A Love Surrendered (20 page)

“G’night, Mr. Mooney. See you next week.” The gentleman disappeared down the hall and Faith sat down in the first row with a pat on the next desk. “Sit, Annie—you look like you need to chat.”

Annie glanced at the clock. “But don’t you need to get home?” she asked, concern flitting in her stomach like so many fireflies. “I don’t want your husband getting ‘cranky.’ ”

“Soon, but not before we talk . . .
and
set a date to take the girls to story time at Bookends.” She winked. “And don’t worry about Collin. I’ll get home in plenty of time to ward off cranky, I hope. Or late enough that he’ll already be fast asleep.”

Smiling, Annie plopped down in a desk, grateful for this
gentle woman who in some ways reminded her of Mama—patient, kind, and a personality that went from empathy to sparkle in the utterance of a prayer. “Thanks, Faith, I do have something I need to discuss.” Her gaze darted to the clock and back. “But I don’t have much time.”

“Then tell me quickly.” Faith shifted to get comfortable.

Puffing out a sigh, Annie fidgeted with her nails, eyes fixed on her hands. “It has to do with Aunt Eleanor,” she began, gaze lifting to offer Faith a weak smile. “She and I had a huge breakthrough last week after you and I prayed, so I can’t thank you enough. But now . . .” Annie swallowed hard. “Well, now I’m feeling guilty about all the things I did behind her back when I first came to Boston.” She took a deep breath. “Things like sneaking out of the house, going to Ocean Pier when she told me not to, and even getting involved with questionable guys.”

“Involved?” Faith said slowly.

Annie’s cheeks pulsed with heat. “Well, not like it sounds. I suppose one guy, actually, and only one kiss at that. But I have to be honest, Faith . . .” She peeked up beneath lowered lashes, her reluctant confession making her squirm. “This particular boy—well, man, really—turned my insides to mush so much that I . . . well, I wished it could be more.”

“We all do, Annie,” Faith said with a squeeze of her hand, sympathy radiating from her eyes. “It’s how God made us as women, to crave a man’s touch, his love. Trust me, I had many a battle when Collin came into my life—both with myself and with him, especially after we were engaged.” Her smile went soft. “But the good news is both you and I are blessed enough to know the truest and surest way to win the right man’s love and respect is God’s way, not ours.” She grinned and gave a little shiver. “Although a kiss from a man who turns our insides to mush can certainly make a girl wish—and do—a lot of things she shouldn’t.” She hesitated. “Are you still seeing him?” Her smile crooked. “This mush-maker?”

Heat traveled clear to the tips of Annie’s ears. “Oh no, no
. . . I stopped going to Ocean Pier, and that’s where I would always see him before.” She exhaled, relief and regret merging in the shaky sigh that escaped from her lips. “Remember the letter I told you about, the one my father wrote me before he died? Well, it changed everything, Faith. So, between God’s conviction and the mush-maker’s insistence that I was ‘too special’ of a girl to be part of the wild crowd—”

“Wait . . .” Faith sat up. “This mush-maker was trying to
keep
you from going down the wrong path?”

Annie nodded, her smile sheepish. “Over and over. In fact, he only kissed me that once to scare me off, he said. To teach a lesson that the wrong guy would take advantage of my innocence.” A wispy sigh floated from her lips. “But the truth is, Faith, much to my shame, he made me feel like I
wanted
him to take advantage. Which is why I stopped going to the Pier altogether. I knew it was wrong, not only defying Aunt Eleanor, but feeling that way.”

“Good girl,” Faith said, patting Annie’s arm with a smile. “But, I have to admit, this guy sounds pretty special, so no wonder you were smitten. Still . . . ,” she leaned forward to fold her arms on the desk, “God will honor your obedience, Annie, he always does. Now . . . suppose you tell me about your problem with Aunt Eleanor?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking lately that since Aunt Eleanor and I have gotten closer, maybe I should confess all the things I did behind her back.”

“No!” Faith sat up, brows high and lips parted in a definite “O.”

“No?” Annie blinked in confusion. “But, why not? I thought confession was good for the soul, being a sacrament of the Church and all.”

“Good for
your
soul, maybe, but not Aunt Eleanor’s. Yes, honesty is crucial in our walk with God, for sure, but the Bible tells us that although some things are lawful, not all are profitable or edify. It’s the rule of love God is so partial to—let no one seek his own, it says, but that of the other.
Which means,” Faith said with a pointed look, “we have to weigh every word out of our mouth. Although what we want to say may be the truth, if it doesn’t lift the person up, encourage, or set free, more than likely we need to keep it between God and ourselves.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Annie nodded. “Okay, that makes sense, so problem solved. Now . . . I just have one more.”

“Yes?” Faith arched a brow.

“My friend Peggy’s older sister and friends are a bit on the wild side, and Peggy told them my eighteenth birthday is coming up. Now they want to take me to dinner, and at first Aunt Eleanor said no. But then she changed her mind and wants to pay for everyone’s dinner.”

“How nice,” Faith said.

“Yes, it is.” Annie hesitated. “Except for this uneasy feeling I shouldn’t go.”

“Why? It’s just dinner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, I think you should just go, enjoy yourself, and then go home.”

“You do?”

“Sure. But if there’s a check in your spirit, we can pray about it. When that happens to me, I just pray for wisdom, close my eyes, and think about each option. Now, you have to be really seeking to follow God’s leading rather than your own, mind you, but if you are, one of the options will usually give you more peace than the other. And that’s the one I generally choose.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Faith smiled.

With a giggle of relief, Annie gave Faith a hug. “Perfect! Thank you so much.” She smiled, eyes warm with admiration. “How’d you get so smart anyway?”

A chuckle rumbled from Faith’s lips. “Well, actually, God’s the smart one because his Word tells us how to live in order to reap blessing, and I was lucky enough to learn that early. So when I applied his precepts to my life—things like praying
for people who hurt me or staying pure in my relationship with Collin before we married—well, blessings overtook me. Before long, it became a lifestyle of the heart, giving me a wisdom about life I never had before.”

Annie sighed, hope springing in her chest. “Oh, Faith, I want that more than anything!”

Faith grinned. “Then I have the perfect prayer for you—a prayer I’ve prayed daily for years. But a word of warning, Annie,” she said with a hint of mischief. “Don’t pray it unless you’re prepared for God to answer, because he
will
.”

“What is it?” Annie breathed, adrenaline surging.

“Psalm 139:23–24. ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’ ” She squeezed Annie’s hand. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Just the sound of Faith’s words triggered Annie’s pulse.
Oh yes, God, please!

“Annie? Are you ready? Glory is waiting in the car with Frailey.”

Annie glanced up to see Aunt Eleanor in the doorway, a smile on her face.

“Miss Martin, so nice to see you again,” Faith said, rising. “We’re just finishing up.” She turned to Annie. “All except a date to take the girls to story time. How does this Saturday sound? Ten o’clock at Bookends, followed by cookie baking at my mother’s house? Fair warning—you’ll meet my sisters and their kids, which may be more than you bargained for.”

Annie laughed. “Wouldn’t dare miss it—Glory would wring my neck.” Looping her purse over her shoulder, she joined her aunt at the door. “Good night, Faith. See you Saturday.” Her lips tipped in a sassy grin. “And if ‘you know who’ is ‘cranky,’ I hope he’s asleep.”

———

Not likely
, Faith thought with a wave and slow burn of her cheeks, recalling the gleam in Collin’s eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye after dinner. A warm shiver traveled her
bones. The same gleam he’d worn for the last six months in his quest for a son.

“You best come straight home tonight, Mrs. McGuire,” he’d whispered, his voice husky with warning. Hooking her close, his teeth had nipped at her earlobe, lips wandering her neck until she’d been as limp as the spaghetti she’d fixed for dinner. Without question, Collin McGuire had been her “mush-maker” since the fifth grade when he’d defended her from a bully on the playground, and a day didn’t go by she didn’t thank God for this man in her life.

Her eyes drifted closed as she gently caressed her abdomen, cherishing the seed of his child that grew in her womb. A child her husband didn’t know about yet, but could very well be the son whom he craved. Taking a deep breath, she discreetly let out two more notches of her belt, grateful she’d moved the buttons on her skirt. She sighed, warmth invading her chest at how elated he’d be after five years of trying. Guilt niggled.
That is . . . if he knew.

“I’ll tell him, Lord,” she whispered, slipping her sweater over her shoulders, “soon.” Turning out the lights, she hurried down the hall and out the door, mind in turmoil over the news she needed to share with her husband. She was almost in her fourth month now, but she’d kept it from him because she was afraid. Afraid to dash Collin’s hopes if something went wrong.

And afraid he’d forbid you to teach this class?

Her brisk pace down the street slowed considerably. Maybe a little, she conceded, but that wasn’t all. Collin was such an emotional man, she couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes if she miscarried. Shame wormed its way in over how desperately she’d wanted to teach this class . . .
and
to continue to do so.

Especially now. For the first time since her copywriter job at the
Boston Herald
before Bella was born, she felt alive again, someone who contributed to the world outside of being a mother. She quickened her pace, thoughts of her daughters
plucking her heart. Not that she didn’t love being a mom. No, it was the most important job in her life. But now that the girls would all be in school, Faith needed more than an empty house to clean. She understood Katie and Charity more than ever before, Katie wanting to be a lawyer and Charity longing to work at the store. But like Luke and Mitch, Collin felt a woman’s place was in the home, which was fine, she thought with a twist of her lips. If the poor woman wasn’t stuck in an empty house eight hours a day.

Eyes fixed on the stoplight at the curb, she tapped her toe impatiently while she waited for the light to change, debating when to tell Collin his child was on the way.
Next week? The week after?
The light turned green, and she darted across, realizing it would have to be soon. Palming a hand to her stomach, she felt the burgeoning mound. “Soon, God,” she promised.

She scampered up the steps of the tiny brownstone she and Collin called home, gaze darting to the second story where their bedroom window was dark. A ridge creased her brow.
Goodness, he’s asleep already?
She eased the knob of the front door, letting herself in as quietly as possible, thankful Collin had left the parlor light on. Locking it again, she moved to turn off the light and stopped. There sprawled on the gold brocade sofa was her husband, sound asleep with feet bare and a newspaper bunched on his chest. Love swelled in her throat, and she tiptoed to where he lay, heart thudding as always when she could watch him unobserved.

Hands down, Collin McGuire was the most handsome man she’d ever met, never failing to trigger her pulse whenever he entered a room. Chestnut hair rumpled from sleep fell over eyes that boasted the longest lashes she had ever seen. Her gaze wandered from a chiseled face shadowed by a day’s growth of beard down muscular arms relaxed in sleep, and a rush of emotion filled her till tears pricked her eyes.
God, I never tire of thanking you for the gift of this man.
Bending over, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and then squealed when she tumbled on top of him after he hooked an arm to
her waist. “Collin McGuire, you scared me to death!” Smacking his chest, she squirmed to break free.

“Serves you right for keeping your husband waiting,” he groused, burying his lips in her hair. “Apparently I didn’t make my intentions clear when you left tonight, Mrs. McGuire, so let me rectify that right now.” In one fluid motion, he had her flipped on her back with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You owe me, Little Bit,” he whispered, “make no mistake.” Her breath caught when he nuzzled her throat. “Three baths . . .” His lips trailed to her collarbone. “Four bedtime stories . . .” Warm palms fondled her shoulders while stray fingers teased along the collar of her blouse. “And six piggyback rides’ worth, to be exact.” He took her mouth with a vengeance, trapping a soft moan in her throat before his lips wandered south.

“Collin, you’ll wake the girls,” she breathed, giggles rising at the tickle of his beard.

Gaze shuttered, he pinned her with both a wicked look and possessive hands while that slow smile she loved went to work. “Not if you succumb peacefully, Mrs. McGuire.”

A squeak caught in her throat when he swept her up in his arms. “What on earth . . .”

He strode to the staircase, a man on a mission. “Did you lock the door?” he asked.

“Yes, but my purse is on the floor by the—”

“Leave it,” he ordered. “Not foremost on my mind right now.” Huffing on the landing, he eyed her with a quirk of his brow. “Either I need to ramp it up at the gym, Little Bit, or you and Abby have been snacking on too many cookies.” He repositioned her with a grunt and proceeded down the hall, butting their bedroom door closed before placing her on the bed. “You may be eating more cookies,” he said with a roguish smile, “but it’s going in all the right places.”