Page 110 of A Whim and a Prayer

He groaned as he fell on his back, his voice sounding like rusty nails. “Oh, that’s right. When Collin won after I missed all the bets per quarter.”

“Exactly. Which put you into quite a snit when you were low man on the totem pole, if you remember. Not to mention the poker games you missed while you were sawing logs.”

His bare chest expanded and contracted in a drowsy exhale as he lay, legs splayed out on the bed once more. “Yeah, forgot that,” he mumbled, making Charity smile when he started snoring before she even left the room.

Ducking into the bathroom to get ready for her day, she thought about Winnie’s party, wondering how it turned out and wishing she could have been here instead of at The Herald’s party. But she knew Hope, Amy, and Gabe had had things well in hand and hopefully got home at a decent hour themselves.

Thoughts of Beck with Harold Bennington’s niece last night upset her, but she didn’t let it show. After all, it wasn’t Beck’s fault that Winnie just wanted to be friends, but it sure was a loss for their family all around. Once Beck got married, they likely wouldn’t see much of him anymore, which left a pall on Charity’s mood.

Shaking it off, she hurried to the kitchen, grinding to a halt when she saw it was neat as a pin. She’d been too tired last night to even take a look, unwilling to face a sink piled high with dishes. She shook her head, thinking she should throttle Hope, Amy, and Gabe that they hadn’t heeded her warning to just leave the dishes soaking in the sink. And probably Winnie, too, because she’d certainly changed over the last few weeks, pitching in more than ever before. Tying her apron on, Charity glanced at the ceiling with a teary smile. “Thank you, Lord, for giving me back my daughter.”

By the time Charity had prepared finger food for the afternoon family gathering, it was almost eight o’clock, so she started on breakfast, pulling the ingredients for pancakes from the pantry just as the doorbell rang. She halted to look up with a frown, wondering who it could possibly be. Untying her apron, she hung it on the door on her way out of the kitchen. “Who on earth?” she muttered as she hurried through the foyer to the front door, opening it with a curious smile.

A smile that stiffened on her face when she saw who it was. “Mrs. Cullen—what a surprise. Happy New Year ...” But when she saw the anxiety in the woman’s eyes, she reached forward with a hand outstretched. “Is … everything all right?”

“That’s what I came to find out, Mrs. Dennehy. I apologize for the early visit, but we just got back in town from visiting relatives, and I heard a rumor that I hope and pray isn’t true.” Tension literally radiated off the woman as she clutched the strap of her shoulder purse to her chest.

“Come in, please,” Charity said, ushering her in before she closed the door. “Can I get you some coffee? Perhaps something to eat?”

Mrs. Cullen shook her head while she continued to fiddle with the strap of her purse. “No. Thank you. I just need to know—is Winnie all right?”

Releasing a quiet exhale, Charity led her into the living room. “Please sit and we can talk.”

Mrs. Cullen did as she asked, albeit on the far edge of the sofa as she white-knuckled her purse. “I’m sorry for barging in like this, truly I am, but I’m hoping you’ll tell me it’s not true.” A knot hitched in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. “Was Winnie assaulted?”

Just the sound of those awful words hardened Charity’s heart because to her way of thinking, the woman before her was the very reason for all of this trauma. Her mouth compressed as she sat on the other side of the couch, as stiff as her tone. “Where did you hear that?”

A lump hitched in her throat as she fretted with her hands. “I … I heard a rumor—”

“Where?” Charity snapped, her tone as hard as her heart.

Mrs. Cullen continued wringing her hands, voice hoarse as she avoided Charity’s gaze. “From m-my s-sister-in-law.”

“And where in the devil did she hear it?” Charity slammed a fist on the sofa.

Mrs. Cullen startled, eyes locked on Charity’s fist as her voice cracked with pain. “From her son …” Her gaze rose to Charity’s with a tremble of her lip. “My nephew, Brayden McCarthy.”

Charity caught her breath, the sound a harsh gasp in the quiet of the house. Her hand quivered to her chest as she stared at the woman she held responsible for her daughter’s pain. “You’re his aunt?” she whispered, hand clutching her chest so hard, she felt the claw of her nails through the silk of her blouse. “You knew what he was like and yet, you allowed him to be around my daughter?” She leaned in, eyes and temper ablaze. “She told me, Mrs. Cullen. Winnie told me all of this started at The Footlight Club, where your degenerate nephew is a member.”

“I … I know, but I thought I could h-handle it. I’m so very sorry …” A sob broke from Mrs. Cullen’s lips as she put her head in her hands and wept.

Charity looked away, the sound of the woman’s weeping and broken form pricking her conscience.

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

Charity jumped up, not even able to count the number of times God had forgiven her. “Let me get you some coffee, please. Cream and sugar?”

“No …” Mrs. Cullen held up a hand to stop her as she grappled to grasp a tissue from her purse before wiping her eyes. “Just tell me, please …” Her lashes slowly lifted, spiked with tears and face sodden with sorrow. “Did he …”—her throat convulsed several times—“hurt her in any way, or God forbid, anything more …?”

“We don’t know,” Charity said quietly. “The doctors didn’t think so, but she hasn’t had her time of the month yet, so we don’t know for sure because she was drugged and doesn’t remember.”

“Oh, dear God …” Face in her hands once more, Mrs. Cullen hunched over with an aching moan, her voice congested with grief. “I cannot possibly express my sorrow deeply enough, Mrs. Dennehy, because I love Winnie, and I am completely devastated that I encouraged her to join The Footlight Club.”

“Me too,” Charity said, more bite in her tone than she intended. But the truth was she’d held a grudge toward Winnie’s teacher for a long while now, blaming her in part for the distance between Winnie and her.

Mrs. Cullen’s head shot up, the stricken look on her face giving Charity pause. “I never meant any harm, Mrs. Dennehy, I swear! I just wanted the best for one of the brightest and most talented students I’ve ever had. We’ve become so close over the years—”

“Yes, I know.” Charity’s mouth went flat, silently praying God would give her the grace to forgive this woman and not lash out.