A Test of Faith (9 page)

Anne looked down at her daughter, walking so straight and proud at her side. Where had the years gone? One moment Faith was a tiny infant and now? Now she was eight years old, on her way to her first day of third grade, raring to take the world by storm.

Happily for Anne, the school was mere blocks away from their home. She and Jared had determined early on that they would make going to school something positive, even fun. For months
prior to Faith’s first day at Lincoln Elementary, Anne and her husband told Faith how lucky she was to be going to school.

True to form, Faith bounced in her chair, barely contained excitement in her every move as she listened to how wonderful it would be. Night after night, she climbed into Jared’s lap before bedtime, leaned her head against his chest, and pleaded on a yawn, “Tell me again, Daddy. Tell me about school.”

With a smile at Anne, Jared would launch into tales of all Faith would do and learn, of how much she would enjoy the teachers and other children. Faith’s smile was pure anticipation as she drifted off to sleep.

Faith sailed through her first two years of school. She’d been a favorite with her teachers, who sang her praises at parent-teacher conferences. Creative. Personable. Bright. Outgoing. All words Anne heard to describe her daughter.

Now, it was time for third grade. Jared had taken the morning off so he could be there to share in the excitement.

That morning, they barely got their exuberant daughter to sit still for breakfast. She and Jared kept breaking into song and then into laughter. Faith loved singing choruses and praise songs with her father, and their voices blended with a pure beauty that stole Anne’s breath at times.

She joined in from time to time at Faith’s insistence, though she enjoyed listening. By the time breakfast was over, Faith was all but dancing as they gathered her things together and headed out the door. Anne walked beside Jared, her hand nestled in his, and watched Faith skipping ahead, listening to her clear, sweet voice sing out, “
This is the day, this is the day, that the Lord has made…
”

It almost broke Anne’s heart.

Of course she was happy Faith was so excited about going to school. But that happiness couldn’t erase what lay within—the painful awareness that with each passing year, Faith was taking steps away from her.

Her daughter stopped suddenly and pointed. “Mom! Dad! Look! My school!”

How Anne longed to share the excitement ringing in her daughter’s voice. Instead, she had to fight the driving urge to
run forward, pull her baby into her arms, beg her not to grow up … grow away. But even if it had been physically possible, there was no way on earth anyone would stop Faith from plunging headlong into this new adventure.

A bit different from your first day of school, eh?

As different as midnight from noonday. Anne could still remember how hard it had been all through grade school. On the first day of school, from first grade through fourth, Anne clung to her mother, weeping, begging to go home. She remembered staring at the large, imposing building, how she’d been surrounded by adults she didn’t know and children she hadn’t seen for months. The very thought of staying in that place had terrified her.

“Holy cow! Lookit all the new kids for me to play with!”

Faith’s rapturous tone tugged Anne’s lips into a smile as she followed the direction of her daughter’s gaze. Children scampered across the playground, laughter ringing in the air around them.

“You’re going to have a great time this year, kiddo.”

Anne had no doubt Jared was right. Faith would be in the middle of everything in no time. People were drawn to her. Even as an infant, total strangers had remarked on how beautiful and engaging Faith was, how her tinkling laughter could draw a smile from the sourest soul. No surprise, then, that Anne’s baby girl had grown into a little social butterfly whose ease among strangers never ceased to amaze her own mother.

Anne slipped her hands into her jacket pockets as they walked past the children and went to Faith’s classroom.

“Welcome, Faith!” Her teacher was a lovely older woman with a soft crown of salt-and-pepper curls. Soft brown eyes sparkled from behind her glasses, and the tiny crinkles peeking out from the corners of her eyes bore clear testimony to the woman’s penchant for smiling. “I’m Mrs. Rice. And I’m so glad to have you with us.”

Mrs. Rice winked at Anne and Jared as she showed them around the room. “And this—” the woman’s sweet, weathered face smiled down at Faith—“is your desk.”

Faith’s mouth opened in a gasp of pure delight, and she
smoothed her hands over the wood top, then slid onto the seat as though she’d sat there a hundred times before.

Anne studied her daughter’s glowing features. What was it like to feel at home no matter where you were? To look forward to, rather than dread, being in new places, meeting new people? Anne hadn’t a clue, any more than she could fathom how someone who sprang from within her—someone formed from the very fiber of her being, whom she’d nurtured with her own blood and body—could share so little in common with her.

That’s a good thing, though. You wouldn’t want Faith to go through all you did because you were so shy, would you?

No, of course not. And yet, Anne couldn’t help feeling a bit left behind by her outgoing, spotlight-loving little girl.
Well, fine. Let Faith take the spotlight. You can cheer her on from the wings
.

Indeed, she could. And she did. All the time. It felt as though she’d been doing so from the moment Faith was born. Still…

Anne allowed herself a small sigh. She couldn’t deny it. Deep inside, she wished Faith were more like her. Not to limit the child, but so they could relate better.

Or so you could be sure she really needs you?

Before she could ponder that startling question, a small hand slipped into hers. She glanced down to find Faith gazing up at her with those deep emerald eyes.

“Mommy?”

Anne squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Yes, sweetie?”

“I wish you could come to school with me.”

“Why, honey?”

“Because I miss you.”

Anne looked up to meet Mrs. Rice’s gentle smile. “You know, Faith, your mom’s already been to school. Now it’s your turn.”

There was a slight crease on Faith’s brow, and she leaned against Anne. “I know. I wish … you could stay with me.”

The uncharacteristic tremor in her child’s voice rendered Anne speechless. She knelt and gathered her little girl in her
arms, burying her face in the fragrant softness of her hair.
I’m sorry, Lord, I forgot … even butterflies need someplace firm to land between flights
.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry. You’re going to have so much fun you won’t even notice I’m not here.” She leaned back and met her daughter’s somber gaze. “And then at the end of the day, I’ll come get you, we can walk home together, and you can tell me all about your day.”

Faith pulled back. “You’ll come every day?”

Anne nodded.

“Promise? You won’t forget?”

“I won’t forget. I promise.” Anne smiled up at Jared, and his answering grin told her he knew, as Anne did, that only one thing would dispel the glimmer of doubt still lurking in Faith’s eyes. Anne looked back at their daughter. “Cross my heart and hope to fly …”

Faith giggled. “Stick a dweeble in your eye?”

Anne hugged Faith again. “Ten dweebles at least, sweetie, if I ever forget you.”

School was the best. Faith loved going to school. She loved walking there with her mom each morning and loved the way her mom always hugged her and told her the same thing: “You be a good girl today.” Faith liked being a good girl. ’Cuz it made Mommy smile.

This morning Mom gave her a big hug, then waved as Faith ran onto the playground to meet her friends. And her teacher. Faith loved the teachers and the playground and the desks and the pictures on the walls and even the sound of the chalk as Mrs. Rice wrote words on the blackboard. School was her most favorite place of all.

Well,
almost
favorite. Her really
most
favorite was home, with Mom and Daddy.

“Hi, Faith.”

She turned to see who was calling her and smiled. Winola Gregory was sitting on a swing, waving at her. Swinging was Faith’s favorite thing to do. It was so neat to feel like she was
flying. She hoped the bell didn’t ring for a long time. It was lots of fun on the playground.

Especially with Winnie. Faith saw Winnie all the time, both at school and in Sunday School. Winnie was really quiet, and her short, yellowish hair kind of stuck out funny, and she had big black glasses that made her look like a big ol’ owl with giant brown eyes. But she was nice. And she knew funny jokes.

Faith and Winnie had been friends since first grade, when a big rubber ball that Faith kicked smacked Winne in the head. Winnie was hanging upside down on the jungle gym at the time, and she dropped to the ground with a yelp and a plop. Faith went to help her up and say sorry.

But Winnie just gave her a shy smile. “That’s okay. You jus’ scared me a little.”

From that point on, Faith knew Winnie would be her best friend forever.

“Hey, Faith!”

She looked to where Winnie was swinging. “Yeah?”

“How deep is a frog pond?”

Faith grinned. “How deep?”

“Knee-deep! Knee-deep!”

Winnie was trying to sound like a frog, but she sounded more like a goat strangling on a tin can. Even so, it made Faith laugh. She went to sit on the swing next to Winnie, but before she reached it, another girl pushed past her, grabbed the swing, and plunked down on it.

Trista Jennings. She always did things like stealing swings. Mean things.

Winnie frowned. “That’s Faith’s swing.”

Trista wrinkled her nose and made a face at Winnie. “These swings are for big girls, not babies.”

Faith put her hands on her hips. Who was Trista calling a baby? She was the same age as Faith. “I’m not a baby!”

Trista pushed off, swinging, barely missing Faith with her feet. “Yes, you are. That’s why your
mommy
has to bring you to school.”

“Faith’s mom is nice.”

Faith smiled at Winnie. She said things real quiet, but she said them real firm, too. Faith liked that.

Winnie went on. “I
like
Faith’s mom. I think it’s neat she walks Faith to school.”

“Yeah, well, who cares what
you
like?” Trista kicked her feet out, sending the swing higher. “
You’re
a baby, too. And you’re stupid.”

With that, Trista jumped off the swing. She landed with a thud right in front of Faith, then crossed her arms and pushed her face into Faith’s. “Go ahead, take the swing. I don’t want to be around you babies anyway.”

Faith felt the mad deep inside. She wanted to yell at Trista, to tell her to stop saying mean things. But she didn’t. Trista might get mad at her. The other kids listened to Trista. They kind of looked up to her because she did things other kids were afraid to do. They liked the people Trista said to like—and didn’t like the people Trista said not to like.

People like babies.

Whose mothers had to walk them to school.

“Come swing, Faith.”

Faith crossed her arms and turned to frown at Winnie. “I don’t
want
to swing.” She grabbed the swing and flung it away from her. “Swinging’s for babies.”

The hurt on Winnie’s face made Faith’s tummy hurt, but she didn’t say sorry. She turned and walked away. And that made the icky feeling in her tummy even worse.

Stupid playground. Stupid swings. Stupid Winnie
.

She kicked at the ground.
Ring, you stupid bell
. She rubbed a fist at her stinging eyes.
It’s no fun out here anymore
.

Anne sipped her tea, savoring the momentary quiet in the kitchen. Faith had gulped down her breakfast, then raced from the room to gather her things.

“You all ready for Faith’s second day of third grade?”

Anne smiled at Jared, watching him fill his travel mug with steaming coffee. “Well, I’m ready, but I don’t know about Faith.” She glanced toward the hallway leading to Faith’s room.
“She gulped down her oatmeal then disappeared into her room.”

Jared set his mug on the counter and moved to the hallway. “Faith, honey, come on, time to go. Your mommy’s waiting.”

Anne expected their daughter to come bounding out of her room, but all that met Jared’s words was silence. They looked at each other and frowned.

“Maybe she fell asleep again?”

Anne shook her head, starting down the hallway. “I don’t think so. She was all dressed—” She jerked to a halt near the stairs. Faith’s coat, which had hung there moments ago, was gone. A shiver of panic sliced through Anne as she angled a look back into the kitchen. The lunch she’d just finished packing for Faith was gone as well. Then she noticed the front door was slightly ajar.

The shiver exploded into full-blown alarm.

“Jared!”

He came to meet her. “Her things are gone and the door’s open. You don’t think someone came in the house?” She couldn’t finish the horrible thought.

Jared took in the hallway and the front door. “I don’t think anyone came in, hon. If I had to guess, I’d say Faith decided to head to school on her own.”

“Why on earth would she do that? We’ve been walking to school together since she started kindergarten.”

Jared reached for his coat and Anne’s. “Let’s go ask her.”

When Anne spotted Faith on the school playground, swinging and laughing, it was one of the most welcome sights she’d ever seen. Relief tore through her, making her knees weak. If Jared hadn’t been standing with his arm around her, Anne was sure she would have collapsed into a heap on the ground.

“Thank God she’s all right.”

Anne swallowed, managing a nod at Jared’s low comment.

He angled a look at her and gave her a fortifying squeeze. “Shall we?”

Grateful her legs were regaining their ability to support
her, Anne straightened. “Absolutely.”

She followed Jared to the playground. They had just reached the swings when Faith looked up. Her eyes went wide, and she brought her swing to an abrupt halt. Anne and Jared didn’t have to say a word. Faith slid from the swing and came to stand in front of them.