A Test of Faith (5 page)

Her mother would have been scandalized.

Though she’d purposely avoided baking anything to replace the brownies, today hadn’t been much better. She felt like she was moving through molasses.

“Mommy?”

Anne pulled herself away from her morose thoughts and focused on Faith’s pleading face. Housecleaning could wait. “Okay. One more.”

Faith squealed and grabbed the game pieces, plunking them down at the starting place. Anne watched her daughter, taking in the way her little mouth pursed as she concentrated, the way her beautiful hair framed her pixie face. Anne loved her daughter’s hair.

She fingered a lock of her own hair. She and Faith shared the same hair color, which was fine, because the color was the one thing Anne
liked
about her hair. Everyone else liked it, too, and often commented on how the rich auburn sometimes
seemed to dance with golden highlights when the sun hit it just right.

But that was where any similarity ended.

Faith had what Anne had always wanted. Girl hair.

She’d said as much to Jared a few nights ago as they stretched out on the couch together after putting Faith to bed. Jared nestled Anne close and stroked her hair. “You know, Faith is a little carbon copy of you. She’s got your eyes, your smile … she’s even got your hair.”

Anne grimaced and shook her head. “Hardly. Faith’s got
girl
hair.”

His chuckle was deep and resonant. “Well, I sure hope so.”

“No, you goof—” Anne poked him in the ribs—“I mean, she’s got that thick, silky long hair that bounces and looks … well, like a girl’s hair is
supposed
to look. Like you see on girls on TV.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Like those women on that new show.”

He laughed. “Am I supposed to know what new show you’re talking about?”

She swatted at him. “You know, the show you go gaga over. The one with those women detectives.”

“Ah—” he waggled his brows—“
Charlie’s Angels
?”

“That’s it!” Anne settled back, triumphant. “Now
they
have girl hair.”

Jared tightened his arms around her. “Don’t you have … uh, girl hair?”

“Hardly.” She leaned her head on his chest, pulling at a loose thread on one of his shirt buttons. “This stuff—” she let go of the thread and tugged at her hair, trying to ignore the fact that the texture of it wasn’t much different than the thread—“is
not
girl hair. Girl hair isn’t thin and straight. As for long, well you can forget about long. I have to keep it chopped short to look even close to decent.”

When Jared’s finger trailed down her face, she glanced up at him. The tender amusement painting his features stirred the embers of peace within her—embers nearly doused by yet another day of conflicts with a certain increasingly independent and opinionated child.

“You know, you look just like Faith with your lower lip sticking out like that.”

Anne batted at his chest, and he caught her hand, lifting it to his lips. Then he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“I think your hair is perfect.” He cupped her face with those strong, gentle hands. “Just like the rest of you.”

Anne sighed anew at the memory. Whether she agreed or not, Anne hadn’t been inclined to argue with him … not when Jared did such a good job of proving to her he meant it.

“Are you too hot, Mommy?”

Anne started and looked at her daughter. “Too hot? Why?”

“ ’Cuz your face is all red.”

Sometimes her child was entirely too perceptive. She was about to comment on that fact when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

“Daddy!”

The board game and pieces went flying as Faith jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. Alarm rang through Anne as she followed her daughter. It couldn’t be that late, could it? One glance told her it was, and her heart sank.

What was
wrong
with her? How could she let the day slip away without getting her chores done? What would Jared think when he walked in the door and realized not only was the house a mess, but dinner wasn’t ready?

Taking Faith’s hand in hers, Anne pulled the front door open and stepped outside, forcing a lightness to her tone as she greeted her husband. “Hi, honey!”

“Well, hello there.” He smiled as he slid from the car and closed the door. “Isn’t this nice? My two best girls coming out to meet me.”

Anne passed Faith’s hand to him. “Jared, I hate to ask it, but would you be willing to run to the store for me? I … I forgot to pick up a loaf of bread for dinner.” Well, it wasn’t really a lie. She’d forgotten dinner altogether.

Jared hugged Faith and nodded. “Sure thing, hon.”

“Can I go wif you, Daddy?” Faith leaned against his leg. “I missed you soooo much!”

The wry twist to Jared’s lips told Anne he wasn’t fooled.
They both knew Faith figured that if she went along, she’d be able to coax a treat out of her daddy.

“Sure, sweetie. You can come with me.”

Anne made herself stand there as they piled into the car, then pulled out of the drive. She waved, then, when they were finally out of sight, raced into the house. She had twenty minutes, more or less, before they got back.

Dashing into the living room, she scooped up the board game and dumped it into a drawer. Then she grabbed the vacuum and gave the living room rug a quick once-over, then managed a hit-or-miss dusting with the dust rag. That done, she scurried into the kitchen to throw some soup in a pan, slice cheese for grilled cheese sandwiches, and make quick work of a head of lettuce and a plump tomato for a salad.

She’d just finished setting the table when she heard the car in the driveway again. She turned to head toward the front door and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hallway mirror: Her hair was a disaster, her face was flushed, and her mascara was smudged.

Oh yeah, you’re a regular Carol Brady, you are. The perfect wife and mother
.

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
stoo
pid.”

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.”