Faith (10 page)

"Amen!" the crowd responded.

Families and friends broke into small groups to partake of
the noon meal. Good-natured laughter filled the air as the
hungry workers socialized over talk of weather, grasshoppers, and much needed rain. Faith busied herself helping Dan feed the two smaller children. She filled plates with
chicken legs and small helpings of green beans and potatoes,
deliberately avoiding Liza's annoyed stare. Nicholas sat
beside his mother in silence, the Shepherds keeping a safe
distance from the others. Faith knew if she looked their
way, she would be obligated to join them, so she purposely
looked the other direction.

At one o'clock the bell sounded again. The men
groaned, patted full bellies, then pushed to their feet.
Minutes later the sounds of hammers and saws once again
saturated the air.

The Walters children refused to let Faith go. Adam, who
Faith had discovered was born blind, and the three-year-old
girl, Sissy, held tightly to her hand as Faith playfully tried
to pull free. Laughing, she agreed to stay, then settled them
on the blanket and told Bible stories about Jonah and the
whale, and David and the giant, Goliath. Clapping their
hands, the children stomped around the blanket, mimicking
tall giants, until Dan called for them to settle down.

"Has anyone ever read you stories from a make-believe
book?" Faith asked as she repacked the picnic basket. She
fondly recalled the large, colorful book of fairy tales her
mother had read to her when she was about their age.

Adam's sightless eyes lit with expectation. "Papa says we
cain't tell no lies."

Faith ruffled his hair. "I'm not talking about lies-makebelieve stories. Snow White and Rose Red, Rapunzel,
Faithful John?"

Adam and Sissy shook their heads in awe.

"Do you know how to tell make-believe stories?" Adam
asked.

Faith nodded, placing his hand on each side of her head so
that he could not only hear but also feel her answer. "What
am I saying?"

Adam paused, thinking. He broke into a wide grin.
"Yes!"

"Yes!" Faith hugged him tight. "That's very good!"

Sissy started prancing again. "I wanta hear stawies!"

As the barn's rafters went up, Faith recited fanciful tales
about sisters who loved each other so much they made a
vow that what one had she must share with the other; a
beautiful girl with magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold;
and a servant who strove to be faithful to his king. The
children giggled, gleefully pretending to let down their hair
for the other to climb down upon.

Sissy's head was nodding by the last story. Faith wiped her
hands and face with a cool cloth, then settled her on the
blanket beside the sleeping baby.

Disagreement erupted when Adam declared he was too
old for a nap. Dan joined the spirited debate, but Adam
eventually won out, claiming he couldn't sleep now because
Jeremiah had promised to teach him how to spit. Dan
looked at Faith, and they both grinned.

"Spitting is an art no boy should be denied," Faith proclaimed.

Dan nodded, playing along. "I think you're right." He
pointed the child in the direction of the old hermit.

Hands on hips, Dan paused, studying Faith. "How did
you get so good with children?"

Faith shrugged. "Mothering comes natural, I guess."

"Well," Dan said, reaching for the dipper in the pail,
dousing his head with water. Sunlight caught the glistening
drops cascading off his fiery hair. He wasn't a handsome
man, but kindness radiated from every pore. Faith decided
kindness was better than handsomeness any day of the
week. Kindness and an even temper. "You should have
yourself a whole houseful of children," he said.

Faith spotted Nicholas working high above in the rafters,
and she wondered if she'd have even one. "Maybe I will,
someday."

Dipping back into the water pail, Dan drank his fill.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gazed at
Faith. "Heard you didn't get to say your vows the other
day.

"No, one of Nicholas's cows was having trouble birthing.
Then there was the fire yesterday."

"That's too bad. Suppose you'll be saying them real
soon?"

"Suppose I will." Faith glanced back at Nicholas. "Next
Thursday, providing the Lord's willing and the creek don't
rise." Or there's another fire or cow in trouble.

Dan grinned. "Nicholas is a lucky man."

She blushed, fairly certain Nicholas didn't think so.

Faith settled on the blanket when Dan went back to
work. Her eyes focused on Nicholas, still perched high atop
the barn, nailing rafters. Powerful muscles stood out in his arms as he drove nails into two-by-fours. Faith shivered,
wondering how gentle those arms would be holding a
woman-one he loved and respected. Her gaze meandered
through the crowd, and she waved at a few of the church
ladies. So far everyone had welcomed her with an amicable
smile and an open heart.

"Want to help?"

Dan's offer brought her out of her musings. "Me?"

He stood beside the frame he'd just built, extending a
hammer to her. "You said you like to build things."

"I love to build things!" Jumping to her feet, she straightened her overalls. "Are you serious?"

"Serious as buck teeth. Come on. You can help me with
the next one."

Faith stepped in closer, helping to hold the board Dan was
about to saw.

"Ouch!" She jumped, shoving the piece of wood away as
it broke neatly into two pieces. Dan bent down to retrieve
the boards, praising her efforts.

"You'll be building a town next."

"I would love it!" She grinned, then picked up a handful
of shavings and threw it at him.

Leaning down, he scooped up a handful of sawdust and
threw it at her, and a friendly sawdust war erupted. Chips
flew, coating hair, faces, and clothes. Faith spit, brushing the
swirling fragments out of her eyes as she fended off the
attack. She fell to her knees, laughing when a barrage of
shavings assailed her.

"Faith Kallahan!"

Faith sprang to her feet, blinking shavings out of her eyes
as she glanced up to see Nicholas scowling at her. Staggering to her feet, she blinked again, trying to see through the
haze of sawdust. "Yes, sir?"

Hammers fell silent; saws suddenly stilled. The air
hummed with tension as workers ceased their efforts.
Inquisitive eyes rotated to the direction of the angry voice.

Nicholas, hands on his hips, face as black as a witch's
heart, stood in front of her. Liza hovered at his flank,
narrow lipped, eyes vibrating with condemnation.

Swallowing, Faith brought her hand up to cover her tripping heart, afraid it was going to thump right out of her
chest. Dear goodness. What was she doing? How must a
sawdust fight look to Nicholas? She'd forgotten herself and
was caught up in harmless frivolity, but how must it look?
She hadn't stopped to think about her actions; if she had,
she would have realized they were inappropriate. Her eyes
locked with Nicholas's and her heart skipped a beat when
she realized he was going to make a scene. And by the look
on Liza's face, she was about to take a willow switch to her.

She smiled faintly. "Hello, Nicholas. Did you want something?"

Nicholas's eyes turned to blue steel. Faith winced when
she saw a muscle tighten in his jaw.

Stepping forward, he took her by the arm, marching her
through the crowd. Color flooded Faith's face. She highly
resented his barbarian treatment! Who did he think he was,
treating her as if he owned her! She tried to wrest free of his
clasp, but he only tightened his grip.

"Let go-you're hurting me!"

"You are making a mockery of the Shepherd name," he
said in a tightly controlled voice.

"A mockery? I was only throwing sawdust-"

He hurried her along, refusing to listen.

When they reached the Shepherds' blanket, Liza wasn't
far behind. "Young lady-"

"Mama!" Nicholas took off his hat and pointed it at her.
"I will take care of this."

"But Nicholas, she's-"

"I will handle the matter, Mama. Sit down."

Hurt flashed across Liza's face, but she stepped back.

Nicholas's shirt was soaked with perspiration. Blond hair
lay in damp waves against his forehead. For an instant Faith
was moved by the urge to brush it back. She warred with
conflicting emotions: Concern and compassion fought with
the deep temptation to kick him in the shins. He was a
most unpleasant man, determined to take his resentment
out on her!

Then he spoke, and his cold, exacting voice sent any
noble thoughts flying out the window. He was a mean,
boorish brute who delighted in embarrassing her!

"I told you to stay here with Mama and keep out of the
way," he began in a calm, calculated tone.

"Well, you see-Adam and Sissy needed help. I was
only-"

He cut her off. "You were sawing a board!"

"One board!" she defended. "Before that I was helping with the children. I fed them, diapered the baby, then told
Sissy and Adam stories-"

His voice dropped to an ominous timbre. For one brief,
elated moment she thought she saw jealousy flare in his
eyes. Then it was gone. "You were not brought here to
tend Dan Walters's children. And while we're having this
talk, I don't want you socializing with Jeremiah."

"But I like Jeremiah!"

"What you like or dislike makes no difference. People
will wonder why you are drawn to a drifter, a hermit. The
man could be dangerous-he isn't a puppy or a kitten, Miss
Kallahan, a stray in need of help. No one knows anything
about him, or his past, other than he chooses to be alone."

"But the Lord expects us to be kind to all men."

"You are to keep your distance from Jeremiah. You were
brought here to be a Shepherd. A Shepherd does not pick
up every stray she runs across."

The air was electrically charged as she turned her back to
him. Crossing her arms, she counted to ten. If she were a
man ... how dare he order her around in that tone! Papa
had never so much as raised his voice to a woman, and he'd
have no patience with a man who did.

Taking a deep breath, she dropped her voice. There was
no point in making a spectacle of herself in front of the
growing crowd of onlookers. "You don't have to remind
me why I'm here."

"Has it ever occurred to you people will talk when they
see you cavorting with Dan Walters?"

"Cavorting!" She whirled to face him. "Cavorting?" she repeated. "I was helping Dan-if you recall, I offered to
help you, but you told me to sit down and be quiet."

He snorted. "And look where that got me." He glanced
at the curious onlookers, then lowered his voice. "Just do as
I ask, please."

Liza spoke from the sidelines. "You should be ashamed of
yourself, young lady. Have you no regard for Nicholas-"

Nicholas stopped his mother. "I've already spoken to
Faith about the situation, Mama. This matter does not
concern

Turning back to Faith, he repeated quietly but firmly,
"You are to sit with Mother the remainder of the afternoon
and behave like a lady. Do I make myself clear?"

Her chin lifted. "Do I have to crochet?"

"If that's what it takes for you to conduct yourself in an
acceptable manner."

She looked away, crossing her arms again, staring into the
distance. "I hate to crochet."

"Look." He lowered his tone. "All I'm asking you to do
is act like a lady, and don't embarrass Mama or me. Is that
too much to ask?" His dark tone warned her he'd brook no
further nonsense. He turned and walked off.

"Apparently so," she murmured.

Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

Faith opened her mouth to repeat her declaration, then
clamped it shut, words from Ephesians ringing in her ears:
Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the
Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the
head of the church: and he is savior of the body.

Nicholas's tone took on a dangerous edge. "Was there
something more you needed to say, Miss Kallahan?"

"No, sir." She refused to look at Mother Shepherd.

"You're certain?"

She turned her back to him. "Positive." Her obedience
wavered when she added under her breath, "Except that
you're not my husband yet."

Liza settled herself on the blanket, then reached for her
handwork. "You're asking for trouble."

"Asking?" Faith released a pent-up breath of frustration
before picking up her crochet hook. She seared a hole
through Nicholas's retreating back. "Seems to me I've
already got it."

ATHER, I don't mean to be a burden. I'm not
proud of my actions of late. It seems no matter how hard I try, I'm
short on understanding and long on criticism. Who am I to criticize
Liza-or Nicholas, for that matter-when I have so many faults of
my own? I truly want to marry Nicholas, and I believe that's your
will. Why else would you send me here, among so many strangers?
Even as ill tempered and disagreeable as Liza is, I want her to like
me. Truthfully, I can be pretty ill tempered and disagreeable myself,
and I'm not proud of it. I pray for your forgiveness and the ability to
do better. I don't want to disappoint the Shepherds-and I never
intentionally do things to upset them. Bless Liza, Lord. Send happiness into her life: She misses her husband so. I seek only to do your
will, even if at times I miserably fail. Amen.