by Marta Perry
Well, this was a special event, sort of like part of the wedding preparations, with the shower this afternoon. She hadn’t liked to go on refusing invitations when Siobhan was so helpful with the wedding. Besides, coming this morning provided an opportunity to see what the sanctuary looked like filled with people.
She’d just given herself a few too many reasons for her actions. The truth was, she’d been—well, curious, she supposed. She’d wanted to see what Brendan was like in action.
She had to admit he looked imposing in that black robe. She’d thought initially that the height of the pulpit gave him an unfair advantage, letting him look down on everyone. But then when the sermon began he’d left the pulpit, moving down to their level to speak without notes.
She’d arrived this morning determined to remain unaffected by what happened here, but things hadn’t worked out quite that way. Brendan had spoken, openly and without what she’d thought of as preaching, about what loving one’s neighbor really meant. And she had discovered she couldn’t remain unaffected by the service after all.
Brendan obviously cared about what he was saying. It meant so much to him that his passion had reached out to her, shaking her with the realization of how little she’d cared for anyone in a long time.
She’d once thought her detachment was an advantage, but she knew now that it wasn’t a good way to live. Even if she never saw Brendan again after the wedding, she’d take something good away from having known him.
The congregation stood for the final hymn, and she stood with them. She took the side of the hymnal Siobhan held out to her. The music soared upward to the arched ceiling, seeming to lift spirits, too.
They’d known what they were doing, those people who’d designed gothic churches. Every line of the sanctuary drew the eye and the mind upward. Even someone like her, a rational being who wasn’t looking for spiritual inspiration, could appreciate that.
The hymn came to an end. Brendan held his arms out to his congregation, as if he’d embrace every one of them. His smile touched her, evoking an answering smile.
“Walk closely with God. Love your neighbor, even the least lovable. And don’t forget to give thanks.”
The organ music swelled to fill the sanctuary, and the service was over. Claire closed the hymnal, stepped into the aisle and found herself face-to-face with Harvey Gray.
One of her basic principles in dealing with her employer was never to be caught by surprise. Or at least, never to show it.
“Good morning, Mr. Gray.” She tried to smile as if it were the most common thing in the world to encounter him in the aisle of Grace Church.
“Ms. Delany.” He wore what she thought of as his lean and hungry look. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t realize you attended church.”
And what are you doing in my church again? That was Gray’s unspoken question. He’d made it clear, the night he’d found her with Brendan’s teens, that he didn’t approve of her connection with that project. He was used to having even his most implicit wishes followed.
“Harvey, how are you this morning?” Siobhan squeezed around Claire to take his hand.
“Fine, thank you, Siobhan.” He turned on his social smile as he shook hands with Siobhan and Joe.
She shouldn’t be surprised that they knew each other. They’d belonged to the same church for years and Joe Flanagan was pretty high up in the fire department, from what she understood. That had importance attached to it, if not social status—Harvey Gray knew everyone who was anyone in Suffolk.
Someone else caught Gray’s attention, and she slipped quickly up the aisle, not waiting for Siobhan. She’d see them at the house. Right now she needed to do some damage control. If her boss wasn’t happy to see her here, then she’d disappear from view.
She’d nearly reached the back of the sanctuary when someone caught her arm. She turned, trying to place the girl who stood between her and the door.
“I’m Amy Wagner,” she said helpfully. “I was here the night you were teaching us about interviewing and stuff, remember?”
One of Brendan’s teens. “Of course,” she said untruthfully. She’d managed to block most of that disastrous night out of her thoughts, including the faces of the kids. “How are you?”
“Okay. Listen.” The girl’s grip tightened, as if Claire had threatened to flee. “Some of us were talking to Stacy. About her new job and all. And we were thinking—well, maybe you’d give it another shot.”
“Another shot?”
The girl shrugged. “Well, you know. Teach us about getting jobs and all. You think?”
She’d like to say no and get out as fast as her legs would carry her. She had enough to do with Stacy and the wedding, to say nothing of her job.
Unfortunately, some of the words from Brendan’s sermon seemed to have taken up residence in her mind.
“God doesn’t expect all of us to become Mother Teresa,” he’d said. “God just expects that you’ll do the good works He puts in front of you to do.”
She wasn’t one of Brendan’s flock. She didn’t have to follow his advice. But she’d been thinking about how she’d changed, and the girl was looking at her like a puppy that expected to be kicked.
“All right.” The words were out before she could reconsider. “I’ll talk to Reverend Flanagan about setting something up.”
“Cool. I’ll be there.” Amy turned and whipped back down the aisle as if she feared Claire would change her mind if she stuck around.
It was another commitment to add to her long list. She dared a glance back to where she’d last seen her boss to find him deep in conversation with someone, his back to her. Good. At least he hadn’t seen her talking with the girl.
One session, that’s all she’d agree to. With a little luck, Gray would never know anything about it.
She neared the door, where she could see Brendan greeting his parishioners as they exited. Up close, the black robe made him seem older, different, maybe a little more distant. It hadn’t bothered her when he’d been in the pulpit, but she wasn’t quite sure how she’d have a normal conversation with him while he was wearing it.
For one brief moment her treacherous mind presented her with the image of a different Brendan—a Brendan who was flushed and sweaty, holding her tightly against the T-shirt he’d worn to play basketball. A Brendan she’d looked at and known that she loved.
No. She was not going to think that. It was impossible. It couldn’t be true. The feeling was a random infatuation brought about by the orange blossoms in the air.
The line moved a few steps closer to the vestibule, and she took a deep breath. A quick greeting, and she’d scoot on out the door. That was all, and when they were at the shower this afternoon, she’d be too busy even to notice him.
Brendan bent courteously over to talk to a pair of tiny elderly ladies who must be sisters, they looked so much alike. He had a patient ear for each of them, while she shuffled her feet and wondered if she could be rude enough to brush past them.
Finally they moved on. She was ready with a quick handshake and a smile. She wasn’t ready for Brendan to clasp her hand in both of his.
“Claire, you came. I’m so glad.”
“Your aunt talked me into it.” She would not let herself think about how warm and strong his grasp was. “We’re heading over to the house right away to get ready for the shower, and we don’t have much time.”
She started to pull her hand free. But Brendan’s grip was firm, and the elderly women had stopped at the top of the outside steps, carrying on an animated conversation with someone beyond them without noticing that they effectively blocked the doorway.
“That’s good. I’ll see you over there.” His grasp tightened. “There’s something I wanted to say to you first.” He lowered his voice, but the elderly women weren’t paying attention, and the people behind Claire had come to a halt for conversation as well. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Not for making me care about you, by
any chance?
His brows drew down. “I said something that hurt you yesterday. I’m sorry.”
His words popped back into her mind. “You were wrong about my parents.” And if he wasn’t, she certainly wouldn’t admit it. “But I guess I started it by mentioning yours.” They’d both hit sore spots, obviously.
“I lost my temper.” He said it as if confessing the gravest of sins. “That should never have happened.”
She studied his face. “If that’s an example of losing your temper, all I can say is that it wasn’t visible to anyone else. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose your temper. Don’t you have one?”
She’d said the words lightly, not thinking about anything but the fact that he still grasped her hands. But she was looking in his eyes, and what she saw there shook her to her soul.
Torture. That was all she could see. Brendan’s eyes looked tortured, and the expression was so strong that it wrenched her heart. Why did he look that way?
“Brendan—”
What could she say? This was obviously a struggle of faith. She couldn’t help someone deal with a spiritual struggle when she didn’t believe in anything. The people behind her moved up, obviously ready for their turn with the minister. She could only give him a sympathetic look as she went out the door.
Brendan hadn’t expected to enjoy the shower. For one thing, it brought him into close proximity with Claire again, which always seemed to have unfortunate results.
And for another, he’d thought the whole idea just a little silly. Why a shower, anyway?
But an hour into the event, he’d begun to see things a little differently. He leaned against the door frame, out of the flow of traffic, and watched as Nolie and Gabe opened presents.
This wasn’t about playing childish games, or about giving the wedding couple gifts they’d never use. It was about community, gathered around two of their own to celebrate a significant step in their lives. It pointed people toward the fact that two were about to become one.
Seth, his two-year-old son slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, came to join him. “You look like you’re making a sociological study of wedding customs among the natives.”
Brendan grinned, tickling Davy, who responded with a giggle. “You’re not far wrong. I was thinking this isn’t a bad way to get ready for a wedding.”
Seth’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t really believe they need a pasta machine, do you?”
“Well, maybe not. But the gifts are a sign of recognition that a new family is being formed. That’s important.”
Seth’s blue eyes seemed to darken. “To last forever,” he said softly.
For a moment Brendan couldn’t respond. Good-natured Seth took life so equably that it was easy to forget that he’d lost his wife when Davy was born. However much that grieved him, he usually kept it to himself.
“I’m sorry.”
Seth shrugged, his normal easygoing smile returning. “Hey, it’s okay. And you’re right. Even with the modern trappings, like having couples here, it’s still about getting them ready for marriage. Married women passing on their secret recipes, while all the men can do is pound each other on the back and make stupid jokes.”
“You think women are better at that sort of thing than we are?”
“Probably.” Seth nodded toward Claire, who was leaning over the couch, recording each gift and giver. “Claire’s done a great job. I didn’t know what to make of her at first, but she’s okay.”
“You’re just saying that because she helped you beat us yesterday.”
“She’s pretty good. Did she play college ball?”
Brendan shrugged, but actually he knew the answer to that, didn’t he? Claire hadn’t been playing basketball or going to college dances after high school. She’d been struggling to survive.
Davy yawned, snuggling his face into Seth’s shoulder.
“I’d better get this guy down for a nap.” Seth elbowed him as he moved past. “If you stand there and stare at the woman like that, someone might get the impression that you’re interested.”
He went back down the hall before Brendan could respond, even supposing he’d been able to think of something to say. Was he being that obvious? Maybe so.
But it was hard to keep his eyes off a Claire who seemed to have shed all her reserve. With her face alight with laughter over some comment about a gift, she looked years younger than the woman he’d first quarreled with about the wedding plans.
He loved her. He couldn’t have her.
That was the truth, expressed as plainly as he knew how. She’d already been nearly destroyed by an abuser. For an instant he seemed to see Claire, cringing away from a blow. Seemed to see his father’s face, black with rage, as he struck out at Brendan’s mother.
No. He couldn’t risk it.
Why haven’t You taken the anger away? I’ve asked so often. Why don’t You answer?
He knew what he’d tell someone else who asked that question. He’d say that God always answered prayers, but that sometimes, for reasons people can’t understand, the answer is no. Oddly enough, that didn’t seem like a good enough response when he asked the question himself.
A high sign from his aunt stopped what was becoming a fruitless argument with himself. They were finishing up the gifts, and she wanted all hands on deck to serve the food. He followed her into the kitchen. By the time he got there, she was already pulling bowls of chicken salad from the refrigerator.
“It’s going well, isn’t it?” She paused long enough to smile at him. “Claire’s done a wonderful job.”
“Not just me.”
Claire came quickly into the kitchen behind him, and his heart tightened in response to her presence.
“Mostly you.” Siobhan passed her a bowl and a handful of serving spoons. “You were the only one who could get Nolie to agree, and look how much she’s enjoying it.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Claire’s face was radiant with her smile.
If she ever looked at him that way— Well, she wouldn’t.
“You’ve given both of them a day to remember,” he said, pushing his feelings aside. “Congratulations, Claire. You were right.”
She turned that smile on him, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I’m delighted to hear you admit that.”
“Hey, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong.” He sounded normal, didn’t he? “You’ve converted me. Weddings deserve all the flourishes.”
Siobhan rounded the table and put her arm around Claire, hugging her as if Claire were one of her daughters. “Thank you, Claire. You made this possible.”
Tears brightened Claire’s eyes as she returned the hug. “Nolie’s lucky. She’s finally getting the family she’s always deserved.”
His throat tightened until he couldn’t possibly speak. But he didn’t need to. Siobhan put her hand on Claire’s cheek with a gentle touch.
“You’re her family. That makes you part of ours. Don’t go away from us when the wedding is over.”
Claire blinked the tears away. “I won’t.” The words were almost a whisper.
Then she cleared her throat, as if embarrassed at the display of emotion. “We’d better get this food out there before they storm the kitchen.”
“Right.” Brendan seized a basket of rolls in each hand, glad of something to do that covered his emotions. He didn’t begrudge Claire her part in the family or the welcome she’d received.
He just wasn’t sure how he’d go on seeing her on a regular basis without somehow letting his feelings for her show.
Less than a week to go before the wedding, and she was wasting precious time going to meet with Brendan’s teens. Claire frowned at Brendan across the front seat of his car. When he’d called her at work to say he’d set up the meeting, she’d protested that she had to work late, that Monday was her busiest day and that her car was in the shop for service and wouldn’t be ready on time.
Brendan had blandly ignored her arguments and said he�
��d pick her up. So she’d rushed out to the corner to meet him, wondering why on earth she couldn’t just tell him no, and whether she’d gotten away without Harvey Gray knowing where she was headed.
She stole a glance over her shoulder at the ornate brick facade of the Gray building receding in the distance. Gray couldn’t possibly know. Despite what some of his employees thought, the man didn’t have X-ray vision.
“Are you still worried about Harvey Gray’s opinion?”
“He’s my employer. Of course I worry about what he thinks.” Her voice was tart. “And if you don’t, you should. Like I said before, he’s a dangerous enemy.”
“He’s not my enemy.” Brendan sounded as if he were being tolerant of her foibles. “The church is different.”
“The church is composed of ordinary people. You taught me that. And I know how people like Harvey Gray operate. You don’t want to get on his bad side.”
“The church is a mission, not a business. We run on faith.”
“You run on contributions. It’s not a good idea to alienate one of your biggest contributors.”
Brendan shook his head, smiling.
Maybe it was just as well that his idealism annoyed her so much. It was a reminder of how ill-suited they were to each other.
Not that she needed a reminder. She’d already decided that what she felt for him was nothing more than attraction. Infatuation. It would pass with the wedding, and a month from now she’d look back and laugh at her foolishness.
“The shower turned out great.” He must feel that there were safer topics of conversation. “Nolie was still beaming the last I saw her.”
“I know.” Her voice softened at the thought of Nolie’s happiness. “Well, she deserves all the happiness in the world, and she seems to be getting that with Gabe. As for the shower, a lot of the credit goes to your aunt and cousins. I’d never have gotten it done without them.”
