A Passion Denied (43 page)

“I think so . . . no, wait, I forgot the blanket.” She disappeared inside and then returned with a well-worn quilt. “Mother said we could use this. Now we just have to lock the door since everyone’s still at church for the pancake breakfast.” She closed the door and tested the knob, then flashed a smile that spiked Brady’s body temperature by several degrees. “Ready?”

Brady nodded dumbly, wondering for the hundredth time when she had grown into such a beauty. He was grateful that O’Reilly Park was close as she chattered alongside, barely noticing that Cluny and Katie had run on ahead, shadowed by Miss Hercules. Brady studied Beth out of the corner of his eye, well aware that his breathing had escalated, but not from the walk. For the first time in his life, the woman he’d once considered a little sister now took his breath away. From the lavender cashmere sweater that brought out her eyes to a startling degree, to the pastel woolen skirt that fell just below the knee, revealing long, perfectly shaped legs—Brady felt as if he were seeing her for the very first time. He trained his focus straight ahead. God help him, he liked what he saw— way,
way
too much.

When they reached the lake, Cluny was teaching Katie how to skip stones across the water while Miss Hercules waded close to the shore, stalking anything that moved. Brady deposited the basket on a bed of freshly fallen leaves beneath a gnarled oak at lake’s edge. He squinted at the sunlight that flickered through the last vestige of golden foliage overhead. One gilded leaf fluttered against his cheek on a gentle breeze, almost like a caress from the hand of God.

He scanned the shore of the deep blue lake as it sparkled in the sun, taking in the vignettes of a perfect autumn day. Miniature homemade boats skimmed across the shimmering surface, their tiny sails billowing in the breeze as fathers and sons cheered on. Families skittered in the sun while fathers baited hooks and mothers jostled babies and laughed at toddlers chasing dogs through mountains of leaves. The air echoed with the laughter of children and the chatter of birds, and in the midst of the magical moment, Brady could feel God’s peace light on him as gently as the oak leaves drifting from the limbs overhead.

He drew in a deep breath—thick with the loamy scent of the mossy bank, the earthy smell of wet leaves fringing the lake, and the lingering trace of Cluny—and slowly released it again. His anxiety drifted away on a sigh of gratitude.
Thank
you, God.
He took the blanket from Beth as she struggled to place it, then shook it out and spread it evenly on the ground. She quickly busied herself with unloading the basket, and he suddenly realized her chattering had stopped. But it didn’t matter. This was Beth, the little girl he’d mentored, the friend he respected, the woman he loved. And, God willing, the wife he would cherish.

And make love to.

The sudden thought caused his heart to catch. No, he would take this slowly, he vowed, prayerfully, until he was sure his past wouldn’t stand in the way. There was no way he would hurt her again. She was too important.

“What’s for lunch? I’m starved!” Cluny skidded onto the quilt on his knees, bunching the corner.

Brady thumped him on the head. “Hey, bud, keep those muddy shoes off Beth’s blanket. And move over. The rest of us have to share, you know. You’re getting way too big.”

Cluny winked at Katie. “Hear that, Katie Rose? Brady says I’m getting too big.”

Katie scrunched her nose. “Egos don’t count.”

“Oooo, chocolate cake!” Cluny lifted the lid and peeked in the basket.

Katie slapped the lid closed. “Don’t touch. And it’s devil’s food,” she stated in a bored tone. Her lips lifted in a smirk. “In your honor, of course.”

Beth laughed. “Be nice, Katie. After all, this is Cluny’s day.”

Cluny blinked. “Why? It ain’t my birthday.”

Heat prickled the back of Brady’s neck when Beth looked his way. She handed him a piece of fried chicken and smiled. “I know, but Brady felt so badly about sending you back to your gram, that he wanted to have a special day where he focused only on you.”

Cluny looked at Brady, and one of his spindly brows spiked high. “Only on me, eh?”

Brady reached for a drumstick and tossed it at the kid. “Here, eat. Things are less complicated when your mouth is full.”

They ate until they were ready to burst, at least Cluny and he did, giving the leftovers to Miss Hercules. He and Beth chatted quietly while Katie and Cluny traded good-natured insults and polished off the cake.

“Race ya to the dock,” Cluny challenged, and Katie popped up.

“Last one there baits all the hooks,” she shrieked. Her blond hair whipped in the breeze as she flew toward a long stretch of wooden planking down the shore. “Don’t forget the poles,” she called. Her giggles rose in the air, punctuated by Miss Hercules’s woofs. Both of them left Cluny in the dust.

“Hey, cheaters bait their own hooks,” he yelled. He scrambled up and snatched two poles, then turned and shot them a grin. “I better go show her how it’s done.” He tore after Katie and the dog with a gleam in his eye.

Brady shook his head and smiled. “He’s a cocky little thing. I would have given my eyeteeth for a tenth of his confidence at that age.”

Beth began repacking the basket, her eyes trained on the task at hand. “Speaking of his age, Brady, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I’ve always wondered—what happened to you back then? You know, when you were Cluny’s age? I’ve always wanted to ask, but I never had the nerve.”

Brady’s throat tightened as he helped her clean up. “Someday I hope to tell you all about it, Beth, but I’m not there yet. I haven’t really allowed myself to think about it until recently, not until Father Mac helped me to face a few things. The healing’s begun, but I’ve got a ways to go.”

Her eyes were flecked with concern. “I’m glad, Brady, glad that at least you’re able to talk to Father Mac. It’s not good to keep all that pain inside.”

“I know,” he whispered, then jumped to his feet and brushed off his slacks. “Ready to take on a few bass?”

He offered a hand, and she sprang up with a nervous giggle. “Well, I haven’t fished in a long time. Not since I was little when Father would bring us here during the summers. We’d have family fishing tournaments, you know, and Charity would nearly always win. Sean and Faith used to get so mad, but nobody had a knack for reeling them in like Charity.”

Brady grinned. “Now, why am I not surprised?” Tucking his tackle box under his arm, he grabbed the rods in one hand and took her hand in the other. “Come on. Let’s get you set up. Lures or worms? What’s it gonna be?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Lures, please.”

He chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little ol’ earthworm, Elizabeth?”

She shivered. “Not in the ground, I’m not, but my stomach gets a bit queasy when I see them squirming on a hook.”

“Okay, lures it is.” He plopped down on a weathered wooden bench and dropped the tackle box in his lap while Beth perched beside him. In no time, he had a shiny silver minnow dangling from her rod. He stood to his feet. “Okay, you know how to work a reel?”

She shook her head.

“It’s real easy. Watch.” He cradled the rod in his right hand, pressed the button release, and arced the fishing line up in a clean sweep across the water. Squinting in concentration, he feathered the spool with his right thumb and watched the glimmer of silver splash in the water before nudging the release once again. He turned and gave Beth a smile. “See? It’s not too hard. Your turn.”

She bit her lip and tentatively took the rod. “Well, okay, but I’m not sure I’ll be all that good. Let’s see, I hold it like this . . . then I press this . . . and then I do this . . .” In one fierce jerk, she whipped the line high over her head and yanked it back down.

“Whoa, little buddy, the fish are in the lake, not in my trousers,” Brady said with a chuckle. He carefully took the rod from her hands and reached back to disengage the hook from the seat of his pants.

Beth’s cheeks bloomed bright red. She put a hand to her mouth and tried not to laugh. “Oh, Brady, I’m so sorry! Does it hurt?”

He grinned. “Nope, Collin’s given me bigger pains in the behind than this. Here, let me show you how to cast it over your head. But first, I need to get rid of this sweater before I pass out from heat stroke.” He shimmied the garment over his head and tossed it on the bench with a breath of relief, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Whew! Much better. Okay, let’s try this again.”

He put the rod in her right hand, then circled her from behind. He grasped his hands over hers. All at once, the scent of her hair and the nearness of her body distracted him, sending a jolt of heat searing through him. He fought it off, chewing on his lip as he forced himself to concentrate on the casting. “Okay, you hold the rod here, then release the button, then lift the rod like this . . .” His arm gently guided hers up and out, landing the lure in a perfect cast that rippled across the water.

“I did it!” she cried.

“Yes, you did. Now press the button release again so you don’t lose your line.”

She notched the button and turned, her face flushed a delicate shade of excitement. With a giggle, she threw herself into his arms, almost gouging his eye with her rod as she hugged.

He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Oh, Brady, this is so much fun! Can I do it again?” She pulled away and stared up. Her violet eyes brimmed with excitement.

He smiled, and then his gaze dropped to her full lips, forcing the breath to congeal in his lungs. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Sure, Beth, you try it this time.”

Lizzie blinked, feeling a flutter in her stomach.
What on earth
just happened?
One minute Brady was teaching her how to cast, and the next . . .

She spun around to hide the heat that crept in her face and quickly swallowed her shock, desperate to focus on the rod in her hands. But his eyes . . . sweet saints, they’d had the same dreamy quality she’d seen in Michael’s, a kind of half-lidded stare that settled on her mouth, causing her heart to stop. She drew in a ragged breath and steeled her jaw. No! It was nothing more than her imagination playing cruel tricks on her. “Focus, Lizzie,” she muttered under her breath, squinting at the lake as she swung the rod. The lure plopped into the water with shocking precision. Her lips flattened in grim satisfaction.
Good!
Maybe I can hook some fish, if nothing else.

“Good cast!” Brady said. He seated himself on the bench once again. “Now just relax and wait for the first strong nibble, then jerk the rod and reel her in.”

Relax?
Lizzie sighed and stared at the spot where her line disappeared, her good mood sinking as rapidly as the steel lure plunging to the bottom of O’Reilly Lake. From the moment Brady had picked them up, she’d been as jittery as a school of minnows, chattering like a magpie all the way to the park. She hadn’t relished the idea of telling him about Michael, about his proposal and how her feelings for him were changing. And she especially didn’t want to ruin this day. But the picnic lunch had calmed her down considerably, easing her back into the same comfortable, wonderful relationship they’d always shared.

But she
had
to tell him, and it needed to be soon. Since Michael had kissed her over a month ago, her heart had resolved to move on and let go of John Brady. He didn’t want her, but his brother did. And since she had taken that mental leap, Michael had helped her in taking emotional steps as well. His visits had become more frequent and more intense, until she found herself thinking of him more and more. Her concern over his lack of spiritual depth when compared to Brady was diminishing, replaced instead with a growing pride over having led him to God. Other than an occasional niggling doubt over the level of his true commitment, Lizzie felt confident his spiritual potential, although not likely to rival Brady’s, could come close.

Almost.

Lizzie sighed. Who was she kidding? No one could come close to John Brady. Not unless they lived in a church or monastery.

Brady stood to his feet and moved farther down the bank, casting his line with all the ease of a skilled angler. She stole a glimpse out of the corner of her eye and felt a tug at her heart. For a man who spent his days smeared with ink and under a press, John Brady was a graceful athlete in every sense of the word. Be it basketball with Father Mac or boxing with Collin, Brady was a natural who seldom lost. With every sail of his line over the water, his well-conditioned muscles would tense and then relax, his gaze fixed like a man whose every hope rested on that blasted lure. Not a care in the world. And totally oblivious that her heart was still his.

But not for long.
A wasp buzzed her face and she shooed him away with a surge of annoyance. She was through being stung by John Brady. With another thrust of her line, she turned her attention to thoughts of Michael and immediately felt the strain ease in her back. She would tell Brady tonight, after he walked her home. Argument over.

The afternoon flew by as quickly as the geese overhead, winging their way south against a watercolor sky. Miss Hercules was the proud recipient of a steak bone someone had kindly left behind, and Katie was thrilled with her haul of six bluegill, one tiny striped bass, and a tin can sporting a clump of seaweed. Cluny appeared to strut a bit taller with his stringer of decent crappie and bluegill, and even Lizzie couldn’t help but be proud of three small bass that Brady insisted were “keepers.” Combined with his bounty of good-sized bass, it promised to be a real feast, and Lizzie could feel her mouth watering over the fish fry Brady planned when he returned from his trip.

They washed up at Brady’s flat after stashing their fish on ice and feeding Miss Hercules, and Lizzie didn’t mind the faint smell of fish in the air. They ate pasta and shrimp by candlelight at Pietro’s, where the Italian owner welcomed Brady like a son, eyeing Lizzie with more than a bit of curiosity as he kissed her hand.

The moon hung high in the sky when they finally left the restaurant, dropping Cluny and Miss Hercules off at Gram’s before they headed home to Donovan Street. Katie’s eyes were drooping when the trio trudged up the steps of the front porch, and her shoulders slumped with fatigue as she turned to give Brady a hug.