried right along with him. Don't you understand? I didn't know enough about the business to turn on a machine, much less print anything."

  Collin slumped back in the chair, his voice deadened. "He never wanted to burden me with working while I was in school. And summers ... well, he said I should enjoy them, that there was plenty of time to learn the business once I graduated. Plenty of time, he said, to work the rest of my life." Collin looked up, his eyes stinging with anger and pain. "Only there wasn't. He left me alone, Faith, with no one to turn to."

  She sat, her hands gently cupping the deck of cards as she watched him, her face full of emotion. "You weren't alone, Collin. God was with you every step of the way. He would have shown you what to do if you had asked. You could have learned the business from someone else, given yourself as an apprentice to someone who would run the shop, I don't know. All I do know is you have great potential, and if you would only turn back to the one who gave it to you, I know you could fulfill your father's dream ... and yours."

  Never did she radiate more beauty than when she spoke of her God, and never was his anger kindled more than when she did. It was the same seesaw effect she always had on him-a tug-of-war between wanting h
er and hating her. He stretched back in his chair and stared, his eyes angry slits as they took in the face aglow with hope and the eyes glimmering with promise. "And just exactly what would you know about my potential, Faith?"

  She went red. "I just meant-"

  "You meant well, I know, but keep in mind I'm not the only one running from potential."

  Her cheeks flamed, and it gave him some small satisfaction to see her squirm.

  His silence seemed to unnerve her further, and she suddenly stood, fumbling with the cards as she put them away. "Actually, Collin, I am pretty tired. I better head up."

  "Why? My 'potential' too frightening a subject for you?"

  Her green eyes narrowed. "No, I just don't know why you feel the need to ruin a perfectly good evening."

  He let out a weary sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Faith," he whispered. "You got a little too close to home, I guess. Sorry if I hurt you. Tonight ... and in the past."

  She averted her gaze while she brushed her hair from her face. "Don't be. Everything's fine, Collin. I'm getting over it, really I am."

  "I hope so," he said without conviction.

  She laughed, her voice shaky as she gathered empty glasses off the table. "Really, I'm fine. We had fun tonight, and that's good. It shows we can be around each other comfortably, without strain." She stared at the glasses in her hands, her voice fading low and soft. "You fit in well. The way you handle Katie, the way you tease and make us all laugh, it just feels right. I know you're going to make my sister very happy."

  "Faith .. .

  She looked up into his eyes, and it was back, the memory of that day in the park flooding his senses with a strange connection as thick as the tension in the air. He could tell from her eyes she felt it too.

  She straightened her shoulders and pressed her lips in a tight line. "Collin, I don't think it's a good idea for you and me to be alone like this. It's ... well, it's very hard, and I think I do better when we avoid it."