Faith (12 page)

Lying in bed later, Faith's mind refused to shut down.
As much as she loved children, what Mary Ellen had gone
through tonight made her wonder if she ever wanted babies
of her own. Liza had insisted it was an easy birthing, but it
had looked difficult to Faith. Liza had taken over in a sure,
competent manner during the births while Faith kept the
sweat wiped from Mary Ellen's forehead and tried to keep
out of the way. Mary Ellen had squeezed Faith's hand so
tightly it still ached.

Just when Faith had felt certain there was no end in sight,
cries from the newborns filled the room. In one glorious
moment, the anguish was gone from the tired mother's face.
All that remained was infinite love glowing in Mary Ellen's
eyes as she held her babies for the first time.

Faith remembered something Aunt Thalia once read from
the Bible. A Scripture about how the pain of childbirth,
which can feel almost like dying, is but a clouded memory
after the child is born. She sure hoped that was true in Mary
Ellen's case.

She didn't think she'd be likely to ever forget such a
thing.

After breakfast on Friday morning, Nicholas went to the
woodshed. Faith had her heart set on joining him, but Liza
made it clear she had different plans.

"Faith," she called out from the parlor. "I'll be needing
your help this morning."

Drats. "Yes, Mother Shepherd," Faith replied, shocked
that Liza would admit to needing anyone's help. She
glanced up from dusting the parlor to see Liza slip a small
brown vial from her apron pocket and take a sip.

Faith flattened her body against the wall. Had she seen
what she thought she'd seen? Nicholas's mother chewed
and imbibed spirits?

Peeking around the corner, she covered a gasp when she
saw Liza tipping the bottle back and taking another healthy
swig.

She drew back. Oh goodness. Did Nicholas know about
this? Should she tell him? Her mind whirled.

Liza came into the parlor and pushed a basket of socks,
thread, and a darning needle at her.

"Best get started. We haven't got all day." She frowned.
"You do know how to dam?"

"Yes, ma'am," Faith replied, omitting the fact that she
detested the chore. As Liza brushed past her, Faith bent
close, trying to get a whiff of the liquor.

Liza pulled away, giving her a dour look. "What are you
doing?"

"Nothing." Faith grinned.

The weather was beautiful outside. Faith couldn't stand
the thought of being cooped up inside. She could hear the
sound of the axe biting into the wood. She would much
rather chop wood than darn any old day. She'd pricked her finger three times, and it was getting sore. No doubt about
it. Darning was more dangerous than wood chopping.

It wouldn't be quite so tiresome if Liza would only talk to
her. But the two women sat in the dark room, methodically
darning as they listened to the ticking clock.

Faith's eyes roamed the parlor. Every piece of furniture
was covered with sheets, even the two straight-backed
chairs in which they sat.

The more Faith studied the coverings, the more she
wondered why. "Mother Shepherd, why do you keep the
furniture covered?"

Liza drew a tolerant breath, concentrating on her stitches.
"I'll not have the sunlight fading the furniture. It's wasteful."

"Oh." As if sunlight could possibly get through those drapes,
Faith thought.

An hour passed without the two women exchanging a
word. Faith's toes curled in the pointy shoes she was wearing.
She longed for her boots. She should have worn them-and
her overalls. At least she would be comfortable.

Her thoughts switched from the furnishings and her foot
discomfort to Mother Shepherd, trying to look beyond
Liza's coarse exterior. Her eyes were probably once as deep
blue as her son's. Faith's heart ached. Did Nicholas have the
least suspicion that his mother had taken to strong drink?
Perhaps it was only for medicinal purposes.... That was
possible. There was a woman in Papa's church who contended that a tiny drink every now and then helped her rheumatism. Yes, that was it. Liza was using liquor as a
medicinal remedy for whatever plagued her.

Remarkably, Liza's fair skin was barely touched by the
Texas sun. Her hair, once blonde but now streaked with
silver, could still be attractive if only she would loosen
those unbecoming braids.

Faith was amazed to realize that Liza Shepherd wasn't that
old-why, she might even be pretty with a little fixing. She
stuck her finger and winced.

Drats. She'd rather spit nails than darn socks. Her boredom growing, Faith fidgeted in the chair.

"Must you squirm?"

The woman had barely spoken all this time, and now all
she could contribute was, "Must you squirm?"

Faith tried to hide her frustration. "I'm sorry.... I need
to use the necessary."

She wasn't lying; while she didn't need to go, she needed
to V. The necessary was the only refuge she'd found to
escape monotony.

"Well, don't sit there and squirm. Go do what you have
to do."

"Yes, ma'am." Faith laid her basket aside, then stood and
stretched like a lazy cat on a hot summer's day.

"And don't take all day. There's plenty of darning left to
do."

Faith stepped off the back porch and reached behind the
steps for the leather strap she'd been braiding on previous
trips. Keeping to the well-worn path, she held the strap hid den in the folds of her dress. Her handiwork wouldn't be
appreciated should she encounter Nicholas along the way.

She took refuge in the outhouse, bolted the door, then
made herself as comfortable as possible. For over an hour
she braided and prayed for patience, more faith, and more
guidance. Papa always said, "Don't make a bit of difference
where you pray. God hears you no matter where you are.,,

Well, she sure hoped he was listening now because she
was giving him an earful.

I'm running real low on faith, Lord. I don't mean to be always
complaining. I know there's folks a lot worse off than me. Guess
I'm just feeling sorry for myself again. My fingers hurt from darning, and I've got a big blister on my little toe from those awful
pointy shoes. I know Nicholas isn't as cranky as he seems. I caught
him talking real gentle-like to a stray dog the other night. He
didn't know I saw him, but he was awfully kind to the lost pet.
And one night, he brought a new caff into the house and laid it by
the stove. I thought Liza was going to faint. Said she'd just
mopped the floor that day! But he didn't budge an inch. Said he
wanted to keep a close watch on the heifer in case she got off to a
rocky start. Now I ask you, Lord, would a mean man be that considerate? I don't think so. I think he must have other things on his
mind, things that don't concern inc but that make him the way he
is. On the inside, I suspect, he is a kind man. If you'll just provide
me sucient faith to see this thing through, I believe it will all work
out. . . . Bless Mary Ellen's new twins. They sure are sweet

The sudden knock on the outhouse door startled her from
her preoccupation.

"Faith?"

She sat up. "Yes, Mr. Shepherd?"

"Mama says you've been in there over an hour. Are you
ill?"

"No. I'm fine." Faith felt color heat her cheeks. Of all the
humiliating things Mother Shepherd could do! Sending
Nicholas to the outhouse to fetch her back to darn those
old socks!

An eternity passed.

"Are you coming out?" Nicholas's voice sounded weary.

"Do you need to come in?" Faith asked, wishing he
would just go away. Couldn't a woman enjoy a personal
moment?

More agonizing silence passed. She knew she'd have to
answer him sooner or later.

"Mr. Shepherd? You still there?"

"I'm here."

"Go back to the house and tell Mother Shepherd I'll be
there in a moment."

She couldn't come out with him standing there. He'd see
the braided strap and be angry. It was one of those "man"
things he'd warned her not to do. She exhaled a heavy sigh
when she heard the sound of receding footsteps.

Supper that night was fried chicken, milk gravy, string beans,
and biscuits and sorghum. Faith cleared the dishes from the
table. It was one of the few times Liza consented to let her
help in the kitchen. Nicholas excused himself and retired to
the side porch. Liza retreated to the parlor to read the Bible.

Faith completed her kitchen chores. Pouring a fresh cup
of coffee for Liza and one for herself, she proceeded into the
parlor to join her future mother-in-law.

The kerosene lamp burned low. Liza was asleep in her
chair, her reading spectacles slipped down the bridge of her
nose. The open Bible was still in her lap.

Poor dear, Faith thought. Drinking and chewing. How could
she help Liza, make her see those were only temporary
solutions to whatever was troubling her?

Setting the coffee on a corner table, Faith turned up the
lamp for a closer look. Liza's face, peaceful in sleep, looked
softer tonight, almost vulnerable. Leaning closer, she sniffed.
Not a sign of liquor on her breath. Faith quietly removed
Liza's spectacles, placing them and the Bible on the table.
Leaning down, she gently kissed the older woman's forehead. Maybe someday, Faith thought, you will grow to like me.

Gathering the cups, she slipped from the parlor. Out the
kitchen window, she saw Nicholas sitting on the porch. No
sense in wasting two perfectly good cups of coffee, she reasoned, deciding to join him. She could use some company.
There were times when the silence that filled the Shepherd
house was unbearable. Tonight was one of those times.

"Mr. Shepherd, I thought you might like some coffee."
Faith wasn't sure of the reception she'd receive, but she was
willing to risk his rejection.

Nicholas turned to look over his shoulder. She was surprised to see him smile. "Thank you, Miss Kallahan. Coffee
would be nice."

Faith handed him the cup. "May I sit for a spell?"

Nicholas made room for her beside him in the swing,
glancing toward the parlor window. "Mama asleep?"

"Yes, I just checked on her."

Faith sat down beside him. She knew it wasn't considered
proper for them to be together without a chaperone. But
Liza was just beyond the window and she felt her presence.
By the look on Nicholas's face, he felt it too.

A million twinkling stars filled the sky. Sweet smells and
subtle sounds filled Faith's senses; hay cut that morning,
crickets, a bullfrog croaking a lonesome love song to his
mate. Fireflies flickered in the darkened pasture.

Faith closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze as it gently
brushed her hair.

"Miss Kallahan . . ." Nicholas paused. "I'm sorry about
the string of unfortunate events. I fear you will think I'm
trying to get out of our understanding, but I'm afraid I must
once again postpone the wedding."

She sighed, wondering if he indeed regretted sending for
her. "Whatever you think best, Mr. Shepherd."

"I have business to oversee. It will be another two to
three weeks before we can recite our vows."

Faith kept silent. Three weeks. She wondered if she
should offer to return to Michigan and save him the
embarrassment of asking her to leave.

"Mr. Shepherd, have you ever been in love?"

Nicholas gazed at the stars, his eyes mirroring distant
memories. "Love has passed me by, Miss Kallahan." He
glanced at her. "And you?"

"Not really. There were no eligible men in Cold Water, at least none I cared to fall in love with." She thought of
Edsel Martin and shuddered.

"Faith-may I call you Faith?"

"Of course ... Nicholas." She rather liked the feel of his
given name on her tongue.

"I know the wedding delays concern you. They concern
me, and I fear I have not been fair with you-that at times
I've been preoccupied and even short when I should have
taken time to explain my concerns." His tone gentled.
"This newest delay is because I have cattle to take to market. I'll be leaving for San Antonio first thing on Tuesday
and have some business to take care of on Monday before
I go. We could marry tomorrow, but I would rather wait
until I got back." He smiled. "It hardly seems fitting to get
married, then run right off."