A Test of Faith (21 page)

Anne refused to play security guard, though. Rather than knock on Faith’s door and check if she was there, she went on down to the kitchen. Jared joined her a few minutes later, starting the coffee.

Anne was in the middle of preparing an eggs and bacon breakfast when Faith entered. “I want mine scrambled.”

Her heart singing, Anne could only nod. If Faith had wanted her eggs dipped in gold and served on a bed of peacock feathers, Anne would have found a way to do it for her. That’s how relieved and grateful she was to see her daughter standing there.

The rest of the morning held a kind of surreal air. The three of them sat and ate, talking and even joking. The way they used to, what felt like a lifetime ago.

When the doorbell rang, Faith pushed back her chair. “I’ll get it.”

Anne and Jared followed her as she went to grab her suitcase, then open the door. Sarah stood there, her face beaming. “Hey. You must be Faith.”

Faith’s mouth quirked, and she looked down at her suitcase. “Wow. Keen sense of the obvious, eh?”

“The keenest.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled. “Want me to prove it? I bet that’s your bag.”

“Ooo, I am impressed.” Faith peeked out the doorway. “So where’s your car?”

Sarah tossed a wink at Jared and Anne, then pulled her keys from her pocket. “Right this way, your highness.”

“ ‘Bout time someone got that right.”

Though Anne was sure Faith meant her response to be smart, she couldn’t help smiling. Because something Anne hadn’t heard in a very long time accompanied the words: Faith’s laughter. It bubbled and tinkled, wrapping around Anne’s heart, bringing quick tears to her eyes.

Jared’s hands stroked her arms, and she leaned back against him.

“This is going to work, Annie.”

She could only pray he was right.

Horseback riding. Swimming. Hikes in the mountains. Ping-Pong. Volleyball. Basketball. And yes, even the singing during worship time.

Faith had found herself not only participating in these things, but even enjoying them. She hadn’t thought it possible. Hadn’t thought she’d be able to endure a week, let alone a whole summer, away from Dustin.

She still wasn’t sure what to think of his reaction when she had told him what was happening. She expected him to be angry. But he just looked at her, those blue eyes thoughtful.

“The whole summer, huh?”

She nodded.

“You could always not go, you know.”

Faith straddled his motorcycle. “Yeah, right. If I don’t go with this Sarah when she shows up, Dad will pile me in the car and drive me there himself.”

“You could always leave.”

She frowned. “Yeah, I am. On Saturday.”

Dustin’s eyes had an odd gleam in them as he gave a slow shake of his head. “No, babe.
Leave
. Home. Come here, stay
with me. Then you could do what you wanted.”

Faith’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She sat there, mouth gaping, speechless.

“Tryin’ to catch flies?”

His soft, playful taunt made her clamp her lips together. “Are you?” Was he serious? “Do you really want me to … to …”

He moved them, coming to slip his arms around her and lift her from the bike. He held her close, brushing her hair back from her face. “Babe, I’d love having you here, with me.” He smiled down at her.

Faith felt as though her head were spinning. Words didn’t make sense when he looked at her that way. “I … you …”

Dustin’s deep laughter enveloped her, and he lowered his head. But before his lips could find hers, she turned so that the kiss landed on her cheek. He stiffened, then relaxed, letting his lips trail down her cheek to her neck. Then, when she could hardly breathe, he let her go and walked away.

Faith stood there, shaking, swaying like tall grass in the wind. He’d always told her he understood her feelings about kissing. Even thought it was cool she wanted to wait until it meant something. Until it was real.

Now she wondered if he was getting tired of waiting.

Dustin pulled a cigarette out and lit it. “So, hey, go to camp. We’ll make the best of the next few days, then have a celebration when you get back.”

“You—” Faith’s mind really was spinning now. Go, stay. What did he want? “You want me to go?”

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Hey, of course not. But you don’t have much choice, right?”

“R-right.” That was right, wasn’t it?

He shrugged. “Well, then, there you have it.”

Remembering the odd exchange, Faith kicked a toe into the dust. Why didn’t boys come with some kind of instruction manual?

“Hey, you goof. Time for swim lessons!”

Sarah was coming toward her, beach towel over her arm, customary grin on her face.

Faith would never have admitted it to her folks, but she
liked Sarah. The older girl stuck pretty close to Faith those first few days. Faith finally let her have it, telling her she didn’t need a prison warden. “Relax. I’m not going to run away.”

“I know that, Faith.” Sarah hadn’t been angry at her at all. She kept that smile on her face. “I’m not worried about you taking off.” She indicated the woods all around them. “After all, we’re a gazillion miles from the nearest bus station, and I can’t see you walking the hundred miles back to the valley.”

“Ha ha. So why are you dogging me, then?”

Sarah tipped her head. “I’m not. I just happen to enjoy your company.”

That shut Faith up but good. Sarah enjoyed her company? Why?

Of course, Faith hadn’t let on how much that surprised her. She tried to come up with some snappy retort, but only managed a lame comment that she figured Sarah saw right through.

For the next few days, Faith and Sarah spent a lot of time talking. When Sarah wasn’t working, that was. As head counselor, rather than having a cabin of her own to watch over, Sarah managed the other counselors. She helped them deal with problems, anything from homesick or problem kids to the best way to build a campfire. Faith followed Sarah around, doing what was needed when it was needed, helping first one counselor and then another.

It was actually kind of fun.

Faith stayed in one of the cabins, and her counselor, Tammy, was okay. Faith discovered she didn’t mind the other girls, either. She remembered a couple of them from Sunday school and church camp when she was little. But since the kids at camp came from churches all over the western region, there were plenty of strangers. Even so, they all kind of seemed to fit together. Faith thought that was kind of cool.

Tammy worked them hard, but once their chores were done, she let them play a lot, too. And she had a way of making work time almost as much fun as rec time. But what Faith liked most—and what surprised her most—was the way Tammy and Sarah and the other counselors treated them like
adults. They didn’t talk down to them. Didn’t lecture them. Didn’t even preach at them. Just talked to them like they talked to each other.

Every morning they read the Bible together and prayed for the day. Then, when they started their chores, Tammy would ask them all a question, and they’d get all caught up in the discussion. Before they knew it, chores were done and it was time to have fun.

Almost every day, right after chores, Sarah showed up at Faith’s cabin. “Wanna go for a hike?” she’d ask, or “Lake is nice and calm today. How about we canoe to the other side?” Whatever they did, they always talked. About life. Friends. Family.

And God. Always God.

Faith and Sarah had talked late into the night last night, so Faith had a hard time crawling from bed this morning. Tammy teased her about doing her chores in her sleep, and Faith stuck her tongue out at her. “I was talking to your boss, Miss Counselor. So there.”

Tammy laughed, then handed Faith the broom. “Think you can handle sweeping the floor?”

“Do I have to be awake to do it?”

“Nah. Why should today be different from any other day?”

“Ha ha.” Faith pulled a face and got to work. Tammy kind of reminded Faith of her mom. They used to laugh and tease like this. A long time ago.

Tammy jumped in to the day’s question-and-answer bit. “Okay, everyone look at Faith.”

“Please,” someone quipped. “I just ate.”

Tammy threw a sock at the comedienne, then went on. “So what does it matter if you sweep the floor or not?”

Faith rolled her eyes and slapped a palm to her forehead. “Duh, Tammy. To keep it clean.”

The other girls laughed, as did Tammy. “Okay, so why does that matter?”

“ ’Cuz you can’t walk on a floor that’s covered with crud.” This from Billie, a chubby girl, who had a great sense of humor.

“Yeah, you’ll trip and fall over,” another girl added.

Billie held up a rotting banana peel she’d found under one of the bunks. “Or get stuck and not be able to move.”

“Ewwww!” the other girls chorused.

“All right.” Tammy held out a garbage sack for Billie to toss in the peel. “So take it deeper. Why is sweeping a room out like confessing our sins?”

“ ’Cuz God can’t live in a heart that’s covered in crud.”

Tammy and the girls turned to Faith, eyes wide. It was the first time Faith had spoken up during their question-and-answer times.

“Go with that, Faith.”

It felt funny to have all the girls’ eyes on her, but Faith figured she’d opened her mouth, she might as well have her say. “Well, God’s holy, right? He’s clean and pure. And He won’t stay in a place that’s full of garbage, of sin. Either the sin has to go, or He does.”

“Then let the sin go, baby.”

Faith looked at Billie. For all that she liked Billie, she got the sense the other girl said things she thought Tammy wanted to hear. And if there was one thing that irritated Faith, it was a brownnoser.
Let’s see how you hold up when you get pushed
. “Yeah? Why?”

If she expected Billie to falter, she was disappointed. The girl shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts and met Faith’s challenge without flinching. “ ’Cuz I’ve been without God, and it stinks. Sin’s fun while it lasts, but it never lasts long enough. And when it’s done, you’re all alone. Just you—” Billie held Faith’s gaze—“and the bad you’ve done.”

Faith felt her cheeks go warm. For a minute she wondered if it was a setup, if Billie had been coached, told exactly the right thing to say so Faith would feel guilty. But the thought left as quickly as it came.

No way. Billie was saying hard things, and they were from her gut. Faith could tell.

“You did bad, Billie?”

The quiet question from one of the other girls brought a grin to Billie’s face. “Oh, I did bad, all right. Baddest of the bad.
But that’s not what’s cool. What’s cool is that it didn’t matter.”

Faith narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“To God.”

Faith stared. Billie’s smile was so happy it made her almost pretty.

“Once I asked Him for help, once I told Him everything I’d done and asked Him to forgive me, it was like none of it happened.”

Faith snorted. “You telling me people weren’t mad at you anymore?”

“Oh, they were still mad, but I wasn’t. I didn’t expect them to stop being mad, not right away. I mean, I worked hard to get them mad, you know?”

Faith knew. Too well.

“But I kinda figured I deserved their mad stuff, so instead of resenting it, I asked God to help me deal with it. And He did. And after a while, the mad stuff was over, and good stuff was starting. And it’s still going, ’cuz I’ve got God.”

Faith sat on her bunk. “So get God and everything’s perfect?”

Billie shook her head. “Girl, what world are you livin’ in? Nothin’ here is perfect.” She turned to tug her sleeping bag into place, smoothing out the wrinkles. “But it’s a whole lot better with God than without Him.”

Billie’s words had stuck with Faith for days. Weeks, in fact. She’d discussed them with Tammy, often late into the night, while they lay in their beds, serenaded by the sound of frogs and crickets outside and the soft snores of the girls inside.

She talked about it with Sarah, too, when they took a walk together. Both told her Billie was right. They’d learned that lesson themselves the hard way. Life was definitely better with God on your side.

Faith supposed it was true. But she couldn’t buy it. Not entirely. Still, the idea kind of pulled at her.

Then, the second to the last week of camp, something happened.

Everyone was gathered around a large bonfire, singing, toasting marshmallows, and talking about God. Everyone
talked about God in this place. But it wasn’t like they were talking about some invisible guy in the sky. They talked about Him like He was real, like He was right there with them. And as Faith sat there next to Sarah, listening to her new friends talk and sing, a kind of ache started inside her. It was like the ache she’d felt when she used to watch Dustin, but this went deeper.

Before she knew it, Faith was crying. Big ol’ fat tears ran down her face. Nothing she did could stop them. She tried not to let anyone see. Kind of bent her head down, hiding behind her hair. But she didn’t have any Kleenexes, and after about the fourth sniff, Sarah’s arm came around her shoulders.

The sobs got serious then. Sarah asked her why she was crying, and Faith told her she didn’t know. “It hurts—” she pressed her hand over her heart—“here.”

“Faith, God’s been calling you for a long time.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“He loves you.”

A hiccupping sob escaped her. “I … I know. But I’ve been so rotten …”

“It doesn’t matter, honey. God loves you, warts and all. He wants you to open your heart to Him, let Him come inside and love you. But it’s got to be your choice. You can’t get to God because your parents know and love Him. It’s you and Him, right here, right now. He’s ready to listen if you’re ready to talk.” She squeezed Faith’s shoulders. “Do you want to do that?”

Faith wiped her nose on her sleeve. Did she? Did she want that? The answer rang sure and true deep within.

Yes.

She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

When Faith nodded, Sarah’s smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Okay, then, go ahead and talk with Him.”

Faith bowed her head, but nothing came. What could she say? Sure, she’d heard people talk about confessing their sins and all that. And she heard her mom and dad pray all the time.