Finding Faith

by B. E. Baker

  When he grins, I notice his mouth is full of goldfish, the chunks rolling around in there like wet laundry in a dryer of slime. Gross.

  Which isn't even why I want to put him down and stare at my tiny phone screen. But I will not be the pathetic person who hunches over her iPhone, watching and waiting for a response. I won't be that needy mess. I won't. I have a sister and a nephew and they're welcoming me home enthusiastically. I'll play with them and maybe later, when I have nothing better to do, I'll see if Luke ever replied. Maybe, or maybe not.

  I glance around the room, and a smile lifts the corners of my mouth. I've been so busy, I've barely had time to decorate for Christmas this year. Today Trudy and Troy did it for me.

  “I hope you don't mind,” Trudy says. “I found the decorations in the garage when I was shifting stuff around in my boxes.”

  “I'm delighted,” I say. “You decorated my pitiful tree, and put up the garland, and all my other trinkets and nativity sets, and signs. Wait, what am I smelling? Is that Wassail?”

  Trudy points at Troy and he beams, paper-mache-like blobs of goldfish goo dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “I ask and ask Mom to make it.”

  “I also started the clam chowder.” Trudy bites her lip, like she's worried I'll be mad.

  “Hey, I said my home is your home, so don't look worried. All of this is wonderful.” We've had clam chowder for dinner on the day before Christmas Eve for years, ever since a neighbor brought it to us. It was the best meal I'd ever had when I was nine years old. She gave us her recipe and we've followed it faithfully ever since.

  “I know it's rough having someone else in your house, and even harder when that person has a toddler who makes messes, draws on things, and leaves toys all over. And then we pounced on you when you were trying to have a second alone in the car. I'm sorry.”

  My chest feels heavy, because that's exactly what I was trying to do. “I love you, Trudy and I'm so glad you're here. I mean that.”

  “Would you like some Wassail as a peace offering?” Trudy asks.

  “I'd love some.” I set Troy down on a chair and I'm about to sit next to him when I hear a tiny ping from my bag in the laundry room. In a move that would impress Trinity from the Matrix, I rotate on one foot and practically leap into the laundry room.

  So much for not being the pathetic person who waits for a text.

  “Are you okay?” Trudy lifts one eyebrow accusingly. “What's going on? Why did you wait in your car for so long?”

  I swipe my phone, and read his text. I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY DAY. I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT YOU AS MUCH AS AMY, BECAUSE AS AN ADULT, I KNOW THAT WOULD BE PITIFUL.

  I laugh, but I notice a toe tapping in front of me. “What's going on?” Trudy asks.

  “Since last night's wedding, I've been thinking that maybe my moratorium on children stemmed from my fear that I'd do a bad job with them. That I'm like our mother. But you seem to think that's not the case, that I'd be a good mom.”

  Trudy sits on the floor, and Troy comes bouncing across the tile, Wassail sloshing over the corner of his mug. Andromeda follows behind him, lapping up spilled apple cider like a Roomba mop with a shaggy tail. Dogs have benefits I didn't even consider before now.

  “Honey, no. Stay at the table. Look, you're spilling,” Trudy says.

  “You have it.” Troy points at the two mugs Trudy's holding.

  Trudy surrenders and moves her arm so Troy can climb into her lap.

  “Who are you texting?” Trudy asks.

  “Santa Claus?” Troy's eyes widen and his mouth drops.

  I shake my head. “No, not Santa Claus, sorry.”

  He exhales heavily. “I'll never find him.”

  I frown. “Did you not get to see him this year?”

  Troy shakes his head slowly. “I was sick and we moved.”

  “I found Santa years ago,” I say slowly. “And I saved his number in my phone. I'm happy to text him what you want.”

  Trudy's eyes well with tears and I watch as she turns away.

  Troy and I talk for a few moments and firm up the details of his list. I text Trudy's phone with his official list. A nerf gun, a basketball that's not little, and a bean-bag chair. All of which we can accommodate, I'm sure. Trudy wipes her eyes. “Thank you for your help, Mary.”

  “Anytime.” I tap Troy's nose. “Now Mr. Inquisitive, take that mug back over and drink it at the table. You can't have food anywhere else other than the table until you're eighteen years old.”

  His eyes widen. “Are you that old?”

  I nod my head. “Yes, exactly that old.” Andromeda licks my hand, and I roll my eyes. “Fine, I might be lying. I'm thirty, okay? But who's counting?”

  Trudy laughs, and Troy narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he walks back to the table, only sloshing a little more over the side in the process.

  “I have to mop every single day,” Trudy says. “You do know that, right? If you're texting Luke again, just keep that in mind.”

  “Thanks for the reminder, but he's just being nice.” For some reason, I don't want to admit to Trudy that I'm hoping he'll change his mind. That I'm hoping he and Amy and Chase might stay. Maybe because they disliked him. Maybe because I now have a dog, and if I pick up with Luke again, they'll assume I got the dog for him. Maybe because it might be nothing. It probably is nothing.

  Or maybe I'm selfish enough to want to have something that's just mine, not shared with a dog, a sister and a nephew who are all less than a foot away from my face, trying to sneak a peek at my phone screen.

  “I'm going to take Andromeda for a walk.”

  “We need to come up with a nickname,” Trudy says. “Because saying four long syllables every time we mention that dog is almost worse than Gertrude.”

  “Nothing's worse than Gertrude. Mom sure saddled you with a doozie before she left, didn't she?”

  Trudy laughs. “How about Dromy?”

  “It fits the theme.” It's a long running joke that anyone who's anyone in my life has to have a name ending in y. Paisley, Addy, Trudy, Troy and of course I'm Mary. “But it's not very cute, and it sounds like a boy.”

  “Well, what then?” Trudy asks.

  I glance down at Andromeda's squishy, shaggy, grey and tan and white face, and her black nose. “How about Andy?”

  “Andy, Andy, Andy,” Troy says.

  “I think we have a winner.” Trudy smiles.

  “Andy and I will be back. I may see how much she might want to jog.”

  I've scarcely jogged around the corner, carefully avoiding sloppy wet patches, when my phone dings again. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THAT HORSE?

  Andromeda pulls and pulls on her leash when I stop, whining a little, but I take the time to respond before jogging again. I CAN BRING IT BY TONIGHT AND LEAVE IT ON YOUR STEPS. I start jogging, and my poor, bony dog bounds ahead with me, frolicking as much as the leash I bought allows her.

  BUT THEN I WOULDN'T SEE YOU.

  My heart rate spikes, and not from the jog.

  YOU CAN COME TO DINNER IF YOU WANT. MY SISTER AND HER SON LIVE WITH ME NOW, SO THEY'LL BE HERE. YOU CAN BRING AMY AND CHASE.

  The response this time is immediate. WHAT TIME, AND WHAT CAN WE BRING?

  CAN YOU BRING ROLLS? SIX P.M. OKAY?

  WE'LL BE THERE WITH ROLLS. PROBABLY NOT WITH BELLS ON, THOUGH. IF I'M LUCKY, CHASE WILL BE WEARING PANTS.

  He's so cheesy, but I guess I like cheesy things. I grin like a mental patient for the rest of my three-mile run, but at least Andy doesn't seem to mind.

  Chapter 22

  Poor, emaciated Andy poops out about half a mile before we reach my house and we walk the last few blocks very, very slowly. I feel a little guilty, actually, but it's good to know two and a half miles is about her limit. I'm whistling Jingle Bells when we walk through the front door at noon.

  “Why are you so happy all of a sudden?” Trudy asks.

  “I should've asked you about this, and I'm sorry.” I try and try, but I can't se
em to wipe the smile off my face.

  “What is it?” Trudy turns greenish. “Is Chris coming over? Did he call you?”

  “Oh my gosh,” I say, “No, nothing like that. I'm so sorry I frightened you. I was texting Luke back and forth and, well, I invited him to dinner.”

  Trudy drops the bowl she's holding and it clatters to the floor. Thankfully it was plastic, and empty.

  “You're excited, clearly.” I laugh. “Sorry I didn't run it past you. Are you mad?”

  “Not at all. It's your house,” Trudy says. “You don't need my permission to invite someone over.”

  “It's your house too, now,” I say. “If you're upset, I can text him back and beg off.”

  “Not at all. I'm actually really happy to meet him. But Paisley and Addy are going to lose it if you don't invite them, too.”

  “Well, they may just have to lose it. I can't deal with Addy's negativity and Paisley actually likes him, but she's a loudmouth and I have no idea where we are.”

  Trudy nods. “True. Mum’s the word for now.”

  “He's bringing his kids,” I say.

  Troy claps. “Kids, kids, kids.”

  “How old are they again?” Trudy asks.

  “He has a four-year-old boy named Chase, and a precocious five-year-old girl.”

  “Party, party, party!” Troy yells.

  “He's bringing rolls,” I say, “but I can run grab whatever else we might need.”

  Trudy gives me a list and I head for my car. Andromeda scratches on the garage door after I close it, so I open it back up. “You can't come with me, Andy.” I scratch her ears. “But I'll be back. Eventually you'll realize that I will always come back.”

  She licks my hand and then lays down in front of the door, face forlorn, resting poutily on her paws. I ruffle the hair on her head and she sneezes.

  “I am sorry I'm leaving again so soon.” I reach up to the top shelf and grab a rawhide stick. When I close the door this time, she's eagerly engaged in chewing it to a pulp.

  I reach Super Target quickly, and while I shop for the items on Trudy's list, I keep my eyes peeled for something for Amy and Chase. And Luke. He's the hardest, and I can't find anything that perfectly suits how I feel about him. I finally check out, frustrated and confused.

  How do I feel about him?

  I want to see him every day. I want him to kiss me. I like his kids. I like that he supports me in the things that matter. I like what a great dad he is. I like that he's polite and generous, and that he's persistent, but not overbearing. I like that he's funny and quotes Dr. Seuss.

  I'm not as nervous about the children part anymore. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing Amy again, and Chase too. I mentally note that I should hide all the balls.

  But they're moving in a few weeks, with no way of knowing when or if they'll be back. Normally I'd say whether he was here or not, I wouldn't see them in the winter and early spring. I'd be far too busy with tax returns. But now, with my promotion, my months will be largely the same.

  By the time I reach my house, it's time to make dessert. Troy and Trudy asked for my chocolate layer cake, and that takes some time to make, bake, cool, and frost. We listen to Christmas music while we bake, and I trip over Andromeda fifteen times. I need to remember to call her Andy, but my heart is full.

  “My house is so much nicer with you and Troy in it,” I tell Trudy. “I know it's easier to have your own space, but for now, I'm so happy you're here.”

  “You're just happy because Luke's coming over.” Trudy winks at me.

  “It's not only that,” I protest. “It's having my family here with me.”

  Trudy hugs me, and then we both run to our rooms to change into presentable clothes. I pick a red and green plaid tunic, shot with gold threads, and dark green leggings. I pair them with my favorite pair of knee-high, flat-bottom boots. I even have time to touch up my make-up.

  Trudy whistles when I walk back out. “Wowsa! I hope Luke knows how lucky he is that you like him.”

  I roll my eyes. “You're so biased. But thanks.”

  Trudy cleans up pretty nice, too. She lost all the baby weight she gained in the year after Troy was born. She hates running, but she does little workout videos during his nap religiously. She's got sandy brown hair, which she highlights, and the same greenish eyes as me. She's taller than I am, and somehow curvier too, which just isn't fair, and she's got dimples I'd kill for.

  “You look beautiful too, Trudy. You deserve better than . . .” I don't want to name Chris in front of Troy. I'm not sure how much he understands. “Well, you know. And you'll find the right guy too eventually, I know you will.”

  Trudy grabs Troy under his arms and swings him up to her hip. “I've already got the only guy I need, and the first and last man I've ever loved without reservation.” She kisses Troy all over his face, and his giggles fill the room.

  He's laughing so hard snot runs down his face when I hear the door. My stomach flip flops and I want to run and hide in my room. The last time I saw Luke, I said awful things. I told him he's failing his kids. What do I know about raising kids, or losing a spouse? I'm such an idiot. What if he only came to shut Amy up and pick up the dumb gift?

  Trudy waves me over to the door. “Hurry up, it's cold out there.”

  Duh. I jog across the room to the front door and pull it open. For a moment, my eyes lock on Luke's impossibly handsome face, his dark honey hair, streaked with dark grey around a face that’s usually smiling.

  “Hi,” he says. “Merry Christmas.”

  I can’t help myself from grinning, and he smiles back at me. I hear the clicking of Andy's claws on the tile behind me, and then a squeal from waist level. “You have a dog? But you said you didn't!”

  I want to smack myself in the forehead. I should've warned Luke. He's going to think I've gone insane. “Well, I didn't have a dog until yesterday.”

  Amy hugs Andromeda around the neck. “It's the prettiest dog I've ever seen in my whole entire life. I didn't even know dogs this beautiful were real on the earth!”

  I grin, and Luke does, too.

  “Her name is Andromeda, but we are going to call her Andy. I came across her by accident, and found out her family didn't want her anymore. They said they didn't have time to care for a dog. The pound would kill her if she wasn't adopted before the week was up. A nice woman from a rescue agreed to take her until they could find her a home, but the other dogs were eating all her food and bossing her around. When I heard that sad tale, and she behaved perfectly for me, I decided to adopt her.”

  “Are you only helping out with her, then?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No, she's my new dog. I'm not a fan of puppies. They're too chewy and barky, and jumpy, and they aren't house broken so they pee all over, but this lovely lady is only three years old, and she has impeccable manners. Once we get her fattened up a little, I think she'll be about perfect. I took her for a jog today and she did great for about two and a half miles. I think as she gains strength she might be able to go a little further. We'll see, I guess. I don't wanna hurt her paws.”

  “Oh, Dad, did you see? I told you Mary was perfect. She even adopted a dog.”

  Chase is hiding behind Luke's leg. “Hey buddy, would you like to pet Andy?

  He bobs his head, and I hold out my hand. He takes it, and lets me tug him around to where he can pet Andy. His little hands ball up in her fur and she whimpers. He lets go, but she doesn't growl, or snap or even whip her head around. I'm impressed.

  “We may need to go over some rules for how to treat a dog, Chase, okay? I had to go over the same rules with my nephew Troy. Speaking of, he's right inside, waiting on you two. He's been dying to show you his room and his toys.”

  I stand up and make the introductions, and then go over some basic rules of dog etiquette. Troy, who had been chattering about this visit all day, grows a shy side and hides behind the couch for a full five minutes before we can lure him out, but eventually, Chase and Tro
y warm up and run off to his room. I take a seat at the kitchen table, and Luke and Trudy do the same.

  “I'm not sure we'll be able to pry Amy's hands off of Andy in time for dinner,” I say. “Speaking of, are we almost ready to eat? Trudy?”

  “Sure, yeah, the soup's been on a low simmer for a while. The fruit's cut up, and I've got glasses out, and the dining table is set.”

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  Luke slaps his knee. “Oh, the rolls!”

  “Did you forget them?” I ask. “It's no big deal. I'll toast some sliced bread.” I stand up and walk toward the cabinet.

  “They're just in the car,” he says. “I'll only be a minute.”

  “Oh, and don't forget the stuffed animal.” I point. “It's wrapped and sitting on the end table there.”

  Luke nods, and when he heads for the front door, I call out to the boys. “Chase! Troy! Wash your hands, it's time to eat.”

  Amy doesn't move. She's still lying on the rug next to the sofa, an arm thrown over Andy. I crouch down by Amy, intent on getting her to wash her hands. “Sweetie, Andy's not going anywhere, and you clearly adore one another, which is great. But can you come wash your hands so we can eat?”

  Amy sits up and exhales. She pats Andy's fluffy head and stands up. “It's going to be so hard for me.”

  My eyebrows crinkle together. “What's going to be hard?”

  She walks toward the bathroom with me, slowly. “Going back to my house after being here.” She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes me tight. “Why can't you just be my mom?”

  So that idea hasn't shifted at all. I drop to my knees, and I hear the front door open, so this will have to be quick. “Sweetheart, I'm sure your dad has lots of lovely friends who are girls, and one day maybe he'll want one of them to be your mom. But it's really his choice to make.”

  “And yours too, right?” she asks. “Because I've never met any other friends who are girls. Dad never ever brings any of his friends home, except you.”

  My heart takes flight and I want to dance around the room. Which is stupid. If he isn't sure whether he likes me or not, my terrible dance moves would bump him solidly into the anti camp. “Amy, I promised you before and I'll promise you again. No matter what, I'll always be your friend. You guys are moving soon, but if you ever come back to visit Atlanta, you're welcome to stay here with me, or come to dinner.”