A Test of Faith (29 page)

How she’d based the way she treated Faith on the way Faith treated her.

Now, at last, Anne understood. Her heart was as rebellious, in its own way, as Faith’s had been. All that time, all those years, she’d been looking at Faith when what she should have been looking to was God. To His Word. To His example of love. Love that didn’t waver, no matter what His children
did. Love that held on, even when those He loved let go.

Love that never failed.

That was the love she should have had with Faith. A God-centered love. Love that treated Faith as God commanded, not as Faith’s actions deserved.

God, God, forgive me
.

Anne bent her head, hugging Faith’s picture to her. She heard the paper crumple and laid it in her lap, smoothing it out. As she gazed down at her daughter’s face, regret formed a cocoon around Anne’s heart. How could she have been so mistaken? What shone in Faith’s eyes wasn’t rebellion at all.

It was longing.

Longing to be accepted. Loved. Affirmed. A longing Anne had never really fulfilled. Not without expectation of something in return.

Anne spread her fingers over her daughter’s photo. If only Faith were here … if only she could hold her daughter’s face, look into her eyes, and tell her how sorry she was.

“O my people, trust in Him at all times, pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge.”

The words brought her head up, and she gasped. Here, again, was that unfailing love. Even as Anne finally saw herself for who she was, even as she realized how far short she’d fallen, God was opening His arms. Her Father was reaching for her, wrapping her close to His heart, inviting her to pour out her heart, her desperate longings. And leave them to Him.

But it was even more than that. She’d already given Him her longings. What she hadn’t done was give Him Faith’s. And so she bowed her head, thanking Him, and laying in His mighty hands her precious daughter’s dreams and hopes. Her longing to be loved and accepted. Her fears.

Everything.

Please, Father. Let her find You
.

He could bring about the healing, the restoration they so desperately needed. He could save Faith. Could save them.

Yet, even as her heart bent in obedience, even as she finally let go and surrendered to the Father’s will, Anne knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But like Mary watching her beloved
son, bruised and beaten, carry the cross that would take His life, Anne knew she had no choice. She would walk this path her daughter had chosen—this path that Anne as well as Faith had put them all on—bathing every painful step in prayer. But she did not walk it alone.

The Shepherd of truest love, who knew in His own eternal heart the unending pain of losing a child, walked beside her.

twenty-one

IT WAS COLD. SO COLD
.

Faith pulled her coat around her and shivered.

Miserable weather. Was any place more miserable in the winter than Illinois? Nothing but miles and miles of snow and ice. Why had she ever come here?

Because Dustin wanted to live in Chicago. No rhyme. No reason. Just, “It’s where I want to be,” and that was it. He spoke; I followed
.

Dustin. Faith still couldn’t believe what a fool she’d been. She’d trusted him with everything. Believed he meant it when he said he loved her, would take care of her. She walked away from her home, her family, because he promised her something better.

That night—that horrible night a year ago—she’d gone up to her room, angrier than she’d ever been. A knock on her window told her Dustin was there, and she rushed to open it and let him in. Trista slid in after him. When she told them what happened, Dustin put his arms around her.

“You deserve better than this, babe.”

“We all do,” Trista agreed.

Faith stepped back. “Yeah, well, good luck.”

“You gotta make your own luck, girl.” Trista folded her arms, giving Faith a hard look. “No one hands it to you.”

Faith looked from one to the other, understanding dawning. “You’re running away. Both of you.”

Dustin grinned. “Nah, we’re running to, darlin’. To life and freedom. And we want you to come with us.”

One look at Trista told Faith the
we
was an exaggeration. Clearly, Trista preferred Dustin to herself. Jealousy streaked through her. Dustin was her boyfriend! What did Trista think she was—?

Dustin’s hand taking hers stopped her thoughts. His thumb moved over her palm, coaxing. “Come on, Faith. There’s nothing holding you here.” He tugged her into his arms, whispering in her hair. “Come with me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. It had taken all of fifteen minutes to make their plans. Faith would pack her things, then slip out the window and meet Dustin just down the road.

It had worked perfectly. He’d been there, waiting, on his hog. A quick ride to Trista’s, and they had all their things packed up in her old beater of a car. She got in the car, and Dustin slid onto the bike, holding his hand out to Faith. “Let’s get outta here.”

She took his hand without looking back.

Dustin promised her heaven.

Instead, he brought her hell on earth.

Four months with the two of them was more than enough to know she’d made a mistake. They wanted to try anything and everything. Faith didn’t. Each time she opted out of their plans, something shifted in Dustin’s eyes, in the way he looked at her. Still, she convinced herself it would work out. That Dustin loved her. Nothing could come between them.

She’d been an idiot.

That had been painfully clear the day she’d come back early from trying to find a job. It was another day of disappointment, and she was tired and frustrated. She climbed the
twelve flights to their dingy apartment—the elevator never worked—and shoved her key in the lock, ready for a hot bath. Maybe even a nap.

She’d pushed the door open, started to close it behind her, then stopped. Cocked her head. Listened.

What
was
that noise?

She listened again, and sudden, horrified understanding slammed into her, stealing her breath, almost knocking her flat.

Heart pounding, she flung her purse down and went to throw open the bedroom door. Her bedroom. Hers alone.

No matter how Dustin pleaded and cajoled, Faith hadn’t slept with him.

“Sex is for marriage.”

Yes, Faith gave up on the other rules. But that one, she kept. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she did. She was tempted, of course. Dustin could be very persuasive. But every time they got close, she’d stop, push him away.

Finally, he’d quit asking. Faith was relieved. And touched. How many guys would be so understanding?

As the door to her bedroom swung open, and she took in the scene before her, Faith knew the real answer.

None.

Absolutely none.

Dustin had quit asking Faith for sex because he’d found it elsewhere. With Trista.

Remembering that scene now—the way they’d been wrapped in the sheets, so engrossed they didn’t even realize she was there until she screamed at them—sent a wave of nausea coursing through Faith.

She blinked dry eyes, refusing the tears that wanted to come.
Stop it! He’s not worth one single tear!
Even so, it hurt when she thought about him—about the way he’d betrayed her. Then, a few days later, abandoned her.

He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her he was leaving. She woke up two mornings later to find Dustin and Trista gone. Along with all of Faith’s clothes and money.

She’d stayed in the ratty apartment as long as she could.
But the manager was big and ugly, and he stomped his way up the stairs to tell her it was either get out or start paying for the room. And since he knew she didn’t have any money, he said she’d have to use “whatever you got.”

No contest. She got out.

The streets were home for a while. She’d done okay, taking what handouts she could scrounge. But too many people offered to “help” her in ways even she wouldn’t accept. She had to get out. So she started walking.

She’d made it as far as a deserted rest stop on the tollway that night, then bad weather hit. Unable to walk in the fierce wind and snow, she huddled against a building.

Desperation, as heavy as the snow covering the ground, cloaked her. Hunger gnawed at her gut. Shivering so bad she could hardly stand it, Faith pressed her face to the frigid concrete and did what she’d sworn she’d never do.

God, help me
.

That was it. No big, wordy prayer. Just,
Come on, give me a break
. Not that it would help. Still, she had to admit she felt a little better. She was about to doze off when things went dark. She jumped up, fists ready, but her heart plunged to her shoes when she saw what had caused the massive shadow to fall across her.

A huge man. One of the biggest she’d ever seen.

He glared down at her through a beard and glasses, and she clenched her hands. She didn’t have a prayer. The thought almost made her laugh. That’s what she got for asking God for help.

“Child, what you doin’ out here in the cold?”

Faith could only stare. For all the gruffness in his words, there was such kindness in his tone that she was speechless. Finally, she forced words through her shivering lips. “I-I was looking for a-a j-job—” She sounded like a nitwit! But she couldn’t keep her mouth from shaking. “And a p–place to stay. But then the st–storm hit …” She looked down, biting back tears. They’d probably turn into ice cubes on her cheeks. “I n-needed a place to wait out the s-storm.”

He buried his hand in his beard, scratching at the chin
that had to be in there somewhere, and tipped his head. “Tell you what. I know a place ’bout two hours from here. It’s in the middle of nowhere, but they’re lookin’ for a waitress.” He eyed her. “You willin’ to work hard?”

She nodded. Anything to get away from this crummy city.

“Well then, come on.”

With that he led her to his truck and opened the door. “Name’s Gus.”

Faith climbed inside the cab. What choice did she have? If she didn’t go with this guy, she’d sit there and freeze to death.

She settled on the hard seat—and found herself facing a plastic Jesus on the dashboard.

Gus noticed her looking at it and gave a short nod. “Don’t go nowhere without Him.” He fired up the truck and put it into gear. “ ’Course, I’m talking ’bout the real thing, not that plastic one. Reminds me the Big Guy is with me, holdin’ me ’countable.”

Faith didn’t talk much during the ride. Gus didn’t give her a chance. He talked pretty much nonstop. About God. And Jesus. And how they’d saved his worthless hide when no one else gave a spit, so he’d promised to spend his life paying them back by helping others in need.

Usually, Faith couldn’t stand that kind of talk. It grated on her nerves, making her jumpy and restless and just this side of angry. She didn’t need God or His bunch of stupid rules in her life.

But this time, she listened. And she liked it. There was something about the way Gus talked about God. Something pure and honest. It was clear he believed with his whole heart.

Faith found herself wishing she could do the same.

True to his word, Gus took her to the café—which really was in the middle of nowhere—and introduced her to the owner. The woman, who introduced herself as Ethelda—“But you call me Ethel”—eyed Faith like she was a piece of fruit gone bad.

Faith was about to tell the woman to forget the whole thing when Ethel looked at Gus.

“You standing for her, Gustel?”

The huge man gave a solemn nod.

Ethel pursed her lips and looked back at Faith. “Well then, that’s good enough for me. You’re hired, young lady.”

Faith wasn’t sure what it meant to “stand” for her, but she did understand that she owed Gus. Big-time. She walked with him out to his truck.

“Thanks, Gus.”

He studied her for a moment, then reached out one big bear paw to pat her on the cheek. “You’re welcome, Missy. Make me proud.”

The words rang in her ears long after his truck had disappeared in a swirl of driving snow.

Months later, it still made Faith smile to think about it. She shivered again and pulled her coat closer around her. She should know better than to go walking at night this time of year. Too darned cold. But the tiny TV she had only got two channels. She’d complained about that once to Ethel, and the woman gave her one of those pointed looks.

“Two channels or two hundred, it don’t matter. Ain’t nothin’ worthwhile on anyway. You need to feed your mind on better than that, girl.”

That had started a lively debate that was still raging. Faith would describe the shows she used to love to watch when she was at home, like
Cheers
and
The Cosby Show
; Ethel would tell her about books she’d read, then tell Faith why they were better than “any ol’ TV show.”

Truth be told, their debates
were
more fun than watching TV. Sometimes Faith dropped by Ethel’s home in the evenings so they could continue what they’d been talking about during the day. Invariably, Ethel would work a suggestion that Faith call home into the conversation, but she never pushed.