A Test of Faith (18 page)

“I can worship Him at home, Daddy. In my room. Or on a walk. I don’t have to be in church.”

Anne was glad to hear Faith saying she at least wanted to worship God. She poured creamer into her tea, then added a spoonful of sugar. “That’s all true. But we’re also warned about not giving up on getting together as a community.”

Faith directed a pointed look at Anne’s cup of tea, then at the spoon she held. Anne looked down at the traces of sugar on the spoon, then back up at her daughter. The message she was sending Anne was clear:
Who are you to tell me what’s right and wrong, when you do things you shouldn’t all the time?

But Faith wasn’t finished. She arched her brows. “So it’s okay when Mom gives up on it, but not when I do?”

“Faith, this isn’t about your mom. It’s about you.”

“Look—” Faith stood, dumping her cereal in the sink, then tossing the bowl in with an impatient flick of the wrist—“forget it! Forget I said anything. I’ll go. I’ll be bored out of my mind, but I’ll go.”

My child, the martyr
.

Anne could laugh about it now, though her chuckle held a definite wry note. She slid another plant into its hole. Gardening was so therapeutic, so calming. No wonder she’d been doing it so much lately. After the church debate, the conflicts came more often and seemed to hit on every aspect of their lives: The shows they watched. The car they drove. Where they went for vacation. Their clothes. Their house.

Nothing seemed to suit Faith anymore. It was as though she’d suddenly decided she hated everything. Most especially her mother.

And most especially when her mother tried to talk to her about her hair. No matter how much Anne begged, Faith wouldn’t keep it out of her face. As much as Anne loved her daughter’s hair, she hated it hanging in her face, cloaking her features.

She had a hard enough time reading her daughter these days without having to deal with camouflage.

Then came the makeup melee. Faith wanted to wear it; Anne and Jared thought she was too young.

“I’m seventeen!” She’d blazed at them more than once. “I’m old enough to have babies, for cryin’ out loud. What’s it gonna hurt if I wear makeup?”

And so the battle had raged, day after day. Anne and Jared stood firm, and after a while Faith gave up.

Good thing, too. Anne had been starting to wear down.

She wiped perspiration from her face and stood with a groan. It had to be close to lunchtime. Even if it wasn’t, she needed something to eat. She went inside, pulled her gardening gloves off, and turned on the faucet, letting the warm water run over her aching hands.

Everything hurt. All the time.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself!
She slapped the faucet off and glanced toward the clock on the oven. But her gaze was waylaid by the lunch bag sitting on the counter. Faith forgot her lunch. Again.

Sighing, Anne dried her hands, took the bag, and went to find her purse. Good thing the high school was close by.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bennett, but Faith isn’t in class.”

Anne heard the words, but it was as though her brain couldn’t process them. “Excuse me?”

The woman behind the desk spoke again, more slowly this time. “Your daughter isn’t in class. I called the teacher, and she said Faith didn’t show up today.”

“Well, where is she?”

Casting a glance over her shoulder, the woman leaned closer so she could whisper. “I’m not supposed to say this, but I’m betting she’s out back.”

“Out back?” Anne dropped her voice to match the woman’s. “Out back where?”

The woman pulled out a map of the high school campus and made a quick mark, then slid the map to Anne. “There. It’s where the kids … congregate.”

Though a bit dazed at this turn of events, Anne followed the map, walking past the buildings until she reached a back parking lot. Sure enough, a group of kids were there.

Anne stared, then shook her head. Faith couldn’t be out here. These were rough-looking kids. Boys with long, shaggy hair, torn jeans, and cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Girls with teased hair, clothes that were too tight, and makeup you could scrape off with a spatula.

Where are these kids’ parents?
Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask if they knew where Faith was. Anne walked toward them.
Thank heaven Faith isn’t like these girls—

Anne stopped in her tracks. Of course. Trista. Anne should have known she’d be with a group of kids like this. The girl arched a plucked brow when she saw Anne, and when Anne start walking toward them again, Trista smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile.

Not wanting to look at Trista any longer, Anne let her gaze travel over the other girls in the group. She frowned. One of them seemed familiar. The one sitting on the car, leaning into a boy whose leather-clad arm hugged her close.

Maybe it was another of Faith’s less-than-desirable friends.

But something inside Anne knew that was wrong. She stared at the girl, and the way she sat there, the way she moved as she talked whispered through Anne, breathing an inner spark of apprehension to life.

Her steps slowed, and her gaze met Trista’s.

“Oh, look Faith.” Trista flicked the ashes from the tip of her cigarette. “Your mommy’s here.”

The girl on the car spun around, and Anne stared into her
daughter’s face. At least, she
thought
it was her daughter. It was a little hard to tell with all the makeup.

Anne stared, speechless.

“Mom! What are you doing here?”

The accusation in Faith’s tone brought Anne back to life. She held up the lunch bag, not even trying to keep the censure from her tone. “I brought you your lunch.”

Red climbed up Faith’s slim neck, washing into her painted cheeks.

“Isn’t that sweet, Faith?”

Anne pinned Trista with a glare. “Keep out of this, please.”

Trista made an exaggerated bow. “Of course, your highness. Whatever you say, your worship.”

Fingers clenching the paper of the bag into a wad, Anne walked to her daughter’s side. “Let’s go.”

“Mom!” Faith’s whispered wail had no effect.

Anne reached out and took hold of Faith’s arm. “I
said
, let’s go!”

Tears sparkling in her wide, disbelieving eyes, Faith tried to pull free, but Anne kept her grip on her daughter’s arm.

Until, that was, the boy who’d had his arm around Faith stepped in.

He sat on the hood of the car during the altercation, a small smile on his face, watching the two of them through the wisps of smoke he exhaled from his cigarette. But the minute Anne grabbed Faith, he slid from the car. Until that moment, Anne hadn’t realized how tall the boy was.

Or how imposing.

He pried her hand from Faith’s arm, his fingers like steel on Anne’s wrist. “I don’t think she wants to go with you, lady.”

A shiver scuttled across Anne’s nerves as he stared down at her. There was solid ice in those eyes and raw strength in the grip he still had on her wrist. Before Anne could form a reply to him, though, Faith stepped between them, putting a hand on his chest.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

Dustin? The boy on the motorcycle? But Faith said she wasn’t seeing him anymore—

“I’ll go with her.” Pure disgust looked out at Anne from her daughter’s narrowed eyes. “For now.”

“You don’t have to go, babe.”

Anne jerked. The boy’s tone of voice when he talked to Faith alarmed Anne more than any of the horrible things that had happened so far. That low, seductive, clearly proprietary growl told Anne more than she wanted to know.

This wasn’t just some boy. This was someone who thought he had a right to Faith. To her daughter.

Lord … what’s going on here?

Anne turned, and Faith fell into step beside her. Neither of them spoke a word on the entire drive home.

When they reached the house, Faith slammed out of the car and raced inside.

Oh no you don’t
. Anne was right on her heels. She put her hand out, stopping Faith’s door as she tried to slam it.

“This is
my
room.”

Anne squared off with her daughter. “Which happens to be in
my
house.”

“Fine! Do what you want. You always do!” Faith flopped onto her bed, arms crossed, staring up at the ceiling.

After looking at her daughter for a moment, Anne went to the bathroom, jerked a washcloth off the towel rack, and wet it down with hot water. She took it and tossed it to Faith. “Clean your face. You look like a clown.”

Faith snatched the washcloth and threw it across the room. “At least I don’t look like a pig!”

Anne’s stomach surged, as though reviling the hateful words her daughter had thrown at her. Pushing her way through the nausea, Anne glared at her daughter. “I thought you told us you weren’t seeing Dustin anymore.”

Faith clamped her lips shut.

Anne clenched her hands, but she couldn’t stop the agonized cry from slipping free. “How could you do this? Sneaking around. Lying—”

“I only did what I had to!” Faith sat up, eyes burning. “If you and Daddy weren’t such prudes—”

Anne didn’t remember raising her hand. But suddenly she
realized it was there, poised for the strike. She wasn’t sure who was more shocked. She or Faith.

The color drained from Faith’s face as she sat there, staring at her mother. Anne’s hand fell to her side, and she turned away. Walked to the doorway. There, she spoke without turning.

“This isn’t over, Faith. But I can’t talk to you now. I’m too angry.” The words caught in her throat, choking her. “Too hurt. It will have to wait until your father comes home.”

Pulling the door closed behind her, Anne left her daughter’s room. Back straight, she walked outside to her garden. She knelt, took up the trowel, and dug. And dug. And dug.

All the while her tears fell, bathing the hard soil with her fear and sorrow.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Anne pressed her face into Jared’s solid chest. “Neither can I.”

He’d come home an hour ago, and Anne told him all that had happened. His usually relaxed, smiling face grew pale, pinched. He hadn’t cried, but Anne knew it was only because he held a tight rein on the emotions churning inside of him.

Pulling away from his embrace, Anne rubbed her hands over her temples. “How did this happen? What have we done wrong?”

“Anne—”

“No.” She stood, pacing back and forth on the rug by their bed. “Jared, God called us to be parents, remember? We begged and begged for a child. For
Faith
. And He gave her to us. I thought we were good parents, that we were being loving and encouraging, but if that were true, then how could this have happened?”

Jared shook his head. “I don’t know, hon. I don’t know.” He stood and took her hands in his own. “All I do know is that we need to pray together.” He squeezed her hands. “And then we have to go talk with Faith.”

Anne let him pull her close and buried her face against
him. “You pray.” He hesitated. “Please. I … I can’t.”

She gripped her husband’s shirt, balling it into wads in her fists, as his choked voice enveloped her.

“God, help us. We don’t know what’s happening, but we know it’s not good. That something has pulled our daughter away from what’s right and true. Be with us as we talk with her. Grant us Your peace and calm. And show us where we’ve been wrong. Just … help us, Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” Anne muttered into Jared’s shirt.

His hands gripped her shoulders, and he set her away from him. “Let’s go.”

“How far have things gone between you and Dustin?”

Faith stared at her father, defiance wrapped around her like a suit of armor. “Is that all you’re worried about? Have I had sex with this guy.”

“Faith, please—”

“Well, I haven’t, okay? I
wouldn’t
.” The hurt in her voice cut at Anne’s heart. “Daddy, how can you even ask me that?”

The tears he’d been keeping under such tight rein escaped down his cheeks. “You’ve lied to us. Done what we expressly asked you not to. What you said you wouldn’t.” The words came out in a hoarse whisper. “How can I
not
ask it?”

Faith’s sobs were heart-wrenching. “You don’t even know Dustin. How can you act like he’s some kind of creep?”

“Because we don’t know him.” Anne hugged herself. “Don’t you see? If we don’t know him, we can’t trust him—”

“So, what? You pick my friends? The boys I date? You tell me who I can like and spend time with?”

“Faith Adelle—”

She shook her head, stopping Anne’s words. “What am I supposed to do, Mom? Just sit around by myself? Dad’s gone at work all day, and
you
sure don’t want to be around me.”

Jared had heard enough. “Faith!”

A wretchedness of soul she’d never known before gripped Anne, a choking vise around her heart. “What are you talking about?”

Faith’s hand cut through the air between them. “It’s
true
.” She looked at Jared. “It’s true and you know it, Daddy.” Her wounded gaze came back to Anne. “You never want to spend time with me anymore. I ask you to go for walks, to come play a game, but all you want to do is sit like a lump on the couch and watch TV. Or sleep.
That’s
what matters most to you.”

Heat surged into Anne’s face. “That’s not fair! You know how hard it is for me—”

“Forget it!” Tears streamed down Faith’s pale cheeks, and she looked from Anne to Jared. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not the perfect little daughter who does everything right. I’m sorry I don’t have the perfect Christian friends who do nothing but pray and praise God all day.”

She folded her arms, making a physical barrier to match the emotional one between them. “You guys would be happier if I disappeared, wouldn’t you? That’d make you happy, if I was gone!”

“Stop it!”

Even Anne jumped at Jared’s bellow.

“Stop it this instant. I won’t have you saying such things to your mother, or to me.” He went to take hold of their daughter, pulling her into his arms. “We love you, Faith. God in heaven, don’t you know that by now?”

She stiffened, then suddenly collapsed against him, her weeping joining his in a heartbreaking harmony of grief.