KeepingFaithCole

by Christina Cole

  * * * *

  The early morning light slipped into the bedroom, crept silently across the worn floorboards, then glided over the colorful rag rugs Lucille had crafted, illuminating their playful colors. It eased up onto the bed, then slanted across Tom’s face. He stirred and opened his eyes to greet the new day.

  At once, his arms reached out to the woman sleeping soundly beside him. It hadn’t been a dream. Their lovemaking had been real. Tom drew his wife into an embrace, wondering if she might be interested in a little more intimate pleasure.

  “Morning, sleepy head,” he whispered, kissing her rosy lips. “Did you sleep well?”

  She snuggled against him. “Never better.”

  “I think I could get used to this.”

  “Hmmm. Me too.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist, then stiffened as the front door of the farmhouse creaked open.

  “Tom?” Lucille grasped his hand. “What’s that noise?”

  He placed a finger to her lips. “Stay quiet. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  “Faith!” She threw the covers off and leaped from the bed.

  Tom shook his head and placed a finger to his lips. “Keep quiet. I’ll handle this.”

  “Hurry, please.”

  “Where’s my shotgun?” he asked, hastily grabbing his pants and slipping them on.

  She pointed toward the north wall, near the door. When they’d moved in, Tom insisted Lucille keep it close for protection. He grabbed it, then slowly edged his way along the wall. He raised the shotgun to his shoulder, then blinked as he stepped into the main room of the house. The brilliant rays of dawn rushed at him, flooding the house with golden light. A gentle warmth settled over him.

  He blinked again. In the center of the room stood his mother, Faith clutched to her bosom.

  “Tommy, put down that gun. You’re liable to shoot somebody with that thing.”

  Slowly, he lowered the shotgun. “What are you doing here, Ma?”

  Lucille came running from the bedroom, drawing a heavy flannel robe around her as she hurried toward her husband. “Charlotte?” She stopped and turned toward Tom, obviously as perplexed as he was. “Why is she here? What’s she doing with Faith?” Unlike her husband, she did more than simply stand and stare. With quick steps, she dashed across the room. “Give her to me, Charlotte. Give me my baby.”

  “She’s not yours.”

  “She’s not yours, either.”

  “I’m her grandmother.”

  “And I’m—” Lucille stopped when Tom placed his hand on her shoulder.

  This situation could become volatile, and the last thing he wanted was trouble on a Sunday morning, especially after the wondrous night of passion he and Lucille had shared.

  “What’s going on, Ma?” he asked, shouldering his way between his wife and his mother. “What are you doing all the way out here?” Tom turned toward Lucille. “Why don’t you put on some coffee?”

  “Yes, I’ll get breakfast started, too.”

  “Do you need any help?” Charlotte called after her.

  Lucille shook her head. “No, thank you. I can manage.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Tom alone with his mother.

  “All right, Ma. I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”

  She ignored him. Staring after her flannel-clad daughter-in-law, she sighed. “She’s not happy, is she?”

  “Who? Lucille?”

  His mother nodded. “I know how much she hates me, and you know it too. She took a dislike to me the first day I came to Sunset, and it’s only gotten worse. She won’t ever accept me.”

  “Can you blame her?” Tom guided his mother toward a chair. “Let me take Faith, please.” He held out his arms. “Lucille will need to feed her now.” Already the little girl was beginning to stir and fuss. “I’ll be right back.” He brushed a kiss to the crown of Faith’s head, then carried her to the kitchen.

  “She’s not staying here, Tom.” Lucille stood with spatula in hand, gesturing with it toward the door. “If that’s what she’s wanting, you’d better make it perfectly clear to her that she is not moving in with us.”

  “You’re doing it again. You’re jumping to conclusions. Let me talk to her, all right?”

  “Why else would she come all the way out here?”

  “Maybe she just wants to visit with us. Isn’t that possible?” He handed Faith to her. “You worry too much, honey.” He stood close to her, breathing in the faint traces of lovemaking that still clung to her skin. Dear God, he loved this woman. Up until that moment, he’d never truly believed their marriage could actually work. Now, he wanted nothing more.

  Tom closed the kitchen door behind him and returned to the main room. Glancing out the window, he was surprised that he saw no wagon.

  His head jerked around. “Ma, how did you get here?”

  “Abner brought me.”

  “And how do you plan to get home again?”

  She patted the settee beside her. “Tommy, come sit down, let me talk to you.”

  “If you’re thinking—”

  “I know why you’ve done all this.” She waved her hands around the room. “Getting married, moving all the way out here, making a new life for yourself. It’s because you’re ashamed of me.”

  “Ma, please—”

  She held up a hand and silenced him with a sharp look. “Let me finish. I know I gave you cause for shame. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Well, your wife does, and I can’t blame her either. But you’ve made me stop to think. You’ve made me take stock, and I’ve made some big decisions. Abner and I are both going to go straight, Tommy. We’re going to quit drinking.”

  Unsure how to respond, Tom nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he finally said, although he doubted his mother would ever change.

  “Drinking is what ruined me, you know. It ruined my life.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve never really told you how I went so far astray. Maybe if you knew the whole story, you’d understand me better.”

  Tom figured he knew enough. She’d found her parents slaughtered, hacked to death by a band of savages who didn’t share their fervent beliefs in one almighty God. What more did he need to know?

  “You don’t have to talk about this.”

  “I know I don’t have to, but I need to. And you need to listen.”

  To appease his mother, Tom leaned forward. “All right, speak your piece.”

  “After the tragedy, I was sent to live with another family.”

  “I know. Reverend Herman and his wife, if I recall correctly.” He reached for her hand. “You’ve told me this before.”

  “But I’ve never told you all of it. The Hermans were good folks, and they tried to help me, but I was too hurt, I suppose.”

  “You were in a state of shock. I can’t even imagine how awful it must have been.”

  “They were good people, good Christians, and very strict. Expected me to follow all the rules, do all the right things. But, you know, I wasn’t ready. I needed time to heal. I got angry. So angry,” she repeated, clutching at her son’s hand. “I was angry at God for letting such an awful thing happen, and angry at myself because I couldn’t stop it or change it. And most of all, I was angry at the Hermans for expecting me to keep believing, for wanting me to get down on my knees every morning and every night and thank God for all He’d given me.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I didn’t have anything to say thanks for. So, I went out of my way to break every rule the Hermans gave me. I stayed out, started fooling around with the boys in town, and then with grown men, too. The Hermans said I’d rot in hell for it and threw me out of their house. I didn’t care. I figured I could make my own way. That’s when I started drinking. A few shots of whiskey, and a lot of the hurt went away. A few more shots, and I couldn’t feel anything anymore. No pain. No sorrow. Nothing.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder and sobbed.

  “Life
gave you a rough hand to play. I don’t hold it against you.”

  “Wasn’t long before I was lost, you know. Lost to God, lost to goodness. I knew I could ever find my way back, so I just kept going. Some of the men would give me money. Never much, just a few bits here and there. Enough to buy food. And more whiskey, of course.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it.” Gently, he wiped the tears from her cheek. “You’ve found your way back now, Ma. You’ve found your way home.”

  “I’m going to stay clean and sober, Tom. I know, I’ve said it before, but before, well, I never had good reason. This time, it’s different. I’ve got you. And I’ve got Faith.”

  “And Lucille,” he added. “She’s your family now, too, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

  “But she hates me,” Charlotte said, her voice turning harsh.

  Tom fixed her with a steady gaze. “You locked her in the storeroom at her shop, then accidentally set the place on fire. It was an accident, wasn’t it?” He held his breath, still not certain what the true answer was. Most likely he’d never know.

  “Of course it was an accident.”

  Tom scratched at his jaw. His mother wasn’t telling him everything. Much as it pained him to admit it, he suspected Lucille was right. Ma wanted to move in.

  “Are you expecting to stay here with us?” he finally asked.

  She lowered her gaze. “Like you said, Tommy, we’re all family. That’s what we talked about when I came back, don’t you remember? How we made that pact?” She jumped up and looked around. “You’ve got room here. You told me all about the place, said there was a big bedroom downstairs, another little one upstairs. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Yes, but, Lucille and I…” He fell silent, not knowing how to put his feelings into words, how to explain to his mother that he and his wife were only now starting out in their marriage. How could he tell her she’d chosen the worst possible moment to show up on their doorstep?

  “What’s Lucille got to do with it? You’re the man of the house, aren’t you?” She pursed her lips. After a moment of tense silence, she let out a heavy breath. “I raised you to be strong.”

  A sudden fury unleashed itself within him. “You didn’t raise me to be anything, damn it! You didn’t teach me a thing about being strong, or anything else for that matter. You never bothered to teach me or Sally about reading, about writing.” He paused only long enough to catch a breath. “For years, Ma, all I could do was sign with an X, to make my mark. Do you know how ashamed that made me?”

  “I suppose you had the right to be ashamed of me.” His mother stared down at the bare floorboards.

  “Not you,” Tom contradicted. “Ashamed of myself, ashamed that I couldn’t read even a simple letter.”

  “I know I wasn’t a good mother—”

  “Lucille has taught me, Ma.” Tom reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “My wife has taught me how to read, how to write, and how to do ciphers, too. She’s made me into the man I’m supposed to be, the man I’ve always wanted to be. Whatever strength I’ve found comes from her. I’m a man, and yes, I’m the head of this household, but I’m also a man who’s got respect for his wife.”

  She jerked away and shook her head. “Respect? That’s what you call it? Well, I see it different, Tommy. You’re not a man. You’ve got no balls. You’ve taken that little bitch to your bed, and you’ve let her pussy-whip you.” She walked to the door, opened it, and gestured outside. “My bags are over there. Bring them in.”

  Glancing through the wide front window, he saw several battered valises resting against the trunk of the old elm tree at the front of the house. He saw, too, the hope in his mother’s eyes, and he knew—right or wrong—he couldn’t turn her away.

  It didn’t much matter what choice he made. Either way, he’d pay hell for it. What was a man—a real man—supposed to do?

  He closed his eyes thinking maybe this would be a good time for a few words of prayer, but before he could even utter a single word, he knew what was right.

  Love was right. Always right. Love for home and family. Love for his wife, his mother, love for Faith. It wasn’t choosing one over the other. The answer lay in finding a way to love enough to bring them all together, to love so much that nothing else mattered.

  What was that little anecdote Leland had shared once? Too many people drew circles that excluded others, he’d said. When they did, when they shut you out, you had to draw a bigger circle, that’s all, one so big and bold it took them all in, hugged them all together, and refused to let them go.

  Taking a deep breath, he made his choice. “You can have the upstairs bedroom. For now,” he told his mother. “We’ll figure something out.” The last was spoken more for his benefit than hers. What, exactly, did he intend to figure out? Other than how to tell his wife that the mother-in-law she despised was moving in?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucille smiled as she served breakfast. The smile remained intact as she gathered the dishes afterward and set the kitchen to rights. But the smile was pretense, and nothing in her life would be right ever again.

  After a beautiful night of lovemaking she’d thought all her dreams had come true. Instead, she’d awakened to a nightmare. How cruel life could be, springing nasty little jokes at the most unexpected times.

  She could no longer trust her husband. But, had she ever truly been able to trust him? All the while she’d thought Tom had changed, it had been only her misguided perceptions of him. Like so many other women in Sunset, she’d fallen for his charm, for those damned cute dimples in his cheeks, and she’d led herself to believe she could make him into the man she wanted.

  Ignoring her mother-in-law, Lucille busied herself that afternoon with fixing up the little room that adjoined their big bedroom downstairs. It had been built as a closet, she guessed, but it was big enough to be used in other ways. With Charlotte in the house, Lucille wanted to keep Faith close, even when she slept at night.

  Especially when she slept at night.

  She didn’t trust Charlotte any more than she trusted the woman’s son.

  Long before bedtime, she had the room cleaned, furnished, and ready to use. Faith’s wooden crib took up part of the room. A small cot she’d found in one of the outbuildings now sat beside the crib. It might not be too comfortable, but hopefully it wouldn’t be needed for long.

  Surely Tom would come to his senses.

  She sat beside him that evening as she did every other evening, listening as he carefully read a few more pages of scripture. She’d chosen the passage with care.

  Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh…

  What a pity his comprehension skills hadn’t improved enough for him to even get the point!

  “I’ll be turning in now,” Lucille said sweetly when their reading time ended.

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Take your time.” She rose, turned toward Charlotte, and smiled again. “Good night. I hope you sleep well.” Quickly she fled to the bedroom she and Tom had shared the night before. The bedroom he expected to share again.

  Lucille slipped into her night clothes, then drew her robe on. The room felt chilly, or maybe it was only the coldness in her heart that left her shivering. She sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes on the door. Nearly an hour passed before she heard Tom’s footsteps. She tightened the belt on her robe, drew in a deep breath, and rose. As soon as the door opened, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man she’d married.

  “You lied to me.”

  He stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. He seemed uncertain whether he should stay in the room or go out again.

  “Lucille, it’s been a long day. I’m not in the mood to argue” Quietly, he closed the door behind him and took a step toward the bed. He sat down on the edge, leaned over and pulled off first one boot then the other.

  “What do
you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting undressed. Getting ready for bed.” Tom let out a long slow breath then grinned up at her. “I was hoping we might have a repeat performance of last night, but something tells me you’re not too keen on that idea right now.”

  Lucille pressed her lips together, doing her best to remain calm and to gain control of the emotions running amok inside of her.

  “You can’t be serious.” She spat out the words with disgust. “How could you possibly expect me to…to do… that…” Lucille shook so badly she couldn’t continue speaking.

  “You sure seemed to like that last night.”

  “We were alone last night.”

  “We’re alone now.”

  “No, we’re not.” The anger she’d fought to hold inside burst forth. “Your mother is upstairs! And if you think for one moment I’m going to allow you to touch me…that way…” She shuddered and shook her head. “How dare you expect me to have marital relations with you while she’s in the same house.”

  “Honey, it’s not going to bother her.” Tom chuckled. “I don’t usually like to think about it, and it’s really no laughing matter, but you know how Ma supported herself all those years. It’s not like sex is some mysterious, sacred act. She’s heard it all, she’s done it all, and a little bed-shaking isn’t going to upset her.”

  “You’re despicable, Tom. You don’t even understand why I’m upset. You promised me, don’t you remember? When you brought me out to see this place, you said it would be ours, and now…” She sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes. “You got what you wanted from me, then immediately turned right around and gave in to your mother’s pleading. She showed up and you were all too glad to let her move right in. What, did the two of you have this planned? How could you do this to me?”

  He unbuttoned his shirt, looked up at Lucille, then shrugged. “I know I said we’d have the place for ourselves, but after Ma showed up today, I gave it a little more thought and figured I was doing the right thing. She needs to be with her grandchild. You’ve got no right to deny her that.”

  “You didn’t even discuss it with me first. You never once asked me how I felt.”