by Brenda Novak
Highway 14 came up on her right. Hope automatically made the turn that would take her to I-15 and then on to St. George. Her glowing instrument panel indicated she was speeding again, but she was too engrossed in her thoughts to care. The genetic connection between Arvin and Faith was unfortunate, for Faith and the child’s sake. But everyone had secrets. Hope had managed to keep her own past a secret from almost everyone, except the people at The Birth Place—Lydia Kane, Parker Reynolds and the others employed there.
What was one more skeleton in an already crowded closet?
* * *
AFTER ANOTHER HOUR and a half, the adrenaline that had kept Hope alert through the entire drive ebbed, and her eyes began to burn with fatigue. When she finally turned down her quiet residential street of small brick homes, she was longing for bed and a few hours of unconsciousness before trying to help Faith face the future. Hope had insulated herself from others by focusing on becoming functional and productive—and to a certain extent, being a chameleon. She blended in. She didn’t make waves. She withheld the part of herself that knew pain. But helping Faith meant she’d have to engage emotionally, and that frightened her more than anything. What if Faith couldn’t reject the teachings of the Brethren? What if she gave up and went back? What if Faith clung so tightly to the past that even Hope could no longer escape it?
Hope didn’t want to be thrust into that environment again, didn’t want to think about Superior and her days there, because doing so only revived old heartaches. Images and memories of Bonner sometimes hovered close enough as it was. He was so tied to thoughts of her baby…
Hope hit the garage-door opener and let the car idle in the driveway while she waited for the door to lift. So what if the man she’d loved had married her sister? It didn’t really change anything. It just created a jumble of emotions Hope hadn’t felt in a while—and something more. Something akin to…envy?
It wasn’t envy, she told herself. How could she envy Charity, who’d looked so pale? Sure, she had Bonner’s children, but Hope had control of her own life. Nothing was worth relinquishing that. What she felt now was the sting of her father’s betrayal. That he’d let Charity marry the man she’d begged him to let her marry spoke volumes about Jed and his lack of love for his ninth child. Had he given her and Bonner his blessing, they would’ve become husband and wife. She would’ve stayed in Superior and raised her child as part of the family.
But then she would have remained a member of the Everlasting Apostolic Church. Which wasn’t so good, she decided. Bonner had claimed he had no desire to take any other woman to his bed, ever. Yet he hadn’t been strong enough to make good on his words by leaving with her. And he’d gone on take three wives!
Maybe her father and Bonner had done her a favor. Hope knew she couldn’t have stood by and watched Bonner marry again and again, couldn’t have welcomed those other women into her home and into her husband’s bed. This way, she was out of Superior and the strictures of the church. She was living a normal life that promised far more than she would’ve had if she’d stayed. And now she had Faith.
She glanced at her sleeping sister as she parked in her small detached garage and cut the engine, recalling the times she’d read the Bible to her, or braided her hair, or curled up in the same bed on Christmas Eve because Faith was too excited to sleep. They never received much for Christmas—gifts detracted from the true meaning, according to her father. But they were filled with expectation all the same, if only for the little presents they gave each other.
Her last Christmas at home, Hope had earned extra money taking in ironing so she could give Faith the beautiful Barbie doll her little sister had seen in the store window and long admired. Her father had immediately condemned the gift as being too frivolous and expensive, but the joy on Faith’s face when she tore off that wrapping paper made Hope believe her money had been well spent. Later that night, she’d found Faith’s most prized possession on her pillow—a plastic journal with a small lock and key. The pages that had already been used had been torn out and replaced by some roughly cut scrap paper. A short note written in Faith’s childish scrawl told her she wanted her to keep the journal.
And here they were eleven years later. A lump swelled in Hope’s throat. Faith might have been overlooked by others, but she’d always been Hope’s favorite. More sensitive than the rest, she’d always soothed Hope.
“Faith, we’re home,” she said, gently shaking her shoulder.
Faith blinked and sat up. “I should have kept you company on the drive, Hope. I’m sorry.”
“No. It was better that you slept, better for the baby.”
Her sister’s gaze circled the garage. For a moment she looked completely bewildered. “This is your house?”
“Just the garage. And I don’t own it. I rent.”
Faith climbed out, following wordlessly as Hope led her around to the front of the house, where she nearly tripped over Oscar, a large gray cat, who screeched and ran for cover.
“What was that?” Faith asked as he slipped into the hedge separating her house from his owner’s and crouched to glare at them.
“That’s Oscar,” Hope said.
“Your cat?”
“He belongs to my neighbor, but I think he’s trying to move in with me. He comes over all the time.”
“Do you feed him?”
“Occasionally. Mr. Paris doesn’t mind. I guess we sort of share him. Oscar generally won’t let anyone but Mr. Paris touch him, anyway, so it doesn’t matter much. He just hangs out on his own.” A cat after her own heart, Hope added silently.
Bending, Faith held out her hand to coax him closer, but he was still put out by his close call. Whisking his tail in a show of irritation, he didn’t budge.
Hope unlocked the front door and swung it open. “He’s not very friendly, but I admire his independence.”
“I like cats.” Faith peeked into the house. “Do you live alone?”
“I’ve had roommates in the past, but ever since I started making enough to afford the rent, I’ve been living alone,” Hope said, holding the door.
Faith still hesitated at the threshold, glancing toward Oscar as though she’d rather hide out with him in the hedge. Probably the idea of moving in with Hope made a decision that had been somewhat impulsive now seem permanent. “So you’ve never been married or…or anything?”
“No. No husbands, no live-in lovers, no steady boyfriends.”
Faith finally stepped into the living room. “And you’re not seeing anyone?”
Hope thought of Jeff, her neighbor’s son from down the street, and the doctors, male nurses and other hospital staff who asked her out on occasion. She knew they talked about her, perceived her coolness as a challenge. But no one had managed to pique her interest. She wanted a husband and family eventually, but the moment whoever she was seeing began to push for commitment, she felt such a terrible panic she broke off the relationship. “Not really,” she said.
“But you’re so pretty.”
Hope chuckled. “I guess I’m a little jaded,” she said, nudging her sister farther inside.
The house smelled of the fresh flowers Hope routinely cut from her garden in back and kept in a small tin bucket on the kitchen table. She liked the contrast of fragile versus resilient, old versus new, delicate versus careworn.
Hope flipped on the light. “What a beautiful home,” Faith breathed, almost reverently.
Hope took a moment to see her surroundings through Faith’s eyes. The house was old. It still had its original hardwood floors and plaster walls, but had been remodeled so that the front room, which had once been a porch, was enclosed by a series of paned windows. The rooms were spacious, despite the fact that the house was only about a thousand square feet. The kitchen opened into the family room, both of which could be seen from the front entrance. An office, set off by double doors, opened to the left. The hall that led to both bedrooms branched off to the right.
“Did you decorate this place
all by yourself?” Faith asked.
Hope nodded. “On weekends I search the classifieds looking for treasures, and I often pick up a piece of furniture for a fraction of its value. I fix and refinish wooden items in the garage, if I want the grain of the wood to shine through. Or I paint or stencil on various pieces I find, like that old church pew in the kitchen.”
“It’s lovely,” Faith said.
Hope dropped her keys on the counter. “An old widower down the street owns the house, but I take good care of it, so he pretty much lets me have free rein.”
Faith continued to walk through the main rooms before pausing in front of an arrangement of cross-stitch samplers on the kitchen wall. Large and elaborate, there was one for each season. “These are great,” she said.
“Thanks.” Hope liked to cross-stitch and collect odds and ends. Her dishes, silverware and linens were all mismatched antiques or one-of-a-kind items, like the Flow-blue plates and creamers from seventeenth-century England that adorned the white, built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace in the kitchen/living room.
“You must make a lot of money to live like this,” Faith said. “I’ve never seen anything more charming.”
“I don’t make a lot of money,” Hope said with a laugh, “but I grew up in the same household as you, remember? I know how to stretch a dollar.”
Faith cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re better at it than I am.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. This is just my version of The Boxcar Children. Remember that book? I used to read it to you when you were little.”
“I do,” Faith said. “It was my favorite.”
“This might sound silly, but when things got really tough for me after I left Superior, I used to pretend I was one of those children, finding or making what I needed out of the things other people discarded.” She moved into the kitchen to check the answering machine on the breakfast bar. No calls. Not unusual.
“I can’t believe you’ve done all this.”
“It’s nothing.” Hope changed the subject because her sister’s praise made her feel guilty for having so much when her family had so little. “You said you were living with two of Arvin’s other wives. Which ones?”
Faith paused next to the black-iron baker’s rack where Hope stored her pasta and cereals in uniquely shaped jars. “Do you remember Ila Jane?”
“That old battle-ax?”
A smile flickered at the corners of Faith’s lips. “She’s the only one of us who ever dares put Arvin in his place. He likes her cooking but doesn’t bother her for anything else, and she’s happy that way. Being around her was actually the best part of being married to Arvin. She took me under her wing, like another daughter. Her oldest is close to my age, anyway. But I’m not fond of Charlene, Arvin’s second wife. She lives with us, too. Her children are especially difficult, like her, all except little Sarah. Sarah’s only seven, but Charlene ignores her, so she spends most of her day with me.”
“Is Charlene still pretty?”
“Pretty enough, I guess. She’s given Arvin ten kids, so she’s done well by him.”
Hope no longer agreed with using that kind of measuring stick for a woman’s success, but she knew it would take a while for Faith to understand and adjust, so she said nothing. “Does he spend much time with Ila Jane or Charlene?”
“No, or his children, either. When he moved me into that old house on Front Street—”
“Not the big yellow one,” Hope interrupted. “We always thought that house was haunted, remember? We’d dare each other to ring the bell, and then we’d run.”
“That was when the Andersons lived there, and old lady Bird, Sister Anderson’s mother, used to sit rocking in the window of the attic for hours.”
“I take it she’s passed away.”
“Oh, yes, and her son was excommunicated for stealing from the storehouse. That’s how Arvin got the house.”
“So that’s where you’ve been living?”
“For the past few months. When he moved me in with Ila Jane, I knew he was putting me on a shelf.”
Hope rummaged through a glass-fronted cupboard for two mugs. “And you think it’s because of the baby? You said something earlier about your condition being ‘unappealing’ to him.”
“He claims he’s trying to leave me in peace, since pregnancy can be so uncomfortable. But I know he’s not really interested in doing me any favors. Arvin doesn’t work that way.”
“No kidding,” Hope added.
“He’s probably just sidetracked for the time being, what with marrying Rachel and everything.” She sank onto a stool at the counter.
A million biting comments about Arvin rose to Hope’s lips, but she voiced none of them. Setting the cups on the counter, she said, “I thought maybe I’d make us some hot cocoa before bed.”
Faith shook her head. “None for me, thanks. I’m too tired. All I want to do is turn in.”
Hope put the cups away, secretly grateful Faith had refused her offer. She was almost ready to drop. “Your room’s just down the hall,” she said, her sandals clicking on the floor as she moved through the house turning on lights. Stopping at the first room on her right, which was decorated in Battenburg lace and pink with yellow accents, she waved Faith inside.
“Nice,” Faith said as she stood at the foot of the bed and gazed around.
“Make yourself comfortable while I get you a nightgown and a toothbrush,” Hope said at the door. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for clothes and toiletries.”
“You don’t have to go to work?”
“Not until evening. I’m a nurse, so my hours vary. Tomorrow I have the night shift.”
Her sister plucked at her skirt, reminding Hope of a nervous habit their mother used to have.
“I know this must feel strange, Faith,” Hope said, “but you’ll be comfortable here, I promise. We’ll buy everything you need tomorrow.”
“But isn’t it going to be expensive to replace everything I left behind?”
“It won’t be too bad. I’ve got the money.”
Faith still seemed ill at ease, so Hope tried to combat her insecurity with a confident smile. “Don’t worry about anything.”
“Okay.” She started to turn down the bed, and Hope moved toward her own room to get the promised articles, but her sister called her back.
“Hope?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens if you get sick of me? Or we run out of money, or…whatever?”
Hope’s heart twisted. How vividly she remembered what it was like to feel as though the ground beneath her feet might crumble at any moment. She was still protecting herself from that possibility, wasn’t she? That was why she worked so hard to make her house a home. So she’d feel safe and protected.
“I might get sick of you, and you might get sick of me. But that won’t change the fact that we’re sisters, Faith. You’ll always be welcome here. We’ll work together to build lives we’re both happy with, and we’ll help each other get through the tough times.”
“Why?” Faith asked suddenly. “It’s been eleven years, Hope. Why bother with me when you have all of this?”
All of this. By most people’s standards, Hope’s home wasn’t anything special. But Faith had known only overcrowded trailers and duplexes and old houses with bad plumbing, all of which had been filled to bursting with children, secondhand clothing and shabby furniture.
“I know this will probably sound crazy to you, because you feel you’re forsaking God by leaving Superior, Faith. But I believe He’s put me in the position of being able to help you for a reason. I want you here, and Charity and the others, too, if they ever want to come.”
Faith smiled, and on impulse Hope walked back and hugged her. “It’s good to be with you again,” she said. “Whatever the future holds, we’ll get through it together.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be easy,” Faith said, clinging to her.
“No,” Hope agreed. “It won�
��t be easy. But nothing worth having ever is.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HOPE AWOKE to the sounds of someone moving around in her house. At first, the noise made her go tense with fear. But then she remembered she now had her sister living with her.
Excitement poured through her veins and mingled with something more difficult to define—not dread exactly, but foreboding. Hope didn’t want to go back to the way she’d felt eleven years ago, didn’t want to relive the loneliness, the fear or the struggle, even vicariously. But her sister’s happiness was worth the sacrifice. What frightened Hope wasn’t the difficulty of what lay ahead so much as the possibility that, at any point, Faith could give up and return to Superior.
“Faith?” she called.
The hall floor creaked as her sister came to stand in her open doorway. She was fully dressed, had already scrubbed her face and fixed her hair and it was only—Hope glanced at the clock by her bed—seven-thirty.
“You anxious to go shopping or something?” she teased. “The stores don’t even open until ten.”
“I just…I’m used to getting up early. I usually have work to do, especially now that it’s planting season. You should see the big plot Ila Jane and I have been preparing for our garden. We’re going to grow tomatoes and zucchini and corn and—oh, you name it—everything, even our own pumpkins for Thanksgiving.” She seemed to realize what she was saying and finished weakly, “At least, we were.”
Hope shoved herself into a sitting position and motioned for Faith to join her on the bed. “I have a big garden in back,” she said. “I grow a lot of flowers, some that I import all the way from Denmark.”
“Really? Why in the world would anyone need to buy flowers from so far away?”
“They’re dahlias and they’re beautiful. Wait till you see them. I usually grow a vegetable garden, too. Maybe you’d be willing help me with it this year.”
