A Passion Denied (40 page)

Lizzie blew on her tea. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m not married to Brady, but he certainly tries to run my life as if I were.”

Faith sighed deeply, causing little Hope to shudder in her sleep. She gave her sisters a lopsided smile. “I’m afraid they come by it naturally.”

“What do you mean, ‘naturally’?” Charity huffed. “Unnaturally is more like it. It’s not natural to be a bully.”

“That’s exactly what I thought when Collin bullied me with the submission Scripture the year before we were married.”

Charity’s left brow cocked a full half inch. “Submission Scripture? Come again?”

Faith drew in a deep breath, preparing for her sisters’ reactions. “Ephesians 5:22—‘Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.’ ”

Lizzie’s eyes widened, accentuating their violet hue. “What does
that
mean?”

“You mean do whatever they say, without a fight?” Charity’s tone was a near-shriek, disrupting Henry’s sleep. He grunted and groaned, finally settling down when Charity patted his back, none too gently.

Faith chuckled. “I can see you’re not thrilled with this particular part of the Bible, so let me tell you what Mrs. Gerson told me.” She took a deep breath. “ ‘Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands,’ only let’s replace ‘submit’ with ‘respect.’ ”

Charity’s eyes narrowed. “And when does this get good?” “In the Bible, God often underscores the importance of something by order of appearance. For instance, notice that after Ephesians 5:22 comes Ephesians 5:25—‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church.’ So, if you boil these two Scriptures down in order of appearance, here’s what you have:

“Wives, respect your husbands.

“Husbands, love your wives.

“Mrs. Gerson believes this is cause and effect. When a woman respects her husband, it automatically increases the husband’s love for his wife. God addresses the women first because Eve was the one who sinned first, taking control away from Adam and robbing him of his authority and self-respect. If a wife respects her husband, then her respect restores his rightful authority and elevates him to be the man God intended him to be. When that happens, he feels good about himself, and the ‘effect’ is his love grows for the woman who made him feel that way.”

Charity squinted. “So let me get this straight. Mitch will love me more if I submit—”

“Respect,” Faith corrected.

“Respect him more?”

Faith nodded. “It’s cause and effect, like Mrs. Gerson says. God knew that what women want more than anything is to be cherished by the man they love.” Faith’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Nobody’s proven that more than you, Charity. And that’s why Lizzie and other women have been reading romance novels for years. Yet men seldom do. Why? Because what a man needs most is to be ‘respected’ by the woman he loves. Bottom line? Women crave love and men crave respect. And in Ephesians 5:22–25, God gives us the perfect solution.”

Charity rubbed her head. “Goodness, that hurts just thinking about it.”

Faith took a sip of tea. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Lizzie blinked. “How did we start on this anyway?”

Faith sighed and propped her chin in her hand. “Because deep down inside, a part of me worries that my dream to be a copywriter might be in conflict with my submitting to Collin.”

“Oh,” Lizzie uttered. “So what are you going to do?”

“Pray about it and wait, I guess. After all, he hasn’t actually
told
me to quit.”

Charity grinned. “Parsing Scripture, are we, now? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Faith notched her chin in the air. “Well, I never said I was perfect.”

“Speaking of ‘perfect,’ ” Lizzie said, “and not to change the subject, but did your heart not just burst with pride when Father apologized at dinner the other night?” She spooned more sugar into her cup. “Dear Lord above, I hope I have a marriage like theirs someday.”

“You will, Lizzie,” Faith said. “I’m just glad they’re back to normal. Mother looks like a young girl again with that glow in her face. And Father has been acting almost as spunky as Collin and Mitch these days, the way he’s been hovering over her.” She sighed. “I hope and pray we all have marriages like them. As a matter of fact, Mother’s the perfect example of Ephesians 5:22. I don’t know what happened between those two, but trust me, if Collin had been sleeping at his shop for over a month, I would have burned the place down. With him in it.”

Charity chuckled. “How did that Irish temper of yours ever hook up with God?”

“I don’t know—his mercy, I guess.”

Lizzie sighed and sagged back in the chair, jealous of her sisters for the first time she could remember. “You two are so lucky. Both of you have wonderful marriages, just like Mother and Father. I wish I could be sure of having that too. I mean, I was sure when I thought it would be Brady, but apparently that’s not meant to be. And now that Michael says he’s in love with me—”

“What?” Faith and Charity jerked up in their chairs at the same time, wrenching a faint cry from both of the twins. The sisters commenced patting with a fury while their shocked gazes locked on Lizzie’s face. “How? When?”

Lizzie worked her bottom lip, brows sloped over anxious eyes. “He told me the other night, after dinner with the family. Said that Brady couldn’t love me the way I wanted, but that he could.”

“Sweet saints above,” Faith muttered, still patting Hope like a house afire.

“And what did you say?” Charity demanded, her tone as shocked as the look on Faith’s face.

Lizzie started to nibble on a nail. “Well, at first I told him no, that I’d promised Brady, but then he . . . well, he . . .”

Both sisters gaped, a hand frozen on the back of each twin. Lizzie swallowed hard. “He kissed me, and well, now I’m confused.”

“You
liked
it?” Charity asked.

Lizzie nodded, peeking over a well-chewed thumbnail.

Faith slumped back in the chair and stared at Charity. “Saints in heaven, what are we going to do? She can’t fall for Michael. It will destroy Brady. And besides, he has no faith in God—”

“He’s trying, though,” Lizzie said.

Charity’s lips skewed in thought. “No, she can’t fall in love with him. We know nothing about him, but . . .” She sat up with a smile that suggested trouble. “He might just be the ultimate bait to turn his brother’s head.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Lizzie cried, spitting a piece of nail out of her mouth. “I’m through using people to turn John Brady’s head. And what’s more, I will not do that to Michael. He’s done nothing but treat me with respect, going to church with us and behaving like a perfect gentleman—”

Charity arched a brow. “Like in Brady’s apartment?”

Lizzie blushed. “That was different. He told me he was just trying to light a fire under his brother because he knew I was in love with him. But he hasn’t laid a finger on me since, and it’s been almost two months.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Until the other night.”

“So, how did you leave it?” Charity wanted to know.

“I told him I would think about it . . . and pray about it.” She gulped more air. “And talk to Brady.”

Faith shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to be there for that conversation.”

“Do you like him?” Charity asked, her eyes searching Lizzie’s.

Lizzie thought about Michael—how easy he was to talk to, how attentive he seemed to be, the softness of his kiss—and felt a faint stirring of excitement and trepidation. “I think so,” she whispered, staring down at her clenched hands, “but I’m not sure. I haven’t allowed myself to think of him that way, because of Brady. But now . . .”

She looked up at her sisters, and a sudden flare of annoyance rose within. “Now I wonder why I should let Brady have any say at all. He certainly doesn’t want me—why should he keep me from someone who does?”

Faith leaned forward, the intensity of her gaze making Lizzie squirm. “That’s anger talking, Lizzie, and frustration, which is understandable. But the thing that worries me the most, regardless of Brady, is whether Michael is the type of man God wants for you, a man cut from the same cloth as Father, Mitch, and Collin . . .
and
Brady.” She paused. “Is he?”

Lizzie closed her eyes, seeing Michael’s handsome face in her mind. He had done nothing to show her otherwise. Had, in fact, lavished more kindness and attention on her in the last two months than Brady had in the last six. And his newfound faith was young, certainly, but growing. Because of her.

She sighed and opened her eyes. “I don’t know, Faith. I don’t know what God wants for me anymore. I thought I did. I thought it was Brady. Was convinced to the depth of my soul that God intended him for me. But apparently that hope was birthed by nothing more than the delusions of a thirteen-year-old girl. I’m confused and don’t know what to make of Michael’s attention. But I’ll tell you one thing I do know. It’s time I grow up and get on with my life. And that means without Brady.” A sad smile lingered on her lips. “At least the stubborn one.”

Faith reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re in this with you, Lizzie, all the way. We’ll pray you through it, I promise.”

Lizzie smiled and blinked back the wetness that seeped into her eyes. She squeezed Faith’s hand and reached for Charity’s. “I know that,” she whispered, grateful for the love and support of her sisters. “I’d be lost if I didn’t.”

Collin hadn’t seen Brady in this good of a mood since Miss Ramona cancelled the spring recital. Not that John Brady rejoiced in two-thirds of the dance troupe contracting chickenpox, but the reprieve from four hours of “culture,” as Brady liked to call it, had definitely put a bounce in his step. Over the last week, despite a ridiculous workload, Brady had been smiling and whistling ad nauseam, taking whatever jobs Collin piled on with his usual grace and good humor, and then some.

Collin glanced up from the invoices he was drafting and scowled. Having to work on a Saturday always put him in a bad mood. But Brady was cranking out jobs faster than Collin could bill them, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Not the speed, which enabled them to have the best month on the books ever, but the blasted off-key whistling that went along with it.

“Ya think you can close the coffin on that particular song, ol’ buddy? ‘Amazing Grace’ is starting to wear thin on my patience.”

Brady looked up and grinned. Collin could swear he saw undulating ripples of heat rise from the press his partner had been laboring over since six a.m., steaming his face with a sheen of hard-earned sweat. Brady flicked the lever on the machine, and the roar of the press expired, along with Collin’s patience.

Ambling into the room where Collin sat, Brady mopped his face with a gray towel that had once been white. “Thin? I’d say you’re fresh out. You’ve been glaring at those invoices like we owe money instead of making it hand over fist. You still fretting over the fact we have to hire a new man . . . or are you back to butting heads with Faith?”

Collin shoved the stack of invoices out of his way and put his feet up on his desk with a grunt. He rubbed an ink-stained hand over his face. “No, I’m resigned to the fact that we can’t do everything ourselves anymore, and I think the new guy we hired will work out well. And it’s time for us to grow, so that’s not a problem.”

“So, it’s Faith, then.” Brady positioned himself on the well-worn corner where so many of their conversations took place. “Still the baby thing?”

Collin peeked up beneath the hand shielding his eyes and gave Brady a halfhearted smile. “No, she’s been wonderful, almost as intent as me. Praying with me about it, always ready and willing no matter how tired she may be.” The smile broadened on his lips. “She’s even been giving me a taste of my own medicine lately, on those rare nights when the only thing I have on my mind is sleep.”

Brady laughed. “I always said you were a bad influence.”

Collin grinned. “Yeah, I guess I am. No, Faith is amazing. Our marriage is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Brady squinted and folded his arms. “But?”

Collin sighed and reached for a pencil off his desk. He proceeded to twirl it between his fingers, careful to avoid Brady’s eyes. “
But
, it’s looking like she’ll be promoted to copywriter.”

“That’s wonderful. She’s worked for that over five years now. So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I’m not happy about it and I should be, because I love her more than life itself. I feel like a royal jerk. I mean, here she is, accomplishing something few women ever get the chance to do, a lifelong dream of hers, and how do I react? I’m sullen and resentful because I worry it will shift her focus off of me and the baby.”

“The baby?”

Collin pursed his lips. “The baby I hope to have and probably would have if my wife stayed home and concentrated on having a family rather than a job.” He groaned and tossed the pencil on the desk. “Dear Lord, how much more selfish can I get?”

Brady’s lips, pressed in a noncommittal line, suddenly squirmed to the right. “Not much.”

Collin’s gaze narrowed. “I always appreciate your support, John, especially when it comes to clarifying my faults, but what am I supposed to do about this? I feel like a heel.”