Free A Love Surrendered by Julie Lessman Page A

focus on the things over which you have control.”
    “Oh, pooh,” Charity said, “why on earth are Irish men so bloomin’ stubborn?” She plopped back in her chair, her brother’s bachelorhood obviously spoiling her good mood.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Faith said, voice laced with tease. “Self-preservation?”
    Charity grunted. “I’d say it’s the other way around.” She picked up her sewing, gouging the needle into a pair of men’s slacks with a little too much force. “Is it so wrong to want to see my brother happy? He’s twenty-five, for pity’s sake.”
    “No, darling, it’s not,” Marcy said over her shoulder, pulling butter from the icebox. “But take a deep breath. Your brother has plenty of time to settle down.” She noted Lizzie’s damp face and retrieved the cold tea as well. “Lizzie, how ’bout a cool drink?”
    “Oh, that sounds heavenly, Mother, thank you.” Lizzie fanned herself with a magazine, the blush of pregnancy heating her cheeks. “Remind me not to be pregnant in the summer.”
    “Oh, I don’t think it’s so bad, Lizzie,” Faith said with a secret smile.
    Marcy turned at the counter, pitcher in hand. “My memory isn’t all it should be, Faith, I know, but I don’t recall you being pregnant through a summer, were you?”
    “Nope.” She focused on a stitch, avoiding everyone’s eyes, her smile still in place.
    Ever the analytical law student, Katie leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Then how exactly would you know if you’ve never been through it?” she asked. One blonde brow jagged high while the seeds of a smile sprouted on her face. “Unless, of course,” she said with all the drama of a skilled prosecutor, “there’s something you haven’t told us?”
    Marcy whirled to face Faith, almost spilling the glass of tea in her hand. “Sweet chorus of angels,” she said in a rush, “you’re not pregnant, are you?”
    Faith squinted to thread her needle, the tip of her tongue tucked at the edge of her mouth before her gaze finally rose. “Well, let’s put it this way, Mother. That persistent husband of mine, whose athletic abilities have been openly maligned today?” She tilted her head, mischief in her smile. “Has finally hit the ball out of the park.”
    “Oh, Faith!” Marcy set the glass down to give her daughter a squeeze. “I am so thrilled!”
    Charity chuckled. “Uh-oh . . . you just may get a sweet, little Henry of your own, sis, so congratulations.” Her smile slanted. “I think.”
    “How far along are you?” Emma asked, her excitement mirroring Marcy’s.
    “Ten weeks,” Faith said, caressing her stomach. “But I’ve been so queasy in the mornings, I have to force myself to eat, which is the exact opposite of the girls, so I’m hoping I can give Collin his boy at long last.”
    “Oh my goodness,” Lizzie said, her face aglow from more than the heat. “Five years of trying for a boy, and this could be it! I bet you had to peel Collin off the ceiling.”
    Faith’s smile faded with a nibble of her lip. “Well, I haven’t exactly told him yet . . .”
    “Good heavens, Faith,” Marcy said, “the man has lived for this moment. Why not?”
    “Well . . .” Faith hesitated, inhaling sharply through a clenched smile. “Mostly because we’ve had so many false alarms I didn’t want to risk crushing him again.” She blew out a weary breath, smile tentative. “So this time, I decided to make good and sure.”
    “Why don’t you just go to the doctor?” Katie said in a matter-of-fact tone. “There’s a new blood test where they inject your urine into a rabbit, and if it dies, bingo—you’re pregnant.”
    “No!” Marcy whispered, her stomach queasy at the mere thought. “The rabbit dies?”
    “Goodness,” Charity said, “and I thought homework with Henry was a sacrifice.”
    Katie grinned. “Yes, Mother, the rabbit dies, but it’s for a good cause, I promise.”
    “Actually, Katie, as tempting as that may