Collin thought about Charity, and a smile stretched across his face. She was beautiful. A bit of a brat, but truly beautiful, and he couldn’t wait until he could really hold her in his arms again. But for now, pecks on the cheek would have to do. Nothing was going to jeopardize this relationship, he promised himself, and the thought infused him with the energy to control his passions—for the moment. At least, until the time was right. But the time would come, Collin felt quite sure, and he was counting on it heavily to douse any other flame that burned.
Faith was certain the parlor had never looked lovelier. She wished Mrs. Gerson could see it as she ushered her to a chair by the fire. Her mother had every oil lamp, candle, and light glowing, causing the tree to shimmer with a dazzling array of ornaments and candied fruit. The air drifted with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon. Her father, chatting with Mrs. Gerson, stoked the fire while her mother divvied out mugs of steaming hot chocolate and coffee.
Under the tree, Katie was busy playing with the manger. She placed Mary and Joseph on their sides and covered them with her bear’s blanket. Steven lay prostrate beside her, galloping the camel like a stallion. Katie snatched it away, a look of disapproval on her face. “Give me the horse. It’s time for his nap,” she said.
“It’s a camel,” Steven snapped, wrestling it from her hand. “Camels don’t take naps.”
“Mama, Steven took my horse!” Katie wailed.
Marcy knelt to pick her up. “It’s okay, Katie. We’re going to read about Baby Jesus now, so why don’t you sit in my lap?” She carried Katie to the sofa and glanced back at Steven. “Steven, why don’t you sit by me too?”
The doorbell rang as her father reached for the family Bible. Sean rose to answer it, and Charity jumped up at the same time. “I’ll get it, Sean—it’s Collin.” She raced to the door and let him in, affording Faith a clear view of their warm embrace before they entered the parlor.
“Merry Christmas, everybody!” Collin shouted and was promptly greeted with matched enthusiasm. Charity tugged him to the love seat, while Faith ignored how closely they cuddled.
“Collin, I don’t believe you’ve met our neighbor, Mrs. Gerson,” Patrick said. “Mrs. Gerson, this is Charity’s beau, Collin McGuire.”
Collin stood to his feet and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gerson.”
“The pleasure is mine, young man.” Her voice was cordial and warm, no hint at all that this was the man who’d caused Faith so much upset. “Aren’t we the lucky ones, though, to be able to join this lovely family for the most blessed of holidays?”
“My thoughts exactly.” He sat back down, and Charity leaned to whisper something in his ear.
Patrick opened the Bible to Luke 2, then looked up. “Collin, before we begin, can we get you a drink—coffee, tea, hot chocolate?”
Collin opted for coffee, and Charity fetched him a cup. He leaned back, his long legs extended as he sipped the steamy brew. Charity curled up on the love seat beside him while her father bowed his head in prayer.
“Heavenly Father, our joy knows no bounds on this blessed Christmas morn as we celebrate the precious birth of your Son amidst family and friends. We ask that you join us in our holy celebration, and we thank you for your incredible blessings. We love you and worship you. Amen.”
A hush settled on the room as her father read the Christmas story. Collin closed his eyes to listen, his face calm. Faith found herself watching him, amazed at the way he seemed to fit in so easily. Her heart melted into an ache. All at once, his eyes opened and met hers. She dropped her gaze, heat fanning her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him draw Charity closer.
Following the Scripture reading, Sean was selected to play Santa, distributing presents, one by one, to each in the room.
“Mama, look at my pile—it’s huge!” Katie said.
“Not as big as mine,” Steven countered, stacking presents into a very shaky tower.
“Any idea what this might be, Beth?” Sean teased, holding a slim, rectangular present over her head. She snatched it from his hand with a giggle, then fingered it with care.
“Charity, one for you … and Faith … and Steven … nope, wait, this one’s for me!”
Her parents looked on, sitting closely on the sofa, her father’s arm snug around her mother’s shoulders. Charity was busy poking fun at Collin because his pile was small while Sean tossed yet another box his way. When Sean had finished handing out presents, Mrs. Gerson was given the honor of opening hers first.
Her lips rounded in delight when she unwrapped Faith’s present and the scent of potpourri escaped into the room. “Oh, Faith, how lovely!” She lifted the box to her nose. “It smells like oranges and cinnamon. I absolutely love it.”
Around the room they went, each taking a turn opening one gift at a time to a resounding chorus of oohs and aahs.
“Oh, Mrs. Gerson, it’s beautiful!” Faith said as she lifted a small silver cross and chain from the box Mrs. Gerson had given her.
“It was my mother’s,” she said with emotion. “It belongs to a daughter.”
With misty eyes, Faith hugged her, telling her she would treasure it always.
A shriek of delight resounded when Katie tore open a beautiful Gibson-style doll with flowing blond hair. Elizabeth’s usually shy smile almost gave way to a grin as she uncovered a book she’d been hoping for. And Sean seemed pleased with the new winter scarf he received, standing and posing with great drama.
The room was filled with paper and bows, laughter and love. Faith’s mother and father exchanged a soft kiss before gazing about the room, a look of pure contentment on their faces. When Marcy’s turn came, Patrick selected the present he wanted her to open first. She gave him a shy smile and took it from his hands. “What’s this?” she asked, tugging paper off a small box.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a grin.
Her mother opened the box and gasped, almost dropping its contents. Her hand flew to her mouth in delight. With trembling fingers, she held up a hand-painted porcelain rose hung on a delicate silver chain. “Oh, Patrick, I love it!” Clutching it to her throat, she threw her free arm around his neck. “I’ve never seen anything lovelier!”
He laughed, seeming quite pleased with himself. “Well, I have, my love, and I’m afraid this rose pales in comparison.” He kissed her full on the lips.
Katie groaned. “Mama, Daddy, stop it! There’s no time for kissin’ now. We’ve got presents to open!”
Everyone laughed, and the festivities continued: a new watch fob for Patrick, a tin of Marcy’s special spritz cookies for Mrs. Gerson, and a chessboard for Collin—so he could practice at home, Sean said. And so it went until the piles of wrapped presents were replaced with piles of treasured gifts, each with special meaning for giver and recipient alike.
“Well, I suppose I should get breakfast on the table,” her mother said, plucking torn paper from the floor.
Collin jumped up. “Not yet, Mrs. O’Connor, please.” He slipped out the front door. A moment later he returned with a bag full of presents in his arms. “I wanted to surprise everyone. I hope you don’t mind.” His face glowed like a little boy’s as he went about the room dispensing his gifts. “Mrs. Gerson, please forgive me. I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have brought something for you too.”
“Nonsense, young man. I think it’s very thoughtful what you’ve done. I’m enjoying this.”
“Collin, what’s this?” Patrick said, a slight frown furrowing his brow. “You bought presents for each of us? You shouldn’t be spending your money that way, son.”
“No, Mr. O’Connor, I wanted to. You and your family have made me so welcome. I feel like I’m part of the family at times, and you can’t possibly know how wonderful that’s been. I wanted some way to say thank you.”
One by one, the presents were unwrapped, each one significant to Collin and the O’Connor who opened it: a book on chess strategies for Sean—–so he cou
ld practice, Collin said; a carved wooden tray for Marcy—for all those cookies she baked over the last few weeks; and a pen and pencil set for Patrick, because every assistant editor needed one.
Faith’s turn came, and her stomach knotted as all eyes focused on her, particularly those of Collin McGuire. She kept her gaze low, attempting to steady her shaking hands while carefully removing the tissue wrapping. Pulling the paper aside, she held up a lovely, leather-bound journal and placed it on her lap. She looked up to see Collin watching her reaction. Slowly she opened its cover. To Faith—a true woman of faith. Collin.
“It’s a journal, you know, for your poetry. Charity says you’ve written poetry for years.”
There was no way to stop it. The tears were coming, and Faith could do nothing but let them fall. She was touched and embarrassed and heartbroken, all at once. He couldn’t possibly know how a gift like this would affect her. Unless, perhaps, Charity had told him—told him he’d been the focal point of much of the poetry she had ever written.
Across the room, her parents watched with concern. “Faith, are you all right?” her mother asked.
She nodded and forced a smile.
“See, I told you she would love it,” Charity said.
Faith wiped her face with her hand. “Yes … I love it. I need a new journal, Collin, truly I do. It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Faith,” he said quietly.
“Am I next?” Charity asked, eyes twinkling.
Collin reached into the bag, pulled out the last present, and handed it to her.
“It’s so small. I like big presents myself,” Katie announced.
“There’s an old saying, Katie,” Collin said with a smile. “Good things come in little packages. Look at you.”
Katie giggled and squirmed into Marcy’s lap. Collin turned his attention to Charity, grinning while she shredded the paper. With excitement in her eyes, she opened the tiny box and emitted a squeaky scream. Jumping up, she lifted a delicate diamond ring and screamed again.
Collin laughed and dropped to his knees, taking her hand in his. “Charity O’Connor, with your father’s permission”—Collin glanced at Patrick, who nodded—“will you be my wife?”
Ring in hand, Charity bounded into Collin’s arms, and the two toppled to the floor. Her father seemed amazed, her mother speechless, and the rest of the family jubilant.
All but one. Faith sat on the chair like a statue, her body cold and her eyes fixed in a stare. He had told her he would, but she had never really believed it. Somehow, she’d always hoped, sometime, some way, things might be different. But now, reality fisted her heart and nausea cramped in her stomach as the family gathered around Collin and Charity.
Faith rose like a sleepwalker, slowly moving toward the door.
Marcy was suddenly at her side. “Faith, what’s wrong?” she whispered, clutching her daughter’s arm. “You look like death. Are you feeling all right?”
Marcy’s voice was distant as Faith turned. She stared at her mother as if she were a stranger. Somewhere in the room, she sensed commotion and the faint sound of voices, farther and farther away until they disappeared altogether. And in a final swirl of darkness, with all energy depleted, she gave way to the spinning of the room, eyes flickering closed as she fell limp to the floor.
10
The room was so dark, and she was so tired, and something was terribly wrong. Faith strained to focus. The shadows of her bedroom came into view. Someone sat by her bed, hand on her arm, and she heard the imperceptible sound of lips moving. She tried to sit up. Fingers gently pushed her back. “Just rest, Faith. Your mother is preparing hot tea with honey, just as you like it.”
The tension in her body melted at the soothing sound of Mrs. Gerson’s voice, then seized in her chest as she jolted up in the bed. Collin … Charity … married. The thought of it was too much, and a choked sob wrenched from her lips.
Mrs. Gerson squeezed her hand. “There, there, my dear, God will see you through. ‘Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.’ This is the promise of the Lord. I know how difficult it may be to believe right now, that you could ever experience joy again in the midst of this hurt, but you will, my dear.”
Her voice shook with pain. “No, I can’t believe it. It hurts too much, Mrs. Gerson.”
“I know, Faith, but you will get past it—you will.”
“I’ve tried. And just when I thought I had, he speaks to me or looks at me, and I’m right back where I started. Even so, I believed I was getting better. And now this …”
Mrs. Gerson nudged a handkerchief toward Faith’s clenched fist. Faith shuddered. “I … I was just deceiving myself. I thought if I did the right thing, God would let me have him, but he hasn’t! Collin will belong to my family, Mrs. Gerson, but he will never, ever belong to me. How am I supposed to live with that?”
“Faith, I’ve told you many times, ‘God causes all things to work together for good for those who love the Lord’—even pain. I believe in my heart he can use this painful moment as the very thing to liberate you from your struggle of the heart. Until now, you’ve held on to the hope Collin would come to God, and then perhaps … to you. And so, you never really let go. Now, you’re forced to face the reality that someday soon, Collin will be Charity’s husband, and you have no choice in the matter. I believe God will use the pain of it, the finality of this engagement, to help you let go.”
A sigh quivered from Faith’s lips as she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “I know you’re right.” She lifted her chin, then sniffed. “I’m not happy about it, mind you, but I know you’re right. I suppose I’m going to need your prayers now more than ever, Mrs. Gerson.”
“Yes, mine, and those of your parents.”
The breath stifled in Faith’s throat. “No, I can’t tell my parents.”
“I’m afraid you have little choice. Collin will be a part of your family. You will need strength and support, both spiritually and emotionally. I think you must.”
“But if they knew Collin made advances, and that I felt this way, it would only cause problems. They’ve just begun to trust him.”
“Yes, and maybe they shouldn’t, not quite yet. I don’t think that young man even trusts himself, based on what you’ve told me. No, Faith, I think you need the deterrent of your parents’ knowledge. And you certainly need their prayer cover. Promise me you’ll tell them.”
Faith cowered back. “Tell them what? I’m in love with the man of my dreams? Oh yes, there’s just one problem—he’s engaged to my sister!”
Marcy stood in the doorway, paralyzed, nearly dropping the mug of tea in her hands. It can’t be true! But it was. She’d heard it with her own ears.
“Mother!” Faith’s voice was breathless.
Mrs. Gerson pivoted toward the door, then rose. “Marcy, I’ll leave you and Faith to talk. Would you be kind enough to call Sean to escort me downstairs?”
Marcy nodded dumbly, taking Mrs. Gerson’s hand and ushering her to the landing. She summoned Sean before reentering the room. Silently she lowered herself to the bed.
Why hadn’t she seen it? She’d noticed the stiffness between Faith and Collin as they spoke, when they spoke, but it never occurred to her why. She’d seen the sadness in Faith’s eyes whenever he was around, but dismissed it as nothing more than Faith longing for a beau of her own. And the coldness between Charity and her sister, well, that had been going on for so long now, Marcy realized she had simply learned to accept it. Suddenly, it all came into focus, and the picture made Marcy ill. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around her daughter.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I wanted to tell you, but I knew how you and Father felt about him. It made you both so angry that Charity cared for him. How could I tell you I did too?”
“How long have you felt this way?” Marcy whispered.
“From the moment I first saw him, he’s the only boy I’ve ever thought about, ever written about in my jou
rnal. We were friends, briefly, my freshman year. Oh, Mother, he was an amazing person before his father died. He was handsome and kind and gentle and good—everyone loved him. I couldn’t help myself. I’d never met anyone like him before. He stole my heart before I even knew it. I hoped it was a schoolgirl crush that would pass. And it might have, if …”
Marcy sat up straight. “If what?”
Faith looked away.
“If what, Faith? You must tell me. Has something happened between you and Collin?”
Faith nodded, her gaze fixed on the handkerchief wadded in her hand. Her voice was barely a whisper. “He kissed me, Mother, more than once.”
Marcy gasped. “When … where?”
“Once in the park. He followed me there, wanting to know why I had caused trouble between Charity and him. And then another time, late at night, on our back porch.”
“What?”
“He threw a rock at the window. He wanted to see Charity, but she was asleep, and Father had asked for my help in keeping him away from her, so I went down instead.”
Marcy stood, then began to pace. She wheeled to face her daughter, hands locked on her hips. “Faith, did you lead him on in any way?”
Faith’s eyes widened. “No, Mother, I didn’t, honestly. In the park, we got into an argument and then … well, it just sort of happened. I think he was as surprised as I was, really. And then … the night on the porch, it was late, and he’d been drinking. He came up behind me. He thought I was Charity.”
“I knew from the beginning that boy was trouble,” Marcy sputtered.
Faith reached for her mother’s hand, pulling her to sit down. “Mother, please—inside Collin’s a good man, I know it. I saw it, long before the pain of his father’s death changed him. I couldn’t have felt this way if he wasn’t. Please don’t tell Father; he would get so upset. I don’t mean to cause trouble. I just want to get over it, but I don’t know how. And now … well, now he’s going to marry Charity, and he’ll always be around.” Her voice sank into a sob.
A Passion Most Pure (The Daughters of Boston Book #1): A Novel Page 15
