A Light in the Window by Julie Lessman

thought she couldn’t breathe.
    Her body jumped at the clap of Father’s hands. “Excellent! That settles it, then. Two weeks, same time, same place. Evan, if you have a moment, and Sister Francine, I’d like a word with you both, but you ladies are free to go. Good night.”
    Bidding the others goodbye, Julie and Marcy made their way to the door, Marcy’s stomach as skittery as Julie’s, no doubt, over the prospect of Sam and Patrick possibly walking them home. Please, Lord, no … Her heart caught in her throat when someone’s arm brushed hers in a race to open the door, and she glanced up. “Thank you, Sa—”
    She stopped, taken aback at the nearness of Patrick, unsettled by the serene smile on his lips and the startling clarity of gray eyes so close and so calm. Something in the way he looked at her gave her pause, a quiet confidence as if he expected her to succumb to his charm like every other woman. She caught a distinct woodsy scent similar to pine or sandalwood, and it triggered the faintest of flutters that immediately put her on guard. “Thank you,” she whispered softly, but no thank you. She quickly turned from both her unwelcome reaction and a man to whom she had no desire to become a notch on a post. And God willing, neither will Julie. Looping her arm through that of her best friend’s, she hurried Julie down the steps, hoping to steer them both far away from the two men behind.
    “Marcy, wait up.” Sam touched her shoulder on the bottom step, and her pulse took off in a sprint the same time her body jerked to a stop. “Patrick and I will walk you girls home,” he said with a casual air.
    “No, Sam, that’s not necessary, truly—we’ve already taken enough of your time.” Marcy’s breaths were uneven, as if she had just jogged a mile or two. And, oh, sweet saints, how she wished she had—miles and miles away from Sam O’Rourke!
    “No, we insist,” Patrick spoke up, shoring up Julie’s other side.
    Marcy inwardly groaned. Why couldn’t these two just go pester women who really cared? She gulped. Or at least women who cared enough to want them around? “Honestly, I’m sure you and Patrick have other things to do on a lovely summer night like this—”
    “Mr. O’Rourke? Mr. O’Connor?” Father Fitz bellowed at the door, and Patrick’s low groan brought a half-smile to Marcy’s lips as he and Sam slowly did an about-face. “Might I have a word with you gentlemen before you head out for the night?”
    Marcy heard Sam’s heavy release of air along with Patrick’s own noisy sigh, and she couldn’t resist a tug of her lip as her eyes smiled at Julie.
    “Yes, sir,” Patrick said, lumbering back up the steps.
    Sam hesitated, a hand to Marcy’s shoulder and eyes intense. “Will you wait?”
    A cleansing breath filled her lungs before she unleashed it in a grateful sigh. “I’m sorry, Sam, but Julie and I invited several girls to my house tonight to solicit their help for the play.” Her eyes scanned skyward, taking in the pink glimmers of dusk slowly fading into the deep hues of night. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
    A gruff clear of a throat drew their attention. “Mr. O’Rourke?” Father Fitz held the door, and Marcy bit back a grin at the challenge in the old priest’s eyes. “I meant tonight, of course.”
    Sam’s broad chest expanded and released. “Yes, sir.”
    “Good night, ladies,” Father Fitz said, a secret smile lighting on his weathered lips. He slipped them a knowing wink while the boys shuffled back inside, their broad shoulders sagging in a slump. “And bless you.”
      Marcy grinned and spun on her heel, tucking her arm through Julie’s once again, while a hint of laughter twinkled in each of their eyes. “Oh no, Father Fitz,” she said with a playful squeeze of her best friend’s waist. “Bless you!”

Chapter Five
     

    “I want her, Sam.” Patrick stared aimlessly at the endless rows of bottles beneath the smoky mirror of