I'm not. May I be excused? I think I'll go and lie down before we leave for church, if you don't mind."
"Let me feel your head." Marcy put her palm on Faith's forehead for a moment, then gently stroked her daughter's cheek. "You feel okay, but you really do look flushed. Go and lie down, and I'll be up shortly. If you're not feeling better, I think you need to stay home."
Faith nodded and fled from the kitchen. Marcy looked up to see Patrick's gaze follow her out the door. His eyes seemed distant.
"Patrick, are you feeling all right?" There was the slightest hint of alarm in her voice.
Patrick looked up and smiled. "I'm fine, Marcy. How could I not be?"
The look of tenderness was back. Marcy returned his smile. Indeed, she thought to herself, how could either of them not be?
Her father was quieter than usual this morning. Faith stole a glimpse at him out of the corner of her eye. It was Monday, of course, she reasoned to herself, always a difficult day to get moving again. But still, he was definitely more pensive as he sat, arms folded, beside her on the trolley that bumped along Portland Street en route to the Herald.
"Father, are you all right?"
A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips as he glanced at her with a tender look. "Yes, darlin', I'm fine. Just a few things on my mind, that's all."
"Are you worried about the election ... and the war in Europe?"
Patrick sighed and grabbed the pole when the streetcar lurched to a stop. His brow wrinkled slightly. "Yes, of course I am. I'm fairly confident President Wilson will win reelection, but I can't help but be concerned about our involvement overseas."
Faith's stomach tightened, both from the jostling of the trolley and her father's words. "You don't think we'll go to war, do you, Father?"
Patrick's look was sober. "I can't help but believe it's inevitable. I hoped it wouldn't be, but when the Lusitania was torpedoed by that German sub last year, well, I'm afraid my hopes sank along with it. I know the president has been trying to keep us out of the war, to maintain a position of neutrality, but I suspect it's only a matter of time. Of course, when the Germans sank the Sussex earlier this year, President Wilson did manage to get their pledge not to sink merchant vessels without warning, and certainly without saving the lives of those aboard. But, I'm afraid I hold out little hope of their compliance. We're hanging on to our neutrality by a thread. Wilson will probably be reelected because he kept us out of the war, but it's likely to be a hollow victory."
Faith stared out the window, the prospect of war whirling in her brain. "But haven't the Germans kept their pledge so far?" She turned to face him. "I mean, they have, haven't they?"
Patrick shifted closer to Faith to allow a heavyset man to pass as he made his way off the trolley. "Yes, they have, darlin'-so far. I just don't know how long we can trust them."
"If they do break the pledge, will we go to war with them?"
"More than likely."
"And will you have to go? And Sean?" She held her breath.
Patrick squeezed her hand. "There's always that possibility. But you listen to me. No matter what happens, we can get through anything, anything at all. We're a closeknit family with a very deep faith. If it happens-and I do mean if-then with God by our sides, we'll get through it, do you hear me?"
Faith nodded stiffly.
"That's my girl." He smiled and released her hand. "Now, before we get to our stop, there is something else on my mind."
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Faith suddenly became enamored by the passing scenery. "I hope it's nothing too serious after this last conversation," she teased, praying her father would think twice before broaching the subject of Collin McGuire.
He didn't return her smile as the car rumbled toward Herald Square. The pensiveness was back. "There is something else I'm concerned about. It's Charity. I can't seem to get through to her. She and I have never ...
"Let me feel your head." Marcy put her palm on Faith's forehead for a moment, then gently stroked her daughter's cheek. "You feel okay, but you really do look flushed. Go and lie down, and I'll be up shortly. If you're not feeling better, I think you need to stay home."
Faith nodded and fled from the kitchen. Marcy looked up to see Patrick's gaze follow her out the door. His eyes seemed distant.
"Patrick, are you feeling all right?" There was the slightest hint of alarm in her voice.
Patrick looked up and smiled. "I'm fine, Marcy. How could I not be?"
The look of tenderness was back. Marcy returned his smile. Indeed, she thought to herself, how could either of them not be?
Her father was quieter than usual this morning. Faith stole a glimpse at him out of the corner of her eye. It was Monday, of course, she reasoned to herself, always a difficult day to get moving again. But still, he was definitely more pensive as he sat, arms folded, beside her on the trolley that bumped along Portland Street en route to the Herald.
"Father, are you all right?"
A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips as he glanced at her with a tender look. "Yes, darlin', I'm fine. Just a few things on my mind, that's all."
"Are you worried about the election ... and the war in Europe?"
Patrick sighed and grabbed the pole when the streetcar lurched to a stop. His brow wrinkled slightly. "Yes, of course I am. I'm fairly confident President Wilson will win reelection, but I can't help but be concerned about our involvement overseas."
Faith's stomach tightened, both from the jostling of the trolley and her father's words. "You don't think we'll go to war, do you, Father?"
Patrick's look was sober. "I can't help but believe it's inevitable. I hoped it wouldn't be, but when the Lusitania was torpedoed by that German sub last year, well, I'm afraid my hopes sank along with it. I know the president has been trying to keep us out of the war, to maintain a position of neutrality, but I suspect it's only a matter of time. Of course, when the Germans sank the Sussex earlier this year, President Wilson did manage to get their pledge not to sink merchant vessels without warning, and certainly without saving the lives of those aboard. But, I'm afraid I hold out little hope of their compliance. We're hanging on to our neutrality by a thread. Wilson will probably be reelected because he kept us out of the war, but it's likely to be a hollow victory."
Faith stared out the window, the prospect of war whirling in her brain. "But haven't the Germans kept their pledge so far?" She turned to face him. "I mean, they have, haven't they?"
Patrick shifted closer to Faith to allow a heavyset man to pass as he made his way off the trolley. "Yes, they have, darlin'-so far. I just don't know how long we can trust them."
"If they do break the pledge, will we go to war with them?"
"More than likely."
"And will you have to go? And Sean?" She held her breath.
Patrick squeezed her hand. "There's always that possibility. But you listen to me. No matter what happens, we can get through anything, anything at all. We're a closeknit family with a very deep faith. If it happens-and I do mean if-then with God by our sides, we'll get through it, do you hear me?"
Faith nodded stiffly.
"That's my girl." He smiled and released her hand. "Now, before we get to our stop, there is something else on my mind."
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Faith suddenly became enamored by the passing scenery. "I hope it's nothing too serious after this last conversation," she teased, praying her father would think twice before broaching the subject of Collin McGuire.
He didn't return her smile as the car rumbled toward Herald Square. The pensiveness was back. "There is something else I'm concerned about. It's Charity. I can't seem to get through to her. She and I have never ...
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