CHAPTER 8

Monica said a silent prayer for guidance and was pleased to then find that she knew exactly which way to go in order to get back to the cottage. She moved slowly, both because Faith seemed weary and because she was taking the time to listen for any sounds that would indicate that the child’s father was nearby. Glancing down, she got a better look at the little girl and was saddened by the state she was in at the moment. Her clothes were filthy and worn, her shoes filled with holes. Her face and what Monica could see of her hands were also covered in grime, but she had a feeling that cleaned up, Faith was a physically beautiful little girl.

"What would you like to eat when we get there?" She asked, wanting to steer the conversation to safe territory until she had managed to gain Faith’s trust.

"Anything," She replied softly, looking up to survey the angel and feeling herself relaxing a little bit at what she saw. There was something peaceful about this lady and a look in her brown eyes that made her feel warm and Faith found herself feeling something that resembled safety for the first time since her momma had died, "What’s your name?"

The angel looked surprised and then realized that she had never given Faith this important piece of information last night, "Monica."

"It’s a pretty name," She whispered, clutching Monica’s hand tightly.

"Thank you, Faith. Your name is very special, but I suppose you know that."

"I know you’re out there, angel!"

Monica spun around at the sound of the voice she recognized and her frightened eyes searched everywhere for the child’s father, but she could see no sign of him.

"Noo," Faith whimpered softly, tears filling her eyes and Monica held tightly to her hand, having the feeling that if she didn’t, the child would vanish once more and there was no way she was going to let that happen. Not when she was this close.

"Faith, we need to run, but don’t let go of my hand," She managed to say before she broke into a run, her heart racing wildly. She could hear the sound of the brush moving around behind them, but with every glance over her shoulder, she couldn’t see him.

Faith’s face was a picture of absolute terror, even as tears smudged the dirt on her little face, and Monica wished that she could stop long enough to pull her close and reassure her but the risk was too great as she would not allow this man to find his daughter. Instead, she quickened her pace, pulling Faith along with her and the angel wanted to sob with relief when she could finally see the cottage.

She burst in the front door and her hands shook as she fumbled with the lock, feeling a wave of relief when it finally clicked into place.

"Monica!"

She whirled around at the sound of Andrew’s voice and she didn’t miss the deeply troubled look in his eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, "He was following us, Andrew!"

His eyes took in the little girl at his friend’s side and his expression softened briefly before he moved past them and unlocked the door, "Stay here."

It was an order and though she was not used to hearing them from him, she gladly accepted it this time. Faith was crying and as Andrew went out the door, she knelt down and for the first time took the child into her arms, "We’re safe now, little one. Andrew is my friend, and he won’t let anyone hurt us. I promise."

The words were spoken with so much certainty that Faith nodded her head against the angel’s shoulder and she didn’t move, even when the door opened once more.

"He must be gone," Andrew assured them, though he relocked the door just to be on the safe side.

Monica closed her eyes with relief and continued to hold Faith close. "Shhh…. We’re safe now," she said, her words reassuring herself as much as the child.

She looked up and saw that Andrew was staring down at the two of them with a mixture of fear, relief and amazement on his face. Yes; she definitely should have left a note. She slowly stood up and waited for him to say something.

"You scared me," was all he said to her and then he looked away from her and concentrated on Faith. "Hello, Faith," he said with a smile. "My name’s Andrew." He held out his hand and waited for her to take it, but she shrank back a bit and he quickly withdrew it although he kept smiling. "It looks like you could use a hot bath, and I’m sure Monica will help you while I fix something to eat."

"Andrew…" Monica started to explain, completely surprised by his reaction.

"Go on upstairs and get her cleaned up, Monica," he ventured another crooked grin at the girl. "I think I can rustle up some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

She had expected annoyance, and a little lecture about wandering off alone. What she had not expected was the way he completely avoided even looking at her. He was angry and she didn’t think he had ever really been angry with her before. The realization felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She tried to catch his eye again, but he was already on his way to the kitchen and Faith was looking up at her expectantly.

"Okay, Faith," she said as cheerfully as she was able, "let’s get you into the tub." She had some serious apologizing to do, but it was going to have to wait.

Faith fell back into silence as Monica helped remove her clothing and get her settled in a tub filled with warm soapy water. The angel looked at the tattered clothing with dismay. It was all filthy, but even if it wasn’t she didn’t really want to put it back on the little girl. She would have to look through her drawers and see if there was a t-shirt or something that could work as a dress for the moment. She was on her way to dump all the clothes in the trash when she was stopped by a small cry from behind her.

When she turned around Faith was covering her mouth with her little hands and Monica knelt beside the tub and gently took hold of them. "What is it, Faith? Do you need something?"

The girl’s eyes were wide and filled with anxiety, but she didn’t say anything.

"You can tell me, it’s okay."

She still looked worried, but she pulled one hand back and pointed towards the pink sweater in Monica’s hands. "Please…"

Monica glanced down at the sweater. The whole thing was filthy, there was a spot on one sleeve and two buttons were missing, but obviously it meant something to Faith. She carefully pulled it from the other clothes and set it on the counter.

"Don’t worry. I won’t throw it away. I’ll just clean it up for you, would that be all right?"

Faith nodded and Monica smiled as she threw the rest of the clothes into the trash and carried the sweater out of the room. If she couldn’t fix it she was sure that Tess would have some ideas. A few minutes later she walked back into the bathroom carrying a small sundress with a daisy embroidered on the front, underclothes and a pair of tiny sandals. When she found them in her bottom drawer she had just shaken her head, telling herself that she should have known better than to doubt God’s ability to provide.

She put the clothes on the counter and sat down on the edge of the tub. Faith had been trying to wash her hair, but the tangles had turned it into an almost impossible task.

"Let me give you a hand, sweetie. Just relax." Monica’s comforting voice made Faith do just that and she sat still as the angel carefully worked out the knots and then thoroughly washed her hair. She had a feeling that after it was dry it was going to look even blonder than before.

A short while later they emerged from the bathroom with Faith looking much more like the precious child she was intended to be. She still hadn’t told Monica anything about what she had been doing in the woods, or why she was afraid of her father, but the angel didn’t want to pressure her. It felt like a huge accomplishment just to be holding onto her hand, and she believed that everything else would come in time. Instead she thought that her new most urgent task was going to involve Andrew rather than Faith.

She knew that he would listen to her and understand, but just the thought that he was actually angry with her was enough to make her extremely uncomfortable. She was sure that Faith had to be starving, but her own appetite had disappeared.

*****

Downstairs, Andrew was keeping himself busy making sandwiches, one without crusts. For some reason that he couldn’t understand he had never met a child who liked the crust. Technically it was a little early for lunch, but he also knew that most children preferred peanut butter to oatmeal.

He was making slightly more noise than strictly necessary as he opened and closed cabinets and drawers. He pulled himself up short as he went to close another drawer with a slam. He took a deep breath before closing it quietly.

While she had been missing all that he had done was worry, but now that she was back it was as if his relief had been pushed aside by a prickling feeling of anger. The anger had actually faded almost instantly, but it had been followed by a irritation, at her and at himself. Yes, she shouldn’t have gone out in the middle of the night. Yes, she should have left a note. But when she had run through that door, the fear in her eyes had revealed something that he should have done. He should have gone after her.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and he let out a deep breath, trying to control his emotions enough to focus on the fact that Faith was here and she was safe. He would have to deal with how she had gotten here later.

He grinned down at the little girl when she and Monica entered into the kitchen. "Why, there was a little girl underneath there after all," he was pleased when a tiny smile appeared on the child’s lips, though she was still determined to keep her distance from him and he wondered briefly if Monica had originally encountered the same problem.

Monica kept her eyes on Faith, not wanting to look at Andrew and have him ignore her glance once again. She may deserve his anger, but it still hurt, and the fact that she had never dealt with this emotion from him, directed at her before, made the situation even more miserable for her. "Andrew has fixed you a sandwich, Faith," she watched as the child’s eyes lit up and it was obvious she was famished.

Monica pulled out a chair for her, before sitting down next to her, careful to avoid glancing over as Andrew sat down across from them.

She noted how Faith sat very still at the table, her hands folded in her lap, even as her eyes were fixed on her plate, "It’s all right, sweetheart. You can eat."

Faith looked up at her with uncertainty and when Monica nodded her head in reassurance, only then did she pick up half of her sandwich and take a bite. It was obvious that she was trying to take her time, but was so hungry that she was finding it difficult.

The little angel glanced up as Andrew left his seat and took some milk from the refrigerator and poured some in a glass, before setting it down in front of Faith. The child’s eyes showed her thanks, before she took a long drink, her green eyes closed as if she were savoring something she had not had in a very long time.

Andrew refilled her glass before putting the milk away and when he turned around he saw Monica offering Faith her plate with her untouched sandwich. Faith had finished her own quickly and he felt a sadness fill his heart and not only about one exceptionally hungry little girl. Despite his own irritation with his friend, the fact that she was too upset to eat didn’t sit well with him, and his own sandwich tasted a bit like sandpaper at the moment.

Faith finished off Monica’s lunch as well and then a sleepiness seemed to come over her as her head drooped slightly. Knowing how uncomfortable the cot had been last night, Monica rose from her chair and reached for Faith’s hand, "Someone looks like she could use a nap," She stated, her own need for escape from the tension in the kitchen overwhelming her, "You can have my room, honey, okay?"

Faith nodded her head sleepily as she allowed Monica to lead her out of the kitchen and back upstairs, where the angel tucked her gently into bed. The little girl fell asleep almost immediately and Monica reached out a hand to smooth back her blonde hair, "You’re safe now, little one. Only pleasant dreams."

She closed her bedroom door softly and then leaned up against it, knowing she couldn’t put this off much longer. The rift between her and Andrew felt overpowering, but she had no idea of what to expect. She just wanted things back to normal between them again.

She grabbed the pink sweater before she went back downstairs, expecting to see him in the living room, but the room was empty and she felt her stomach churn once more before she walked into the laundry room and started the washing machine. As she poured detergent into the machine and added the sweater, she felt tears burning in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She needed to fix this and quickly.