A Test of Faith (17 page)

No way! “Aw, Dad—”

“Nonnegotiable, punkin’. I don’t like the way this boy dropped you off without coming in the house.”

Faith bit her lip. “I asked Dustin to come in to meet you guys.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “He said he was late … for something.”

Her dad’s eyes grew firm. “Next time, late or not, he comes inside.”

Faith nodded, but she knew it wouldn’t happen. It would take time to get Dustin to come inside to meet her parents. She’d seen the resistance when she made the offer on Friday, the way his eyes swept her house, then got that cool, removed look. But his explanation had seemed fair enough.

“You know I would if I had time, babe. But I gotta go.”

She hadn’t pressed. Of course she hadn’t! But she would keep working on him. Mom and Dad wouldn’t understand that, though. So she’d make sure that, from now on, Dustin dropped her off around the corner. Where they couldn’t see them. Just for a little while. Until he was ready to come in and meet them. And when he finally did so, she knew he’d love them.

Faith smiled at her parents.

Everything was going to work out just perfect!

“I can’t believe you used to go to church all the time, Faith. I mean, you’re so smart and everything.”

Dustin watched Faith, gauging how Trista’s comment affected her. Clearly, she didn’t like it. But she didn’t argue, either.

That was promising.

He leaned against the hood of Trista’s car. Faith was stretched out on it, propped up on her elbows. Lifting the fall of auburn hair from her neck, Dustin caressed Faith’s shoulder. “That’s when she was young and foolish.”

Faith leaned into his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with going to church, you guys—”

“Sure, if you’re a total loser.”

Trista’s snide comment hit home. Faith pushed herself up to a sitting position. “That’s not true.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes just enough to show dismay, but not to be threatening. “So what are you saying, Faith? You like church?” That’s it. Confusion. Concern. But not anger.

“Well, no. Of course not.”

Dustin smiled.

“But, some people do. And that doesn’t make them losers.”

“Well, what does it make them?” Trista flicked her long nails. “They sit in those uncomfortable benches—”

“Pews.”

She ignored Faith’s correction. “—and listen to some old guy go on and on about what they should do and say and what they can’t do and say.”

Go, Trista
. She was on a roll.

“And then, to top it off, they
pray
! I mean, like, to who? It’s not like God is real.”

Alarms went off in Dustin’s head. Oops. That was going too far too soon. Sure enough, Faith reacted.

“What?”

Trista stared at her, blinking at the force in Faith’s astonishment. “What?”

“You–you don’t believe in God?”

“Why would I? It’s not like I’ve ever seen Him or heard Him.” She pinned Faith with a glare. “Have you?”

Dustin leaned back, studying Faith’s features. This should be an interesting response.

“I–well, if you mean actually
heard
Him—”

“Yeah, heard Him.” Sarcasm dripped from Trista’s words. “You know, with your ears?”

Faith shook her head, albeit slowly. “No. No, I’ve never heard Him. But I’ve felt Him.”

“Felt Him?”

She slid from the hood to stand in front of Trista. “Yeah, when I pray sometimes. I … I don’t know … I feel Him. In my heart.”

So how was Trista going to get around this one? Dustin watched as she pursed her red lips. “You—felt Him.” She made a point of seeming to think about that, then crossed her arms. “So how do you know it was Him?”

Faith’s mouth opened, then closed.

Trista, you’re a genius!

“I mean—” Trista glanced at Dustin, and the glitter in her eyes told him how much she was enjoying this—“so maybe you did feel something. But how do you know it was God?”

“What else could it have been?”

Trista’s hands waved the question away. “Who knows? There’s a bazillion gods out there, aren’t there? I mean, you hear about them all the time. For that matter, maybe it was just indigestion!”

Faith was getting upset, and that wasn’t good. She had to stay relaxed enough to keep listening. Time to step in. “Well, you’ve seen Him, though, right?” Dustin made sure he sounded like he wanted her to say yes. “I mean, you prayed and everything when you were young. He must have answered your prayers or something.”

Pink tinged Faith’s cheeks as she frowned, and Dustin almost burst out laughing.
Give it up, girl. Just admit it
.

“I don’t know. I think He did.”

“You think?” Trista hooted. “Man, if He was God, if He was real, don’t you think you’d
know
?”

Faith’s pleading eyes turned to Dustin, and he shrugged. “I don’t know, babe. She’s got a point. I mean, if God is really there, and if He answered your prayers, you should know it, right?” He laid his hand over her heart, letting the warmth of his fingers burn through her flimsy top, dropping his voice to that low, growling level that made Faith forget where she was. “In here? Where you know what’s real.”

He allowed himself a small victory smile when she struggled to swallow. He slid his hand up to cup her neck, then leaned toward her. She still hadn’t let him kiss her, but she was getting close. He could feel it in the way she responded whenever he tried. It was getting harder and harder for her to turn so that his lips met her cheek and not her mouth.

He held her eyes with his, looking deep, coaxing her, promising everything as he leaned in. For a heartbeat he was sure he’d finally won. But then, just as his lips tried to claim hers, she uttered a small gasp and turned away.

His lips tensed as they pressed against her cheek, but he didn’t let the irritation show. He just let the kiss linger, then pulled away.

Trista caught his gaze, and he saw the mocking laughter in her eyes. Then she focused on Faith again. “I’m not trying to be mean, Faith.”

Yeah. Right
.

“I just think you should be honest with yourself. God is a story, like the Boogey Man. He’s what people use to make you do what they want you to do.” She tipped her head. “So, I mean, what’s the point of praying to something that isn’t there?”

Faith stared at the ground. When she finally answered, her voice was low and troubled. “No point. No point at all.”

Bingo
. Dustin looked away so Faith wouldn’t see his smile. Score one for the home team. He glanced back at Faith’s miserable features, the sagging shoulders.

A big one.

Wiping all trace of the smile from his face, he drew Faith close. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t worry about it. You believe whatever you want to believe.”

As she slid her arms around his waist, he savored the taste of pending victory.

It was sweet.

But not as sweet as it was going to be.

“I’m too young to feel this old.”

Anne straightened, trying to work the ache from the small of her back. She brushed at her forehead, letting her gardening glove soak up some of the perspiration beaded there.

What was she doing working so hard on a day off? The teachers had training today, so she didn’t have to go in. She should be sitting on the couch, relaxing.

That’s the last thing you should be doing
.

Anne nodded. Sad, but true. She turned her face to the sun’s warmth. Hard to believe it was only spring. It felt more like summer. But the weatherman said the unusual heat wouldn’t last through the weekend. Good. She could use a cooling down.

She should be wearing a hat. How often had Jared scolded her, telling her to put on a hat when she did the gardening? But she hated wearing hats. They flattened her hair and made her already round face seem that much rounder.

Fatter. They make your face fatter, not rounder. At least be honest when you’re talking to yourself
.

She shook the thought away and leaned over to stab the trowel into the stubborn ground. She loved gardening, but oh, how she hated digging in the rocky Oregon soil. Every time she planted a garden she swore it was the last time. “I’m going to buy silk plants next year!” she’d threatened more than once.

Jared always responded with a serene smile. “Whatever makes you happy, dear.”

The rat. He knew she wouldn’t be content with silk flowers. She needed the real thing. Roses and pansies. An abundance of them. Which meant an abundance of work.

Oh, well
. She jabbed the trowel into the hard ground again. At least she was burning calories. That should make her doctor happy. He’d scolded her again at her last checkup, telling her
the diabetes was getting worse. She knew he was right, could feel the effects in her body.

The constant weight gain was bad enough. She was heavier than she’d ever been before. A hundred and seventy pounds—it was far too much. If Anne hadn’t known it in her head, her body would have told her so. She hurt all the time. Her back ached, her ankles throbbed, her knees felt like they were going to fall off.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Diabetes seemed to taint everything. She couldn’t sleep well, so she went through the day fighting overwhelming fatigue. It was so bad lately it got in the way of her relationship with Faith and Jared. Only last week Faith asked her to play a game of cribbage. Anne’s response? “I’m too tired, sweetie. Maybe tomorrow.”

Two days ago Faith asked her to go for a walk, and though Anne knew her daughter was trying to help her exercise, she shook her head. “I can’t, Faith. I need to rest.”

The hurt on her daughter’s face still made Anne’s throat ache.

She’d stomped out of the living room, where Anne was lying on the couch, into the kitchen. Jared, who’d seen their interaction, followed their daughter. They thought she couldn’t hear them, but she could. Her hearing was one of the few things that still worked well.

Too well.

“Faith, you need to give your mom a break. She doesn’t feel good.”

“Come on, Dad! She
never
feels good anymore. She doesn’t go anywhere other than work, and she doesn’t do half the stuff we do. She sits here at home and says she’s too tired? It’s not fair.”

“She’s sick—”

“Tell
her
that! She still eats cookies and ice cream and cake. It’s stupid!”

“Faith.”

But the warning in Jared’s tone didn’t stop her.

“It’s like she loves that stuff more than she loves us.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Dad. She’s killing herself by eating that stuff. It’s like she’s having some kind of—of affair with food!”

Anne had turned her face into the soft cushions of the couch, letting them catch her tears. And she’d resolved to do better. To fight the pull food had for her, the hunger that always gnawed at her. She would lose weight. She would get healthy.

And so, here she was. Working in the garden. Sweating.

Faith’s angry words had actually helped her. They’d motivated her, making her examine why she struggled so with eating what she knew she shouldn’t.

Comfort food. That’s what drew her. Cookies, brownies, bread, potatoes—anger and depression didn’t stand a chance in the face of such things. So what if they were pure poison for her body? At least they made life seem better for a while.

Life isn’t the problem, and you know it
.

Another jab in the dirt, this one actually penetrating more than a fraction of an inch. No, life wasn’t the problem. For the most part, life was good. She and Jared had never been closer. Her faith was growing deeper every day. She knew she had some things to work on—who didn’t? But those things weren’t what drove her nuts lately.

No, that job seemed to be the sole responsibility of a slim, talented, increasingly beautiful young lady, who, in the last year, had turned the act of eye rolling into a profession.

She’d known hard times with Faith were coming. That was clear last year when God sent her to those passages in Ezekiel. But Anne had been sure they’d be fighting external forces.

Not Faith herself.

The skirmishes started over little things. Faith announced one Sunday morning at the breakfast table that she wasn’t going to church.

The memory still got Anne worked up, which actually helped. Amazing how a little adrenaline helped one dig holes for planting flowers.

As she pulled a plant from its cardboard holder and settled it in the hole, she went over that first battle again.

After his daughter’s announcement, Jared looked at her
over the Sunday paper. “You not feeling well?”

Faith shrugged. “I feel fine. I don’t want to go.”

Laying the paper down, Jared glanced at Anne, who had to fight off yet another pang of guilt. Was this because she had such a hard time getting herself to church lately? But she thought Faith had always enjoyed church.

She looked at her daughter. “Care to tell us why?”

Another shrug, this one a bit more impatient than the last. “I don’t enjoy it. It’s the same thing, week after week. It’s just, I don’t know. Boring.”

“You don’t go to church to be entertained, Faith. You go to worship God.”