Their mother stepped around the broken pieces and stared outside. “What happened?”
“I was just asking that question myself.” Their father set his things down, his face stricken with disappointment.
“Obviously they were playing ball in the house.” She looked from Faith—still cowering on the floor—to Sarah, huddled against the opposite wall. “Whose idea was this?”
Faith looked at Sarah and waited, expecting her to come clean with the story. Instead, her sister was staring at her shoes as though she had no intention of saying anything. Their father was not a man who raised his voice except with laughter when he was playing cowboy or horsie games with them. But that afternoon he came close. He ordered Sarah and Faith to the sofa and stared at them long and hard.
“In this life we all make mistakes,” he began, his voice a low growl. “But I did not raise my daughters to be liars. Someone better tell me what happened or you’ll both be punished.”
For three minutes—three whole minutes—he stood there, hands on his hips, his eyes shooting invisible guilt rays down upon Faith and her sister. They were quite possibly the longest minutes of Faith’s childhood, and she remembered feeling like she might be sick all over the clean carpet. She was about to open her mouth when her father pointed a finger at Sarah. “Young lady, you’re the oldest and I’ll have to assume this is your fault. Now why don’t you tell me what—”
“No, Daddy.” Faith was on her feet and she threw her arms around her father, her eyes squeezed shut as though she couldn’t stand his anger for one more minute. “It was my fault. I told Sarah we could play catch and I didn’t catch the ball. Don’t be mad at her, please, Daddy. Please … ”
The memory made Faith chuckle under her breath as she wrapped her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She thought back to how Sarah had cast her a surprised glance, but it didn’t matter. Their father’s face relaxed, and he patted Faith’s hair, running his hand down the back of her head and onto her back. “Thatta girl, Faith. Thanks for being honest. Now you know the rules, and I’m still going to have to punish you. You’ll spend the rest of the day in your room, but you told the truth and that should make you feel good about yourself.”
Faith wasn’t sure she’d told the truth, but she certainly remembered feeling better. Much better than sitting on the sofa squirming beneath her father’s angry gaze. She gladly took the punishment, content because no one was mad at her anymore.
It had been that way as far back as Faith could remember. She hated conflict, couldn’t tolerate people being angry with her or anyone else for that matter.
Another memory came to mind. Her father ran in fairly influential political circles and once in a while he’d have friends with opposing views over for dinner. Faith recalled several times when after the meal they’d gather in the living room over hot coffee and even hotter conversation.
“Aw, Bob, you lean so far to the right you’d make a minister look liberal.”
Her father would raise his hand. “Now, wait a minute, don’t forget about that tax you people invented to cover the—”
The longer they talked, the louder they grew. Faith understood now that the banter was all in good fun, and that her father’s visitors left the house with their friendships intact. But back then, from her childish perspective, the discussions had made her worse than nervous. Typically she’d work her way into a corner of the kitchen and sit on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chin until her mother found her that way.
“Faith, honey, what’re you doing?” She’d stoop down and place the back of her hand against Faith’s forehead. “Are you sick?”
Generally Sarah would be helping with the dishes and she’d toss out a sarcastic comment about Faith finding any excuse to get out of doing chores. But that wasn’t it at all. Faith finally explained herself one evening later that year when the conversation between her father and his friends again grew heated. That night, Faith ran from her spot in the kitchen to her bedroom upstairs, tears streaming down her face.
Minutes later her mother found her in bed, the covers pulled up over her head. “Honey, whatever is the matter? Is it something you ate? Don’t you like it when Daddy has his friends over?”
Faith pulled the covers down a few inches so that only her eyes and the top of her head were showing. “It scares me … ”
Mom pulled the blankets down further and looked at Faiths arms and neck. “Why, sweetie, I think you’re having an allergic reaction. You have hives all over your body.”
Immediately she summoned a doctor who confirmed the thing Faith understood better now. “It’s nerves, Mrs. Moses. Is there something happening in the home, something that might be upsetting her?”
By that time, her father’s friend’s had gone home, and Daddy stood alongside her bed, frowning his concern at both the doctor and her. “I can’t think of anything; Faith’s a very happy little girl, doctor.”
But after the doctor was gone, her parents sat down with her and drew out the truth. “It scares me when Daddy and his friends fight.”
Her father looked at her and then put his hand over his mouth. Just when she thought he might burst out laughing, his eyes grew sad and dark, like the deep places of the river that ran outside of town. “Honey, those men and I like talking about things we don’t agree on.” He cast his gaze at the ceiling as though he was searching for the right words. Then he looked at her once more. “We might sound like we’re fighting, but we’re only sharing our different views.”
Mom stood off to the side, her chin lowered just so, a crooked smile on her face as her father leaned over and snuggled Faith close to his chest. “I’m sorry we upset you, honey. You should have told me a long time ago.”
Faith knew he was right, but the idea of approaching her father and complaining about his conversations with his friends was almost as frightening as the visits themselves. After that her mother made a point of keeping Faith and Sarah busy when her father had friends over, and she never again remembered hearing them talk that way.
There were other situations—her relationship with Mike Dillan, her refusal to stand up to Dick Baker at the station, her inability to confront the HOUR organization over their request that Rosa Lee be removed from the Web site …
She had always managed to find the easy route, the path of least resistance, the road that might keep life calm and even keeled.
Several cars pulled into the parking lot, and people she recognized began piling out, forming a circle on the grass in front of the statue. Faith shook her head. How was it, considering her determination to avoid conflict, that God had her here, in the middle of a political hurricane? Her, the weak-willed Faith Evans Moses?
As the crowd began to build she found herself sliding down in her seat. I can’t do it, God. They think I’m their leader, and I’m not. I want to go home and hide under the covers …
Be strong and courageous, daughter. You will not fight this battle alone. I will go before you … the battle belongs to the Lord.
The words washed over her, giving her a strength that was not her own. She drew a deep breath and sat up straighten It was true. She would not fight the battle alone. She had God and Joshua and a thousand friends across the city. In the end, God’s will would prevail, whether the statue remained fenced or not. All He wanted of her was loyalty and obedience. Suddenly her father’s words came back to her, words he’d spoken days before he died. He and Joshua had been hired to take a case involving prayer in a public school and the media involvement figured to be considerable.
“If it doesn’t go our way it could break us,” Dad told her and Mom at dinner that night. His eyes shone with sincerity as he continued. “But you know I’ve learned something over the years of walking with the Lord. My best successes come when I am at my absolute weakest.”
His words had seemed strange, incongruous, as though her father couldn’t possibly have uttered them. He had never been weak, at least not as far as Faith knew. But he’d gone on.
“When I am weak, my God can be strong. And it’s the battles He fights for me that end up being my greatest victories of all.”
In the end, the school district in question had agreed to settle out of court, fearing they faced a losing battle. Her father had celebrated the news with them the day before his heart attack.
“See?” His cheerful voice filled their home with life. “I couldn’t do it, so God went before me and look what happened. They dropped the case! Those students can go on praying, and the Lord wins a victory all because we were willing to step out on His behalf.”
Her father’s words soothed the restless places in her heart, and Faith sucked in as much breath as she could muster. She climbed out of her car and headed toward the crowd as dozens of people turned and motioned for her to join them. Across the park she saw a construction crew and cringed as two of them nailed the first piece of plywood around the base of the statue.
The battle had begun.
It was time to meet the people, time to acknowledge that she was out of ideas, out of options, and fully incapable of fighting.
Most of all, it was time to do whatever it was God had for her to do. Even if it put her squarely in the middle of the greatest conflict of her life.
Rosa Lee was putting together a puzzle on the kitchen table in the minutes before school started when she remembered something. “Faith told me I could see her today. Is she coming for me?”
Her social worker wiped her hands on a dishtowel and walked closer, smiling at the puzzle. “Nice job, Rosa. You’re almost done.”
Rosa brought her lips together and did a huffy breath. “Excuse me, ma’am, did you hear me? Is Faith coming to get me this afternoon?”
Sandy Dirk sat down at the table and looked sad for a minute. “Rosa, Faith’s very busy today—” She stopped the way grown-ups do sometimes, and then kept talking. “Did Faith tell you about the Jesus statue, honey?”
Rosa’s heart lit up and she could feel her face change into a giant smile. “Oh, I love the Jesus statue. Faith took me to the park lots of times and we looked at the statue and talked about it.” Rosa felt a little worried for Miss Dirk, in case she didn’t understand. “It’s not really Jesus, you know that, right?”
Miss Dirk seemed to rub a smile off her face, and she squeezed Rosa’s shoulder real soft like. “Of course.”
Rosa nodded, glad Miss Dirk knew the truth. “It’s just a reminder of Jesus. Sort of like when I draw a picture of Him in Sunday school.” Her smile was back again. “I think it’s the bestest picture in the whole world, Miss Dirk. Because my Jesus—” she held out her arms so that her hands were stretched out toward heaven—“my Jesus is even bigger than the trees. And He always has His arms open for me to hug Him anytime I want.”
Miss Dirk’s eyes looked kind of wet and shiny, but she smiled. “Yes, honey, that’s right. Anytime you want.”
“Like when I’m thinking about having a mommy and a daddy and wondering when Gods going to bring them to meet me. That’s when its really nice to remember just how big my Jesus is.”
Miss Dirk blinked at Rosa. “Some sad people are trying to take the Jesus statue down. Did Miss Faith tell you that?”
A sick feeling filled up Rosa’s tummy and she dropped the puzzle piece in her hand. “Take it down? You mean like take it away so it isn’t in the park anymore?”
“Yes, honey.” Miss Dirk covered Rosa’s hand with her own. Rosa made herself think as hard as she could, but no reasons came to her. Why would anyone want to take the Jesus statue down? Then she got an idea, and her heart grew kind of jumpy. “Is Faith going to stop them? She likes the Jesus statue, too.”
“Well, that’s just it, Rosa. That’s what Faith’s doing today. She’s meeting with a lot of people from the town who like the statue, and they’re going to pray for the sad people who want to take it down. That’s why she can’t come and play with you today.”
What? Faith would be praying for the sad people? Rosa sat up straighter and pulled her knees beneath her. “Then I need to be there, Miss Dirk. It’s my statue too. Faith would want me there, praying with her, I know she would.”
Her social worker smiled, and Rosa knew the answer was no. “You have school today. I can’t keep you home so you can pray with Faith.”
As soon as she said the words, Miss Dirk’s face looked the same way it had one night when she burned the squash and ate a whole bite of it anyway. Rosa leaned closer. “But Faith told me there’s nothing more important than praying. It’s the whole reason we’re here on earth.”
Miss Dirk put her elbows on the table and slumped over a little. She stayed that way for a long time and finally she looked at Rosa, her lips squished together. “Oh, all right. What could it hurt?”
Rosa jumped from her seat, clapped her hands, and danced about the kitchen floor. She spun and twirled her way in front of Miss Dirk and stopped only long enough to get more information. “When can we go, huh? Is Faith already there?”
Miss Dirk looked at the big clock on the wall and nodded. “Probably.” She tugged on Rosa’s shirt, straightening out the wrinkles. “Go get your sweater, and I’ll take you there now.”
Rosa clapped some more and hurried her feet up the stairs to the closet she shared with two older girls. She grabbed her sweater, pulled it around her shoulders, and checked the mirror. A piece of her hair was sticking out above her ears, and Rosa tucked it in neatly and smiled at herself. Faith was right. Jesus had made her a very pretty girl. She waved at herself real quick and skipped back down the stairs.
If Faith was going to pray for the sad people who wanted to take the statue down, then Rosa was sure everything would work out just fine. God would see to that. She waited by the door for Miss Dirk to get her coat and keys and grinned quietly to herself. Even if it wasn’t sunny outside, it was going to be a wonderful day after all. She was going to spend it talking with her two favorite people in all the world.
Faith Evans and her best friend, Jesus.
The six o’clock news used the protest at the Jesus statue as their lead story, and Joshua watched it closely in his living room, his wife at his side. Two of the three major networks chose to play Faith as the primary local angle, saying things like, “Former WKZN newscaster Faith Evans—who lost her job because of her role in the fight to keep the Jesus statue standing—led the protest at Jericho Park this morning … ” and “The battle has already been costly to local residents, especially Faith Evans, who was removed from her position as anchor for WKZN because of her role in the fight to keep the Jesus statue … ”
Joshua watched for many reasons.
First, he wanted to see the way the statue looked with walls around it. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to drive by the park that afternoon, hadn’t wanted to stomach the sight of the statue walled up with plywood, so the pictures on the news were his first chance to see the effects of the judges ruling.
Also he wanted to get a feel for the residents’ heart on the issue, whether they were tired of the battle or willing to go the distance to see their statue standing proudly the way it had stood for a hundred years prior.
Two minutes into the newscast, he could see that none of the city’s supporters were losing their fervor. If anything, their numbers had grown, making the crowd a considerable force as they marched around the park while workers erected the plywood wall. Every station carried several sound bites from Faith and featured her in much of the taped footage. In several shots Joshua saw a little Asian girl at Faith’s side, a child no older than five or six who looked at Faith with wide, adoring eyes. He tried to remember where he’d seen her before and it hit him.
She was the little girl featured a few weeks back on the Wednesday’s Child program, the one Faith had hosted. Obviously Faith’s love for the girl went beyond her role as an interested reporter. He watched as Faith’s face filled the screen and a reporter asked her whether the battle of Jericho Park was worth losing her job over.
“Rec
ently I’ve come to understand that there’s nothing more important, more sacred than your convictions.” She smiled in a way that was contagious among the reporters, disarming them, Joshua noticed, before they might realize what was happening. “I believe the people have a right to their statue … our statue. Even if it does depict the central figure in the Christian faith. This is the kind of battle that’s worth fighting.” She smiled again, a smile void of animosity. “My father taught me that.”
There was something about Faith’s openhearted smile that touched Joshua deeply. As though she held no anger toward the people at HOUR or the station manager who had fired her, but rather a deep compassion. It was not something that could be faked, and Joshua knew it was the same love for people her father had carried in his heart during his days battling for religious freedom.
The camera moved in on Faith once more as she bent to give the little girl a hug, and suddenly Joshua was struck by Faith’s beauty. Oh, Bob, if you could see her now … Lord if You could let him know … How proud his old partner would have been of his daughter. Little Faith, all grown up. Joshua thought back and in his mind he saw her as a girl, running across the backyard with the other kids during a family barbecue. Now she was poised and confident, filled with a peace that Joshua knew could only come from one source.
The segment drew to a close, but the image of Faith remained in Joshua’s heart.
She was simply breathtaking, both in appearance and in the purity of her convictions. He leaned back into the sofa and wondered if somewhere in New York City, Jordan Riley was watching the same newscast. And whether the attorney’s desire to see the Jesus statue removed could possibly be stronger than the feelings he must be having for the very special young woman who’d once been his friend.
A Kingsbury Collection Page 87