A Test of Faith

by Karen Ball

Faith grinned as she headed back into the house. “I’ve got to go shopping! I’ll need at least a couple of new swimsuits.”

  “Of course you will.” Her mom’s lips twitched. “And a new towel or two.”

  “Exactly.” Faith winked. “Who says you and I don’t think alike?” She slid the door shut and headed for the garage, the sweet sound of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears.

  Faith finished swimming her laps and pulled herself out of the water in one smooth motion. Grabbing her towel, she looked to see what time it was. Good. She had fifteen minutes before the pool opened and the first wave of kids showed up.

  After two weeks, she felt as if she was really getting the swing of her job. She liked swim classes best, because she got to spend one-on-one time with the kids. Open swim was fun, but with the heat this summer, the kids flocked to the pool in record numbers. Linda, her boss, was great to work for. She was witty and good at her job.

  If only she’d quit telling Faith she needed a boyfriend. “I’m not ready to date,” she’d told Linda over and over.

  “Ah, you haven’t met the right guy yet. You need someone to sweep you off your feet.”

  “Been there. Done that.” Faith grimaced. “Had my T-shirts stolen from me.”

  Undaunted, Linda delighted in stopping by during open swim to point out likely candidates. The last one she’d chosen had been a particularly hairy man of indeterminate age—who could see wrinkles under all that hair?—and a potbelly hanging over his Speedo.

  Faith thanked her for her concern and told her to get lost.

  Yesterday, Linda stopped by early in the morning to let Faith know she’d hired a second lifeguard. “Open swims are too full for one lifeguard. So your cohort starts tomorrow.”

  Faith didn’t mind. She’d like having a coworker.

  She gathered up the float rope, which divided the shallow end of the pool from the deep, and started toward the hooks to fasten it in place for open swim. She should have thought to ask Linda the new girl’s name, but she’d know it soon enough. She was supposed to be here any min—

  “Hey.”

  Faith spun at the deep voice right behind her—and suddenly her feet slipped off the edge of the pool. “Eep!”

  The float rope went flying when her arms pinwheeled in a frantic effort to regain her balance. But just as she was about to fall backward into the pool, strong hands grabbed her wrists and jerked her forward. Before she knew what was happening, Faith found her nose smashed against a broad chest, her arms pinned at her sides in a bear hug.

  “Fanks,” she muttered into the chest, then pushed away—and almost fell into the pool out of pure shock.

  A tall, trim, sandy-haired Adonis stood there. Faith looked up, up, up—he was at least as tall as her dad, and he was six-foot-one—and found bright blue eyes smiling at her.

  “Don’t mention it.” With that, he leaned down and picked up the float rope. Watching him, Faith realized he was wearing swim trunks.

  “Here—” she reached for the rope—“I’ll take that. Open swim doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”

  “I know.” He didn’t surrender the rope. “I’ll help you with this.”

  She frowned. She didn’t care how tall, blond, and handsome he was, she could get into trouble for letting him in early. But before she could point that out, he stuck out a hand.

  “I’m Zeke Galine. Your new partner.”

  “My …” Ooooh, she was going to get Linda for this!

  He held out one end of the float rope to her. “I’ll head to the other side, and we can fasten it in place.”

  Faith nodded. She let the rope out as Zeke headed around the pool, his long, lean strides eating up the distance in record time. This guy was definitely in shape. Very, very good shape. A tug on the rope drew her attention, and she realized with a start that Zeke was standing there, watching her watch him.

  The smile that eased across his face sent heat surging into her cheeks. She knelt down, fastened the rope, then went to the lifeguard stand. But as she got there, a muscular arm reached from behind her, plucked her whistle off the hook, and held it out to her. She peeked over her shoulder.

  Zeke’s grin met her.

  The least she could do was grin back.

  So she did.

  Jared had just settled in his recliner after a long day at work when the front door opened.

  “I’m home!”

  He glanced up to greet his daughter, but the words died on his lips.

  Who on earth was that?

  “Daddy?” Faith peeked from behind the tall, well-built young man, a sheepish grin on her face. “This is Zeke. He works with me at the Y, so he, uh, he gave me a ride home tonight. And, well, he wanted to come meet you and Mom.”

  “He did, eh?” Jared stood and held out his hand. Zeke came forward and took it in a firm grip, meeting Jared’s eyes without hesitation.

  “Mr. Bennet. I’m Ezekiel Galine. But please, call me Zeke.”

  “Ezekiel, eh? Good biblical name.”

  Zeke smiled. “The best. My mom was a firm believer and raised me the same way.”

  Jared held the boy’s gaze for a moment—and what he saw there alarmed him. Then it made him smile. Well, well… “Nice to meet you, Zeke.”

  “Faith, you didn’t tell me we had a visitor.”

  Jared put his hand on Zeke’s shoulder and nodded to Anne. “Hon, this is Zeke. He works with Faith.” He watched Anne’s eyes widen as she came to shake Zeke’s outstretched hand. “He drove Faith home and wanted to come in to meet us.”

  “Oh?”

  Jared caught her eye and grinned. Yup. She’d seen it, too.

  Anne linked her arm with Faith’s. “Well, that was nice of you, Zeke. Would you like to stay for supper?”

  The boy gave Anne a shy smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Bennett, but I’ve got to go home and study. I’ve got class Monday night.”

  “Class? During the summer?”

  Zeke turned back to Jared and nodded. “I’m in the last year of my MBA in Entrepreneurship. I’m in the accelerated program, so we have class year round.”

  MBA? Entrepreneurship? That sounded promising. “Well, we’ll have to talk about that sometime,” Jared said, walking him to the door. “I’d like to know what kinds of plans you have.”

  Zeke got the message, loud and clear. And it didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he looked past Jared at Faith, and a slow, easy smile worked its way across his features. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. See you soon then.”

  Zeke inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

  As Jared closed the door behind him, Faith scampered to the plateglass window to watch Zeke leave.

  Anne slid her arm around Jared’s waist. He looked down at her. “So.”

  She looked at Faith. “So.”

  “You see what I did in that boy’s eyes?”

  She nodded. “As clear as the very straight nose on his handsome face.”

  “So.” Jared looked at his daughter, a slight catch in his throat.

  Anne nodded.

  The sound of a car engine told Jared their visitor was gone. Heaving a heavy sigh, Faith pried herself from the window and came back to the living room.

  Actually, floated to the living room would be more accurate. Jared wasn’t sure her feet touched the ground.

  “That’s a nice young man.”

  Jared was amazed Anne managed to say this with such calm. He’d half expected her to start dancing around the room. He pursed his lips. “A little tall, don’t you think?”

  “Da-ddy! He’s perfect!”

  Jared chuckled, gave his wife a squeeze, then headed for the door. “I see. Perfect.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “So, are you ready?”

  Faith blinked. “Ready? For what?”

  He held back the grin. It was hard, but he did it. “To go get your car. You drove to work today, remember?”

  Faith’s eyes widened, and red flooded her cheeks. “Oh my gosh!”<
br />
  “Uh huh—” Jared pulled the door open—“Like you didn’t know that when he offered you a ride.”

  Faith followed him out the door, then linked her arm in his. “You know what, Daddy?”

  “What’s that?”

  She leaned her head against his arm. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, punkin’.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, and a twinge of sadness blended with his joy. It had been clear in the way Zeke looked at Faith.

  And the way she looked at him.

  Their time of having Faith at home would be over soon.

  twenty-three

  “I cannot make myself a refuge, but Jesus has provided it,

  His Father has given it, His Spirit has revealed it,

  and lo, again tonight I enter it, and am safe from every foe.”

  CHARLES SPURGEON

  WHAT A DAY.

  Faith slid from her car and trudged up the path, sliding the key in the door with a heavy sigh. Mom and Dad would be in bed asleep by now. She’d meant to be home earlier, had been looking forward to sitting and talking with them, but the prof’s lecture had taken longer than usual. Yes, class was slated from eight to ten p.m. But this prof almost always had them out by nine. Nine-thirty at the latest.

  Tonight, when he was still going strong at nine-forty-five, Faith slipped out to call her parents, let them know she’d be home late. Then she called Zeke to tell him she wouldn’t be able to see him tonight.

  Faith could hardly believe they’d been together for a year and a half. Of course, they’d been engaged for almost a year of that time. Talk about a whirlwind romance. Meet in June. Get engaged in November. At least they decided to wait a year to get married. As hard as that had been, Faith knew it was the right decision. Now, December 21 was a mere two weeks away. Fourteen days, and she’d be Mrs. Ezekiel Galine.

  She’d be entering the new year—1992—and a new life, all in the same month.

  Though she and Zeke soon would be spending every day together, Faith was still disappointed she wouldn’t make it home in time to see him tonight.

  “I miss you,” she pouted into the phone.

  “I know, darlin’.” Zeke’s warm laughter flowed through the lines, folding her in a cloud of happiness. “It’s been at least four hours since I’ve seen you. But I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise. Oh, and the forecast is for fog later tonight, so be careful driving home. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Sure enough, Zeke’s warning was right. By the time she came out of the building when class was over, a dense fog blanketed the valley. The drive back to town—normally a half-hour drive at the most—took over an hour.

  Thank heaven she was finally home.

  Slipping her shoes off so she wouldn’t disturb her parents, she padded toward the stairs leading up to her room—when something caught at her, pulling her to a halt.

  Brownies. Fresh baked, from the smell of it.

  She leaned back and saw a dim light shining in the kitchen. What on earth?

  When she peered in the doorway, the sight that met her eyes made up for the day. There, in front of her chair at the table, was a plate of brownies and a glass of milk. Her mom sat in her chair, head pillowed on her arms, sound asleep.

  Faith came in, laying a gentle hand on her mom’s shoulder.

  She woke and looked up with a smile. “You’re home.”

  Faith leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’m home.” She slid into her chair and sniffed. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Her mother stretched. “From the sound of your voice when you called tonight, I figured you could use them.”

  The first bite was heaven. The second even better. Was there anything more comforting than fresh-made brownies and milk?

  Faith and Anne talked, their conversation warm and relaxed. As she watched her mother, Faith marveled yet again at the changes in her. She was so much softer, more accepting. She’d apologized to Faith for how she’d treated her as a child—and that fact alone told Faith she’d changed.

  Of course, Faith knew she’d made more mistakes than anyone. But to hear her mother say she was sorry, tell her she loved her no matter what … well, that meant more to her than she could say.

  Now, surrounded by the fragrance of her mother’s care, Faith knew the time had come. “Mom?”

  Anne tipped her head. “Yes, honey?”

  “I want to tell you … about the year. When I was gone.”

  She’d never talked about it. And, thankfully, her parents had never asked. Never pushed her. She’d always been grateful for that. She needed the perspective of time and distance to be able to tell anyone about it.

  Anne considered her. “Okay.”

  Warmth flooded Faith. Such simple acceptance. Such complete trust.

  No wonder she loved her mom so much.

  Anne listened as Faith talked, her mother’s heart cringing and weeping as she heard for the first time all that had happened to her daughter when she’d been missing from them. Her heart pounded when she related about the man at the truck stop, then filled with praise when Faith told her about the man’s love for God, the way he helped her.

  God had indeed been watching out for her little girl. Why had she ever doubted Him?

  She laughed at Faith’s tales of Ethel and the diner.

  “The woman drove me nuts half the time, had me in stitches the rest of the time.” Faith grinned. “I felt at home with her right away—”

  Anne knew the twinge of jealousy was understandable, but she didn’t let it take root. Instead, she just thanked God for this woman who’d been such a blessing to Faith.

  “—and I finally figured out why. Her spirit. Her devotion to God. Her love of life. It all reminded me of you, Mom.”

  Anne blinked away the sting of grateful tears and took Faith’s hand. She listened, awed at the way God kept her daughter safe, at the way He continually drew Faith to His side. And when Faith told about hearing the song, tears washed Anne’s face.

  They talked into the small hours of the morning, and when they at last walked toward the stairs, Faith linked her arm with her mother’s. She tugged her mother to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and hugged her.

  Anne sniffed. “I’m so glad you’re home, Faith. That you’ve found such a wonderful young man to love.” She smiled. “To marry.”

  Her daughter pulled back and gave her a watery smile. “Me, too, Mom.”

  Anne lay a hand on Faith’s smooth cheek. “My little girl is all grown up. An old lady of twenty-two.”

  At the wistful sound of Anne’s words, Faith lay her hand over her mother’s. “Just don’t let that make you think I don’t still need you.”

  “Well, of course not! A girl always needs her mother.”

  Faith giggled. “Exactly right. God’s been really good to us, hasn’t He?”

  “That He has.”

  They started up the stairs. “And I have a feeling,” Faith whispered as they reached the top, “He’s not done with us yet.” She hugged Anne once more, then went to her room. “ ’Night, Mom.”

  “Good night, sweetie.” As she headed for her room, she knew, deep inside, that Faith was right. God wasn’t done with them.

  More likely, He’d only just begun.

  She took hold of the doorknob, then stopped. Frowned. Then pressed a hand to her chest, breathing deep until the discomfort eased.

  Chest pains? She’d never had chest pains before.

  It’s just the darned diabetes.

  Anne nodded. Of course. The disease had caused neuropathy in her feet, which sent stabbing, burning pains from the bottoms of her feet to her shins. And it had aggravated her arthritis as well.

  She might only be fifty-six, but sometimes she felt ninety. Like right now. “Lord,” she whispered. “Any chance you feel like coming back soon? If so, I won’t argue. Those new, perfect bodies sound pretty good.”

  Cheer up. You’ve got a wedding coming.

&nb
sp; A wedding. And one day, grandchildren.

  Okay. So she’d stick around awhile longer.

  “As long as you give me, Lord.” She opened the bedroom door, heard Jared’s soft snores. The sound made her smile—and as she crawled into bed and snuggled close to her husband, Anne had to admit she wasn’t ready for eternity yet.

  Take Your time, Lord. She lay her head on Jared’s broad chest. Just take Your time.

  PART TWO

  “Anyone who listens to my teaching and obeys me is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse, because it is built on rock.”

  MATTHEW 7:24–25

  “The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family.”

  THOMAS JEFFERSON

  The

  Rain

  “Though the rain comes in torrents …”

  MATTHEW 7:25

  twenty-four

  “Every tomorrow has two handles.

  We can take hold of it with the handle

  of anxiety or the handle of faith.”

  HENRY WARD BEECHER

  WINTER WAS FINALLY OVER.

  Okay, maybe not for the year, but at least for the last week.

  Faith stretched out in her lawn chair. It was like the old folks always said, if you don’t like the weather in Southern Oregon, give it a week. It’ll change.

  She held her arms out in front of her, letting the sun wash over her skin. She’d forgotten how good this felt. Was it only a few days ago she’d been grumbling to Zeke that the overcast sky would never be clear and blue again?

  He chuckled at her, but she insisted it was true. She planted her hands on her hips. “Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve seen the sun?”

  “About as long as it was last winter?”

  “Ooohhh, you!” Faith turned and plopped a dirty dish into the sink, sending a dollop of warm, soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the tile floor.