A Test of Faith Read online

  Swallowing back the shame that rose, hot and bitter, in her throat, Anne did her best to repair the damage her mad dash around the house had wrought. Exhaustion weighed her down, and for a moment she considered sitting on the floor and bursting into tears. But she shoved that self-pitying thought aside.

  So she wasn’t Carol Brady. Or her mother. Or any of the dozens of women who could keep it all together, managing house and home with ease. Fine. “At least I’m doing my best,” she told her reflection. “That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”

  She turned away from the mirror, not giving herself—or that despicable, nagging inner voice—time to answer the question. Because she was afraid she knew what that answer would be.

  Instead, she resolved to do better, starting now. She wasn’t going to give in to the fatigue anymore. She would beat this stupid disease, lose the weight, get her energy back, and that was that.

  Hadn’t her mother always said, “You can do anything when you put your mind to it?” So that’s what she would do. Put her mind, heart, and soul into being the best wife and mother possible.

  Her family deserved nothing less.

  Determination straightening her spine, she put a bright smile on her face and went to open the front door and welcome her family home.

  It was early in the morning when Anne heard Faith’s voice drift from the living room into the hallway.

  “Read it again, Daddy.”

  Ah yes, it was Saturday.

  Anne went to peer into the living room. What she saw lifted her lips in a warm smile.

  Jared was sitting back in his recliner, Faith cuddled on his lap, his hands holding their favorite book, Make Way for Ducklings. Ever since Captain Kangaroo featured the book on his morning show, Faith loved to hear it read over and over. She never tired of it. Or of having her daddy read to her.

  Even now, she leaned her head back against Jared’s broad chest, one hand reaching up to pat her father’s face as he read.

  Jared’s cheek rested against Faith’s soft hair. Anne leaned against the doorway and couldn’t hold back another smile as she listened to him changing his voice from one character to another.

  Faith followed the story, clearly entranced. Jared was enjoying himself as much as Faith, and he never seemed to tire of this Saturday morning ritual, either. Without fail, right after Anne brushed Faith’s hair—which was a trial, considering that Faith hated having it done and Anne often ran out of patience with trying to brush a fidgeting target—the little girl scooped up the book and padded to the kitchen to find her father. It was as though Faith had decided this was her reward for suffering through the dreaded hair brushing.

  Anne held back a sigh. How well she recalled her own mother brushing her hair. She’d loved the feel of her mother’s hands as she coaxed the tangles free, the way they’d talked and sung songs together. That was their special time together each morning, and Anne had been so sure it would be the same with Faith and her.

  Guess again.

  What Faith loved was the Saturday reading time with Jared. She slipped into the chair beside him at the kitchen table, book held against her chest, peering up at him, waiting for him to finish eating breakfast. Jared knew the moment he put down his fork, the question would come.

  “Now, Daddy?”

  Jared’s smile was what drew Anne to him the first time they met. It was a purely male smile, no doubt about it. But it was more. His smile always held such tenderness and warmth. In that smile, Anne had seen the promise of so much—a man who would cherish her … a man who would stand between her and whatever might come against them … a man committed utterly to God and to loving her as truly as anyone could. A man who would thrive on being a husband and father.

  Jared had fulfilled every promise she’d seen, and then some.

  So every time he turned that smile to their daughter, as he did whenever she asked him to read to her, Anne knew what Faith saw there: unquestioning, unrelenting love.

  Little wonder Faith adored her daddy’s smile as much as Anne did.

  Anne was sure this Saturday morning had been no different, except for one small fact: Faith had corralled her father before getting her hair brushed. Apparently, she’d figured to skip the suffering and jump right to the reward today.

  “Again, Daddy?”

  The question pulled Anne from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Faith gazing up at her father, her most persuasive expression on her face.

  “I think—” Jared’s low tone was clearly holding back laughter—“you have another appointment.”

  Anne recognized her cue. “Come on, sweetie. Time to do your hair.”

  The look on her daughter’s face as she eyed the hairbrush was far from enthusiastic.

  “Come on, squirt.” Jared closed the storybook and lifted Faith from his lap to the ground, giving her backside a pat. “Go with Mama.”

  Faith pouted, but she did as her father bid and followed Anne—albeit slowly—back upstairs to her room.

  Once there, Anne rubbed Faith’s back—a surefire way to calm her. “Okay, now, hold still, honey. It won’t hurt so much if you don’t pull away when I’m brushing.”

  The stiff set of Faith’s shoulders spoke volumes. She wasn’t buying it. Okay, time for a distraction.

  “When I was little—” Anne started brushing again. Slow and even strokes. Easy … easy… “My mommy used to brush her long, beautiful hair every day.”

  “She had long hair?”

  Anne nodded. “Just like yours. And she would put it in long, pretty braids with ribbons. Just like we fix your hai—”

  “Braids are stoopid.”

  Anne pressed her lips together. Yet another lovely trait her daughter was perfecting: that sullen, mutinous tone. Patience… That one word was becoming a mantra for her life. A soft answer turns away wrath, right?

  “Hold still, honey. We’re almost done.”

  Unfortunately, being still wasn’t in Faith’s makeup. The little girl fidgeted, dancing from one foot to the other, squirming like a worm frantic to escape the hook. “Pleeeease, Mommy, can’t I go outside?”

  “Fine!” Anne slammed the brush down on the dresser and grabbed one of Faith’s hair bands. She handed the piece of plastic to Faith, shaking her head as her daughter shoved it on her head, barely breaking stride as she made for the hallway.

  So much for our morning ritual.

  Anne made her way down the stairs, then watched her daughter out the kitchen window. Faith’s neighborhood friends were already waiting in the backyard. She jumped in the middle of them with a squeal, and they rolled and tumbled, all giggles and arms and legs. Without a pause, they jumped up and raced to the large evergreen in the yard, scrambling up the limbs like a pack of playful squirrels.

  Of course, Faith was the first to reach the tree. And the first to grab a branch and launch herself upward. Anne saw her daughter’s jeans catch on a branch and tear, but Faith didn’t even seem to notice. No surprise there. Faith was more at home in torn jeans and scruffy tennies than anything else.

  Anne shook her head and turned the burner on under the teakettle. Whatever happened to the little girl she’d always dreamed of? To the dresses and ribbons and lace?

  A small laugh escaped Anne. Faith was as fond of dresses as she was of braids. And the last time Anne put a pretty bow in Faith’s hair, it ended up on the dog as a makeshift leash.

  “Whatcha thinking, Beautiful?”

  Anne glanced at Jared over her shoulder, then turned back to the counter, reaching to lift a mug from the rack. “I don’t know. I’m just wondering how a child I carried in my body can be so different from me.”

  The teakettle whistled, and Anne snapped the burner off, then poured the steaming water into her cup. She looked at Jared, but he shook his head.

  “None for me, thanks.”

  She nodded, gathered up her tea bag and container of honey, and went to sit at the table. Jared joined her, silent, waiting. Anne tried to sort
through her thoughts as she dipped the tea bag in the water, watching how the color changed with each dunk.

  “Faith and I …” She sighed. “We don’t seem to connect on anything. It’s as though we’re from two different planets.”

  Jared took her hand and held it, the solid feel of his touch a comfort beyond words. “You’re different in some ways, hon. But you’re the same in other ways.”

  She peered at him, holding back a snort. “Such as?”

  “Well, you both love holding hands when we pray at mealtimes, singing silly songs, and parties and holidays.” He weaved his fingers through hers. “I swear I’ve never seen two girls who love celebrating as much as Faith and you do.”

  Anne smiled at that. “I got that from my mother. She used to do such special things. It always made her so happy to surprise me …”

  When she fell silent, Jared studied her. “What?”

  Anne almost couldn’t contain the sudden excitement that scurried through her. “Jared, that’s it!”

  He blinked. “What’s it?”

  It was perfect. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? “It happened when I was about Faith’s age.”

  “What did?”

  Anne jumped up and threw her arms around her husband. “Oh, honey! You’re a genius!”

  With that, she gathered up her tea and started for her room to plan.

  “Annie? Hon?”

  She stopped and turned back to Jared.

  “Will you let me know one of these days what I did that was so wonderful?”

  The look on his face was so comical, Anne giggled. “I’m sorry, Jared. I got so excited.”

  “Yeah, I could tell.”

  She couldn’t hold back a grin. “It’ll be perfect.”

  “What will?”

  “She’ll love it.”

  Jared’s brow furrowed. “Love … what?” He pushed back his chair and put a gentle hand on her arm. “Hon, before you get all excited, remember Faith doesn’t always like the things you do.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “She hated the frilly dress and hat you bought for her last Easter—”

  “I know—”

  “And the ballet class for tots was clearly a mistake.”

  Anne crossed her arms. “That instructor overreacted. Threatening to get a restraining order if we ever brought Faith back.” She sniffed her disdain. “Faith’s a creative child. Just because she thought it was more fun to pretend she was Bruce Lee than a flower …”

  “She did knock down three of her fellow ‘daisies,’ hon.”

  “Yes, well—”

  “And stomped on their little construction-paper petals.”

  Anne lifted her shoulders, conceding defeat. “Okay. So Faith wasn’t ready for ballet. But I’m sure Faith will love this!”

  “It’s just … I don’t want you to be disappointed, Annie.”

  Disappointed? No chance. She patted Jared’s arm. “Not to worry. Not this time. I know she’ll love it. What little girl wouldn’t?”

  “Maybe our little girl?”

  Anne understood his need to say it, but she waved off his concern. “It’ll be wonderful.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “And you get to take all the credit!”

  She turned and all but floated out the door. Nothing he said would discourage her. Not even the dubious reply he tossed after her.

  “Or the blame.”

  five

  “In a dark time, the eye begins to see.”

  THEODORE ROETHKE

  EVERYTHING WAS READY. ANNE HAD BEEN WORKING on it for weeks, scanning magazines for the perfect setup. She’d finally found an article showing the first lady, Betty Ford herself, holding an event almost identical to what Anne wanted to do. If that wasn’t proof it was a good idea, Anne would be a monkey’s uncle. Er, aunt. Whatever.

  It was the perfect time of year, too. Few places were as beautiful as Southern Oregon in the late spring. Flowers were bursting to life, filling the yard with color and the air with sweet fragrances. Anne had even called the time and weather number to check the forecast. Sunshine. Highs in the seventies. A light breeze. Perfect for sitting out on the patio, looking out at the mountains surrounding the valley where they lived.

  It was as though everything, nature included, was falling in line to make this day as special as possible for Anne and her little girl.

  The night before the big event, she had been like a kid on Christmas Eve. Instead of falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, Anne lay there, staring at the ceiling, savoring the anticipation, picturing the delight on her daughter’s face.

  On Faith’s face or yours?

  Anne frowned. Well, both, of course.

  Do you really think Faith will be pleased? Isn’t this more something you would like?

  Anne rolled over and punched her pillow. That was ridiculous. What little girl wouldn’t like what Anne had planned?

  Your little girl.

  This time she pulled the pillow over her head. She would not listen to this voice of doubt. Everything would work out the way she’d planned.

  Early the next morning, Anne pushed away her fatigue and went to wake Faith with a kiss. “Mornin’, sleepyhead.” She sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “Did you know today is a special day?”

  Faith blinked up at her and yawned, stretching her child arms up over her head. “Is it Christmas?”

  “No—”

  She sat up. “My birthday?”

  “No, honey.”

  Faith stood, now fully awake, and started bouncing on the bed. “Your birthday?”

  “Faith!”

  The little girl plopped back on the bed and fell silent. Anne drew a steadying breath.

  “Do not exasperate your children…” Anne hesitated. That’s what she’d done. She came in, woke Faith up, and got her all excited. And now she got irritated at Faith for reacting like any child would.

  Anne looked at the smiling bears on Faith’s bedspread. Why was it Anne could be so patient with others, but when it came to her own daughter, she seemed primed for frustration?

  Sorry, Lord. Please, help me to do better.

  “Mommy?”

  Faith crawled over to sit next to her, and Anne drew her daughter close. “Yes, honey?”

  “What’s special about today?”

  Anne smiled at her little girl’s wide-eyed expression. Emotions swelled in Anne’s throat, and she had to swallow a couple of times before she could speak. How she loved this child! Yes, Faith might drive her to distraction at times, but Anne loved her more than she could ever express. “Well, we’re going to do something special. Something my mommy did with me with I was your age.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a surprise, but I’ll show you part of it.” She went to pick up the gift she’d left outside the door. She hid it behind her back, then returned to sit on Faith’s bed again. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

  Faith complied, though the bouncing resumed. Anne pulled the gift from behind her back and let herself take another look at it. It was the most exquisite doll she’d ever seen. The porcelain face was perfection, with its deep blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and plump pink lips. Long blonde curls held back with a blue ribbon cascaded over the doll’s shoulders. She was dressed in a beautiful deep blue dress adorned with tiny roses, lace, and ribbons. Her little feet sported patent leather shoes, complete with a shiny buckle.

  Anne held the doll carefully and set her in Faith’s outstretched hands. The little girl’s bounces doubled.

  “Can I look now?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Faith’s eyes popped open. Anne waited for the smile to fill her daughter’s features.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Faith stared at the doll, then looked up at her mother. “Is it for you?”

  For a moment, all the doubts that had nudged Anne last night surged back to haunt her. But she pushed them away and mustered up a smile. “N
o, honey, she’s for you.”

  Faith looked at the doll. “Oh.”

  That one word spoke volumes.

  “I don’t want you to be disappointed, Annie.”

  She watched Faith stick out a finger to poke at the frilly dress, then pull on the long locks of golden hair. Anne swallowed. What was tightening her throat? Not disappointment. Never, in a million years, would she admit it was that.

  She leaned forward to touch first the doll’s cheek, then Faith’s. “This isn’t just any doll, sweetie. It’s your own special tea-party doll.”

  Faith’s brow furrowed. “Tea party?”

  Anne infused her tone with excitement. “That’s right. We’re going to have a tea party. You and me and your new doll. With special cups and sandwiches like when I was little.”

  “Do we have to drink tea?”

  Anne recognized the emotion choking her now. Frustration had an all-too-familiar flavor. “You’ll like it.”

  “Can I have milk and honey in it?”

  She sighed. “Yes, of course. It’s all set. All you have to do is get dressed.”

  Faith set the doll down and slid from the bed, going to pick up her jeans from the floor.

  “No, honey.” Anne went to Faith’s closet and lifted out the dress she’d put in there last night. A dress that matched the one the doll wore. She’d shopped for hours to find it. “This is a dress-up party. Here.” She held out the dress, watching for the awe to fill Faith’s features at the elegant garment.

  Faith’s nose crinkled as though she caught a whiff of some dead, rotted creature, and she looked up at her mother. Before her daughter could voice the objection Anne saw building, she knelt in front of Faith and held the dress up against her.

  “You’ll look like a princess, honey.”

  The “princess” glared down at the offending garment. “Don’t wanna be a princess. Wanna be a tiger catcher.”

  Dread sat on Anne’s chest, weighing it down, making it hard to breathe. I was wrong. Oh, Lord, I was wrong…

  But she couldn’t stop now. Surely, once they were sitting at the table having their tea, Faith would see what a special event this was. “Try it, okay? It’s really going to be fun.”