A Test of Faith by Karen Ball Page A

her.
    “Better not have too many of those, Momster.”
    Anne’s cookie paused in middunk, and she shot her daughter a sideways glance, feeling the heat rush into her cheeks. She never had to monitor her eating habits. Faith could earn honorary vulture status when it came to hovering over her mother, making sure she ate the right things.
    Hopping off the counter, Faith snagged her mother’s cookie and popped it into her own mouth.
    “Faith!”
    Utterly unrepentant, Faith washed the cookie down with a swig of milk. “I’m just saving you from yourself, Mother mine. Your sugars have been way too high lately. Gotta get ’em down.”
    “Hmph.” Anne pushed back her chair and went to ease the lid off the stew she was simmering for dinner. “Remind me, will you—” she stirred the savory stew—“who’s the child and who’s the mother around here?”
    Faith shot her a cheeky smile. “Oooh, ‘
Flashdance
’!” She ran to the radio to turn the volume higher. “I
love
this song. It hit number two on the top forty.”
    “That’s good, huh?”
    Faith laughed. “Yeah, Mom. That’s good.” The music filled the room. Faith grinned. “And
that’s
good.”
    As her daughter lifted her hands over her head and moved to the music, Anne could only watch and wonder,
How did a woman with two left feet ever produce this graceful creature?
She and Faith were clear proof of God’s sense of irony.
    Or His sense of humor.
    “Whaddya say, Mom? Feel like dancing?”
    Anne sniffed. “Maybe. Unless you think I’m too fat.”
    Her daughter’s low laugh tugged at her, drawing a smile from her. Faith danced over to her, taking her hands. Anne giggled and tried to mimic her daughter’s movements.
    Like a whale trying to imitate a porpoise
.
    She ignored the chagrined thought and focused on enjoying herself. And her daughter.
    When the song was done, they collapsed against each other, breathless and laughing.
    “That was fun.” Faith hugged her mom. “You’ve still got it, Mom.”
    “Yes, well, if only I could figure out what to do with it.”
    Faith gave her another hug, then leaned past her to sniff at the stew. “Beef?”
    “Beef,” Anne confirmed. Before Anne could stop her, Faith snagged the saltshaker and tapped some into the pot. “You never put in enough salt.”
    Anne grabbed the wooden spoon she’d used to mix the cookie dough and swatted at the salt shaker. “I put in plenty, young lady.”
    Faith dodged the spoon to tap in another dash. “
Now
it’s plenty.”
    The ringing of the doorbell cut off Anne’s laughing retort. She glanced toward the front door. “Who on earth—?”
    “Oops!” Faith dropped the saltshaker back on the shelf. “I forgot to tell you. Winnie and Trista are coming over.”
    Anne held back a sigh. “Sounds as though they’re here.”
    “Right as always, Mom!” With that, Faith raced for the door. Where
did
that child get her energy?
    A trio of squeals split the air, and Anne jumped, then went to toss her daughter a look.
    Faith put one hand to her chest and waved at Anne with the other. “Sorry, Mom. We got carried away.”
    “Hey, Mrs. B!”
    “Hey, Winnie.”
    Faith grabbed the girls by the arm and hustled them down the hallway. Her giggling voice drifted to Anne. “Oh, Trista! He did
what
?” They disappeared into Faith’s room, but Anne could hear them chattering away, like magpies on uppers.
    Amazing. You’d think it had been days rather than, what? A half hour since those three had been together? If they weren’t at each other’s houses, they were talking on the phone nonstop. Good thing Jared found an extra long cord for the kitchen phone. More often than not Anne found that cord snaking its way through the house as Faith went from room to room, giggling and talking a mile a minute.
    Turning back to the stew, Anne took a pinch of seasoning and sprinkled it over the liquid. The Three Musketeers. That’s what she called Faith and her two bosom buddies. Winnie