“They’re going to ask about church,” Tom told Casey.
They were finishing in the kitchen after dinner the next night. Sam had gone into the parlor to get the fire going. Tom had been answering her questions about the family dinner, and he had offered this statement without preamble, since he could not think of a graceful way to bring it up. Casey turned to stare at him.
“Ask what about church?”
She truly didn’t seem to know. “My parents had asked me what church you and Sam attend and I didn’t know what to tell them. I did say that I thought you didn’t attend anywhere, but they were sure I was mistaken.” She looked irritated and he continued helplessly, “It’s important to them, Casey. I know, at the yard, you said you were an atheist, but it would never occur to my parents that I would court a girl who…” he paused, not sure how to say it, “…who doesn’t believe in God,” he finished lamely.
“You didn’t tell them I was an atheist, I take it?”
He shook his head.
She slowly folded her dish rag and lay it on the counter before looking at him. “Is it important to you, Tom?”
He looked at her. Bright green eyes, short, but luxurious hair, lips that smiled readily, although they were currently turned down in a frown, which caused a dimple to appear in her chin. Her small waist seemed made for his arm, and he thought all day about touching her lovely breasts…
He closed his eyes, as if to block her out, then opened them and gave her a rueful smile. “I’m so enamored of you, Casey, that the only thing I can think of, is being with you. Whatever opinions or philosophies I had before have faded away. I can’t give them credence anymore.”
She raised a finger, her expression stern. “That’s not good enough, Thomas Andrews. You’ll remember them eventually, and then you’ll be very disturbed about my beliefs.” Her hands went to her hips and he saw the chin tremble. “You need to figure out if it’s important to you or not.”
“Is it important to you?” he asked her. “I don’t mean the extreme beliefs of Mike Sloan, but just normal church life, normal Christianity? What do you really believe about that?”
She lifted a hand to her forehead and moaned in frustration. “I don’t want to make you angry, Tom.”
He half laughed. “Why would I be angry?”
“If I say I think it’s a colossal waste of time, wouldn’t that make you angry?”
“No. But tell me why, Casey. I want to understand.”
“The Irish have been killing each other for centuries, and have nearly destroyed their country because of it, and you don’t understand?”
“But that’s the extreme, sweetheart. That’s not what I’m asking you. That’s not what I… what I want you to participate in.”
She stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip, hands on her hips. She didn’t answer for a minute and he held his breath, afraid to say anything else.
He thought his heart would break as she slowly shook her head. “You want me to go to church. Sit in a Sunday School class with other women and read scripture and pray and listen to some man tell me what the Bible says I’m supposed to think and do. Am I supposed to do that every Sunday, and maybe read scripture and pray every morning before breakfast, too?”
Her words made his stomach hurt. “You make it sound so infantile and stupid,” he said softly. “And it’s not. I’ve done this my whole life, Casey, and it’s not.”
A tear rolled slowly down her cheek, her mouth in a bitter, tight line. It was obvious she wasn’t going to say anything else, and he couldn’t stand to see her so upset. He put his arms around her, pulling her close. She stiffened a moment, then buried her face in his shoulder and cried, holding him tight.
“I love you, Tom,” her voice was muffled in his shoulder. “I don’t want this to be a problem between us.”
“I don’t either, dear.” He stroked the soft curls, kissing the top of her head. “Nothing’s going to come between us. I love you too much.” He tucked a finger under her chin to look into her eyes. “There has to be a way to compromise. It’s not all preaching and scriptures, you know. There’s an entire social side to it, and that’s just as important. It’s almost like a community contract. Everyone participates one way or another, whatever their beliefs.”
Her brows lowered in confusion and she sighed. “So maybe I attend the bake sales and Christmas parties and not the sermons?”
He smiled. “That would be a start.”
“What do I tell your parents?”
He kissed her gently on the lips before speaking. “You tell them as much of the truth as you’re comfortable with. You can tell them your family was not religious and didn’t attend any church when you were a child. That Sam doesn’t belong to a church and you haven’t attended anywhere since coming to Ireland. Leave it at that.”
“Will they be satisfied with that?” She lifted a finger to trace his lips, still in his arms. He held her tighter in response, aware that he probably was not thinking very clearly.
“I suspect they won’t. But you’ve effectively put the blame on your parents and Sam, and they will expect me,” he emphasized the word, “to encourage your religious education.”
“What if I don’t want a ‘religious education?’”
He shrugged slightly. “All I can do is encourage you. My family tends to lead by example, sweetheart. No one will argue with you about it.”
But they might not permit a marriage, either.
Chapter 19
March 1907
I was right about the look on his face, Casey thought, hardly able to breathe as Tom gazed at her in the green dress when he first arrived to pick them up. The moment was so tense with desire that neither one of them felt able to move or speak. Sam broke it up, muttering out loud as he walked past Tom, “They never understand how cruel it is to look like that when you’ve got some place to be.”
They both laughed and Tom took her hand, safely remaining a few feet away from her. He bowed, kissing the back of her glove. “How did I ever mistake you for a boy?” he asked. He squeezed her hand before dropping it and offering her his arm. “You are beautiful beyond belief, Casey. I must warn you: My family are simple folk. They will be overwhelmed by you.”
She stopped in alarm, suddenly afraid again. “Is the dress wrong?” she asked him anxiously. “Is it improper for this?”
He laughed again, but didn’t answer, which wasn’t particularly reassuring, as he brought her out to the car. Sam was already waiting, and Tom helped Casey with her travel gear before seeing her safely ensconced in the front seat. When she was seated, he kissed her lips lightly. “The dress is perfect, sweetheart. They’re going to love you.”
She hoped that they did, because almost from the first moment, Casey loved Tom’s family. She realized she should have known it would be like this. Tom was sunny and empathetic, loving to laugh, and to make others laugh. It should not have been a surprise to discover his family was more or less the same.
If she had thought this would be a calm and cultured introduction to Tom’s parents, her notion was disabused as they entered the house. It turned out that anyone claiming relation to “Tommy” had insisted on being there, so in addition to his three brothers, sister-in-law, and nephew, there were cousins galore—first, second, third—Casey lost count. Even Alexander Carlisle was there with his family. He was, after all, first cousin to Tom’s mother. There were people everywhere, children and babies in abundance, with dogs and the occasional cat showing up to be petted by someone. This could not have been further from Lady Pirrie’s drawing room, and Casey felt it hard to believe the relationship existed between the families.