A Test of Faith (13 page)

Something dark and determined.

Something that wanted her daughter.

ten

FAITH STARED AT HER MOTHER, SURE SHE’D HEARD
her wrong. “You … want to do what?”

“I want to invite Trista over for dinner.”

“But—” Faith stopped. Should she say it? She didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.

“But I don’t like Trista?”

Relief was a sweet release. “Yeah.”

“And she’s not particularly crazy about me.”

Wow. Mom understood more than Faith realized. “I don’t know that she isn’t crazy about you, Mom. She just doesn’t get you.”

“Well, that’s okay, sweetie, because I don’t get her, either. I don’t understand why Winnie is over here all the time, but Trista hardly ever visits. And when she does, you two hole up in your room.”

Faith didn’t want to sound defensive, but she couldn’t help it. “We have stuff to talk about. Private stuff.”

Her mom sat next to her at the kitchen table. “I realize that, Faith. But your father and I like to know your friends. And we like
for them to know us. To know they can trust us. And it’s evident Trista doesn’t.”

Faith decided to go for broke. “She thinks you and Dad are a little, you know,
out
there.”

Her mom’s forehead creased. “Out where?”

Faith waved her hands. “There. You know, far away from reality. She says our family is totally weird because we like to spend time together and talk and stuff.”

For a moment Faith was afraid her mom was angry, but the storm that seemed to gather in her features vanished. Instead, her mom looked sad. Really sad.

“Honey, I’m sorry Trista feels that way. I’m sorry she doesn’t have a better time with her parents.”

Nobody
could have a good time with Trista’s parents. Her dad was a total nutcase; her mom a nag. Of course, Faith didn’t say any of that to her mom. She knew better than to talk down other adults. But she’d been to Trista’s house. She heard the screaming and swearing.

Trista’s home was no fun.

So
maybe
it would help to have her come here. Maybe seeing that Faith’s family wasn’t nuts or fake, that they really did get along, would give Trista some hope that life could be better.

More likely it will confirm in her mind that you’re a total dweeb
.

“It was just an idea, but if you think it’s not a good one—”

“I’ll ask her, Mom.”

“Oh.” She blinked, kind of like Faith did early in the mornings when her dad turned on her bedroom light and told her to get up. “Well … good.”

Why was her mom looking so unsure? It was her idea in the first place. “If, I mean, do you want me to?”

The smile her mom gave her was almost convincing. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know what she says.” Faith rose from the table, glancing at her mom.

“Good.” Mom almost looked a little green. “Fine.” She waved a hand at Faith. “Go call her, then let me know.”

Faith frowned as she left the kitchen. Sometimes Mom didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

This was a bad idea.

Anne felt the dread deep within her, confirming the knowledge. But it was too late. She’d issued the invitation, and it had been accepted.

Lord, why did You ever let me get into this?

“Love your enemies.”

A snort escaped her. Love Trista? Well, she’d do her best. But the girl certainly wasn’t making it easy. Faith had called her, told her they wanted her to come over for dinner. Though Faith tried to muffle the phone against her chest, Anne heard the hoot coming through the lines.

“Trista, knock it off!” Faith hissed into the receiver.

When Faith hung up, she turned back to Anne with a pained smile. “She said yes.”

Now it was Anne’s turn to look pained. “She did? Oh. Great. That’s great.”

If only she believed it. The idea had sounded good when it first came to Anne while she was doing her morning devotions. Like a loving whisper spoken close to her ear, it had drifted into her mind.

Ask Trista to come for dinner
.

She hadn’t even hesitated. She’d gotten up right then and there and gone to find Faith in the kitchen.

That was probably her mistake. She should have thought it through.

Now she stood, staring at the set table, trying to push back the dread that had picked at her all day. She should have found out what Trista liked to eat. Should have asked about her preferences for drink and dessert. Instead, she asked Jared to cook hamburgers on the grill. Faith loved burgers on the grill. And there were brownies for dessert—another of Faith’s all-time favorites.

Trista would probably hate everything.

At least you’re trying
.

No,
Trista
was trying. That was the problem.

The sound of the doorbell jolted through Anne, but Faith beat her to the punch. She dashed from her bedroom. “I’ll get it!”

Firm hands circled Anne’s waist. “You ready for this?”

Anne looked over her shoulder. “I wish.”

“I think it’s nice that you’re doing this, hon.” Jared snatched a black olive from the tray on the table. “Reaching out to Trista like this. She seems like a very unhappy girl.”

Unhappy? Anne pondered that. She’d never thought of Trista in those terms. Difficult. Rebellious. A little devious, even. But unhappy? Never.

Now, thinking about it, Anne wondered if Jared’s observation wasn’t the more accurate one. Before she had time to really think that through, though, Faith sailed into the room, Trista in her wake. Anne put on her best smile, then promptly almost lost it when she took in Trista’s outfit: a fluorescent pink T-shirt, hung off to the side, baring one slim shoulder. The ragged, torn bottom of the shirt almost reached Trista’s belly button.

If her miniskirt were any tighter, it would qualify as a second skin. Fishnet hose made their incongruous way down her legs, ending in a pair of ratty army boots.

The girl’s hair, which was teased to within an inch of its life, was tied with a gaudy bow. And Anne was fairly sure the girl’s primary tool for applying her makeup had to be a trowel.

“Mom?”

Anne glanced at Faith, and her daughter’s fierce scowl pulled her from her dazed stare at their guest. “Hi, Trista. Glad you could make it.”

Trista nodded.
Like she’s the Queen Mother bestowing a blessing on the peasants
.

Faith shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “So, are the burgers ready?”

“Burgers?” Trista’s question was accompanied by a continuous popping of her gum. “Oh, man. You should have said something, Mrs. B., I don’t eat meat.”

Faith stared at her friend. “Since when?”

Pop. Chomp. Pop
. “Since forever.”

Anne could tell Faith was about to argue the point. “That’s not a problem, girls. We have plenty of other things for Trista to eat.” She indicated the table, and Trista went to peer at the array of baked beans, chips, three-bean salad, potato salad, deviled eggs, and Jell-O.

She shrugged, turning back to Faith and Trista. “Jell-O works.”

“Jell-O?” Anne stared at her. “Is that the only thing here you can eat?”

“Not to worry, Mrs. B.” Trista’s smile was pure sweetness. “I can get something good at home later.”

The evening went downhill from there. Trista refused to hold hands or close her eyes for prayer.

“I don’t believe in God.”

She sat there, steeped in defiance, as though expecting them to jump up from the table in shock. Instead, Jared smiled.

“That’s okay, Trista. He believes in you.”

Anne had prided herself on Faith’s table manners. She’d taught her from an early age that elbows didn’t belong on the table, to chew with her mouth closed, and not to interrupt when others were talking. It was as though Trista had found out all of those things and did her level best to do the opposite. Her elbows planted on the table, she slumped there, chin resting in her hand, poking at her Jell-O with a spoon. Anytime Jared or Anne tried to draw her into the conversation, she stared at them as though they spoke a foreign language.

I suppose courtesy could be considered a foreign language to some
.

Shame scurried through Anne on the heels of that uncharitable thought, and she grabbed the bowl in front of her, holding it out to Trista.

“More?”

Trista looked from the bowl to Anne. “Gee, thanks. But no. I think I’ve about had all I can handle.”

That makes two of us
.

The girl couldn’t have made it more plain if she spray painted it on the wall. She was bored out of her teenage skull.

At first, Anne was angry. But after the third or fourth snub, she started to realize something.

Trista was afraid.

She was putting on a good act, pretending it was all beneath her. But then something happened. Faith and her father were talking about the virtues of cooking hamburger rare as opposed to well done.

“That’s not a hamburger!” Faith looked down her nose at Jared’s plate. “It’s shoe leather with bumps!”

“Yeah, well at least mine doesn’t moo when I bite into it.”

“No, it just breaks your tooth.”

The two teased and laughed, as they usually did at mealtime. Anne watched them, enjoying the interaction. But when she looked to see what Trista though of it, she was shocked to see something unexpected on the girl’s face.

Longing.

Stark, raw longing.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds. Then the veil of boredom slipped back into place. But it had been there long enough.

Unhappy
, Jared had called her. Suddenly Anne knew that wasn’t the half of it. Trista wasn’t just unhappy. She was miserable. Heartwrenchingly so. What could have happened to make such a young girl’s eyes so haunted, so pained?
Lord, help her. Help Trista. She seems lost—

Suddenly, Trista’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at Anne. Then she dropped her spoon onto her plate, the loud clatter making Faith jump.

“Trista?”

The other girl shoved her chair back and stood. “This is stupid.”

“What is?”

Anne looked at her husband. How could he sound so calm in the face of Trista’s disdain?

Trista’s slim hands spread. “This is! This little
Leave It to Beaver
act you’re putting on.”

“Act? What’s that supposed to mea—?”

Jared lay his hand on Faith’s arm, stilling her heated question. “Trista, I’m sorry if we’re bothering you, but this isn’t an act.” He held the girl’s gaze, and Anne saw nothing but compassion on his face. “This is who we are as a family.”

Trista looked from Anne to Jared. Then at Faith. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “You
think
it’s who you are, but it’s not. No one is like this. Not really. And if you don’t know that, well … just wait.”

Anne knew the words stemmed from a hurting heart, that it was simply a teenage girl striking out at something that made her painfully aware of the lack in her own life. And yet … those two words struck Anne, deep inside, planting a seed of dread.

“Just wait.”

Anne swallowed. For what? Was something coming? Did Trista know something about Faith that they didn’t know?

“Trista, please, sit down. You’re welcome at our table.”

She stepped away from Jared’s kind tone and shook her head. “I don’t belong here.” She headed for the door, grabbing her purse where she’d let it fall on the floor.

Faith looked from one parent to the other, eyes pleading. “
Say
something! Stop her!”

Anne put her hand over Faith’s. “Sweetie, there’s not much we can say.”

Faith shoved her chair back, jumping up. “She’s my friend! You can’t let her leave like this.”

The front door slammed, and Jared tilted his head, looking after Trista. “Actually, Faith, I don’t think we could stop her.”

“Fine!” Faith crossed her arms. “May I be excused?”

Jared held her gaze. “Are you sure you want to be done?”