A Test of Faith (20 page)

Faith nodded. “I know, Daddy.”

“Your mom is—”

At the choked sound he made, Faith turned to look at
him. The tears sparkling in his eyes sent a shiver of shock through Faith. Her dad hardly ever cried.

“Loving your mom, having her love me, it’s helped me grow into a better person as a husband and a father. That’s what I pray for you. That you’ll find a man who will love and cherish you the way I love and cherish your mother.”

Faith took her dad’s hand and squeezed it. “I want that, too, Daddy.” And she did. More than anything in the world.

“I don’t want to go!”

Jared and Anne sat on the couch, watching their daughter pace the floor, arms crossed, eyes blazing. They didn’t respond. Didn’t argue. There was no point. Faith wouldn’t have listened.

Besides, their minds were made up. And nothing Faith said was going to change that.

When she realized they were sitting there, silent, Faith clamped her mouth shut and flopped onto the overstuffed chair opposite them. “So what is this? The silent treatment?”

Anne watched Jared study their daughter. “No, Faith. I’m waiting for an opening.”

It was actually a relief to see red tingeing Faith’s cheeks at her father’s quiet chiding. Thank heaven
something
still got to her!

“It’s really quite simple, Faith. You agreed last summer to go to camp this summer. You signed up to act as a helper in one of the cabins. Your mother and I already paid your fees.”

“But I forgot!”

Anne let a sigh slip free. “Forgetting doesn’t release you from your obligations. There’s no time to find someone to take your place.”

“And heaven forbid you guys lose your money.”

“Faith.”

She fell silent at the firm word from her dad.

“You used to love camp—”

Faith groaned. “I was a child then, Mother.”

Anne resisted the urge to say, “Which means you’ll still have fun, considering how often you act like a child!”

Barely.

“You are going to camp. You are going to fulfill your obligations. End of discussion.”

“Are you kidding me?” Faith sat rigid in the chair. “You think you can tell me what to do? That’s not fair!”

“Fair doesn’t enter into it, Faith. This is about what’s right, not what’s fair.” Jared’s words were weighed down with a raw weariness.

Anne took his hand, studying him. The conflicts over the last few months were taking a toll. It was evident in the wrinkles creasing his usually smooth forehead, the dark circles under his eyes. And yet, Anne knew he believed, with all his heart, that God had His hand on Faith, that He’d bring her out of this angry, combative stage—that one day soon He would restore their little girl to them.

Anne wished she was as certain.

Several weeks ago, when Faith and her father came back from a drive up to the Applegate River, Jared had been so excited. Almost his old self. He told Anne how they’d talked. “I think maybe I got through to her, Annie.”

But within days, the battles raged again. For all Anne’s efforts to get along, Faith had grown more and more withdrawn. The sole mercy was that she still treated her father well, spending time with him—though not nearly as much as she used to. And though Faith didn’t often agree with what he said to her, at least she didn’t lambaste him.

No, she saved that precious gift for Anne.

She’d always known her daughter was intelligent, that she had an excellent vocabulary for her age. Her daughter had excelled in debate in school. But she hadn’t had any idea how vicious all that intelligence, that eloquence, could be. Words weren’t simply a way for Faith to express herself. They were tactical weapons, wielded with great skill and precision to cause the most damage possible.

She learned that from Trista, I’ll bet
. Faith’s rebellious friend had only grown wilder and more disdainful of anything good. But the time of Faith listening to Anne’s concerns about Trista and her gang was long gone. Anne didn’t dare breathe Trista’s
name in Faith’s earshot, or she got an earful herself about being a self-righteous witch.

The first time Faith called her that, Anne stood there, mouth hanging open. She couldn’t believe she’d heard right. As though sensing that, Faith repeated it, then smirked when tears ran down Anne’s cheeks.

“Watch it, Mom. Water melts wicked witches.”

Then her daughter spun on her heel and left the room. Of course, Anne was hot on her heels, ordering her to her room for the rest of the evening. But while Faith complied, it was a hollow victory.

When Anne told Jared about it that evening, he sat there, staring at the floor. Finally he looked up at her. “We have to do something. Now. Before we lose her for good.”

They talked. And prayed. And talked some more. And they both felt God leading them to the same conclusion—they needed to talk with their pastor. They set up the appointment and met with him that next week.

It was in the course of their prayer and discussion that Pastor Fred remarked, “Maybe being at camp next week will be a good thing.”

Anne and Jared stared.

“Camp?” Anne finally managed.

Pastor reminded them about Faith’s commitment, pointing out that reminders had gone out in the mail several weeks earlier. Anne put a hand to her face.

“Oh my goodness! I thought that was a fund-raising letter. I—” she gave Jared and the pastor a look of abject apology—“I threw it out without even opening it.”

Leaning back in his chair, Pastor Fred thought for a moment. “You know, I think God’s hand may be in this. If Faith had remembered this sooner, she might have backed out. As it is, we don’t have time to find a replacement for her.”

“She could still refuse to go.”

“No.” Jared’s tone was quiet. Confident. “She won’t.”

Anne looked at him, and he took her hand. “Faith is a lot of things, Anne. I admit that. But she doesn’t let down people who are counting on her.”

“And if she decides now is the time to start?” Anne hated saying it, but she needed to voice her fear.

“Then we tell her she hasn’t got a choice. And we see what happens.”

Pastor Fred leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His crew-cut black hair was liberally sprinkled with white. His eyes crinkled at the edges, clear evidence to the man’s propensity for laughter. “Do you mind if I call some of the others in the church? Those who’ve known Faith for a long time and ask them to pray for her while she’s at camp?”

A wave of gratitude swept through Anne. “That would be wonderful.”

“Absolutely.” Jared nodded.

“I’ll pray as well that God uses this time to recapture Faith’s heart. Maybe once she’s there, talking with the kids she used to hang out with at church, she’ll remember what’s really important. Maybe her hardened heart will break and open, and God can get hold of her again. Now—” he reached for the phone—“there’s someone I’d like you to talk with, if you don’t mind.”

“Whoever you think will help.”

Pastor Fred’s face creased in a mischievous grin. “Oh, she’ll help all right.” He turned his attention to the phone. “Sarah, good! I was hoping you were still around. Can you come in here for a moment, please?”

Mere moments later, a knock sounded on the door. Pastor Fred went to open it, admitting a young woman.

“Anne, Jared, I’d like you to meet Sarah McMannis, the head counselor at the church camp.”

They shook hands, and Sarah took the chair Pastor Fred indicated. “What’s up?”

The pastor brought Sarah up to date, with Anne and Jared filling in here and there. When they finished, Sarah looked at Anne, compassion in her gaze.

“I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through.” She looked at Jared. “Both of you. How can I help?”

Pastor Fred crossed one leg over the other, sitting back in his chair. “I’d like to assign Faith to you. As your assistant.” He
tossed a grin to Anne and Jared. “Believe me, no matter how tough Faith may be, she’s no match for Sarah.”

It only took talking with Sarah for an hour for Anne to believe Pastor Fred was right.

Tall and athletic, Sarah was the epitome of the girl next door. But her freckled face belied a graduation from the school of hard knocks.

As hard, it turned out, as they came.

“I understand girls like Faith” She stood and went to perch on the corner of Pastor’s desk. “I was a girl like Faith. Raised in a Christian home, given all the love and breaks possible—and I hated it. Felt like my life was decided before I was born. I wanted excitement, challenges, danger.”

She glanced at the pastor, then brought her steady gaze back to Anne and Jared. “And I got it all, and then some. I learned the hard way that turning your back on your family, your values, and God doesn’t set you free. It turns the key in the prison door, locking you inside yourself with nothing but desperation and fear.”

Anne’s fingers tightened on Jared’s. That was what she was afraid of. She knew Faith was drifting, testing forbidden waters and liking the sense of danger in the rapids. But what she didn’t see were the rocks waiting for her at the end of the ride. Rocks that would shatter her, destroying her life and heart.

“But God can get hold of you, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, no matter how far away you run.” Sarah’s face lit up. “If He could catch me and bring me back, then He can reach Faith.”

“I believe that.”

Anne could tell from the conviction in her husband’s voice that he meant what he said. She could only hope and pray they were right. For her part, Anne was glad being at camp would get Faith away from Trista.

And Dustin.

Anne didn’t know how far things had gone between Faith and that boy. But she was worried. More than she’d ever admit to Jared. Especially after last week, when she went to gather Faith’s laundry. When she lifted a jacket from Faith’s bed,
something fell onto the floor. Anne reached down to pick it up, and her hand halted midair.

A pack of cigarettes. It fell out of her daughter’s jacket pocket. Were they Faith’s? For months Anne smelled the smoke on Faith’s clothes, in her hair, but she’d always assumed it was from hanging around with Trista and Dustin. Faith knew better than to smoke. Her father hated smoking. Both of his parents had smoked, and they’d lost his mother to lung cancer when Faith was ten.

She’d adored Gramma Irene. After the funeral, she became an outspoken opponent of smoking. Every time someone lit up anywhere near her, Faith would tip her little nose in the air, glare at the person, and announce, “That’s a smelly, ugly habit. And it kills people.”

Anne looked at the pack. Was it possible? Had Faith really changed so much that she started doing something she’d once despised? Anne contemplated confronting her daughter, asking her if the pack was hers or not, but it wouldn’t do any good. Faith would never admit they were hers. She’d say she was holding them for a friend.

Scooping the offending pack off the floor, Anne set it on Faith’s dresser. Then she felt in the jacket pocket. Sure enough, there was a lighter as well. Anne pulled it free, and her heart sank.

Faith might be able to explain away the cigarettes, but it wasn’t near as easy to deny a silver, rhinestone-studded lighter with the name “Faith” engraved on it. Probably a gift, and Anne could guess who it was from.

“Dustin Grant,” she whispered. Oh, how she was starting to hate that name.

Anne set the lighter next to the cigarettes. Let Faith see them there. Let her see she’s found out Faith was smoking.

When she told Jared about the incident, he absorbed it in silence. Anne understood. It was one more thing that convinced him they were doing the right thing.

So here they were, facing Faith—and her wrath—delivering news guaranteed to set her off.

“You don’t care about me anymore, do you?”

Faith’s ice-tipped question pulled Anne’s focus back to the matters at hand.

“Actually, we care a great deal. Which is why we want you to live up to your agreements. You asked to go camp, Faith. We didn’t make this decision, you did.”

“A year ago!”

“A year ago or a day ago, it doesn’t matter. You chose to go.” Jared’s tone was equal parts gentle care and firm conviction. “And go you will. I understand your reaction, but you must understand this—we are your parents, and we can make you go. And we will make you go. So you may as well reconcile yourself to the fact: You’re going to church camp for the summer.”

Faith’s mouth compressed—a thin line daring them to cross—and her arms folded in front of her. “Fine. When do I leave?”

Jared and Anne looked at each other. This was the tricky part. For all Jared had said they would make Faith go, they both knew Faith could take off. But either they believed she was in God’s hands, or they didn’t.

“This Saturday.”

“That’s in three days!”

“Yes, we know. But we just found out about this last night, when we talked with Pastor Fred.”

Faith pushed out of the chair. “I can’t leave in three days!”

“Why not?”

Faith spun on her father. “Because … well, because …” She waved her hands in the air. “I can’t!”

Jared went to stand before his daughter. She looked up at him, and Anne’s heart jumped when she saw the adoration there. Yes, it was peeking out from layer upon layer of defiance.

But it was there.

“Faith, Sarah McMillian will be here to pick you up at seven Saturday morning.” He reached out, cupped her chin, and tipped her face with gentle pressure until their eyes met. “I know you can leave if you want to. I know you could disappear and not show up again until after Sarah leaves. But I’m
asking you, punkin’ … please. Do what you said you would. Be ready when Sarah comes.”

Faith stared at her father for what seemed an eternity, then gave one, curt nod. She stepped back, then walked from the room.

Anne’s gaze met Jared’s, and he shrugged. “It’s in God’s hands.”

Indeed. Anne only hoped they were truly big enough to hold her little girl and protect her from all that was working against her.

Most of all, herself.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, and Anne walked from her bedroom, heart in her throat. True, Faith had packed yesterday. But that didn’t mean she was going.