A Test of Faith (11 page)

Faith sighed—though Anne wasn’t sure if it was at the grammar lesson or the daggers Anne was shooting at her daughter’s feet. The answer came when Faith lifted her feet and swung them back onto the floor as she sat up. She tapped her toes on the carpet. “Happy?”

Anne gave the fruit of her loins a sweet smile. “Ecstatic.”

“So can—
may
—I borrow this record?”

“Only if you promise not to burn it.” Anne took the record off the player and slipped it back into its sleeve.

“Not to worry, Mom. I actually kind of like it.”

What do you know? Miracles
do
happen
, Anne thought as she handed it over.

Before long, Faith was an avid fan. So, of course, when she saw there was going to be a Carpenters’ Christmas special this year, she was thrilled.

“We’re going to watch it, right?”

Jared gave an exaggerated yawn. “I don’t know … the Carpenters? Aren’t they kind of
boring
?”

Anne shook her head. It was pretty clear where Faith got
her comic abilities. But Faith knew they’d give in. And they did. They watched the show together, a huge bowl of popcorn sitting between them, enjoying every minute.

Christmas cards afforded another holiday tradition. As soon as they arrived in the mail, they were placed in a festive basket sitting on the hallway table. Then, each evening, after dinner and before their Christmas devotions, the three of them would sit and read the cards together, making a prayer list.

Devotions came next, where they lit the candles on the Advent wreath, opened the day’s “door” on the Advent calendar, then read a section from the Bible. As much as Faith and Jared enjoyed the whole Santa aspect of Christmas, they made sure Faith knew what the season was really about. And Faith, in turn, delighted in asking every department store or Salvation Army Santa, “Aren’t you glad you get to bring presents for Jesus’ birthday?”

They closed their nightly devotions with prayer, and Jared, Anne, and Faith each prayed for one of the “card people,” as Faith loved to call them. Faith always prayed last, so she could add her most frequent and fervent prayer: “Please, God, can You give us snow for Christmas?”

Anne echoed the prayer. She loved it when it snowed for Christmas. But Jared always reminded her that snow seldom fell on the valley floor. “That’s one of the nice things about this area,” he’d say. “If we want to play in the snow, we just drive up into the mountains a half hour away. But we don’t have to deal with it during the week.”

Even so, nothing made Christmas Eve quite so enchanted as those fluffy white flakes floating out of an inky sky, landing with soft, almost imperceptible
plops
on the ground. And nothing made Christmas Day quite so perfect as a fresh blanket of snow, coating the world in glistening newness.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, though, Anne had to admit it didn’t look good. The forecast called for a high of forty-two on Christmas Day. So much for a white Christmas.

Anne sighed as she taped a shiny bow to the final gift. As usual, she’d waited until Faith was in bed and asleep to finish wrapping gifts and put them out under the tree. Jared had
pulled out the card table and set it up so Anne could “play Santa,” as he put it. He’d helped wrap for a while, but fatigue got the better of him, and he headed for bed nearly an hour ago. Anne slid the gift under the tree, folded up the card table, and turned off all but the Christmas tree lights. She sank into her recliner, feet folded under her, and smiled.

This was her favorite time. When it was still, silent, and she could sit in the warm darkness watching the tree lights sparkle and reflect on the ornaments and the large plateglass window beside the tree.

But as much as she enjoyed this time, she found her eyelids growing increasingly heavy. After starting awake for the third time, she finally surrendered and went to turn off the tree lights. As she leaned down reaching for the plug, something outside the window caught her eye.

Was that …? Could it be?

She unplugged the tree lights so she could see out the window better.

It was! She clapped her hands together. It was snowing! Huge, white flakes cascaded from the sky, burying the sidewalk and lawn with icy abandon.

“Thanks, God.” Anne smiled in the darkness. “You’re the best.”

Anticipation sang through her as she made her way upstairs, opened Faith’s door, and sat on the side of her sleeping daughter’s bed. She lay a gentle hand on Faith’s cheek and leaned close to her ear, speaking in a whisper. “Faith. Sweetie, wake up.”

Faith’s eyes flickered, then eased open. “Mom?” She blinked a couple of times. “Is it Christmas already?”

Anne smiled. “Not quite, but I’ve got something I want to show you.”

Sitting up with a yawn, Faith stretched her arms over her head. Anne stood and held her hand out. Faith took it and slid from the bed, pushed her feet into her slippers, and pulled on her thick robe. Hand in hand, mother and daughter went downstairs to the front door.

“Close your eyes.”

Faith did as her mother asked. Anne pulled the front door open and led Faith out onto the porch.

“Okay, open them.”

Faith’s lids flicked up—and she stared. Anne watched realization wash over her daughter’s features and wonder light her eyes. Faith turned to her mother. “It’s snowing!”

“It certainly is.”

“Oh, Mommy!”

Anne’s throat constricted. Faith seldom called her that anymore. It had been her favorite name for Anne when she was maybe four or five. But in the last few years Anne had become
Mom
. She hadn’t realized how much she missed being
Mommy
.

“God
heard
me!” Faith hugged Anne so tight she almost couldn’t breathe.

“He always does, sweetie.” She squeezed Faith close. “Because He loves you.”

“I’m glad, Mommy.”

The joy in her daughter’s words resonated deep within Anne’s heart. “So am I, Faith. So am I.”

They stood there, joined by their arms and their delight, watching the snow sparkle as though it were a million miniature diamonds—but knowing what lay on the ground and what they held in their arms were even more precious gifts from a loving God.

As she looked out at the winter night, feeling her daughter’s warmth and delight, Anne sent a prayer heavenward:
Please, God, don’t let this change. Don’t ever let us lose this connection
.

A sudden chill hit Anne, gripping her with frozen fingers.

“You okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, sweetie. That blast of cold wind just got to me.”

Faith frowned. “What wind?”

Anne looked at her daughter, then out at the night. Faith was right. There wasn’t any wind at all. The snow was falling straight to the ground.

Odd
. Even as Anne thought that, she felt a twinge of fear. It drove deep into her, making her catch her breath.

“You need to go inside, Mom?”

Anne shook her head. “I’m fine, sweetie.” And she was. No matter what her foolish heart was trying to tell her. She was fine. Faith was fine. And, occasional mini skirmishes aside,
they
were fine together.

Nothing was going to change that.

Not now.

Not ever.

nine

ANNE GLANCED AT THE CLOCK. SHE SHOULD HAVE
left ten minutes ago.

“You in a hurry to leave us today, Anne?”

She turned back to Susan, who was balancing on a step stool and putting up the last of the spring decorations, and batted her eyes. “Of course not. I love my job. No place I’d rather be. Why, I cherish the time I spend here in this bastion of education, being at the beck and call of these precious minds. Why, it gives my life meaning.”

“Ha ha.” Susan climbed down, brushing her hands together. “All done!”

Anne took in the cheerful flowers, butterflies, and bees they’d crafted out of bright construction paper. Winnie, Faith’s friend, had brought Anne construction paper in wild colors when she heard what Anne wanted to do in the way of decorations.

“Winnie, the school has paper.”

“I know, but not in these colors. The kids will love these colors!” Winnie’s excitement shone on her face.

Anne had taken the offering with a grateful smile. “Of course they will. Who wouldn’t?”

Looking at the display now, Anne knew Winnie was right. The colors were perfect. But then, Anne should have known they would be. Winnie had such a knack for doing and saying the right thing at the right time.

Anne helped Susan put away the scraps, tacks, and tape they’d been using. Actually, though she’d been teasing Susan, she really did love her job. Teaching was in her blood, though she had to admit she preferred the role of teacher’s aide to that of teacher. She got to do more of the fun stuff as the aide.

“So, enriching the minds of elementary school children gives your life meaning?”

Anne laughed. “Well, it sounds good.”

“Better than saying the little darlings give you a headache.”

Anne knew Susan was kidding. Well, mostly. It did get a little crazy nowadays with the increased number of students in their classes. Back when Faith started grade school, Anne never dreamed the classes would be so full. But the eighties were different. Better, in many ways, than the seventies. But harder, too. Life seemed to get more and more stressed.

Which was why Anne was so grateful to have a job she enjoyed. She’d started working at Lincoln Elementary three years ago in 1979, when Faith was still a student there. Susan, who’d attended the same church as the Bennetts, recommended Anne for the job.

The only challenge was that Anne had to work with several of the teachers, helping them however they needed her. The good news? Her days were varied and interesting. The bad news? She had to get to know one new person after another. Susan helped her during those first challenging months, and now, three years later, Anne knew all the teachers well and was comfortable working with them.

Except for those rare days when one asked her to stay later than usual. Days like today. Anne glanced at the clock again.

“Don’t worry, Anne. Seventh-grade classes won’t be out for another half hour.”

Susan knew her so well. “I promised Faith I’d have cookies ready when she got home today. Just want to make sure I get home in time to keep that promise.”

“Mmm, gonna make enough to bring some to work tomorrow?”

Anne laughed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Well, then—” Susan fluttered her hands at her—“get yourself home, woman! Time’s a’wastin’!”

The oven timer went off, and Anne pulled the oven door open. A steamy cloud burst free of the oven, surrounding her with mouth-watering fragrances as she slid out the sheet of cookies.

What was it about fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies that made you feel like a kid again?

Keeping a firm hold on the large pan of golden brown treats, she popped the oven door shut with her hip, then she grinned. Faith had tried to teach her how to … what was it she called it? Oh yes,
boogie
. Much to her chagrin and her teenage daughter’s amusement, Anne had been an utter failure at boogying—all except for the hip sway. Years in the kitchen had refined Anne’s hip action to a near art form.

She chuckled, sliding the spatula under the cookies and easing them onto the brown paper bags spread over the counter. Faith could never understand why Anne used paper bags this way.

“You’ve got cookie racks, Mom,” she’d say, her tone of voice communicating how silly she thought her mother was.

Obviously, contrary to Faith’s own opinion, her almost-thirteen-year-old
didn’t
know everything. “My mother used brown paper bags, and I use brown paper bags. Besides—” Anne always added a wink here, for good measure—“it makes the cookies taste better.”

Faith stopped arguing that point. She loved the soft, gooey, fresh-from-the-oven cookies as much as Anne did. And she always said Anne’s cookies tasted better than any other mother’s.

Anne smiled. It had to be the brown paper bags.

She scooped more dough onto the cookie sheets, glancing at the clock again. With any luck, she’d timed it just right, and this last batch would come out of the oven right before Faith got home.

Sure enough, no sooner had Anne filled a plate with the hot cookies and set it and a glass of milk on the table, than the door flew open and Faith breezed in, all knees and elbows and grins. “Hi ya, Mom!”

Anne straightened and returned Faith’s grin. “Hi yourself, Daughter.”

Dumping her schoolbooks on the table, Faith lifted her face and sniffed the air. Her eyes lit up, and she leaped over to throw her arms around Anne and give her a bear hug. “Yum! Home always smells so
good
!”

Anne laughed and tousled her daughter’s hair. “Put your things away in your room, hon.”

“I will.” Faith grabbed a handful of cookies and her glass of milk, then hopped up onto the kitchen counter. Anne sat at the table; dunking a cookie into her glass of milk; listening as Faith rattled on, giving a running account of her day; and doing her best to follow it all. She knew she should remind Faith about not sitting on the counter, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. It might not be sanitary, but Anne loved these times when Faith couldn’t seem to get enough of sharing her day with her.