Rebuilding Faith Ch. 02

Bill leaned against the trunk of his car, and watched Faith hurry to the church parking lot 50 yards away. As she passed a group of churchwomen, they turned their backs in an obvious show of disdain.

'What have I gotten myself into, now?'

Faith climbed into a beat up Dodge Power Wagon and sat there longer than reasonable. Climbing back out, she smiled at him, then kicked the tire in mock anger and threw up her hands in frustration. Moving to the front, she lifted the hood, reached in and, from the shimmy of her dress, apparently wiggled something. When satisfied, she slammed the hood shut, and impulsively wiped her hand on her dress.

Bill heard an exasperated groan, as she lifted the fabric to examine the fresh grease stain. In the process, he saw the burn scar stopped below the knee. 'She's kind of cute, in a quirky way.'

Faith gave him the thumbs up sign, reentered the truck and started a sputtering engine.

"Now there's dependable transportation."

When she pulled alongside, Bill threw his bags into the truck bed. He opened the passenger door and a mishmash of items fell out, including a hammer that made him dance.

With an apologetic grin, she said, "Sorry. My Mercedes is in the shop. Just put that stuff in the back."

"Let me guess, you're too busy to be neat."

"Hey, that's a good one. I'll remember to use it, next time."

***

In the minute it took Bill to pick up the debris field and sit in the passenger seat, Faith had decided to perform her "Kool-Aid racist test", because his coming home with her changed everything.

'I should have left him alone,' she thought. 'Then I could have accepted his charity without condition.'

Now, Bill was no longer a faceless philanthropist, and, on principle, she wouldn't accept anything from an identifiable bigot.

Searching through her purse, disguised as a book bag, Faith said, "I have to make a quick stop at the grocery store -- if I can find my coupons."

She picked out the newest photo of her children. Their faces always brought back the memory of her late husband, Lou, chasing them around the house, and yelling, "I want something sweet to eat. Where are those caramel candies?" They'd squeal and run, until he caught them up in a kissing frenzy -- teaching them to be comfortable with their bi-racial ethnicity.

No one was welcome in her house that believed them to be an error in judgment.

"Bill, do you have any kids?"

"Yes, I have a daughter."

He didn't say much and wasn't making it easy for her.

Handing him the photo, she said, "Here's a picture of my two babies, I took at Christmas. They're away at college until May," and then watched closely for his reaction.

At first, he glanced indifferently, and then his brow knit. His stare intensified.

Faith's stomach knotted, afraid she'd have to return the desperately needed money, and prepared for some insensitive comment like, "Are they adopted?" or worse -- a racial slur. An elderly matron in the church once looked at her kid's photo and called her a "nigger lover".

Faith had only recently returned to church services at the Pastors persistence. "Not everyone is racist here. Come back, and God will bless you for showing everyone what love really is."

So she started attending Sunday mornings, despite cold shoulders, and felt truly blessed by this surprise donation, now hanging in the balance.

Bill asked, "What are they... twins?" Handing back the photo, he added, "Very handsome boy and she could be a model. Nice smiles. My daughter's a senior -- graduates next month."

A weight lifted from her heart as if blown into space. Not only hadn't their race mattered, "Yes, they are twins. No one's guessed that in years."

"Really?" He laid his head back and closed his eyes, "they look as much alike as any brother and sister could."

"They may look similar but they are vastly different personalities. Seth is going to law school at Syracuse and Amy is premed at Buffalo."

Bill yawned, "Excuse me, I didn't sleep very well last night." Then turned his head to look at her, and added, "You must be very proud. I must've been difficult, raising them alone."

"They're good kids. It wasn't that hard," she said, modestly.

His eyelids drooped. He wasn't going to be chatty.

"I'll stop at the store some other time."

A few miles down the road, Faith studied him after he fell asleep. Despite his scruffiness, Bill was a handsome man. Forty-something, his face had the tanned, rugged look of an outdoorsman and, as much as she could tell through the layers of clothing, the physique to match. The backs of his hands were crisscrossed with bulging veins, hinting a familiarity with manual labor.

'I like strong hands. They show a down to earth quality in a man, someone who meets life's challenges hands-on.'

There was no wedding band or hint of tan line. She knew married construction workers often didn't wear rings, for safety reasons, so that didn't necessarily mean he was single. Strangely, she hoped he was unattached. Not because she wanted a man permanently. It would be fun just spending the next day or two close to an intelligent, single possibility.

The idea of a suitor had been in her mind lately. Butch, her contractor, flirted all the time, while working on the bunkhouse without pay for the last week. He'd asked her out. But she'd put him off.

'Why,' she thought. 'What's wrong with Butch?'

The list began to run through her head. First, he wasn't respectful. Second, he wasn't interested in hearing about her kids, which was huge. Third, he was too sweet -- phony sweet. She could probably think of more but...'Let's look at the pluses.'

Faith thought a few seconds and finally came up with, 'I'm just desperate,' then looked at Bill Holder and smiled. 'He'll make a nice fantasy... for a few days anyway.'

The pothole at the turnoff bounced Bill awake. The truck began the strained climb uphill, its wheels slipped on the loose gravel.

"Almost there, Mr. Holder," Faith announced, keeping her concentration on the narrow lane. In her peripheral vision she saw him brace, while looking out his window and over the treetops. "Welcome to Talon Mountain."

"Call me, Bill," he said. Glancing behind them, he asked, "How do you drive up this in the snow?"

"Oh, this is only an old farm road. The main entrance is on the other side. I brought you this way because I thought you might enjoy the view."

The extraordinary panorama of forest and sparkling water extended to the horizon. There were patches of snow, hidden in the earth's shadowy folds, where the late March sun couldn't reach. The hardwoods were still without the budding evidence of spring.

"Let me guess, that must be Talon Lake down there?"

"Nice try. But the official name is reservoir number 5. It's man-made."

"Why aren't there any camps along the shoreline?"

"You aren't from around here are ya'?" she said, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "All the land is restricted. This is the watershed for New York City. If they catch you even spitting on the ground they'll lock you up for life. Nothing's allowed that might contaminate the water. No powerboats, snowmobiles or anything motorized is allowed inside the Park region, but you can use a rowboat. It'll cost you $200 a year for a permit. And then you have to leave the boat chained to a tree, because if you take it away from the shoreline your permit is revoked. This is serious business."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It is, if you live in New York City."

They rolled into a rutted section, and Faith briefly struggled with the wheel.

"The regulations have crippled the economy around here for years. Land was condemned. Farmers forced out, because runoff put bacteria in the water. Tourism is negligible. In fact, there are less people living in Woodhaven now than there were 75 years ago."

"How do you make it?"

"Who say's I'm making it?"

Turning to look at her, instead of the scenery, he asked, "Then why do you stay?"

Thinking of all the complex reasons, she simply said, "I'm on a mission."

Reaching the top, Faith parked the truck so they could admire the view. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm going to be here much longer. So, I'm just going to enjoy every minute I have left," she said, and then wondered if he'd want his money back.

Bill didn't ask any questions. They sat quietly a few minutes, and watched angry gray clouds build up in the northwest.

"We'd better get going. Looks like a storm's on the way." Shifting into drive, Faith wheeled the truck around. "You'd probably like to clean up a little before lunch."

Bill leaned his head back, and watched the pine branches brush by his window. "It sure smells good here," he said, opening the window halfway, letting in the forest's damp perfume.

The air was cold and Faith could see his exhaled breaths. 'He's awfully quiet.' A little uneasy, she asked, "Why did you decide to give so much money to a complete stranger?"

Closing his eyes, he simply said, "God sent me," then laughed softly.

"That's not very funny. You shouldn't joke about things like that," She admonished, wanting to believe that he was sent.

Driving out of the trees and into the main compound of her endangered "mission", Faith stopped in front of one of the guest cabins -- a fancy name for a doublewide trailer on blocks.

"Okay, Bill. This is your stop. We had a couple staying here over the weekend, so the power and hot water are on. Bev, should've cleaned up by now. But if you can't find something," She pointed in the direction of the white farmhouse, "just knock on my door." Looking at her watch, she added, "Stop over in an hour and we'll have lunch."

Faith drove off, once he entered the cabin. She parked the truck behind the house and entered the kitchen. Hershey, her two-year-old chocolate lab, greeted her.

"Hi, Baby," she cooed, kneeling down. "Give me some sweet kisses."

The dog obliged, enthusiastically.

"Okay, now get out of here," she commanded, opening the door.

A conspicuous sheet of paper lay on the floor by the back door. Picking it up, she read:

"Dear Faith, I'm sorry, but we can't work here anymore. We wish you the best of luck with your camp, but our association with you is threatening our full-time jobs. Considering the current economy, we cannot jeopardize our main source of income. Sorry about leaving unannounced.

Sincerely, Bev and Pete.

"Noooo," she groaned. "Just when I was beginning to have some hope. Life sucks!"

A loud truck pulled in, and ended her moment of self-indulgence. Hershey began to bark and snarl.

"Well, at least I'll be able to pay Butch." Grabbing her checkbook and heading out the front door, she called off her dog.

The flatbed truck was piled with lumber. Clipboard in hand, Butch climbed down from the cab, looking more smug than usual.

"Hi, Faith," he said, jumping up the steps to stand at eye level with her.

'He's too short,' she thought, adding another item to the what's-wrong-with-Butch list.

"Mm, mm, you look hot in that dress."

"Thank you." She smiled, with feigned appreciation. 'Might as well keep him interested. Maybe he'll show up to work on time once in a while.'

"Business before pleasure." Tapping the clipboard against his palm, he asked, "How's the money situation? Any change?"

Taking his arm, she said, "Yes, as a matter of fact. I'll be able to pay you what I owe," and walked him to the wooden deck chairs.

"Hey, that's great," he said, in a voice less than enthusiastic, feeding her growing paranoia that he liked having the debt to lord over her.

They sat while she made out the check.

"Where's Pete? Is he here to help me unload?"

Handing over the check, she said, "Pete's not here. Give me a minute to change and I'll help you."

"Where's Bev?" he looked around, acting too curious.

She wondered if he already knew they had quit. "I don't know where she is."

They got up and walked to the door, Butch hanging closer than was comfortable.

"I'll be right back," she said, opening the door.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

She did mind, but 'I can't be that rude.' Relenting, she said, "Sure. Go through the kitchen. There's a bathroom by the backdoor."

Faith went upstairs and took her time changing her clothes, all the while listening for the front door, signaling Butch's exit. No such luck. To discourage his advances, she put on a dirty, flannel shirt and baggy jeans that lay on the closet floor for weeks. 'I can hardly stand the smell myself.'

Going downstairs, she looked out the front window. No sign of Butch on the porch, only his clipboard. 'He must be in, stinking up, my bathroom,' she thought, wrinkling her nose and moving into the kitchen.

Butch was sitting at the kitchen table with Bev's note in front of him. "This is awful, Faith. How could they quit without any notice, like that?"

"I guess they had their reasons." Faith walked to the sink and looked out the window into the woods, wondering if her were involved somehow.

The sound of scraping chair legs against the hardwood floor signaled his standing and she turned to face him. He approached aggressively swift, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace, before she could protest. "Well, I'm here for you, Faith. If you need anything, just call."

Genuinely touched, she rubbed his shoulders, and said, "That's very sweet, Butch. But I think I've taken advantage of your kindness too much already..."

"That's okay," he interrupted, his lips against her ear and his face nuzzled into her hair. The pressure of his grip increased. "You can take advantage of me if you want."

The way his hands were stroking her back, she knew who was taking advantage. "No, Butch," she said softly, while pushing his shoulders.

Instead of moving away, his lips moved down to her neck and his hands tangled in her hair. "C'mon, Faith. You've been teasing me for weeks. You owe me something for my patience."

Apparently what she owed him was her breast, because his palm suddenly began fondling it, his hips pressed her into the counter and the edge cut into her back.

"Ow! Butch, you're hurting me," she said, trying to control her panic and diffuse the situation gracefully. "Why don't we talk about it? We could go out to dinner or..."

The tearing sound of her shirt signaled his fuse had burned to the end and he was ready to explode out of control. "What's the matter, Faith? You don't like white men? Is that it," he growled, as one hand worked into her shirt and the other pulled her head back by the hair. "Just try a white man for a change... or close your eyes and I'll be as black as you like 'em."