A Test of Faith (27 page)

She leaned against him, felt his smile against her neck, then nodded. He gave her a push, and she sailed up, up into the sky.

Leave me alone or lose me…

The birds were free.

Trista was free.

Leave me alone or lose me…

Faith closed her eyes. That’s what she wanted. To be free.

Leave me alone or lose me…

And that’s what she was going to get.

She turned to Trista as she swung past. “You’re a genius!”

“Yeah—” her half-lidded expression was almost as smug as her tone—“I am.”

The three of them laughed, and the sound rose on the night wind, a symphony of pure delight. Faith didn’t even try to hold back the grin.

This was gonna be great.

Two days.

Anne couldn’t believe it had only been two days. It felt like ten. Twenty.

A lifetime.

But it was only two days. Two days with no word from Faith.

Anne and Jared had awakened on Saturday morning, hoping against hope for a new day with Faith. A new start. They’d let her sleep in without calling up the stairs, like they usually
did on Saturdays, telling her to get up before it was dinnertime. Amazing how that girl could sleep the day away. But when the clock struck one in the afternoon, Jared made his way up the stairs to rouse Faith.

What he found was an empty room. Her bed was made, clearly not slept in. Her window was open, the curtains flapping in the breeze as though waving good-bye.

Anne had scarcely been able to take it all in. Grim determination written in his features, Jared made his way down the stairs and to the phone. They’d called everyone they knew to call. The school. Winnie. Even Trista and that boy, Dustin, neither of whom had been any help at all. In fact, Trista only added to Anne’s worry when she commented, “So Faith finally bailed, huh? Can’t exactly blame her, can you?”

Anne frowned. What was the girl talking about? But before she could ask, Trista breezed on. “Maybe you’ll think twice before you treat her like a prisoner again.”

With that, the girl hung up.

After two hours of calling, the answer was still the same: No one knew where Faith was.

Their next call was to the police. Twenty-four hours, they said. Faith had to be gone for twenty-four hours before they could file a report.

Desperation grew, spreading through Anne with tendrils that surrounded and squeezed her heart. She followed Jared back up the stairs to Faith’s room, watching, her arms wrapped around her middle, as he turned the room upside down, looking for some kind of clue as to where she’d gone.

He flipped her mattress up and frowned. Reaching down, he lifted a leather-bound book. Faith’s journal. He met Anne’s eyes, and she knew what he was thinking. They’d always sworn they would never invade their daughter’s privacy, never read her diary or journal without permission.

But she’d left them no choice.

Fear goading her forward, Anne took the journal from her husband’s hand. They stood together as she opened the cover. Read the flowing script. And gasped.

Page after page of poison had poured from their daughter’s
heart onto the pages. Angry, hateful words written to and about them. At first, the tirades focused on Anne. But the last few pages added Jared to the mix, bemoaning the fact that he’d turned against her.

Their shocked eyes read account after account of Faith sneaking out and going to meet Trista or Dustin. The details turned Anne’s blood cold.

Her daughter was utterly, totally out of control.

That was two days ago. They still hadn’t recovered. And they still didn’t know where Faith was. They’d called the police yesterday, then gone down to file the report.

Now, all they could do was wait.

Anne stood, though she’d only sat a few moments earlier, and went back to stare out the window.
Faith … where are you?

“Hon, you’ve got to get some rest.”

She turned to meet Jared’s worn concern. Did she look as haggard as he? Probably more so. At least he slept some last night. She’d been up all night, praying, weeping, worrying.

“I can’t rest.” She muttered the words almost as much to herself as to him. “Not with her out there … somewhere.” She looked out the window again, and her hand lifted as though of its own accord, the palm pressing to the cold glass, as if she could somehow reach through it, draw her daughter home.

She closed her eyes.
Faith…

Jared’s hands closed on her shoulders, his touch as familiar to her as her own.

“She’s all right, Annie.”

The fury that grabbed her, shaking her like a crazed terrier with a rag doll, almost stunned her. She gritted her teeth, her words hissing out. “You don’t know that.”

His hands tightened, and he didn’t reply. Not right away. When he did, she kicked herself for the heaviness in his voice. “No … I don’t. But I do know that God is watching over her—”

“Bad things happen all the time. Even with God watching.”

No emotion in her voice. As though she’d gone dead inside. Well, maybe she had. How could she be alive when her child was missing?

Jared turned her, cupped her face with his hands, and forced her to meet his gaze. And Anne knew she hadn’t gone dead. Not by a long shot. Rather, every painful emotion conceivable coursed through her veins like molten magma from the very core of her being. Fear, rage, helplessness, despair, agony, grief—they shredded her defenses and poured out of her on a sob.

Suddenly, the front door opened and slammed. They both bolted for the entryway.

“Faith!”

She turned at Anne’s gasping exclamation. “Oh. Hi.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then … “Hi?”

Jared’s barely contained rage stunned Anne. Almost as much as it did Faith. Anne watched her daughter’s eyes widen as the color drained from her cheeks.

“
Hi?
That’s all you have to say?” Jared took a step forward.

“Jared, wait—”

“You put us through two days of pure terror—” the words ground out between his clenched teeth—“of not knowing if you’re dead or alive, and all you can say when you come in is
hi
?”

Faith didn’t reply, though Anne wasn’t sure if her silence stemmed from defiance or fear.

“Well?”

Faith flinched at Jared’s angry demand. “Well what?”

“Faith, so help me—”

Anne stepped between them. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere.”

This time Anne and Jared exploded in unison. “
Faith
!”

She shrugged, waving one hand in the air. “I was out, that’s all. I needed time to think. I mean—” the sulk seeped back into her eyes, her tone—“it’s not like you two want me around.”

“Of course we want you around—”

Jared’s hard tone cut her question short. “Faith, I’m asking you one more time.” There was a wealth of restraint in his slow, measured tone. “I don’t want any dramatics, excuses, or sidesteps. I want an answer.” He pinned her with a look that
brooked no opposition. “Where have you been for the past two days?”

She stared at him for a moment, and Anne had the distinct feeling her daughter was sizing Jared up, determining how serious he was. Apparently she realized he was serious as a heart attack, because she lowered her eyes and muttered, “With Trista. And Dustin.”

“What?” Anne wanted to hit something. “They said they didn’t know where you were.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “They lied.”

“And these are the kind of people you choose as friends? Liars?”

Faith met her father’s eyes, glare for glare. “At least they love me!”

“Is that right?”

Apparently Faith didn’t hear the warning in Jared’s whispered words. “Yes! They accept me as I am!”

“And what, exactly, is that, Faith?”

She crossed her arms, a well-practiced woundedness in her features and stance. “You shouldn’t have to ask! Of all people,
you
should know who I am, Daddy.”

Jared stared at her, and for a moment silence reigned. Then he dragged in a breath, the sound so ragged and harsh it almost hurt to hear it. “I used to know you, Faith. I saw it every time I looked at you, that tender, sweet little girl who could make my heart smile. That little kid I used to love to spend time with, to talk and laugh with.”

Faith bit her lip, and the sudden longing that filled her features made Anne want to weep.

“Daddy—”

The choked word was barely past Faith’s lips when Jared lifted a hand, stopping her. “That’s who you used to be. My little girl.” His eyes narrowed and his tone hardened. “But as for knowing who you are now?” Laughter, harsh and humorless, escaped him. “I haven’t got a clue. Because all I see when I look at you is a stranger.”

The words struck their mark, and Faith’s lip trembled.

“We found your journal.”

At her father’s words, the color drained from Faith’s face. “You … you read my journal?”

Jared’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t give us much choi—”

“You had no right!” Faith’s hands clenched into fists. “Those were my private thoughts! You had no—”

“We are your parents, and that gives us every right!”

Anne stepped in. “Faith, we were desperate to find out where you were.”

“Desperate? You’re not desperate; you’re pathetic!”

The words slapped her, and Anne pulled back, fighting the mixture of anger and hurt that swept through her. Jared’s steadying hand on her shoulder was a blessed relief. She reached up and put her hand over his.

“If that’s true, Faith, then it’s you who made us so.”

Faith flinched, but her father wasn’t finished.

“The day you were born, we almost lost you. I don’t know if we’ve ever told you that, but you almost died during the delivery. When I found out you were okay, I went down on my knees and thanked God. I knew then He had His hand on you. I knew you were going to be a true blessing in our lives.”

Anne hadn’t thought it possible, but Faith’s features grew even whiter as she listened to her father talk.

“W-what are you saying, Daddy? That you wish I’d died?”

“No!” He swung away from Faith, his hands clenched at his sides. “God in heaven, Faith, do you hate us so much that you could ask something like that?”

There was such pain in Jared’s voice that Anne almost couldn’t stand it.

Faith made no reply. From the haggard look on her face, Anne was convinced she couldn’t. That any attempt at words would only get choked off in her throat.

Jared turned back to Faith, his eyes searching her features. When he spoke again, it was in a hard whisper. “Who
are
you?”

Anne wanted to stop him, to keep him from saying things he’d regret, but she might as well not even have been there. For so long Anne had been almost envious of the bond her husband and daughter shared, of the way they always seemed
to understand each other, to get along. Now…

Now that very bond had become a weapon—a razor honed and wielded by Faith’s actions, slicing her father’s heart with cruel, careless strokes.

“You want me to accept you as you are? How do I do that when your actions and words show me a spoiled brat who runs away when she doesn’t get her way? A selfish, mean-spirited girl who hurts people because she can, the very people trying to take care of her, trying to do what’s right for her.”

Tears slid from Faith’s wide eyes, coursing down her cheeks. “What’s right for me?” Her voice trembled. “You don’t care what’s right for me!”

Jared straightened. “No, Faith. It’s you who doesn’t care. Not about what’s right. All you care about is you. Getting what you want. When you want it. Well, I’m telling you, here and now, it’s going to stop.”

Faith’s chin lifted. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you are going to change. You’re going to stop acting like a two-year-old out of control and start taking responsibility for your actions.”

“And if I don’t?”

Anne wanted to scream. She knew what was coming but didn’t know how to stop it.
God, please
.

Jared’s own chin lifted at his daughter’s defiant tone. “It’s simple, Faith. If you want to continue living under our roof, then you will abide by our rules.”

Faith blinked. Once. Twice. Then a dull red seeped into her skin, blooming in her cheeks. When she spoke, it was in whispered disbelief. “You’d throw me out?”

No, no
. Anne’s mind begged.
Tell her you got carried away, that you were angry. Tell her you didn’t mean it
.

But he did. She knew it. And she knew something else.

He was right.

“No, I wouldn’t throw you out. You’d be choosing to leave.” Jared’s tone softened then, but only a fraction. “I don’t want that. Neither does your mother. But we can’t go on this way, Faith. We’re your parents. We love you. But you have to understand, we won’t be abused by you.” Jared looked at
Anne, and she saw in the pain ravaging his features what his words were costing him. “We’ve had enough.”

Faith stared at them for a heartbeat, then spun on her heel and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to her room.

Anne stood beside her husband, words flowing through her mind and heart—but her tongue seemed paralyzed. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a sound. His arm eased around her shoulders and drew her close.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against that broad chest, listening to his broken heart beat as they held one another, joined in their sorrow, trapped in the silence of inevitability.

nineteen