A Passion Redeemed by Julie Lessman Read Free Book Online Page A

china and Irish-lace napkins. A crystal bud vase in the center sported sprigs of fuchsia, a nice complement to two crystal candlesticks glowing with flame.

    "Mitch, you don't mind if we eat in the kitchen, I hope. Mima chills so easily these days that we've taken to having our meals in here by the fire."
    "Of course not, Mrs.... Bridget. How is Mima?"
    Bridget's smile faltered for the briefest of seconds, then returned. "Oh, she's been better, I'm afraid, but we're muddling along." She glanced out the back window, squinting. "Oh, good, here she comes. I sent Charity to the neighbors to borrow a touch of cream for the coffee. I'm afraid I used all mine for the trifle we're having for dessert."
    Mitch glanced out the window just as Charity breezed in. Her cheeks were pink from the chill of the night. A smile lit up her face, and her full lips were the color of berries. She pushed soft strands of shimmering gold over her shoulder.
    "Mitch, hello! It's good of you to come. I'm so glad we ran into you the other night."
    The muscle in his jaw tightened. She'd caught him off-guard at Duffy's, but never again. He knew how to read womenwomen like her, anyway. And she was an open book-from the sway of her silk-spun hair to the mesmerizing eyes fringed with heavy lashes. The smooth fold of her silk blouse draped a body no decent woman should have. He nodded. "Hello, Charity. Did you enjoy the theater?"
    A spray of pink, which he suspected had nothing to do with the cold, painted her cheeks. She turned away to store the cream in the icebox and fumbled with the latch before finally pulling it open. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was as smooth as the silk of her blouse. "Yes, of course, it was wonderful. But then, I always enjoy Rigan's company." She turned, her composure flawless once again. "I understand you two are old friends."

    The smile stiffened on his lips. "Acquaintances. Never friends."
    "Really? Well, he speaks quite highly of you."
    Mitch scowled. "I doubt that." He turned to Bridget. "Mrs. Mur ... Bridget ... I couldn't help but notice your garden. Have you planted your winter vegetables yet?"
    Bridget nodded, her eyes sparkling, obviously delighted to discuss gardening with Mitch while Charity poured the wine. Someone knocked on the glass pane of the kitchen door and Charity jumped, spilling the port. Bridget hurried over to let her neighbor in, a tiny woman with flame-red hair and watery eyes to match.
    "Oh, Bridge, I sorely need your help. My youngest, Davy, poured some salt in the stew, and I don't know how to fix it. I swear he'll be the death of me yet. Can you be a dear and save me neck? My Johnny's bringing 'is boss home for supper, wouldn't ya know, and it'll be me in a stew if ye don't help me out."
    Bridget put an arm aroundher shoulder. "Sure, and Johnny'll never know once I'm done with it, I can tell ya that." She reached for her shawl and gave Mitch a penitent look. "Make yourself at home and have a sip of wine while I run over to help Maggie. Charity, would you mind bringing Mima to the table? I'll be back, fast as you please." The door slammed behind her.
    Mitch glanced at Charity. "Can I help?"
    "No, you heard Grandmother. Sit down and make yourself at home. Mima's no problem whatsoever." She hurried out with a smile.
    He stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost. He certainly wasn't at home in this house. Not anymore. Rubbing the back of his neck, he ambled to the table and sat down. He eyed the glass of wine. It would take the edge off, but the aftertaste was too bitter to suit him. He pushed it away.
    He cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the table in a staccato fashion. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them once again. He jumped up, stifling a swear word at the back of his throat. Surely he could help! He marched out of the kitchen and down the hall to Mima's room. He peeked in the door, poised to speak. The breath stilled in his lungs.

    At eighty years old, Mima was