by Karen Ball
“Why don’t you come up here with us, you handsome devil?”
The breezed tossed Anne’s curls and filled her cheeks with a rosy blush. Even from this distance, he could see the joy on her face. She’d told him tale after tale of her childhood, being a Girl Scout, following trail after trail with the surefootedness of a mountain goat.
“I was born to hike,” she’d said once.
Looking at her now, he believed it.
“How about a walk on the beach, instead?” He looked toward the surf. “I’m guessing there’s a sand dollar or two waiting for us.”
“I get the first one!” Faith followed this declaration by scrambling down from the rock and running along the trail. “Race you!”
Annie was on her daughter’s heels, and their laughter floated around Jared, filling his ears and his soul.
Yes, this had been a good idea. And if he had to work nights and weekends to pay for it, he didn’t care. All that mattered was his Annie was happy again.
Hours later, they pulled their lunch from the picnic basket, spreading a virtual feast out on the table before them. Their walk along the beach had yielded two sand dollars—one of which was whole and still had the seven “angels” inside it—a pocketful of rocks that Faith had found particularly beautiful, and a tiny dried-up starfish. These treasures were lined along the raised rock wall behind their table, drying in the sun.
“Look, Daddy! Look at the gulls!”
Jared turned to watch Faith rip pieces of bread apart and toss them in the air, where waiting gulls swooped down and caught them with aerobatic ease.
“Greedy things. They’re going to be too fat to fly soon.”
He grinned at Anne’s laughing comment. “They’re not near as greedy as the squirrels.” He nodded toward the bushes covering the ground all around them.
Annie tossed a piece of bread toward the nearest bush, and three squirrels jumped out.
The gulls and the squirrels along with the picnic area that overlooked the beach were what made Harris Beach Jared’s favorite day-trip location. The heavy brush covering the ground was alive with squirrels. They were careful enough not to come too close, but still provided ample entertainment as they begged for morsels of food. Faith called Harris Beach “Squirrel Beach,” and Jared couldn’t argue with her.
Anne came to slide her arms around his waist. “Thanks for suggesting this. It was a great idea.”
He folded her into his embrace. Though they’d been married nearly twenty years, she never ceased to bring a smile to his face—and his heart. “That’s the only kind of ideas I have.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “Great ones.”
“Like marrying me, of course.”
His grin widened. “Of course. Though you could hardly resist me, handsome man that I am.”
Anne’s laughter bubbled. “Oh yeah, that was it. I was so captivated by tall, lanky guys with big ears.”
“Who sat off in corners, singing to themselves. I know, I know.” Jared gave her a swat on the behind.
“Daddy’s spanking Mommy!”
At Faith’s gleeful giggles, Anne pulled away, her cheeks reddening. “Faith, shhh!” She looked around. “People will stare.”
Jared laughed and pulled Faith into a bear hug. “Yeah, squirt. Don’t you know I want to keep your mommy all to my lanky self?”
Faith giggled even harder. “What’s lanky mean, Daddy?”
“Tall and skinny.”
The crease in Faith’s forehead made both Jared and Anne laugh. “I used to be skinny, sweetie. When I was younger.” He pulled a muscleman pose. “Now I’m all filled out.”
“Now you’re just right.” Faith grabbed one bicep and pushed off of the table to dangle from it.
Jared kept his arm flexed. For all that she was seven now, she was so slim and light that he didn’t have to strain to hold her in the air. “You think so?”
Faith nodded, clearly sincere.
“Come on, you monkey.” Anne caught Faith and lifted her to the bench of the table. “Time to eat.”
The three of them sat and held hands.
“Do you want to pray, Faith?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
They all bowed their heads, and Faith kicked her heels against the picnic bench, starting her prayer in slow, thoughtful words. “Thank You, dear God, for this day. Thank You for this food.” Then, as though thinking up things to be thankful for had fueled her excitement, the rest of the prayer poured out on one breath: “Thank You for the gulls and the squirrels and the sand dollars and Mommy and Daddy and the squirrels and the starfish and the rocks and the ocean and the flowers and the squirrels and the pretty rocks and … and …”
Jared wasn’t sure how he managed to hold back his laughter, but he did. He peeked out of one eye and saw his little girl chewing her lip, thinking hard so she didn’t forget anything.
“Amen?” Anne suggested.
Faith nodded. “Amen!” She let go of their hands and grabbed up a sandwich. “Yum, Mommy! You cook good.”
“Yeah, Mom.” Jared bit into a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. “You cook good.”
“Keep it up and that’s all I’ll cook for the next week.” But the grin on his wife’s face belied the threat, and Jared just smacked his lips.
“Jared!” Anne almost choked on her laughter.
He shrugged. “I’m savoring every luscious bite.” He caught her hand and tugged her close for a peanut-buttery kiss. She buried her face in his neck for a moment, and he realized he’d only been half kidding.
He was savoring something. Every precious moment of this day. Every smile from his wife and daughter. Every tinkle of laughter that rose on the wind. And the sweetness of these things fed his soul, filling him to overflowing.
Yes, it was a good day. A blessed day. And he’d never, ever forget it.
Sunlight streamed in the kitchen window, dancing across the room to caress Anne’s face as she sat at the table, lancet at the ready.
She steeled herself for the prick, grimacing as the tiny needle did its work. Darn her sugars! They’d behaved so well while they were at the coast. She let herself believe they were finally getting under control. But since they came home, she was right back where she’d been before their wonderful getaway.
Out of control.
Amazing how much ground one could lose in seven years. She thought often about how pleased the doctor had been with her during her pregnancy. Lately, anytime she saw him, he looked at her with that grave expression.
Well, what was she supposed to do? It was as though her body was on strike. Nothing she did seemed to help.
She squeezed a drop of blood onto the test strip, then counted off the sixty-second wait. If only she could figure out why her sugars had suddenly gone out of control, fluctuating from sky-high to basement-low. She was feeling the effects of it, too. Sluggish one day, irritable and jumpy the next. It was enough to dread getting out of bed in the mornings.
Even her doctor couldn’t explain it. After her last bout of dangerously low sugars, he’d given her a thorough checkup, then shrugged. “Diabetes is a disease with a mind of its own sometimes.”
Anne’s teeth clenched at the memory. A lot of help that was. No wonder they called it practicing medicine.
Of course, though he couldn’t explain or cure the problem, he could add to it. Which he did by telling her to check her blood more often.
So now she got to prick her poor fingers to within an inch of their little lives.
“Mommy?”
Anne turned from the sink where she’d gone to wash the drop of blood from the test strip so she could read it. Faith stood there, worry evident in every angle of her seven-year-old face.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Anne tried to split her focus between Faith and reading the test strip. If she didn’t read it now, she’d have to prick another finger for more blood.
The color showed up. Darn! She’d have to adjust her dose of insulin again.
She tossed the strip in
the trash and knelt so she was on eye level with her daughter. Faith’s lower lip trembled. “Mommy … does it hurt?”
Anne brushed back her daughter’s soft, auburn hair. “Does what hurt?”
The little girl’s glance shot to the table, where Anne’s needle waited. Understanding dawned. She held her hand out to Faith, bringing her into the circle of her arms.
“Let me show you something.” Anne took the cap off the needle and held it so Faith could see it, fighting a smile when her little girl leaned away from the offending device. “See? It’s a really, really thin needle. I don’t even feel it when it goes in.”
Faith leaned forward, her somber face intent. “Really?”
Anne nodded. “Really.” She slid Faith to the floor, showing her how she filled the needle with insulin. Faith watched, eyes round, but when Anne was ready to give herself the shot, Faith put her hand on Anne’s arm.
“Wait, Mommy.”
“It’s okay, honey—”
Faith shook her head. “Not yet.” She moved to lean against Anne’s leg. “I wanna pray first.”
Anne looked down at her daughter. Oh, Faith … my precious girl. “Okay, sweetie.”
“Fold your hands and close your eyes, Mommy, like when we pray at bedtime or when you pray for me when I get hurt.”
Anne obeyed, bending her head until her forehead touched against Faith’s.
“Dear God—” Faith’s sweet voice was full of trust—“help Mommy. Help the shot not hurt. Amen.”
“Amen,” Anne echoed around the emotion clogging her throat. She met Faith’s solemn gaze. “Now?”
Faith nodded, and Anne gave herself the shot, then held the syringe up. “See? The needle’s so thin I don’t even bleed.”
Faith’s mouth opened in a little O. “It really doesn’t hurt?”
Anne knelt beside her. “Not even a little.”
When Faith’s small hand took hold of hers and lifted the bruised fingers, Anne held back a grimace.
“I bet that hurts, huh?”
She wouldn’t lie to her daughter, no matter how much she wanted to. “Yes, honey, that does hurt.”
Faith kissed each of her mother’s sore fingers. Then she let go of Anne’s hand, and a smile lit her sweet face. “All better?”
Anne caught her in a hug. “Better than better—” she rested her cheek against her daughter’s head—“the very best of all.”
On the
Hard Path
“As he scattered it across his field,
some seed fell on … the hard path.…
Then the evil one comes and snatches
the seed away from their hearts.”
MATTHEW 13: 4, 19
seven
“Rebellious, the storms it wooeth, as if the storms could give repose.”
MIKHAEL LERMONTOV
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL SEPTEMBER DAY, THE KIND OF day where the wind caressed your cheeks while the fall sun splayed its warmth across your shoulders.
It never ceased to amaze Anne how warm this time of year could be in the Rogue Valley. The scorching heat of August—when temperatures averaging mid- to high-nineties could climb as high as 115!—had only recently started to cool to the mid-eighties. The days were growing shorter, bit by bit. And early morning held a slight bite of cool that, though it never lasted past 9 A.M., was nonetheless a solid reminder that winter was coming.
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 a
s 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.”