Finding Faith

by B. E. Baker

  “You're making a mistake, sir.” I reach across the table in front of him and gather up all my press clippings, thank you letters, emails, and charts. None of it mattered, not in the end. “But because your family knew the right people, and donated to the right groups, it's your mistake to make. I wish you the very best in your admirable and more impressive goals of healing sick kids' bodies. I hope that one day you'll see the value in instilling hope and love in kids' hearts, too.”

  I head back into my office long enough to check my voicemail and make notes, grab my coat, and finish up my phone call notations. I'll be calling all day tomorrow as well, hoping everyone has done what they were supposed to do. If not, I'll have a few extra families this year. I've had as many as six extra families in the past, but last year I only had two.

  I slide my arms into the sleeves of my navy blue pea coat and button it up. I'm proud that I don't glare at Mr. Peters where he's still poring over letters in the conference room when I walk past. He's all alone in there, which leaves me wondering where exactly Foster went.

  I slow down as I pass Foster's office, looking for clues of why he abandoned ship.

  I don't notice her perfectly curled, shiny, blonde hair until I'm two feet from Foster's office door.

  “Babe, when can we go?” she asks, one hand on her flat stomach. “I swear this baby is making me so hungry all the time.”

  “I just hope you can still fit in your dress at the end of the week.” Foster grins down at her. “My parents spent a fortune on it.”

  She's not really pregnant, I want to shout. She lied to trick you into marrying her. But I don't say a single word. I think he may deserve someone like her.

  I wave at Foster. “Hey boss. I'm headed out, but I wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it to the wedding. Unfortunately my funding for buying cute, wedding appropriate clothing and shoes has been cut and reallocated to my toilet paper fund. I do hope you understand. Wiping butts is more important than supporting friends. I wish you both the best of luck in the future.”

  “Don't be petty Mary,” Foster says. “It doesn't suit you. And you know very well that the budget decisions are above my pay grade. I'm just doing my job.”

  When Jessica recognizes me, her eyes flash. “Mary Wiggin.”

  I bob my head an inch or so. “So nice to finally meet you,” I say, daring her to say different.

  “I told Foster not to send you an invite with a plus one. You've only been seeing this new guy for what? A week? That kind of thing falls apart as fast as it goes together, if you know what I mean. We didn't want to put any undue pressure on something so new, and although you're welcome to come alone, we didn't want you to feel conspicuous.”

  Her liberal use of 'we' makes me want to hurl in the big, black, pot next to Foster's fake Bird of Paradise plant.

  I scratch my head. “I think Luke and I started dating about two weeks after you and Foster.” I smile sweetly. “But it's not my relationship status that's getting in the way of me coming. Actually, I can't make it because I'm getting a promotion at work, and my sister is moving in with me, along with her toddler son. Bad timing, is all.”

  “Wait,” Foster says. “What's going on with Trudy?”

  “It's nothing, really.”

  Foster opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Jessica, who's glaring at me says, “Well, in any case, thanks for letting us know.” She leans against Foster and slides her hand down his arm to take his hand in hers.

  “Sorry to tell you so late, but I just can't go.”

  Jessica's smile is relieved. I glance at Foster and he's wearing his plastic smile underneath pained eyes. Which means he's relieved too. If they didn't want me to come, why even bother inviting me?

  I pull my phone out of my purse and pretend to be reading a text message. “On second thought, Luke is free and we'll be there. With bells on.”

  Jessica raises one eyebrow. “What wonderful news.”

  “Yeah.” I drop to a whisper. “Speaking of wonderful news, I heard you have some great news to share. When I guessed, Foster told me to keep it to myself, but of course I can congratulate you.” I stare right into Jessica's eyes. “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  She flinches and her face falls. At least she has the decency to pretend to feel awful about her lie. I consider telling Foster, but I keep my mouth shut.

  Foster wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind. “We don't care about the gender as long as it's healthy.”

  I think about Troy, who isn't healthy, and I frown. “What does that mean? If it's born with Down's syndrome, you won't want it? If it's born with a bad heart, or another condition, will you walk away? What if he or she isn't that smart, or very talented? Will you still love them then?”

  Foster leads Jessica out of his office and back toward the conference room. “Such a nice chat. We're glad you'll be there for our wedding. But for now, Jess and I are taking Mr. Peters to lunch.”

  “I have to get to work anyway,” I say. “I'm way behind now that I've got a new role to train for.”

  All I can think about the entire drive over to my tax firm is. . . how in the world will I skip the wedding, or go alone, without confirming their suspicion that I can't hold a relationship together for more than a month? It's been a long month already, but I can't bear the idea of facing them without a plus one. Yuck. What's wrong with me? Why didn't I let it go?

  I reach for my phone, about to text Luke, when another message pings.

  YOU OKAY? Trudy asks.

  HOW'S THE MOVE COMING? I text back.

  ALL MOVED OVER ALREADY. THOSE GUYS WERE FAST, AND IT HELPS OUR PLACES ARE CLOSE TOGETHER.

  What a relief. WONDERFUL NEWS.

  I NEED A BREAK AFTER THIS.

  Me too. In the past year, Foster has managed to find the perfect girl for him: a beautiful, money loving, raging liar. Meanwhile, I'm still completely single, unlovable, and married to my job. Actually, Foster and Trudy have always been oil and water. She’s probably the perfect person to be my plus one if I need to go, and I feel like I do.

  WOULD YOU COME WITH ME TO A WEDDING?

  Trudy texts back immediately. WOULDN'T MISS IT.

  Peace settles over me like a warm blanket, fresh from the dryer. I've got a plus one, and I don't have to worry about upsetting Luke or reopening that can of worms. THANKS T.

  ANYTHING FOR YOU. YOU'RE THE BEST PERSON IN THE WORLD. I'M LUCKY YOU'RE MY SISTER.

  Unlike the polite platitudes friends throw out, I know Trudy means it from the bottom of her heart.

  Chapter 19

  I carefully hang my keys on the hook by the door from my garage into the house and head inside, but I only take three steps before stopping dead in my tracks. There's literally a box blocking my entrance, no matter which way I turn.

  “Trudy?” I call out.

  “Aunt May May?” a small voice comes from behind a box blocking my way into the kitchen.

  “Hey Troy. Any chance you could find your mom and let her know I can't get inside my own house?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I will.” Troy takes off skipping, which I know, because I hear his sneakers squeaking on the tile, but also because once he moves into the living room, his happily bobbing head bounces into view.

  I try shifting a triple high box stack while I'm waiting, but it's no good. I'm about to give up and circle around to my own front door, when I see Trudy's dishwater blonde hair over the pile I couldn't budge.

  “I need to work out more,” I say.

  “I'm sorry.” Trudy starts shifting boxes out of the way. “I was going to put most of this in storage, but then the storage unit I called tried to triple their price.”

  Any increase would be more than she could afford.

  “That's okay. I have lots of room in my garage and even more in my attic. It's probably better this way. You and I can sort through all of your stuff and figure out what you want to keep and what needs to be donated, and we can do it at our leisure.” />
  Trudy smiles. “Thanks.”

  A knock from the front door reminds me I ordered pizza on my way home. I've been eating too much pizza lately, but I do not have the energy, nor apparently the space, to make anything tonight.

  “Umm, if you can run grab that, I'll start shifting some of these into the garage. We can go through them all and repack what you're not going to move inside.”

  We spend the rest of the night tag teaming the unpacking, watching Troy and cleaning up, but as soon as Troy's in bed, she pounces.

  “And?” she asks. “Did you break up with him?”

  My stomach turns and I collapse on the couch. The feeling of cotton balls stuffed in my throat keeps me from talking, so I simply nod.

  She sits next to me. “So right after you broke up, you got Foster's wedding announcement, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  She shakes her head. “It's the way stuff like this always happens. Remember the time Miss Fitzgibbons cut my bangs two inches too short?”

  I stifle my laugh. “The day before senior prom. You thought your life was over.”

  “This will be funny in a few years, too. If you don't want to use me as your plus one, you can always beg off and skip the wedding entirely.”

  I rub my face with both hands. “It's not even just the wedding. I got final confirmation today that United Way won't renew the Sub-for-Santa charter, which means this is my last year.”

  Trudy puts an arm around my shoulder. “It's amazing you've done this for so long, but maybe it's the right time to move on.”

  Is she right? Should I give up on all the kids who need a little cheer, the kids like me who just need something to hope for? When I speak, my words come out very softly for some reason. “Am I using Sub-for-Santa as a way to avoid forming lasting relationships with children in my life?”

  Trudy narrows her eyes at me. “Who said that?”

  I shrug. “Me, I said it. Why would you think someone else would say that?”

  Trudy scowls. “It was this Luke guy, wasn't it?”

  “I might have attacked him and said he's doing his children a disservice by moving them several times a year. It could even have gotten personal. I might have impugned the trailer.”

  “That sounds kind of harsh, and unlike you,” Trudy says.

  “Someone needed to tell him, because Amy hates it and she loves him too much to say anything.”

  “Now you're advocating for his kids. You form meaningful relationships with anyone you've been around for thirty seconds. And you've been the best aunt in the world to Troy.”

  I lick my lips. “I wasn't fishing for compliments. I really want to know.”

  Trudy groans. “No, Mary, I don't think you're avoiding meaningful relationships with anyone, but you definitely are avoiding becoming a mother, and that's your prerogative.”

  I've never asked my sister this, because I didn't want it to sound critical. I don't want her to think I'm judging her, but I need to know. “After how Mom and Dad raised us, how could you have ever wanted a child? Don't get me wrong, Troy is wonderful, but aren't you scared?”

  “Kids are so hard,” Trudy says, “and the hard things about being his mom change every day. It's like he's quicksand. In a diaper. Slipping through my fingers one minute, and sucking me under the next.”

  “Gee,” I say, “still not getting why you wanted to have a baby.”

  Trudy leans her head on my shoulder. “We both had horrible parents. The worst I've ever seen, maybe. One left us and never looked back. The other drank himself into a stupor every day and didn't even notice when we left. But I had something better than them. I had an older sister who took care of me better than they could. I won't make up a bunch of fortune cookie truths about how fulfilling it is to be a parent, and how wonderful Troy is when he's sweet, and how I love and hate raising a mini-me. Because I don't think parenting is about me. In fact, I think the main reason I needed a child in my life was to learn to serve someone else. Mom and Dad were selfish. They only cared about what they wanted, their own desires and pains.”

  “Dad's sick,” I say.

  She nods. “Yeah, he's an alcoholic, and that's hard to figure out, right? Is he selfish, or sick? But at least that first time he picked up that bottle instead of taking care of us, he chose himself.”

  I sigh. “And I don't want to be a mom because it will be easier for me, so I'm like Mom and you aren't.”

  Trudy jerks back. “Exactly the opposite. I was super selfish when we were growing up.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You weren't selfish before you had Troy. I was there, remember?”

  Trudy laughs. “That's sweet of you to say, but wrong. I spent all my time doing whatever I wanted. Work, play, entertainment. Now I break my back for this little demon child, and I'd do so much more if he needed it. The real reason I could have a child is that Mom and Dad weren't my examples. They were, and are, selfish to the core. No, my example, the person who gave me hope I could do better was my surrogate mother. The best mom I've ever met.” A tear pools in Trudy's eye.

  “Who?” Maybe she means Miss Fitzgibbons of the horrible haircuts. Or her favorite fifth grade teacher who kept going to all her plays long after she left elementary school.

  Trudy rolls her eyes. “You're so dense sometimes. I'm talking about you, Mary. You were the best mother anyone could ask for. It wasn't fair to you, and it wasn't right, but you're still my fill-in-mom. You're still my model of what I one day hope to become if I try really hard.”

  “You're not my daughter,” I say. “I've just been a good sister.”

  “Fine,” Trudy says. “Then you've shown me what family should do. All I'm saying is, you don't need to have kids, because you're already the most selfless person I know.”

  “Actually that reminds me,” I say. “I wired the money for the clinical trial for Troy to the hospital today, so he should be fine to begin tomorrow, like we planned.”

  Trudy gives me a big hug, and it was totally worth the expense, knowing she's okay, knowing Troy gets his best chance.

  The next two days pass in a blur, between unpacking, wrapping, checking in on families on either end, and coordinating the details of taking over for Shauna.

  I'm dressing for my company holiday party, when my phone bings. I pick it up. It's a message from Luke.

  AMY HAS BEEN INSISTING I TELL YOU THAT YOU'RE STILL INVITED TO COME DROP OFF GIFTS WITH US ON CHRISTMAS EVE. SAT @ NOON.

  My heart flip flops. I dumped him on Sunday, and I know three days isn't a long time, but it feels like forever. I miss him, and I want to beg him to come with me tonight, and to the wedding tomorrow. I want to see his red ribbon cutting, and play with his kids, and tell them how amazing it is that their dad made that building possible.

  Trudy and Addy were right. I'm way too invested in this.

  I APPRECIATE THE INVITE. I'D LOVE TO COME, BUT THERE'S ALWAYS A LOT OF LAST MINUTE DETAILS, AND I HAVEN'T QUITE FINISHED MY OWN SHOPPING YET. I'LL TEXT YOU IF BY SOME MIRACLE I CAN MAKE IT.

  I shove my phone in my purse and walk into the mostly clean living room. “How do I look?” I spin in a circle for Trudy and Troy.

  “Amazing!” Trudy says.

  “Sparkly,” Troy says.

  I'm wearing a dark green business suit, but my camisole underneath is red with sequins. I don't wear them together usually, but it's Christmas. And as Troy pointed out, it's sparkly. Much like a child, I love sparkly things.

  Trudy gives me a big hug, and before she lets go, she whispers, “I hope you love this new promotion, but I think maybe you accepted it for me. I'm not sure why exactly, but I promise I'll pay you back for what you've given up one day.”

  “Having you in my life is my payback,” I say. “I love you.”

  My drive to the holiday party takes me past the same Pet Smart, and I'm sad to see that there's no SPCA event there today. I think about that beautiful dog. I've done some research on Great Pyrenees, and they're excelle
nt pets. When I pull into a parking space outside the Hyatt, I rummage around in my purse until I find the card with the rescue lady's number on it.

  I may not be able to keep Luke, and I may not be willing to give up my career to have kids, but I could make room for a dog. I know I could. Plus, Troy will love it. Right? Before I have time to overthink it, I dial. After several rings, a man picks up.

  “Hello?” he asks.

  “Uh, yes, my name is Mary Wiggin. I stopped at Pet Smart a few days ago, and there was a dog there, a Great Pyrenees, and this might sound crazy, but I think I fell in love with her. I keep thinking about her. I was told you might know where I could locate her?”

  “Faith,” the man calls with his mouth still near the receiver. He nearly bursts my eardrums.

  “Hello?” a woman says.

  I explain again why I'm calling. “You're talking about Andromeda. She was chipped, but we contacted her former owner and they said she's a good dog, but the husband has cancer, and they were gone too often with his treatments. They gave her to a friend, who apparently let her go.”

  “That's horrible,” I say. “I'm very interested in her. What would I need to do to adopt her?”

  Faith walks me patiently through the entire process. “Can you come by to see her tomorrow around lunchtime?”

  “Oh,” I say. “So soon?”

  “She's too polite to do well here with my four other dogs,” Faith says. “She's not getting enough food and she's already terribly malnourished. If you're serious, and you're responsible, you can take her home tomorrow.”

  We work out the details and I hang up.

  I expect to feel shaky or nervous at the thought that I might be a dog owner tomorrow morning, but I don't. I didn't want a dog last week, but it's not like I'm with Luke anymore. Which means I'm excited to adopt this dog for me, not for anyone or anything else. I may not be able to be a good mom for real, but I think I can handle a big fur ball.