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The Promise of Hope

By Julie Lessman

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Why art thou cast down, O my soul?
And why art thou disquieted within me?
Hope in God: for I shall yet praise Him ...
–Psalm 43:5

&

And hope does not disappoint,
because God’s love has been poured out
into our hearts through the Holy Spirit,
who has been given to us.
–Romans 5:5

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts, Summer 1937

“Hey batter, hey batter—swing!”
“Steeeeeee-rike!” The umpire indicated the batter was out with a hard punch of his fist, and the crowd in the St. Stephen’s bleachers erupted in jubilation. Shrieks and whistles and the deafening clomp of feet filled the air, while parents and children alike were euphoric over St. Stephen’s first championship in three years.
Emma O’Connor grinned outright when her best friend and sister-in-law, Charity, launched off the bleacher seat as if spring-loaded, screaming at the top of her lungs like she was eight instead of thirty-eight.
“Oh my goodness, they won, they won!” Charity shouted as she grabbed Emma in a giddy hug, the two of them jumping up and down while mothers cheered and fathers hooted, hollered, and slapped each other on the back. “When it comes to sports, your husband”—she splayed a hand to her chest in a proud pose—“and my brother, of course, is sheer brawn and genius, my friend.”
Laughing, Emma glanced into the field where her husband, Sean, was hefting the eight-year-old pitcher onto his broad shoulders while the rest of the team shouted and gathered ’round. Her pulse skipped a beat as always when she studied the man who owned her heart, as muscled and handsome at age forty as he’d been when they’d married almost six years ago.
“I’ll tell you what,” Charity said with a happy sigh, nodding to where the parish priest was pumping Sean’s hand, “I don’t know who’s rejoicing more—Father Mac or the angels right about now that Sean agreed to coach again. This is the first championship St. Stephen’s has had since he stopped three years ago, which just goes to show that when Sean O’Connor heads up a team, everybody wins.”
Oh, amen to that! A soft smile lighted on Emma’s lips as she watched her husband make his way through the crowd of proud parents and kids offering their congratulations, her tummy fluttering when his gaze met hers with a wink. Especially me! “No question about that,” she said with no little pride while Sean made a beeline straight for Charity and her, causing Emma to squeal when he swooped her up to whirl her around and around.
“We did it!” he shouted while the parents surrounding them on the bleachers offered cheers and applause. “Catholic Youth Organization Champs for the diocese, and I couldn’t be prouder if these boys were my very own.” Setting her down, he disarmed her with a lingering kiss right in front of everybody before turning to tweak Charity’s neck. “Thanks for coming, sis. Appreciate the support.”
“Well, somebody had to exercise their lungs on your behalf”—Charity pinched Emma’s waist with a teasing grin—“because God knows your wife is way too sweet and shy to make any real noise.”
Doris Hemphill, one of the mothers Charity and Emma had been sitting with on the bleachers, flashed a dazzling smile. “My goodness, Coach O’Connor, you’re an absolute wonder! Why, my husband says you’re the best coach in the league, and this certainly proves it, taking those boys from last in the league for three years straight to CYO champs in one.”
Sean cuffed the back of his neck, flashing an awkward smile along with an impressive bicep before he nodded to his team. “Well, that’s nice of Phil to say, Doris, but the true talent lies in those boys who stepped up to the plate to produce a championship year.” He glanced around. “And speaking of boys, where’s mine?”
Emma smiled as she motioned over her shoulder to where their five-year-old son Daniel sat under a nearby tree reading his book while a group of boys his age played in the dirt with small metal cars. “Nose in a book as usual.”
“Hey, Dan,” Sean called, and their adopted son glanced up with a gentle smile, his brown eyes lighting up in a delicate freckled face. “Ready to celebrate with ice cream from Robinson’s?” Their sweet son nodded with enthusiasm and Sean shot him a wink. “Good. We’ll head out after I talk to the team, fifteen minutes tops, okay?” Sean hooked Emma’s waist to draw her close for another celebratory kiss before tugging on Charity’s hair. “You’re welcome to join us, sis. I’m buying.”
Charity glanced at her watch. “As tempting as that sounds, I promised Hope I’d come straight home to relieve her of watching Winnie and Julia so she and Gabe could go shopping.” She patted Sean’s cheek. “But I’m proud of you, big brother, so have an extra scoop for me, okay?” She gave Emma a tight hug. “Talk to you both soon.” Bidding Doris and the other moms goodbye, she hurried off while she blew a kiss over her shoulder.
“Sean? We’re ready.” Sean’s assistant coach, Pete, waved him over.
Giving Pete a nod, Sean turned back to gently buff Emma’s arms. “I just need a short meeting with the team before we head to Robinson’s, babe. What time did you tell Lizzie we’d pick up Cora and Joey?”
Emma smiled. “Sara and McKenzie begged for a sleepover with Cora and Joey, so we’re two children down tonight.”
“No kidding?” He wiggled his brows before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, his tease warming her cheeks. “I guess we’ll have to take advantage of that, won’t we?” he whispered in her ear before hurrying off, taking time to toss a wave to the ladies on the bleachers when they congratulated him once again.
Pride swelled Emma’s chest as she watched her husband lope back onto the field, gathering his team around. She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down at Daniel.
“Mama, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, peering up with an owl-blink of eyes.
“Okay, sweetheart.” Smiling, Emma nodded toward the tree where his book lay open face down on the book satchel she’d made for her little bookworm. “Go, gather your things, Daniel, and I’ll take you, okay?”
“My, my, Emma,” Doris said as she tracked Sean all the way back to the field, “you have quite the husband there. Strong, handsome, athletic, and apparently still head over heels after what, six years of marriage?”
“Almost,” Emma said shyly, more than well aware that most of the ladies she sat with during the games all but idolized Sean. She glanced his way as he spoke with his team, hands on his hips and leg cocked while dozens of eyes glowed at the man they all but idolized too. Her heart sped up.
Along with me.
Doris’s best friend, Cecilia Martin, leaned in, casting a sideways peek Sean’s way with a sigh of longing. “And you are so lucky to be married to an athletic man too, Emma. The most exercise Harry gets is lifting a can of beer to his mug in the recliner.”
“And such a wonderful coach too,” Doris added while they all waited to join the team for ice cream at Robinson’s. Her gaze flicked to where Daniel was trudging toward them with his heavy satchel, the barest hint of pity in her voice. “What a shame Daniel doesn’t seem interested in sports, but then I suppose there’s always hope for Joey.”
Emma stiffened as she quickly alleviated her son of his heavy load before ruffling his dark hair. “Not at all, Doris. Daniel is going to be our doctor or scientist, and we’re very proud of him.”
Doris pursed her lips in a smile that came off more as a smirk. “Why, of course you are, Emma,” she quickly soothed, bestowing a sympathetic look on Daniel. “Daniel will be your scholar and perhaps Joey will follow in Sean’s footsteps as an athlete.”
“Mama, I need to go …” Daniel commenced with a telltale shift from foot to foot.
Emma took her son’s hand. “Let’s hurry then, sweetheart.” With a stiff smile at the ladies, she ushered Daniel to the boy’s bathroom in the school building across the street, making sure no one was in there before she helped settle him into a stall.
“Mama, I think I’ll be a while, so can I have a book to read?” he asked with a gentle slope of brows.
A smile tugged at Emma’s lips. She was well aware Daniel liked to take his time, especially if it meant he could read a book. Pulling out the one he’d been reading under the tree, she handed it to him. “Don’t take too long though, sweetheart—Daddy will be waiting.” When she saw the toilet-paper roll was empty, she checked the second stall to find it empty as well, along with the paper-towel dispenser. “Daniel, I need to check the girls’ bathroom to get some toilet paper, so close the door, and I’ll be right back, all right?”
“Okay, Mama.” Daniel clicked the stall door closed, and Emma ducked across the hall to the girl’s bathroom, dismayed to find they were out too. She sighed. Obviously one of the drawbacks of a championship game attended by so many people.
Hurrying back to the field to get tissues from her purse, Emma was rounding the back of the bleachers when the whispered mention of her name halted her dead in her tracks.
“I know Emma can’t help it, being barren and all,” Doris was saying in a low tone that easily slithered through the slatted bleachers, “but I can’t help but think what a travesty it is that a man as strong and strapping as Sean O’Connor is denied the joy of having his own son. You know, a fair-haired, blue-eyed boy of his own issue who could make him proud on the field.”
Emma froze at the back of the bleachers, her blood turning to sleet in her veins.
“Oh, I know. I couldn’t agree more.” Cecilia’s voice fairly oozed with a sinister sympathy that scalded Emma’s cheeks. “I like Emma, I do, but it’s a real shame Sean couldn’t have married someone who could give him a child of his own, you know? A regular boy who likes sports instead of a bookworm with someone else’s genes.”
A regular boy. Emma could barely swallow for the pain in her throat.
From a regular mom.
“I mean, adoption is all good and well as a last resort, I suppose,” Cecilia continued, “but with a normal, red-blooded American male like Sean O’Connor, it just seems downright criminal, you know? Not having a son with his own blood in his veins.”
Doris issued a grunt. “Especially when he could have had his pick of any number of girls mooning over him in the parish. Why, he dated Rose Kelly a good long while, as I recall, before he broke her heart to marry Emma. And now Rose has four little boys of her own, so you just know she could have given Sean tow-headed boys like a normal woman.”
A normal woman. Pain sliced through Emma’s heart.
For a “normal” man.
There was a long pause where Emma could barely breath. “You know,” Cecilia began, lowering her voice even more, “I can’t help but wonder if Emma’s infertility isn’t God’s punishment somehow.”
“What? What do you mean?” Sally Meyers asked, the curiosity in her voice barely obscured by shock.
Emma stopped breathing altogether with the rustle of Cecilia leaning in close, gossip thick in her tone. “Rumor has it she was married before.”
“Is she a widow?” Sally asked.
“Nooo, not exactly …” Cecilia drawled out, an unmistakable thread of pleasure lacing her words.
Sally gasped. “Good heavens, not divorced?!”
Nausea curdled in Emma’s stomach as she stood paralyzed, unable to move or speak.
“Maybe, maybe not. Nobody knows. All I do know is that Thelma Blakely’s daughter used to work at Dennehy’s Department Store when Emma was the manager years ago, and back then Emma went by the name of Malloy. Mrs. Malloy. And whether she’s a widow or divorced, surely she knew she was barren. Which begs the question—did Sean know?”
“Probably not,” Doris said with a grunt, her tone almost snide. “I doubt an athletic man like Sean who loves children would ever marry a barren woman on purpose.”
“Oh, that breaks my heart,” Sally whispered.
“Sean’s too, I’m sure.” Cecilia’s smug words cut deep as Emma listed against the side of the bleachers, a single tear slithering her cheek.
“No doubt it breaks Emma’s heart too,” Sally said softly.
Hand quivering to her mouth, Emma fled back to the bathroom, the sympathy in Sally’s tone unleashing another flood of tears.
No, no doubt at all, Sally.
And now more than ever.

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