Faith (11 page)

Rising from the side of her bed, Faith quickly dropped
back to her knees. And, Lord, please tell Papa not to worry. Once Nicholas and I are married, I won't be such a bother. I
remain your faithful servant, Faith Marie Kallahan.

Hay was put up and the wedding scheduled for the third
time. Faith followed the Shepherds to the wagon Thursday
morning, dressed in a yellow-sprigged cotton with
leg-of-mutton sleeves. The gown wasn't as pretty as the
white Irish linen, but it was the next best thing she owned.
The tatted lace she'd stitched around the collar made it
seem like new, although she'd had it for years. The only
other hat she had was a thick fur cap with attached earmuffs.
Nice for blustery cold winters in Michigan, but useless in
sweltering Texas heat.

After the way Nicholas had treated her at the barn raising,
Faith wasn't fully able to recapture wedding-day anticipation. Still, she and Nicholas had an understanding, one she
intended to honor. Nicholas and she were as different as
daylight and dark, but perhaps, in time, there would be
more acceptance of each other. The least she hoped for
was tolerance.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth, and she felt
more optimistic as she remembered the Good Book. If the
Lord could heal the sick, raise the dead, and save the most
wicked sinner from the fiery pits of hell, he could bless this
marriage. All she needed was faith the size of a mustard
seed.

Nothing was said on the ride to Reverend's house. Faith
watched the countryside roll by, mesmerized by the hum of the wagon wheels. Texas was unbelievably big. Everywhere
she looked fertile fields were dotted with cattle, grazing or
bunched in herds, seeking the shade of cottonwoods, mesquite, or majestic oaks. She sat up straighter when she spotted one of those strange-looking creatures the elderly
gentleman on the stagecoach had called an armadillo. The
patterned, plated animal with brown armor on the top and
side surfaces of its body darted across the road in front of the
wagon.

"Do you see that-that monster?" Faith exclaimed.

"Don't go making a mountain out of a molehill," Liza
said. "It's just an armadillo."

"Looks like an armored rat."

In another twenty minutes Faith spotted the church
parsonage. She couldn't help comparing it with the Shepherds' dreary dwelling. The quaint white adobe, with
porches running the length of the house, radiated warmth
and love. Even the stable and chicken coop, with their
bright whitewashed boards, captured the Hicks's cheerful
spirit.

Though the wagon was still some distance away, she
imagined she caught a whiff of the sweetest fragrance. As
the rig rolled into the yard she spotted the source. Yellow
roses grew in large clusters at the side of the porch. Vera
had baskets of lush ferns hanging from every rafter. Lovingly
tended flower beds overflowed with bird's-foot violets, buttercups, and spider lilies. Pretty Indian blankets, their russet
centers bursting into flared yellow tips, grew generously
beneath two huge pecan trees. The heavy branches, like green-leafed umbrellas, provided a shady haven from the
blistering sun. Faith longed to someday live in just such a
house.

A chestnut mare, lathered and winded from a hard ride,
waited by the front porch. A young man in denims and a
blue shirt took the steps two at a time and pounded on the
door.

"Mornin', Ethan," Nicholas said, helping Faith and Liza
from the wagon. Nicholas and Faith started up the steps,
Liza close behind.

"Mornin', Nicholas." Ethan paused long enough to
acknowledge the ladies' presence. He quickly removed his
hat. "Mrs. Shepherd, Miss Kallahan."

Liza nodded. "Something wrong, Ethan?"

"It's Sarah Jane. She's havin' the baby."

Vera came to the door and retreated quickly, then
returned carrying a black satchel. Reverend Hicks followed,
towering over his wife's short stature. "Hurry along, Ethan.
Sounds like your young'un's anxious to make his entrance."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ethan jumped the porch rail and mounted
his horse.

Scurrying down the steps to the buggy, Reverend Hicks
had hitched and waiting, Vera turned to face the wedding
party. "I'm afraid Amos will have to conduct the ceremony
without me. Sarah Jane's in labor."

"That's quite all right, Vera," Liza acknowledged. "Lord
knows there's no stopping a baby when it's his time to
come.

Faith turned around to face Liza, surprised at the consid eration in her voice. She sounded almost sympathetic. "I
didn't know Mrs. Hicks was a doctor."

"She's not. You're in Texas now. Doc's likely to be out
on another call, and Vera fills in for him. Many a woman
calls Vera before they go for Doc. A mother couldn't be in
better hands."

With such praise coming from Mother Shepherd, Faith
knew Vera must be miraculous. Since arriving in Deliverance, she couldn't recall Liza saying anything complimentary
about anyone.

Reverend helped Vera into the buggy.

"Thank you, dearest."

"You be careful, Mama."

"Can I be of help?" Faith asked. She didn't know much
about birthing babies, but she could fetch water and clean
linen.

"No, thank you, child." Vera picked up the reins. "Lord
knows, I do appreciate the offer. I have everything I'll need
in my satchel."

"This is one of those situations where too many cooks can
spoil the stew," Liza volunteered.

The observation puzzled Faith. Mrs. Hicks was going to
deliver a baby, not fix supper.

Vera and Ethan were about to leave when a frenzied
rider, hollering and waving his hat, galloped into view. "It's
time! It's time-the baby's a-comin'!"

Faith stepped back to allow the rider plenty of room as he
sawed back on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop in a boil of dust. As the grime settled, Albert Finney materialized.

Vera frowned. "Oh dear, Albert. Not Mary Ellen too.
Why, she's not due for another week. Albert, are you
sure?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Albert grinned. "I'm real sure!"

"Oh, dearie me." Vera bit her lower lip. "I suppose this
being your seventh, you would know."

"Yes, ma'am! You gotta hurry, she-"

"See here, Albert! I got here first!" Ethan declared. "My
Sarah Jane needs Mrs. Hicks's services-now!"

Albert frowned. "But Mary Ellen's about to pop! The
baby's not gonna wait!"

"First come, first served!" Ethan maintained.

"Mrs. Hicks, you know my Mary Ellen," Albert pleaded.
"When it's her time, it's her time! Ain't nothin' on God's
green earth gonna stop that young'un from comin'! Please!
My baby ain't gonna wait!"

"Mine ain't either!"

Faith expected the two men to end up on the ground,
going at it.

"Gentlemen, please! You're behaving like children!" Vera
interrupted. "I can only be in one place at a time."

"Then let's go!" Albert urged.

Ethan clenched his teeth, "I told you, Albert Finney! I
was here first! You're comin' with me, Mrs. Hicks."

"The two of you just calm down a minute," Vera
demanded.

Ethan backed off, grumbling, "Guess we could always
draw straws."

"Draw straws!" Albert shook his head. "Ethan, we ain't
talkin' about who's gonna go first in a horseshoe game!
We're talkin' about my baby!"

"No need for straw drawin'." Vera glanced at Liza. "Liza,
you're gonna have to help."

"Certainly." Liza sidestepped Faith and hurried back to
the buckboard. She motioned for Faith to come along, and
Faith blinked, looking to Nicholas.

He nodded. "Go on. Mama needs your help."

Faith wasn't sure what Liza expected of her as she hurriedly climbed aboard the wagon.

Liza picked up the reins, eyeing Faith. "I don't know if
you've ever helped birth a baby, but if you're as good at it
as you are at pulling calves, you'll do just fine."

Faith's eyes felt as big as silver dollars. "I-I don't know
anything about babies-"

Liza snapped the reins, wheeling the wagon around in
the direction of the Finney place. "You'll know more by
tomorrow." The wagon careened forward. "Albert! Let's
get moving!" Liza shouted. "We got ourselves a baby
comin'!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Albert grinned, tipping his hat at the ladies
as he led the way.

As the dust settled, Nicholas took off his hat, his eyes
trained on the fading wagons. Reverend stepped down from the porch, craning his neck for a final look. "Well, we
can't have a wedding without a bride."

"Looks that way." Nicholas was beginning to wonder if
the wedding would ever take place. Three attempts, and he
was still a single man.

Reverend chuckled. "Seems as if you and Miss Kallahan
are having a hard time tying the knot."

The thought had occurred to Nicholas.

Reverend laughed, slapping Nicholas good-naturedly on
the back. "Sometimes we don't understand why certain
things happen. If God made it clear to us, I reckon we'd
have no need for faith."

Faith. Nicholas took a deep breath. He prayed God
understood Faith Kallahan's ways, because he sure was
having a hard time coming to terms with them.

"You eat lunch yet?" the Reverend asked.

"Not yet."

Reverend Hicks opened the front door, motioning for
Nicholas to join him. "I don't know about you, but the
way I see it, if we can't pray over matrimony, we might as
well pray over a good meal."

It was close to midnight before Liza and Faith returned.
Light spilled from the kitchen window. Faith could see
Nicholas sitting at the table, reading Scripture. When the
wagon slowed, he got up to meet them.

"Baby get here all right?" He helped Liza, then Faith
down from the buckboard.

"Easiest birthing I've ever tended." Liza yawned. "But
I'm tuckered out. See to the buggy, will you, Nicholas?"

Easy? Faith thought, recalling how poor Mary Ellen had
labored, it seemed, for hours. Not just for one baby but
two. Albert had grinned from ear to ear when she handed
him his newborn son. Moments later she handed him
another baby-a girl this time. The proud new papa looked
as if he might faint. Faith smiled. Twins would be a shock
when you had six other mouths to feed.

"Supper's in the oven." Nicholas started for the barn with
the horse and wagon. "Reverend Hicks insisted I bring
home some of Vera's venison stew and cornbread."

Faith ate two bowls of stew before retiring to her bedroom. Exhausted, she opened the window. The night
breeze felt good on her damp forehead. She lifted her hair,
allowing the breeze access to her neck.

Stepping out of the yellow wedding dress, she caught her
image in the mirror. Three attempts at the altar and still no
ring on the third finger of her left hand. It was getting
harder and harder to maintain that faith she had boasted to
Aunt Thalia about. Then faith had been easy; now it took
some doing to believe God had a plan for her and Nicholas
Shepherd.

She knelt beside the bed, praying, but tonight for some
reason, it felt as if her words went no higher than the ceiling. Papa used to say, "Even though it may feel like God
isn't listening, that's when he's working the biggest miracles." She couldn't remember a time when Papa had told her wrong. He'd known the Good Book from cover to
cover.