A Test of Faith (7 page)

Smiling, she set the tea tray in place, then stepped back. It was exactly how she remembered. Faith was going to have so much—

“Yeeeooowwwll!!!”

The piercing banshee screech sent Anne racing to the back door leading from the kitchen to the backyard. Something was clearly being tortured out there!

She pulled the door open and found herself engulfed in utter chaos. The screeching came from the neighbor’s cat, Sweetums, an orange tabby the size of Pittsburgh. Sweetums was, without a doubt, the largest cat Anne had ever seen. “Filled out,” his owners called him. Anne called the animal fat.
Sweetums usually lay like a blob in whatever spot of sunlight the owners put him in. Anne couldn’t recall ever seeing the cat walk. Her neighbors carried him outside, then came to heft and carry him back inside.

Anne often wondered if Sweetums’s poor legs even worked anymore.

Well, the answer was right in front of her. They not only worked, they worked well. All four of them. For they were whirling and clawing, doing their best to shred her daughter. Or they would be, if they could reach her. But Faith had the cat pinned to the ground under a fishing net, gripping the handle just out of reach of those claws, exerting just enough force to keep him from escaping.

She wasn’t hurting the animal, of that Anne was certain. Faith adored animals, even to the point of weeping when she saw one dead at the side of the road. She’d never hurt an animal. Not physically, anyway. But the cat’s wounded pride was evident in the furious feline’s ever more ear-splitting shrieks.

“Faith! Let that cat go!”

Faith jumped at her mother’s bellowed command. Sweetums took advantage of the distraction, flipped out from under the suddenly slack net, and streaked across the yard as though his life depended on it.

Anne stared after the creature, mouth agape. It was like watching Jell-O race through the grass. Amazing. Who knew that much bulk could move that fast?

“Mommy!”

Faith’s disconsolate wail drew Anne’s attention back to her daughter, and when she took in the sight before her—her little girl standing there, hands on her tiny hips—Anne almost swallowed her tongue. Faith was covered, head to toe, with dirt and mud. Her carefully arranged hair now looked like a ball of yarn had exploded on her head. Her arms and face were scratched, her dress torn, and the beautiful doll—the doll Anne had spent nearly two weeks tracking down—was on the ground, facedown in the mud, clearly a casualty of the battle with the cat.

Anne’s breathing kicked into overdrive. “Faith! What on earth were you
doing
?”

Faith blinked, eyes wide. Her bottom lip popped out. “But Mommy, I’m a tiger catcher.”

“Faith!”

Those little shoulders stiffened. “We were playing jungle, and Sweetums is the tiger—”

Like wisps of smoke from a campfire, anger wove its way through Anne’s gut, spiraling into her chest, her face, tightening her jaw until she spoke between clenched teeth. “Faith Adelle, what did I tell you about being careful of your new dress?”

Silence met the question. Faith looked down at the ground, but it was plain to see there wasn’t any remorse on her features. Just pure, unadulterated stubbornness.

Anne crossed her arms. Everything was ruined. She’d wanted this to be such a special moment.
Why, Lord? Why, this one time, couldn’t Faith be good?

She glared at her daughter. “Go to your room, Faith.”

Her head came up. “But we’re going to have a tea party—”

She pointed inside. “To … your … room.”

Faith’s chin jutted out. Shoulders high, she marched past Anne, the very image of a wounded princess. As she stomped by, Anne caught her muttered words.

“Don’t care. Tiger catchers don’t even
like
tea.”

Hours later, Anne stood in the doorway to her daughter’s room, watching the even lift and fall of Faith’s small chest as she slept. Slow steps carried Anne to Faith’s bed, and she eased down on the edge, careful not to wake her sleeping child.

She sat there, silent, watching…

Why, God? Why does anger last for a moment, while the regret it brings lasts for an eternity?

If only she’d kept her temper in check. If only she’d been able to take the unexpected in stride and not let it ruin everything.

Anne stroked Faith’s soft hair, smoothing it away from her sleep-flushed cheek.

She’d wasted so much time and energy on anger today. She’d simmered all afternoon, waiting for Jared to come home so she could complain to someone. But the oddest thing happened. When she finished telling him her tale of woe, pacing
back and forth the whole time she spoke, she turned, expecting to see sympathy on his face.

Instead, she caught her husband fighting laughter. “Sweetums … 
ran
?”

Anne stared at him. “Well … yes.” She blinked. “Sort of … I mean, it was kind of a
rolling
run.”

Jared gave up the fight. A grin danced across his features even as his chuckle slid free.

Anne crossed her arms over her chest. She was
not
going to give in. She was angry, doggone it, and had every right to be! She arched her brows at him. “You certainly couldn’t blame the poor creature. I thought Faith was going to squash him.”

“I didn’t think that monster’s legs worked.”

Anne couldn’t help it. Her lips twitched. “I know.”

“And Faith managed to pin him down? Good grief, he weighs almost as much as she does.”

Her husband’s humor was as infectious as a case of the measles. The anger Anne had nursed all day dissipated, leaving a swell of giggles in its place. She pushed at his arm. “Jared, be serious.”

“I’m
always
serious.”

She lowered herself into the chair beside him, giving him a sideways look. “Seriously demented, maybe.”

His hand flew to his chest. “I’m wounded!”

“Hmm.”

Leaning his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands. “Come on, Annie. Admit it. You’ve never even seen the beast walk on his own.”

She held her hands up. “Okay, okay, I admit it.”

He sat back, nodding. “See there? Our little girl wasn’t tormenting the critter; she was working a miracle on him!”

“Ohhh,
you
!”

Anne smiled anew at the exchange. Then her smile faded. She brushed Faith’s bangs away from her forehead, blinking back sudden tears.
Why, Lord? Why can’t I see things the way Jared does? Why can’t I find the humor in life’s little crises?

When she thought about it later, after talking with Jared, after her hurt and anger had drained away—when she pictured
Faith, determined face framed in a crown of wild hair, holding down that monster of a cat with a fishing net—she couldn’t help but laugh.

Why do I let myself get so frustrated and so often over nothing? Nothing that matters, anyway
.

Yes, the tea party had been ruined. But not by Faith’s escapade. It had been ruined by Anne’s anger. She was right to scold Faith. Though the little girl hadn’t hurt Sweetums, it still wasn’t right to snag the poor creature with the fishing net. And Faith had broken her promise to be careful of her dress. Still…

Anne could have cleaned Faith up and given her a time out. For that matter, she could have let Faith change into her beloved jeans and T-shirt for the party. What they wore didn’t matter. It was being together, creating memories they could treasure that mattered. Not clothes or pretty hair.

The heavy sigh that escaped Anne seemed to come from someplace deep within her. If only she’d realized these things sooner.

Lord, please, help Faith know I love her. Because I do, Father. So very much
.

As though sensing her mother’s distress even in her sleep, Faith stirred beneath Anne’s hand and turned to blink up at her with sleep-laden eyes. She reached out one small hand to pat Anne’s cheek. The gesture brought tears to her eyes. Underneath all that bravado and stubbornness, her little girl had such a tender heart.

Protect that heart. Keep her close to You. Reach her, Lord…

Prayers flowed through Anne, and she cupped her hand over her daughter’s, begging God to do what she had not—to love her daughter just as she was.

“Mommy?”

Anne smiled down at Faith. In the dim light from the hallway she could see Faith’s green eyes were wide, eyes so full of wonder as she watched the world around her. “Yes, honey?”

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

Warmth flooded Anne.
Thank You, Lord. Thanks for a child who forgives
. “Just for a little while, okay?”

“ ’Kay.”

Faith scooted over as Anne slid under the covers and cuddled her close. Faith nestled against her. “Mommy?”

Anne leaned a cheek against Faith’s hair, breathing in the sweet fragrance that was her daughter. “Yes, sweetie?”

“I’m sorry I ruined the party.”

The tears were back, and Anne had to swallow several times before she could answer. “Oh, Faith, you didn’t spoil the party. Mommy did, when she got angry.” Anne shifted so she could meet Faith’s sleepy gaze. “Honey, I’m sorry I got angry. That was wrong.”

Faith studied Anne’s face for a moment, then she nodded. “It’s okay, Mommy. I forgive you.”

Anne hugged her. “Tell you what. How about if we have a different party tomorrow. One with chocolate milk instead of tea?” So it wouldn’t be exactly the same as it had been when Anne was a child. So what? Chocolate milk would be that much more special in a silver teacup. “And you can wear your jeans and tennies.”

“Really?”

The delight Anne had hoped to see was finally there, in full radiance. “Really.”

“I’d like that, Mommy. Lots.”

Anne cradled Faith against her. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” She felt Faith nod against her, and then one little hand came up to pat Anne’s face again.

“I love you, Mommy …” Faith yawned, and her sleepy voice drifted off. “Bunches and bunches.”

Memories to treasure. That’s what Anne longed for, and that’s what God gave her. Right here. And that, Anne closed her eyes on a smile, was better than the most elegant tea party in the world.

six

IT WAS A GOOD DAY
.

Laughter floated on the breeze, and the sound was music to Jared’s ears.

He sat, perched on a large boulder, and watched as his wife and daughter scrambled over the trails and rocks a few yards away. Even from a distance, the exultation in Anne’s tone was evident.

She loved coming here, to the Oregon coast. It was the one place lately that seemed to stir the child within her to life. She’d been struggling so with fatigue, with discouragement over her weight and health, that Jared had grown concerned. Last week had been the worst. Anne had finally gone to see her diabetes specialist to find out why she was having so much more trouble than she used to have. Jared hoped she’d come home with a game plan for feeling better.

Instead, she’d come home in tears.

The doctor offered no hope, she said. Just the same old rant: eat less, exercise more, lose weight.

“He says it like it’s so easy!” She flopped onto the couch. “Well, I’d like to see
him
lose weight simply by deciding to do so.”

That was when Jared made the suggestion. “Let’s get away. Take Faith and go to the coast.”

Anne looked at him through the wetness still shimmering in her eyes. “Oh, Jared, can we? It’s such a long drive.”

“No, it’s not. A couple of hours at the most. Come on, we’ll take it slow and easy. Just enjoy ourselves. And I’ve got some money set aside for something special, so we can stay overnight in a hotel. Go to a restaurant for dinner.”

Annie’s features lit up, and she launched herself into his arms. “You’re so good to me! How’d I get so lucky as to marry you?”

“Hey, I’ve always said you deserve the very best!”

He’d been laughing when he said it, but he’d been serious, too. She did deserve the best. She deserved so much more than he was able to give her. His job as a programs director at the YMCA brought in enough money to pay bills, but not much more.

Keeping up with the kids kept him in shape, and that was good. But it kept him busy and away from home, too. Working six days a week made it hard to find “quality time” for his family, especially since he’d started taking small side jobs fixing things in people’s homes so he could have some extra money to do special things for Anne and Faith. Things that brought those beautiful smiles blooming on their faces.

Smiles that seemed more and more rare. At least for Anne.

Jared lifted his face to the ocean spray, tasted the hint of salt on his lips, and breathed in the earthy fragrance that was the Oregon coast. There was something restorative about the coast. The rugged beauty spoke to his heart as much as it did Anne’s. They’d both needed this trip. She, to get away from the constant struggles to keep up with her daily chores. And he needed it to hear her laugh.

He’d known, deep inside, that their marriage vows would be more than mere words. But he never imagined how connected they’d become over the years. They were like a single entity divided into two bodies. Complete only when they were together. And when she hurt, the way she had been lately, his heart nearly broke for her.