A Light in the Window Read Online Free PDF Page B

…”
    Sam squinted at him. “It was her ?” he said, awareness dawning in a pinch of brows. “ She’s the one?”
    “The one what?” Julie wanted to know, hooking the angel’s arm to steer her to the counter. Handing Marcy a towel, she commenced to washing dishes, eyes wide in question as she peered over her shoulder.
    Patrick swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to Sam in silent threat before shooting Julie an easy smile that belied the sweat slicking his palms. “The ‘one’ I saw Sister Francine drag into the convent today,” he said casually, striving for nonchalance as he ambled over to help himself to a cookie. He butted against the counter with legs crossed, giving Marcy a wink. “Hope she wasn’t plying vocations, Marceline, because that would surely make grown men cry.”
    “Me included,” Sam said with a grin. He swiped a cookie and straddled a chair, eyes twinkling as he chewed. “The cookies are great, ladies, but we’d enjoy them a whole lot more with a glass of milk and pretty company—”
    “No!” Marcy dropped a spoon, cheeks bruised with color. “I m-mean we’re t-tired, especially your sister since I’ve been bending her ear, so we’re heading up after the dishes, aren’t we, Julie?”
    Patrick retrieved the utensil and slipped it back in the dishwater, grateful Marceline Murphy was apparently as nervous as he. He grinned. “You could always warm the milk, you know, maybe take the edge off to ensure a good night’s sleep?”
    Sam reached for another cookie. “You’ve had Marcy to yourself all evening, Jewels. Can’t you give us a few minutes to catch up?”
    Julie’s nervous gaze flicked to Patrick, and he met it with a crooked grin. “Come on, Jewels,” he said softly, coaxing with his trademark smile, “one glass of milk and you two’ll be tucked in bed before you know it.”
    With a chew of her lip, Julie peeked at Marcy, her manner hesitant. “One glass of milk won’t hurt, will it?” she said under her breath, as if she didn’t want him to hear.
    Patrick’s pulse stalled at the reluctance in Marcy’s eyes, those full pink lips compressing almost imperceptibly. Her chest rose and fell with an audible sigh. “One glass,” she emphasized carefully, blue eyes locked on Julie’s face with clear warning.
    The breath that had lodged in his throat slowly seeped through his lips. He turned to retrieve four glasses from the cabinet before offering Marcy a boyish smile. “I’ll be happy to warm yours if you like.”
    “Thank you, but no,” she said in a distant tone he wasn’t used to hearing from a woman, abruptly turning away to finish drying a bowl.
    Patrick blinked, then strolled to the icebox with a crimp in his pride. The cold shoulder? From a girl? He bent to grip the milk bottle, his resolve as firm as the glass in his hand. And just as breakable? Maybe, but then Marceline Murphy obviously didn’t know with whom she was dealing. He had never struck out with a girl in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. He poured four glasses of milk, only half listening to the conversation while a thin line of determination steeled his smile. Because other than Sam O’Rourke, nobody knew how to warm up a cold shoulder better than Patrick Brendan O’Connor.
    “How did you like New York?” Sam asked after the girls had finished the dishes.
    Knuckles gripped on her empty glass of milk, which she’d obviously bolted to hurry things along, Marceline expounded on the last five years of her life, her voice shy and soft with the barest hint of a brogue. Patrick was more than content to let Sam steal and steer the conversation, taking the opportunity to study the new Marceline Murphy with an admiring eye. He remembered her well, of course, because she and Julie were always thick as thieves, just like Sam and him, although he’d barely ever spared her or Julie a glance. Probably because he and Sam had been “early bloomers” as Mrs. O’Rourke liked to say, two boys