A Passion Denied (61 page)

He left as quickly as he’d come. Charity stood, jaw sagging and cheeks braised. She snatched a hymnal off the bookshelf and began to fan herself. “I stand corrected. The grouch does have his moments. And yes, Lizzie, it
is
hot in here.”

Faith handed Lizzie her bouquet. “Come on, sis, you can’t let him wait at the altar too long. He might pass out.”

Lizzie sucked in a deep breath and nodded. She followed her sisters and mother out the door. One slippered foot in the vestibule, and her throat immediately swelled with emotion. Sean stood at the front of the line with Marcy on his arm, ready to escort her down the aisle. He turned and winked at her. Faith and Charity stood behind them, blond and auburn heads bent close as they whispered, and Lizzie felt the prick of wetness in her eyes. Two sisters—so different and so dear. She closed her eyes to stave off the tears, but the gratitude in her heart wouldn’t allow it.
Thank you, God, for your hand in my life.

She felt a gentle touch and opened her eyes. Her father smiled down at her, his eyes as misty as hers.

“I’d offer you my handkerchief, darlin’, but I suspect I’ll be needing it too. I’m not sure I want to give you away.”

She grinned and pressed a hand to her heart, love welling in her chest faster than tears in her eyes. “You’ll never get rid of me, Daddy, because you’ll always be right here.”

He nodded, and his lips pressed tight as if not trusting himself to speak.

The first chords of the wedding march vibrated through the vestibule, and Lizzie took her father’s arm. She closed her eyes to seal the moment with the strong touch of his hand on her wrist, the scent of his musk soap, and the hint of pipe tobacco. She watched as Faith and Charity each made their way down the aisle, pinned by the gazes of their husbands who stood beside Brady at the altar.

Her moment came, and joy overtook her like a tide too long from the shore. She breathed in the sweet scent of lilacs and incense, and her eyes suddenly flitted to the bench in the balcony, expecting to see a flutter of white. “I love you, Jesus,” she whispered, quite certain he was already well aware.

She blinked to clear the blur from her eyes, and Brady came into view, unleashing all her emotion. He stood, a half head taller than Collin, and his handsome face was chiseled with calm and shadowed with a ghost of a smile. A weak sob broke free from her throat, and he grinned, lighting his eyes with such love that her heart swelled with joy.

“I love you,” he mouthed, and she nodded, never taking her eyes from his.

Her father stopped at the foot of the altar and turned to kiss her cheek. “I love my girl,” he whispered.

Lizzie closed her eyes and hugged him tightly. “I love you too, Daddy. Thank you for everything.” She felt his pat on her back and opened her eyes to see Helena, sitting with Harold in the first pew of the groom’s side. Helena blew her a kiss, and Lizzie grinned.

And then it came—the bittersweet moment she’d waited a lifetime for. Her father let go . . . and Brady took over.

Patrick relinquished her arm, but not his hold. He watched Brady’s arm sweep his daughter’s waist, and a wave of melancholy threatened. He tightened his jaw and slipped into the first pew, unwilling to meet Marcy’s eyes for fear he would break. She sidled close and he gripped her fiercely, wondering how grief and joy could share the same heart. She squeezed his hand and he swallowed some air, then released it in one calming breath. He bent close to her ear.

“Three down, one to go,” he whispered, the levity of his tone a welcome relief.

She turned and smiled, and his boundless gratitude for this woman weakened him all over again.

“I love you, Marcy,” he whispered, then took her by surprise with a sound kiss on the lips.

The haunting strains of
Ave Maria
drifted through the church, and Patrick settled in to listen, his heart full and his peace restored. A faint smile curved on his lips. With three daughters married and settled, life could only get easier, he thought to himself. The pew jolted as Katie shifted beside them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her, looking like an angel in blue chiffon and ribbons. Until her elbow flashed, gouging Cluny in the side. Patrick groaned and closed his eyes.
God help me.

Father Mac’s voice rang out from the pulpit, and Brady’s heart pumped with pure joy. “And the Lord God said, it is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helpmate for him . . .”

Brady stole a glimpse at his bride and swallowed hard. He could barely believe that within the hour, Beth would be his wife. He squeezed her hand, and his lips tilted into a smile.
Lizzie
, he corrected, and felt her gentle squeeze back.

“And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my
flesh . . . therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and
shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.”

Brady closed his eyes.
One flesh.
Joined together in God. Tears stung his lids, and gratitude overtook him. How did someone like him deserve this? The love of a good woman . . . and the love of God?

His eyes lifted to the cross over the altar, and he had his answer.
The love of God.
Real and true and so alive that the reality made him tremble . . .

He felt the flicker of Lizzie’s hand in his and glanced down. She smiled up, and his heart turned over. Speaking of love that made him tremble! He gave her a crooked smile, enjoying the glorious warmth that flooded within.
Thank you, God
, he thought with a bob of his throat, and his smile made way for a grin.

Acknowledgments

To my agent Natasha Kern and my editor Lonnie Hull Dupont— truly my “divine connections”—I’m still in awe that I get to work with both of you.

To the great team at Revell, thank you for your patience and support! Especially Cheryl Van Andel, and Dan Thornberg, for their great covers and inexhaustible patience, and to Barb Barnes, whose keen eye and kind heart has made editing an absolute joy for me—thank you, my friend!

To the Seekers, whose humor, talent and prayers have added so much to my life and kept me afloat more times than I can count.

To “Club D”—Judy, Linda, Charlotte, and Ruth—your input has enriched my books as your friendship has enriched my life.

To my dear friends and former coworkers Carol Ann, Tammy, Cynthia, Sandy, Anna, Betty, and Jenny—thank you for all of your support and help. Just as books come to an end, so do seasons of friends being together. But thank God our friendship will live on forever.

To my lifelong friends, Joyce, Charlotte, and Rusceilla— thank you for a lifetime of love and support.

To my precious prayer partners and best friends, Joy, Karen, Pat, and Diane—you cover me with prayer and love, day in and day out. What a gift from God you are in my life!

To my aunt Julie, my mother-in-law Leona, and my sisters, Dee Dee, Mary, Pat, Rosie, Susie, and especially Ellie and Katie, for your continued love and support, and to my dear sisters-in-law, Diana, Mary, and Lisa. I am blessed to call you family.

To my daughter Amy, who shaped and molded the ending of this book—you are brilliant and beautiful, and I am so proud to be your mom. To my son Matt and daughter-in-law Katie—separately, you are amazing people, but together, you are God’s definition of what a new marriage in Christ should be. I love you all so much!

To the love of my life, Keith Lessman, the best thing that has ever happened to me, aside from Jesus—life with you is the best romance of all.

And to the God of Israel for sending his Son to pull me from the pit—you are the air that I breathe and the joy of my soul, and I will worship you forever.

Coming Summer 2010

A SNEAK PEEK

An excerpt from Julie’s next series . . .

Jack chuckled and massaged Katie’s shoulder. “Hear that, doll? You’re a bad influence—both on Gen’s figure and my wallet. Anybody else want anything? I’m buying.” His gaze flitted to the soda jerk who was bent over the chrome and leather stools with a rag in his hand. Jack put two fingers to his teeth and let loose with a deafening whistle. “Hey, kid, shake a leg—we have an order over here.”

The “kid’s” back tightened as he rose to his full height, revealing both a broad, muscled back and the fact that he was anything but a kid. In a slow, deliberate motion he turned, eyeing the clock before facing them dead-on. A nerve flickered in his angular jaw while his blue eyes glittered. He forced a smile as tight as the short sleeves of his white button-down shirt, which—Katie hadn’t noticed before—strained with biceps as intimidating as the man’s penetrating gaze. “Sure thing, but we close in ten minutes. Sorry, sodas and ice cream only.” He strolled to their booth with a casual gait as steady and slow as the Southern drawl of his voice. “What’ll it be?”

Katie felt the tension in Jack’s manner as he cradled an arm around her shoulder. He lounged back against the booth, eyes locked on the soda jerk. “I know it’s late, but the lady here says she’s hungry. She wants a hamburger and fries.”

The man’s blue eyes flicked to Katie and held, his cool smile braising her cheeks with a rare blush. He nodded a head of white blond thatch toward a large sign over the jukebox. “I apologize, miss, but as you can plainly see, we don’t serve entrees after nine.”

Katie blinked.
And the world would end if he cooked a hamburger
after nine?
Her stomach rumbled, and she straightened her shoulders with willful resolve. Suddenly, the thought of a thick, juicy hamburger taunted her—just like the annoyingly calm look on the soda jerk’s face. Tilting her chin in a coy manner, she gave him the half-lidded smile that always worked wonders on Jack. For good measure, she propped her chin in her hand and resorted to a slow sweep of lashes. “Aw, come on now, mister, you can make one teeny, tiny exception, can’t you? Just for me? We’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

His gaze shifted to the clock and back, and then he disarmed her with a smile that made her forget she was hungry for food. “I really wish I could, miss, but a rule is a rule. But if I say so myself, my true talent lies in making one of the best chocolate malts in all of Boston.”

She stared, openmouthed at his polite refusal. Despite the faint smile on his lips, his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. A second rush of heat invaded her cheeks.
The nerve!
She jutted her chin in the air and matched his gaze with a searing one of her own. “Yes, well, it’s nice to know you have
some
talent, but no thank you. Not even if they’re the best on the Eastern seaboard. Let’s go, Jack.”

Jack drew her close while his thumb glazed the side of her arm. “Come on, Katydid, settle down. I know you’re hungry, but this guy is obviously new and doesn’t realize who we are.” He cocked his head and flashed a patronizing smile. “We’re some of Mr. Robinson’s best customers, kid. So, tell me, what’s your name?”

Drawing in a deep breath, the “kid” shifted his stance and exhaled. “The name is Luke.” He shot a glance at the clock, then looked back. His gaze softened. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but Pop Robinson sets the rules, not me. The grills take forever to cool down, so we do them at nine. Hate to tell ya, but they’re already clean as a whistle and shut down for the night. Now, I have to be somewhere at ten thirty, but if you give me your drink or ice cream orders, I’ll get them as fast as I can.”

Katie started to rise, but Jack yanked her back down. “That would be great, Luke, just great. Give us six of your best chocolate malts and six glasses of water, and then we’ll be on our way, okay?”

“But I don’t want his stupid ma—”

“Hush, Katydid, I do, and if Luke here is nice enough to make them for us, everything is jake.” He smiled again, all the while fondling a golden tress of Katie’s smooth Dutch Boy bob as it curved against her jaw. “Besides, you need something in your stomach. I don’t want you cranky on the way home.” As if to underscore his romantic hopes, his hand absently dropped to caress the long, glass-beaded necklace that draped the front of her silk dress. His fingers lingered along her collarbone with a familiarity that deepened the already uncomfortable blush on her cheeks.

“Sure thing,” Luke said, his eyes taking in the intimate gesture with cool disregard. His gaze met and held hers for several seconds, unsettling her with apparent disapproval. He turned away.

Her ire soared. “Extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles,” Katie said in a clipped tone.

He turned and nodded, his large, full lips pressed tight. “You bet, miss.” He started toward the counter.

“And don’t skimp on the cherries,” she called after him.

He kept walking, but the stiff muscles cording his neck and back told her he’d more than heard. She forced a smile to deflect her embarrassment and took a deep breath. “Well, he’s a sunny individual, isn’t he? Night help must be hard to come by.”

“At least he’s nice to look at,” Lilly said with a sigh.

“He’s a two-bit soda jerk, Lil, with more attitude than brains,” Roger Hampton muttered. “We oughta complain to Robinson.”

“Humph . . . he’s not that special.” Katie’s eyes narrowed while she watched him scoop ice cream into the mixer.

“Come on, Katie, you’re just miffed because you didn’t get your hamburger. The man is a real sheik and you know it.” Gen shot a look of longing across the room, then gloated with a grin. “But it is nice to know all men don’t wrap around your finger as easily as Jack.”

Jack honed in for a kiss. “That’s not all I’d like to be wrapped around,” he said in a husky tone.

Katie squirmed and pushed him away. “Behave, Worthington, or I’ll make your life miserable.”

He chuckled. “You already do, doll, but I love every minute.”

Katie ignored him. She observed the soda jerk laboring over six chocolate shakes and wrinkled her nose. “Get your specs out, Gen, he’s more of a hick than a sheik.”

Her frown stayed in place until the soda jerk returned, toting a tray of milkshakes to their booth. “Six Robinson’s specials,” he said, depositing a tall, frosty glass with a single cherry on top to each at the table. He set Katie’s down last with a considerable thud. One maraschino from the mountain of cherries obscuring her malt rolled off, landing on the table with a plop. “Enjoy,” he said with a stiff smile. “And let me know if you need more. I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”