A Test of Faith

by Karen Ball

  When Anne told Jared about it that evening, he sat there, staring at the floor. Finally he looked up at her. “We have to do something. Now. Before we lose her for good.”

  They talked. And prayed. And talked some more. And they both felt God leading them to the same conclusion—they needed to talk with their pastor. They set up the appointment and met with him that next week.

  It was in the course of their prayer and discussion that Pastor Fred remarked, “Maybe being at camp next week will be a good thing.”

  Anne and Jared stared.

  “Camp?” Anne finally managed.

  Pastor reminded them about Faith’s commitment, pointing out that reminders had gone out in the mail several weeks earlier. Anne put a hand to her face.

  “Oh my goodness! I thought that was a fund-raising letter. I—” she gave Jared and the pastor a look of abject apology—“I threw it out without even opening it.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Pastor Fred thought for a moment. “You know, I think God’s hand may be in this. If Faith had remembered this sooner, she might have backed out. As it is, we don’t have time to find a replacement for her.”

  “She could still refuse to go.”

  “No.” Jared’s tone was quiet. Confident. “She won’t.”

  Anne looked at him, and he took her hand. “Faith is a lot of things, Anne. I admit that. But she doesn’t let down people who are counting on her.”

  “And if she decides now is the time to start?” Anne hated saying it, but she needed to voice her fear.

  “Then we tell her she hasn’t got a choice. And we see what happens.”

  Pastor Fred leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His crew-cut black hair was liberally sprinkled with white. His eyes crinkled at the edges, clear evidence to the man’s propensity for laughter. “Do you mind if I call some of the others in the church? Those who’ve known Faith for a long time and ask them to pray for her while she’s at camp?”

  A wave of gratitude swept through Anne. “That would be wonderful.”

  “Absolutely.” Jared nodded.

  “I’ll pray as well that God uses this time to recapture Faith’s heart. Maybe once she’s there, talking with the kids she used to hang out with at church, she’ll remember what’s really important. Maybe her hardened heart will break and open, and God can get hold of her again. Now—” he reached for the phone—“there’s someone I’d like you to talk with, if you don’t mind.”

  “Whoever you think will help.”

  Pastor Fred’s face creased in a mischievous grin. “Oh, she’ll help all right.” He turned his attention to the phone. “Sarah, good! I was hoping you were still around. Can you come in here for a moment, please?”

  Mere moments later, a knock sounded on the door. Pastor Fred went to open it, admitting a young woman.

  “Anne, Jared, I’d like you to meet Sarah McMannis, the head counselor at the church camp.”

  They shook hands, and Sarah took the chair Pastor Fred indicated. “What’s up?”

  The pastor brought Sarah up to date, with Anne and Jared filling in here and there. When they finished, Sarah looked at Anne, compassion in her gaze.

  “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through.” She looked at Jared. “Both of you. How can I help?”

  Pastor Fred crossed one leg over the other, sitting back in his chair. “I’d like to assign Faith to you. As your assistant.” He tossed a grin to Anne and Jared. “Believe me, no matter how tough Faith may be, she’s no match for Sarah.”

  It only took talking with Sarah for an hour for Anne to believe Pastor Fred was right.

  Tall and athletic, Sarah was the epitome of the girl next door. But her freckled face belied a graduation from the school of hard knocks.

  As hard, it turned out, as they came.

  “I understand girls like Faith” She stood and went to perch on the corner of Pastor’s desk. “I was a girl like Faith. Raised in a Christian home, given all the love and breaks possible—and I hated it. Felt like my life was decided before I was born. I wanted excitement, challenges, danger.”

  She glanced at the pastor, then brought her steady gaze back to Anne and Jared. “And I got it all, and then some. I learned the hard way that turning your back on your family, your values, and God doesn’t set you free. It turns the key in the prison door, locking you inside yourself with nothing but desperation and fear.”

  Anne’s fingers tightened on Jared’s. That was what she was afraid of. She knew Faith was drifting, testing forbidden waters and liking the sense of danger in the rapids. But what she didn’t see were the rocks waiting for her at the end of the ride. Rocks that would shatter her, destroying her life and heart.

  “But God can get hold of you, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, no matter how far away you run.” Sarah’s face lit up. “If He could catch me and bring me back, then He can reach Faith.”

  “I believe that.”

  Anne could tell from the conviction in her husband’s voice that he meant what he said. She could only hope and pray they were right. For her part, Anne was glad being at camp would get Faith away from Trista.

  And Dustin.

  Anne didn’t know how far things had gone between Faith and that boy. But she was worried. More than she’d ever admit to Jared. Especially after last week, when she went to gather Faith’s laundry. When she lifted a jacket from Faith’s bed, something fell onto the floor. Anne reached down to pick it up, and her hand halted midair.

  A pack of cigarettes. It fell out of her daughter’s jacket pocket. Were they Faith’s? For months Anne smelled the smoke on Faith’s clothes, in her hair, but she’d always assumed it was from hanging around with Trista and Dustin. Faith knew better than to smoke. Her father hated smoking. Both of his parents had smoked, and they’d lost his mother to lung cancer when Faith was ten.

  She’d adored Gramma Irene. After the funeral, she became an outspoken opponent of smoking. Every time someone lit up anywhere near her, Faith would tip her little nose in the air, glare at the person, and announce, “That’s a smelly, ugly habit. And it kills people.”

  Anne looked at the pack. Was it possible? Had Faith really changed so much that she started doing something she’d once despised? Anne contemplated confronting her daughter, asking her if the pack was hers or not, but it wouldn’t do any good. Faith would never admit they were hers. She’d say she was holding them for a friend.

  Scooping the offending pack off the floor, Anne set it on Faith’s dresser. Then she felt in the jacket pocket. Sure enough, there was a lighter as well. Anne pulled it free, and her heart sank.

  Faith might be able to explain away the cigarettes, but it wasn’t near as easy to deny a silver, rhinestone-studded lighter with the name “Faith” engraved on it. Probably a gift, and Anne could guess who it was from.

  “Dustin Grant,” she whispered. Oh, how she was starting to hate that name.

  Anne set the lighter next to the cigarettes. Let Faith see them there. Let her see she’s found out Faith was smoking.

  When she told Jared about the incident, he absorbed it in silence. Anne understood. It was one more thing that convinced him they were doing the right thing.

  So here they were, facing Faith—and her wrath—delivering news guaranteed to set her off.

  “You don’t care about me anymore, do you?”

  Faith’s ice-tipped question pulled Anne’s focus back to the matters at hand.

  “Actually, we care a great deal. Which is why we want you to live up to your agreements. You asked to go camp, Faith. We didn’t make this decision, you did.”

  “A year ago!”

  “A year ago or a day ago, it doesn’t matter. You chose to go.” Jared’s tone was equal parts gentle care and firm conviction. “And go you will. I understand your reaction, but you must understand this—we are your parents, and we can make you go. And we will make you go. So you may as well reconcile yourself to the fact: You’re going to church camp for the summer.”


  Faith’s mouth compressed—a thin line daring them to cross—and her arms folded in front of her. “Fine. When do I leave?”

  Jared and Anne looked at each other. This was the tricky part. For all Jared had said they would make Faith go, they both knew Faith could take off. But either they believed she was in God’s hands, or they didn’t.

  “This Saturday.”

  “That’s in three days!”

  “Yes, we know. But we just found out about this last night, when we talked with Pastor Fred.”

  Faith pushed out of the chair. “I can’t leave in three days!”

  “Why not?”

  Faith spun on her father. “Because … well, because …” She waved her hands in the air. “I can’t!”

  Jared went to stand before his daughter. She looked up at him, and Anne’s heart jumped when she saw the adoration there. Yes, it was peeking out from layer upon layer of defiance.

  But it was there.

  “Faith, Sarah McMillian will be here to pick you up at seven Saturday morning.” He reached out, cupped her chin, and tipped her face with gentle pressure until their eyes met. “I know you can leave if you want to. I know you could disappear and not show up again until after Sarah leaves. But I’m asking you, punkin’ … please. Do what you said you would. Be ready when Sarah comes.”

  Faith stared at her father for what seemed an eternity, then gave one, curt nod. She stepped back, then walked from the room.

  Anne’s gaze met Jared’s, and he shrugged. “It’s in God’s hands.”

  Indeed. Anne only hoped they were truly big enough to hold her little girl and protect her from all that was working against her.

  Most of all, herself.

  Saturday morning dawned bright and early, and Anne walked from her bedroom, heart in her throat. True, Faith had packed yesterday. But that didn’t mean she was going.

  Anne refused to play security guard, though. Rather than knock on Faith’s door and check if she was there, she went on down to the kitchen. Jared joined her a few minutes later, starting the coffee.

  Anne was in the middle of preparing an eggs and bacon breakfast when Faith entered. “I want mine scrambled.”

  Her heart singing, Anne could only nod. If Faith had wanted her eggs dipped in gold and served on a bed of peacock feathers, Anne would have found a way to do it for her. That’s how relieved and grateful she was to see her daughter standing there.

  The rest of the morning held a kind of surreal air. The three of them sat and ate, talking and even joking. The way they used to, what felt like a lifetime ago.

  When the doorbell rang, Faith pushed back her chair. “I’ll get it.”

  Anne and Jared followed her as she went to grab her suitcase, then open the door. Sarah stood there, her face beaming. “Hey. You must be Faith.”

  Faith’s mouth quirked, and she looked down at her suitcase. “Wow. Keen sense of the obvious, eh?”

  “The keenest.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled. “Want me to prove it? I bet that’s your bag.”

  “Ooo, I am impressed.” Faith peeked out the doorway. “So where’s your car?”

  Sarah tossed a wink at Jared and Anne, then pulled her keys from her pocket. “Right this way, your highness.”

  “ ‘Bout time someone got that right.”

  Though Anne was sure Faith meant her response to be smart, she couldn’t help smiling. Because something Anne hadn’t heard in a very long time accompanied the words: Faith’s laughter. It bubbled and tinkled, wrapping around Anne’s heart, bringing quick tears to her eyes.

  Jared’s hands stroked her arms, and she leaned back against him.

  “This is going to work, Annie.”

  She could only pray he was right.

  Horseback riding. Swimming. Hikes in the mountains. Ping-Pong. Volleyball. Basketball. And yes, even the singing during worship time.

  Faith had found herself not only participating in these things, but even enjoying them. She hadn’t thought it possible. Hadn’t thought she’d be able to endure a week, let alone a whole summer, away from Dustin.

  She still wasn’t sure what to think of his reaction when she had told him what was happening. She expected him to be angry. But he just looked at her, those blue eyes thoughtful.

  “The whole summer, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “You could always not go, you know.”

  Faith straddled his motorcycle. “Yeah, right. If I don’t go with this Sarah when she shows up, Dad will pile me in the car and drive me there himself.”

  “You could always leave.”

  She frowned. “Yeah, I am. On Saturday.”

  Dustin’s eyes had an odd gleam in them as he gave a slow shake of his head. “No, babe. Leave. Home. Come here, stay with me. Then you could do what you wanted.”

  Faith’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She sat there, mouth gaping, speechless.

  “Tryin’ to catch flies?”

  His soft, playful taunt made her clamp her lips together. “Are you?” Was he serious? “Do you really want me to … to …”

  He moved them, coming to slip his arms around her and lift her from the bike. He held her close, brushing her hair back from her face. “Babe, I’d love having you here, with me.” He smiled down at her.

  Faith felt as though her head were spinning. Words didn’t make sense when he looked at her that way. “I … you …”

  Dustin’s deep laughter enveloped her, and he lowered his head. But before his lips could find hers, she turned so that the kiss landed on her cheek. He stiffened, then relaxed, letting his lips trail down her cheek to her neck. Then, when she could hardly breathe, he let her go and walked away.

  Faith stood there, shaking, swaying like tall grass in the wind. He’d always told her he understood her feelings about kissing. Even thought it was cool she wanted to wait until it meant something. Until it was real.

  Now she wondered if he was getting tired of waiting.

  Dustin pulled a cigarette out and lit it. “So, hey, go to camp. We’ll make the best of the next few days, then have a celebration when you get back.”

  “You—” Faith’s mind really was spinning now. Go, stay. What did he want? “You want me to go?”

  He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Hey, of course not. But you don’t have much choice, right?”

  “R-right.” That was right, wasn’t it?

  He shrugged. “Well, then, there you have it.”

  Remembering the odd exchange, Faith kicked a toe into the dust. Why didn’t boys come with some kind of instruction manual?

  “Hey, you goof. Time for swim lessons!”

  Sarah was coming toward her, beach towel over her arm, customary grin on her face.

  Faith would never have admitted it to her folks, but she liked Sarah. The older girl stuck pretty close to Faith those first few days. Faith finally let her have it, telling her she didn’t need a prison warden. “Relax. I’m not going to run away.”

  “I know that, Faith.” Sarah hadn’t been angry at her at all. She kept that smile on her face. “I’m not worried about you taking off.” She indicated the woods all around them. “After all, we’re a gazillion miles from the nearest bus station, and I can’t see you walking the hundred miles back to the valley.”

  “Ha ha. So why are you dogging me, then?”

  Sarah tipped her head. “I’m not. I just happen to enjoy your company.”

  That shut Faith up but good. Sarah enjoyed her company? Why?

  Of course, Faith hadn’t let on how much that surprised her. She tried to come up with some snappy retort, but only managed a lame comment that she figured Sarah saw right through.

  For the next few days, Faith and Sarah spent a lot of time talking. When Sarah wasn’t working, that was. As head counselor, rather than having a cabin of her own to watch over, Sarah managed the other counselors. She helped them deal with problems, anything from homesick or problem kids to the best way to build a campfire. Faith followed Sarah arou
nd, doing what was needed when it was needed, helping first one counselor and then another.

  It was actually kind of fun.

  Faith stayed in one of the cabins, and her counselor, Tammy, was okay. Faith discovered she didn’t mind the other girls, either. She remembered a couple of them from Sunday school and church camp when she was little. But since the kids at camp came from churches all over the western region, there were plenty of strangers. Even so, they all kind of seemed to fit together. Faith thought that was kind of cool.

  Tammy worked them hard, but once their chores were done, she let them play a lot, too. And she had a way of making work time almost as much fun as rec time. But what Faith liked most—and what surprised her most—was the way Tammy and Sarah and the other counselors treated them like adults. They didn’t talk down to them. Didn’t lecture them. Didn’t even preach at them. Just talked to them like they talked to each other.

  Every morning they read the Bible together and prayed for the day. Then, when they started their chores, Tammy would ask them all a question, and they’d get all caught up in the discussion. Before they knew it, chores were done and it was time to have fun.

  Almost every day, right after chores, Sarah showed up at Faith’s cabin. “Wanna go for a hike?” she’d ask, or “Lake is nice and calm today. How about we canoe to the other side?” Whatever they did, they always talked. About life. Friends. Family.

  And God. Always God.

  Faith and Sarah had talked late into the night last night, so Faith had a hard time crawling from bed this morning. Tammy teased her about doing her chores in her sleep, and Faith stuck her tongue out at her. “I was talking to your boss, Miss Counselor. So there.”

  Tammy laughed, then handed Faith the broom. “Think you can handle sweeping the floor?”

  “Do I have to be awake to do it?”

  “Nah. Why should today be different from any other day?”

  “Ha ha.” Faith pulled a face and got to work. Tammy kind of reminded Faith of her mom. They used to laugh and tease like this. A long time ago.

  Tammy jumped in to the day’s question-and-answer bit. “Okay, everyone look at Faith.”

  “Please,” someone quipped. “I just ate.”