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“Me, too,” she said. “I wish Daddy would let me come over more on weekends.”

“Maybe soon that will happen,” I said, hoping it to be so. Despite the physical resemblance to her mother, Maddie was Faith's emotional antithesis. She was gentle, polite and affectionate where Faith was impatient, forthright and often distanced. But their sharp intellect matched to a T. And with Maddie, Faith's maternal leanings sprang forth.

They had been muted during her downward plunge into drugs. But I had been there to absorb some of the ugliness during Faith's less than motherly times. I'd been like a she bear, protecting my granddaughter.

Now, Faith was loath to even discuss those black times. I don't think she could come to grips with just how nasty things got. It was easier for her to block it out. But on some level,
she knew.
She was now trying to make it up to Maddie in every way possible.

And Maddie accepted every overture. She was a sweet, forgiving child, thank God.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe plop down on a sofa nearby and begin to closely monitor Faith and Jensen. I tensed. Then I thought how much Faith had changed and that perhaps the dynamics of the Faith/Jensen /Chloe coalition would shift.

I thought of how they had each apologized to each other earlier today.

Had it taken, the forgiveness?

The younger women took charge of clean-up and kitchen duty. I breathed a little easier to see Faith and Chloe working together in what appeared to be a truce.

A little later, Chloe came up behind me as I aimed myself toward the bathroom. She whispered in my ear. “Faith has been going through purses when she thought no one was looking. I just thought you'd want to know.” She left as quietly as she came.

Oh no.
Shock gripped me.
Please, Faith.
I promptly found Faith and relayed what Chloe had told me.

She looked startled. “I did move some purses out of the way while cleaning, Mama. And I looked in your purse for some gum to kill that onion taste. But I didn't ‘go through' purses. What's Drama Queen trying to do?” She was hurt. I could hear it in her voice and see it in her wilted attitude. The anger was just under the surface. But I was thankful that Faith kept it there rather than make a scene.

I also believed her.

In the meantime, I watched as Chloe furtively passed the word to others in the family. I chilled, thinking how much progress Faith had made and now to have this happen. To date, only Priss, Jensen and my Mom totally believed in Faith. They knew all her faults and all her ill
deeds. But they loved her unconditionally. Still. They were rooting for her to overcome all the junk. To be restored.

I left Priss' feeling as sad as I'd ever felt in my life.

The next morning, my phone rang as I drank my second cup of coffee.

It was Lexie.

“Hi, Sis,” I said, “what's happening?”

Lexie took a deep breath. My antennae rose. “I can't think of an easy way to say this, Deede. But Adam is missing seventy dollars from his wallet. He left it in our bedroom last night on the night stand. He shouldn't have, but he did.”

My heart was already pooled at my feet. “And you all think Faith took the money.” It was a statement because I knew how fine that trust-line had been.

“Deede, who's to say whether she did or didn't take it? It can't be proven either way, can it? I'm sorry, honey. It has nothing to do with you or Dan. Faith was seen going through purses last night so her margin of innocence is very narrow to say the least.”

I swallowed back the bitter gall of disappointment. “Faith says to wait and see if anyone reports anything missing from the purses before condemning her on Chloe's accusation.”

“Chloe wasn't accusing her — ”

“Okay, Lexie. Let's just drop it right here.” I knew my voice was edgy, but I'd had it with Chloe's vindictiveness.

“Sure, sis. But I want you to know that, in the future, you and Dan are welcome at our house anytime, but Faith is not. Too many things have happened when she was around.”

I hung up before I burst into tears.

Faith walked into the kitchen and quietly took the seat across from me, nursing her lukewarm coffee. “I heard,” she said softly. “Most of it, anyway. I can read between the lines.”

I wiped my tears away and tried to smile at her. “Oh, well. All families have disagreements.”

I watched her battle the anger and the hurt. Her blue eyes began to shimmer, and I wondered which would win out, hurt or anger?

Anger won the first round. “I don't have any family except you, Jensen, Aunt Priss and Noni,” she stated flatly. “I don't care beans about what any of the rest of them think.”

“Now, honey,” I said, “all of the family loves you. It's just that a lot has happened in your life. There have been incidents of things disappearing when you
were
culpable.”

She cut her eyes at me and snapped. “You don't know that. Nobody could ever prove it was me who did all those things. Did it ever occur to you that Chloe was also around and she hated me so bad that she could have set me up just like she did yesterday?”

I shook my head. “I don't think Chloe — ”

“Mama,” her voice changed. Hurt was winning this round, “Chloe has bragged to Jensen and me how she takes hundred dollar bills from her dad's wallet all the time. She set me up, Mama. She can't stand for the family to love me. So she told everybody I was scrounging through purses so that when her dad's money came up missing, everybody would suspect me.”

“And another thing,” she added, “do you know what Chloe said to my little girl at the birthday party, when she caught her in her room?”

“No,” I hedged. “Tell me.”

“She said ‘your Mama won't ever amount to anything. She's a druggie and she always will be.' She said that to my daughter, Mama. She made Maddie cry.”

So I hadn't lied. I'd not heard this version and it made me sick inside.

She stood then, “I would have been a fool to steal anything there, Mama. We talked about it when we arrived, remember? And I may be many things but — now that I'm drug-free — I'm no fool. It's bad enough, my being the black sheep of the family. But when my child is penalized for my mistake, that's pure evil.” Her words ended on a broken note as she left the room and slowly climbed the stairs to her inner sanctum.

For days, Faith stayed in her room for longer periods of time and came out with her eyes red and swollen. She began to feverishly look in the job want ads. She cleaned her room with a vengeance. I felt her desperation to salvage something of herself and to rebuild that which her addiction had destroyed.

Her spirit was crushed. I prayed that it would revive.

I suppose the most difficult aspect of that crisis was that, at first, Dan half believed that Faith had stolen Adam's money. “She
has
stolen before, Deede,” he reminded me.

“You don't have to tell me that, Dan,” I snapped at him. “I already know all of Faith's flaws and past deeds. But this time, I believe her when she says she's innocent. We had a talk just before entering Lexie's house that evening.”

In the end, Dan did believe Faith. And it was a while before he would visit Lexie and Dan's home again. “If my daughter isn't welcome, I'm not welcome,” he insisted.

I didn't want family dissension, but it was heaped upon me at that time. And one good thing came out of it. Dan was forced to take a stand. It didn't end his stand-off with his daughter, but for a brief span of time, I saw the fatherly side of him re-emerge.

“Deede?” The female voice on the phone sounded familiar.

“Yes? I'm sorry, but I can't exactly place your voice.

“This is Shirley, from Temple Bible College in Charleston. How is Faith doing?”

I shared with my friend Shirley about Faith's recent turnaround and the difficulties she currently encountered. Shirley and I were childhood friends. She was now married with two adult children. She was an administrator at the coastal college. We kept in touch often and when Dan and I had gone down the past spring, we'd visited her and Jim.

“Faith needs to get away from here, Shirley. She can't pull herself up with so many significant others pulling her down.”

“Hey!” Shirley's upbeatness caught my attention. “I just thought of a solution for Faith. Remember me talking to you about the Los Angeles Christian-based Drug Recovery center? Our son Scott was there for over two years and it totally saved his life and got him on the right path.”

“Y'know,” I said, “with Faith's spirit of adventure, she just might be interested in going to LA for this program. Do you think you can help her?”

“I'll see what I can do,” she promised and we rang off.

Faith was excited. “I'll go! I'll go!” she replied before I'd finished my spiel. So she sat about readying for a transfer. Of course, we would have to have her probation transferred to Los Angeles. That would involve Otto, her attorney. But it seemed feasible.

The crushing weight of recent days began to lift. The light at tunnel's end blazed like a beacon. This way, we would, all three of us, finally have our own space.

Just days later, it came out of the blue.

Like an atomic blast.

“My court date is Thursday,” Faith said, her voice weak with fear. In the midst of everything else raging, we had all but forgotten this unfinished business hovering over our heads like radioactive nuclear fallout.

She got on the phone and called Otto, her attorney, who had been gouging us mercilessly all along. He could be charming, quite convincing that he was doing us the greatest of services getting Faith lighter fines and etc. Of course, we had our doubts, but with his hand out at every turn, he always owed us representation, and it was difficult to drop him after paying him ungodly sums.

It was a mutual, barely-civil relationship between Faith and Otto, whom she'd met through some mutual friends who lived on the fringes of addiction. “He makes his living off druggies, Mom,” she would say disparagingly when especially ticked off at him. And then, when
she needed him to get her out of trouble, she would backpedal and pay him half-hearted praise.

“Here,” Faith held the phone out to me. “Otto wants to talk to you.”

I sucked in a furious breath. I knew what that meant.

More money. I'd just paid him $1,700 a few weeks ago.

“I need at least another grand to cover this plea,” Otto unapologetically told me.

“Otto, we are near destitution,” I insisted, knowing I would be shown no mercy. I would have to borrow the money and pay it back with my Social Security monthly checks.