A Test of Faith (15 page)

Never one to dwell on rejection, Trista turned with a toss of her hair and plied her charms on Jim, a big, muscular mountain of kid. Faith’s attention, though, stayed riveted on Dustin. She peered closer. He didn’t look at all upset that Trista had walked away from him. If anything, he looked glad.

And though she didn’t fully understand it, that thought made Faith happy deep inside.

She sighed and was about to look away, when her whole world came to a screeching halt. As though sensing her attention, Dustin Grant turned his head—and looked right at her. Despite the distance between them, something like an electrical jolt shot through Faith when their gazes brushed, then locked.

A lazy smile worked its way across Dustin’s mouth, and a shiver spidered across Faith’s skin, making her breath catch in her throat. She wasn’t sure how long his gaze held hers, or how long they would have gone on staring, if not for an abrupt interruption.

“Faith, I’ve been looking for you.”

With a start, she tore her attention from Dustin, her pent-up
breath escaping in a heavy
whoosh
. She turned to blink at Winnie, standing beside her.

“I … you … huh?”

Winnie frowned. “Are you okay?”

Faith shook off the dazed feeling that had cloaked her and nodded. “I’m fine.” She didn’t dare look at him again. She grabbed her things and stood.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Winnie peered at her. “You look kinda flushed.”

Faith shrugged, trying to evade both Winnie’s question and the irritation it sparked. “So, you were looking for me?” In spite of her best efforts, her gaze drifted past Winnie back to the cars.

Dustin was talking to Jim, laughing.

“Faith, be careful.”

Faith’s attention jerked back to Winnie. “Excuse me?”

Winnie nodded her head toward Trista, Dustin, and the others. “Those guys. I know Trista hangs with them, but …” She frowned. “I don’t know; I don’t trust them.” She cocked her head. “And I’m not sure you should either.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business who I trust.” Faith hadn’t meant to be sharp or mean, but the words came out both.

Color swept into Winnie’s cheeks, then fled, leaving her pale. Hurt peeked out of her brown doe eyes as she looked at Faith. The irritation she’d felt fanned to life again. Fine! First Winnie butts in, then she makes Faith feel guilty for being honest.

She shrugged again. “Never mind. Just forget it, okay?” She spun on her heel and started walking, leaving Winnie to catch up or not.

When Winnie came alongside her, Faith kept her focus on the ground, refusing to look at her friend. If she met Winnie’s gaze, saw that hurt again, she’d end up apologizing.

So instead, she concentrated on something far more enjoyable. She kept pace with her steps, repeating the same thing over and over…

Dustin Grant looked at me. Dustin Grant looked at me
.

Even more than that, he’d seen her. Really
seen
her. She was sure of it.

And if his smile was any evidence, he’d liked what he’d seen.

A lot.

Dustin took a long drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs, then ease out on a slow exhalation.

He watched the feather of smoke drift away, lips pursed, as he rolled one name around in his mind.

Faith Bennett.

He allowed himself a small smile as he pictured her face, the startled expression in those wide eyes, the red that rushed her cheeks when he caught her looking at him.

At him.

His smile widened. Faith Bennett. He never would have guessed.

Sure, he’d heard Trista talk about her, how she came from another world, how she wanted to be like Trista but “didn’t have the guts.” But even as she sneered about Faith, Dustin saw the truth. Saw the jealousy, heard the longing.

It wasn’t Faith who wanted to be like Trista. It was the other way around.

And who could blame Trista? Faith was … sweet. Dustin chuckled as he flicked the cigarette away. Yeah, sweet. He’d first noticed her a couple of years ago. That thick coppery hair was something else. And she was pretty, in a clean-cut kind of way. Real different from the girls he hung with. Trashy girls.

Girls like Trista.

Normally he wouldn’t give someone like Faith a second glance. Her parents were still married! Jesus Freaks, Trista said. That was enough to turn anyone off. But the more Trista ragged on Faith’s oh-so-perfect-
Leave-It-to-Beaver
life, the more Dustin watched her. And the more he watched her, the more interested he got.

Getting girls like Trista was easy. But a girl like Faith? Now that would be a challenge. He’d gone over it in his mind,
thinking it through. He’d have to play it right. You didn’t pull a girl like that away from Daddy Dearest and Home Sweet Home without careful planning.

Of course, he’d only toyed with the idea until a few weeks ago, when Trista caught him watching Faith.

“Forget it, Dustin. Faith ain’t your type.” She sneered. “She’s a
church
girl.”

He gave her the look. The one that warned her she was pushing her luck. “If I wanted her, I could get her.”

Trista hooted. “Right! Trust me, she’d run away from you like a freaked-out rabbit.”

“Trust
me
—” Trista stopped laughing. Smart move. “If I wanted her, I’d
get
her.”

Trista didn’t comment. She shrugged, flipped her hair, and sauntered away.

But today, when Faith looked at him that way, he knew.

She wanted him. Almost as much as he’d come to want her.

Which meant he was right. He
could
get her.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped out another smoke. A quick flick of his wrist opened the lighter, and he closed his eyes as he drew in the heat.

Faith Bennett.

He leaned back against the brick building. This would be fun.

Anne couldn’t relax. She wasn’t sure why. All she knew was that every time she sat down, every time she tried to read a book or write a letter, something pulled at her. Her inner anxiety was like a mosquito buzzing around in the dark—utterly irritating but impossible to pinpoint.

What is it, Father? What’s wrong?

She moved to the kitchen window and stood there, staring out at the backyard.

What was wrong?

Letting out a deep sigh, she picked up a dust rag and moved from the kitchen to the living room. She tried to
concentrate on cleaning, but it was no use. She glanced at her Bible, lying open where she’d left it this morning on the coffee table next to the sofa. Ezekiel. Not exactly easy reading. She’d only made it through a few lines this morning.

The inner urging grew stronger. Tossing the dust rag on the table, Anne plopped down on the sofa, leaned over, and read the words in front of her.

Anne caught her breath, trembling. Every word seemed to come alive, to slice through her, going directly to the core of her heart. She was overwhelmed by a powerful conviction.

God was speaking to her.

More than that. He was warning her.

Father, what’s happening?
She hesitated. Something stirred in her heart, in her mind. An understanding.

No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t happening. Not yet.

God, please … what’s
going
to happen
?

She didn’t really expect an answer, but she got one. A sudden certainty settled over her like a water-soaked woolen cloak, weighing her down, pressing in on her. One need pressed in on her with such force she almost cried out.

Keep reading. She had to keep reading.

Shaken, Anne opened her eyes and read on. But rather than follow the passage line by line, her gaze was drawn from one section to another.

Anne stood, arms wrapped about herself. Unable to sit a moment longer, she paced the floor.

“I went in bitterness and turmoil …”

These words she understood. Far better than she’d ever wanted to. Bitterness and turmoil. Exactly what she’d felt for days. Like a kid facing a big test for which she hadn’t prepared. It was driving Anne crazy, because she didn’t understand it. She had talked with Jared about it.

“I didn’t seek these emotions out, and yet it’s like they’ve become my constant companions.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “And you don’t know where they’re coming from.”

“No!” Anne stopped, took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so worked up. But it’s as though these awful feelings are … are dwelling with me—no, dwelling
within
me—coloring my thoughts and words. Coloring the very fabric of who I am.”

She’d worried a little about telling Jared, afraid he’d think she was being fanciful, foolish. She should have known better.

He held his hand out to her. She came to sit beside him, letting him put an arm around her and draw her into the shelter
of his embrace. He leaned his head against hers.

“Sounds like it’s something we need to be praying about.”

And so they prayed. And she’d continued praying. Almost nonstop.

“
But the Lord’s hold on me was strong
.”

She blinked away the wetness blurring her vision, letting hope breeze through her.
Please, God, let it be true. I need Your hold on me
.

“I want to speak with you.”

Anne froze. The message was as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. So there was still more. She turned back to the couch, swallowing. “Lord, please—”

“I want to speak with you … The Lord’s hold on me was strong.”

With a slow nod, Anne moved back to the couch. Placing her hands on either side of the open Bible, she lowered her gaze to the pages.

Though the chapter went on, Anne felt a sense of release and stopped reading. She leaned back against the couch, letting the words go over and over in her mind.

“If you warn them and they repent, they will live, and you will have saved your own life, too.”

She didn’t understand it all. Not yet. But she wasn’t worried. It would be clear to her when it needed to be. She knew
that because right now, one fact was crystal clear in her mind: Whatever was coming, whatever she was being prepared for, it had to do with Faith.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was almost certain she wasn’t being prepared to save Faith, but to confront her. Warn her.

And, if it came to that, let her go.

twelve

WHEN THE BELL SOUNDED SETTING FAITH FREE FROM
her last class of the day, she looked up, checking the time. Usually the last half of the school day crawled by, but this one had come and gone in a heartbeat.

She stood and gathered her books, smiling. Amazing how fast time went by when you had something wonderful to concentrate on.

All day long she’d relived that moment when Dustin had looked at her. She replayed it as it happened, then went back and let her imagination have a field day. Now, as she made her way through the crowded hall to her locker, she went through the scenarios again. He’d not only looked at her, he’d come over to her. No, more than that, he reached down to take her hand, pull her up, and say—