Rebuilding Faith Ch. 11

Tom's grim mask of resignation showed his misgivings, Faith wanted to stay with Bill -- regardless of the immoral implications. "Faith, the invitation to stay at our house is always open and we'll take good care of Hershey while you're gone." An air of finality permeated the room, signaling Pastor Tom to pronounce, "Lets all have a word of prayer." Bowing their heads, words of thanks, praise and supplication were sent aloft, before the charitable husband and wife made a gracious exit.

"They're good people," said Bill sitting at Faith's feet, rubbing them through the blanket.

"Yes, they are." Faith's head fell back and she closed her eyes, "too good for me."

"I'm glad I'm not." Bill slipped his hand underneath the blanket to touch her bare sole.

"Yes you are. But I'm just too selfish to give you up." Instead of laughter from her lips, tears dripped from her lids.

"Then I hope you stay selfish for a very long time, because I don't want to be given up."

No response.

Bill studied her face. The swelling had diminished, although the bruises were darkening. She looked like a boxer the day after fifteen rounds, and she wasn't the winner. The internal bleeding of her spirit is what concerned him most, how much damage was done could only be guessed from the outside.

"Would you like me to go home and pack your clothes so we can leave right from the hospital tomorrow?"

"Mm-hmm, I'd like that. I can't go near the place right now."

So a list was prepared, and when Dr. Grady gave his "all systems ready for launch," announcement Bill blasted off, rushing to collect everything like a speed freak on a scavenger hunt, so as not to be gone long. On the return trip, he stopped at Avis and rented a car, leaving the uncomfortable, undependable truck behind.

Entering her room, Bill found Faith curled up and facing the wall, despondent. She brightened a little at the sight of him. His heavy heart lightened an ounce. There had to be a way to lead her back. The guilt of not protecting her was an ache that wouldn't stop.

"Did you find everything?"

'No. I didn't find a time machine. I didn't find the recipe book of spiritual healing. I didn't have a vision that suddenly revealed what you need. You're just stuck with me.' Aloud he spoke upbeat, "Yeah, I think so," sliding his fingertips along the blanket covering the curve of her hip.

"I'm making you sad, aren't I? I'm depressing you." She looked away. "You should leave. I don't want to complicate your life anymore. You have enough problems of your own."

"Faith, I only have one problem." Bill's voice cracked with emotion, "How do I fix this awful thing that's happened to you. I don't have the power. I was sent to protect you and I screwed up. Now I'm afraid I've lost you forever. Lost my last chance for happiness and ruined your life." Legs weakening, Bill dropped into the chair and covered his face with his hand, hiding tears. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh, Sweety," Faith's fingers softly raked his hair, "This isn't your fault. You're my hero, my White Knight." After more soothing strokes, she asked, "What do you mean you were sent to protect me? I know the timing of your arrival seems like a miracle, but your being here is just a coincidence, nothing more."

Lifting his head and meeting her brimming eyes, he had to tell her. The desire to stop hiding behind rational explanations was overwhelming. 'If I'm crazy, she should know it.'

And so, he began, "Faith, I have to tell you about my reoccurring nightmare..." and he told everything without stopping -- how his life seemed without purpose, how he went to the Sistine Chapel wanting life to be over, reached out to touch the hand of God painted on the ceiling, and fell asleep. How in his first dream while in the Chapel, he'd seen fire and heard the word faith yelled over and over, how he couldn't sleep peacefully until he was flying home, how the car unexpectedly stalled on Main Street, how from the first time she introduced herself he knew she was the Faith in the dream. "If I had paid more attention to taking care of you, instead of being selfish and thinking of myself, you wouldn't be... hurt."

Faith's eyes broke contact and wandered around the room. Her hand covered her mouth, appearing to hold in a sob or a scream. Lying back, tears trickled down to the pillow.

Bill put his head on the mattress, closed his eyes, and waited for judgment. Strangely, there was a peaceful sense of relief after telling the whole truth. He learned that hiding the truth from someone you love could be just as unbearable as hiding a lie.

Low voices woke Bill. Not wanting to interrupt, he listened.

Faith was talking to the nurse. "Oh, it feels so good to finally have that out of my arm. I know I'll sleep better tonight."

"You're doing very well, Faith. You seem to have more energy than your friend there."

"My fiancé hasn't been able to sleep very much in that chair. Is there any chance you could get another bed in here? I want him to stay again tonight, but he needs a good night's sleep too."

"I'll call housekeeping and see if we can get one of those recliners from the maternity ward brought up."

"Thank you, Claire, that would be great."

After the nurse left the room. Bill lifted his head and rested it on his hand. "Thanks, Babe. I must be more tired than I thought. I'm sorry for falling asleep like that."

Faith laid a hand over his and remained silent.

"So... I'm your fiancé?"

Entwining her fingers with his, she answered with a question of her own, "Did you think that after God sent you to me, I'd let you go?"