KeepingFaithCole (30 page)

Nothing appeared out of
place. As far as he could ascertain, nothing in the house had been disturbed.
Thankfully, nothing indicated that any struggle had taken place or that ill
fortune of any kind had come calling.

Face it. She’s gone. You told her to leave, told her to get the hell
out of your life.

No. Lucille had married him,
had vowed to stay with him. For better. For worse.

Had Faith taken sick? Had
Lucille found it necessary to drive into town? Perhaps his worries were all in
his mind, and this would turn out to be nothing more than a routine trip to the
mercantile for supplies.

Despite his efforts to
remain calm and his attempts to convince himself that nothing was truly wrong,
those knowing bones of his kept sending warnings to his brain. A shiver of
apprehension slid down Tom’s spine as he stepped onto the porch again. The
wagon sat in the drive. Clearly, Lucille had not driven to Sunset.

“Lucille!” he shouted,
cupping his hands to his mouth. When he stepped from the porch, he glanced
downward. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the wheel ruts in the soft,
rain-damp earth. He hadn’t noticed them before. He’d been too intent on
searching inside the house.

While Lucille hadn’t taken
the wagon into town, someone else had obviously driven her and Faith away from
the farm. His sense of urgency did not diminish. No matter how many times he
told himself that his wife and Faith were surely safe with friends, his heart
refused to accept it, refused to believe it.

He closed his eyes and
recalled that crazy moment when the black stallion had stopped on the other
side of the crevice. The horse had put himself in danger by coming to Tom, had
risked capture in order to help his mares escape. And he’d spoken to Tom, had
told him that a real man does whatever he must to ensure the safety of those he
loved.

His family. His girls.

Lucille. Faith. His mother.

He loved each of them.

Stepping into the kitchen
again, Tom immediately caught sight of Lucille’s cloak hanging on its peg. With
the weather as cool as it had been and the threat of rain in the air, his wife
would not have gone into town without her cloak.

Tom bolted through the door,
his heart pounding with renewed trepidation. Again and again he shouted
Lucille’s name.

Thump, thump, thump.

His heart sounded in his
ears.

He called out again.

Thump, thump, thump.

Once more he heard it. The
steady
thump, thump, thump
came not
from within his own chest, but from the direction of the old spring house.
Cocking his head toward the stone-walled building, he listened again.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Lu!” His long legs carried
him recklessly across the yard. With each stride, the thumping grew louder,
more distinct. He could now make out faint cries coming from behind those
thick, white-washed walls. “Take it easy,” he called out. “I’m here. I’ll get
you out.”

Someone had jammed the lock
with a thick stick of firewood.

No, not
someone
.

Like Lucille said, he caught
on quick, and it didn’t require much brainwork to figure out who had locked his
wife in the spring house.

Tom’s heart plunged. His
mother had done more than lock Lucille away. She’d stolen Faith.

He yanked the wood from the
lock and pulled the door open. His wife tumbled out, sprawling face-down onto
the ground. Tom dropped to his knees, gathered her into his arms, and held her
close.

“My God, I thought I’d lost
you. I was afraid I’d waited too long to tell you how much I love you.”

She clung to him. “Faith,”
Lucille rasped. “Your mother…”

“Hush. Don’t try to talk.”
He smoothed her dark hair with a loving touch. “We’ll find them. We’ll get
Faith back.” Her body trembled and he wanted to hold her close forever.

But there was no time to
waste.

Lucille drew away. She
pushed at her hair which had come loose from its ribbons and now fell in long, flowing
waves about her shoulders. “She tricked me. She sent me out to the spring
house…just like before, Tom. When the fire started at the shop.” Brushing away
tears, she looked up at him. “You’d think I’d be smart enough to know better.”

“It’s not your fault,
honey.”

“She warned me! She told me
once not to ever turn my back on Faith. She swore she’d take her from me.”

“We’ll find them.” He
gestured toward the wagon. “Get your cloak, and let’s get going.”

“I don’t need my cloak.
There are blankets in the wagon.” She raced forward. Tom hurried to the corral.
Working as fast as he was able, he hitched up the draft horse, then climbed
aboard next to Lucille.

Although she said nothing,
he heard her sobbing.

Fear coursed through him. As
much as he wanted to reach for Lucille and promise her that everything would be
all right, he could offer no such reassurance. His mother loved Faith and would
never intentionally hurt her, but accidents happened, especially when Ma was
drunk.

Growing up, he’d learned
that lesson early on.

He’d done his best to help.
Now, he thought of all the times he’d picked her up when she’d fallen, all the
salves and ointments he’d gently rubbed on cuts and burns, the cold compresses
he’d held against her bruised limbs.

He’d done all he could to
fix whatever was wrong, and in the end, his efforts had probably done more harm
than good. Maybe if he’d left her alone, she would have sobered up. Maybe she
would have had no choice but to stop drinking.

Tom let out a breath, his
thoughts still centered on his childhood home.

“I think I know where she’s
gone.”

“Where?” Lucille asked.

“Home. Her old cottage, I
mean. The place where I grew up.”

Now Lucille would see where
he had come from, would know the wretched life he’d been born into. Maybe it
was time for her to know how difficult his life had been, how hard he’d
struggled to make something of himself.

Above them, thick gray
clouds moved across the sun, obliterating its light and casting a pallor of
gloom over the landscape as Tom and Lucille set off for the old cottage.

He reached for his wife’s
hand, held tight to it, and silently prayed they were headed in the right
direction.

Tom hoped for light, for a
sign, but the sky grew only darker. Soon the heavens would unleash their fury.
He offered another plea to the almighty, praying this time that they would not
be too late.

“What if she didn’t go to
the cottage? What then? Where else would she go?” Lucille gave voice to the
same questions that ricocheted through his head.

“We have to hold on to
whatever hope we have,” he replied, reaching for her hand.

“It’s as dark as night. Are
you sure we’re even on the right road?”

“Trust me, I know the way
home.”

“It’s not your home now,
Tom.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ve made a new home for yourself…for us.”

He nodded, refusing to let
his bitter memories of childhood rob him of the future he’d created with
Lucille. But had his mother already destroyed all they held dear?

“We’ll get through this,”
Lucille said. “We’ll find your mother. We’ll find Faith.” She spoke with a
confidence Tom knew she didn’t truly feel, but which he needed to hear.

“Yes, we will. Everything
will be all right.” They both needed to believe that.

But the cottage was so far
away. How much longer could they keep believing?

In the distance, lightning
flashed. A rumble of thunder rolled across the heavens.

“It’s just beyond that
hill,” Tom said, at last. His tension mounted. Flicking the reins over the
horse’s broad back, he urged the animal onward through the growing darkness.

As they crested the slope,
he peered through the gloom, grateful to see the shadowed shape of the little
cottage tucked beneath the towering trees. His heart jumped.

“There it is!” Beside him,
Lucille straightened. She lifted her hand and pointed. “Do you see the wagon,
Tom? Can you tell if they’re here?”

His gaze scanned the grove,
and when he spotted the wagon at the side of the cottage, he let out a grateful
breath. “We’ve found them.”

Not waiting for Lucille, he
halted the wagon, jumped to the ground and took off at a hard run. Behind him,
he heard her shouting, but he didn’t look back. Later he’d deal with Lucille.
In this moment, his head, his heart, his body, his soul, all belonged to Faith.
Every thought, every breath, every movement joined in one purpose—to find his
precious little girl.

“Ma, get the hell out here!
Now!”

He shouted as he ran.
Lucille was shouting, too. Breathless, she caught up to him.

“Charlotte! Please! I’m
begging you. You have to give her back.” Lucille grasped Tom’s arm and held on.
He knew she needed his strength.

The door creaked open.
Charlotte walked out, carrying Faith in her arms. She carried a small lantern,
too. Its flame flickered eerily in the darkness, throwing jagged shadows across
the ground.

“Get away from here. Both of
you.” She lifted her hand and shook the lantern at them.

She might have been a witch
spat up from the depths of hell. Her disheveled hair fell in greasy clumps
around her face, and spatters of mud clung to her skirts, her bare feet, her
cheeks. Although she stood nearly ten feet from them, Tom thought he could
actually smell the liquor on her breath. Probably only his imagination, but the
mere sight of her was enough to show how drunk she was.

“She’s drunk,” Lucille said
in a quiet voice. “She must have been drinking all afternoon.”

“Ma, calm down. Don’t do anything
crazy.” Tom held out a hand and took a cautious step forward.

She swung the lantern again.
“Stay where you are!”

Faith’s mouth puckered, and
she began to fuss, tiny cries at first, then as she twisted and squirmed in her
grandmother’s arms, the cries turned to frantic, frightened wails.

“Be careful!” Lucille rushed
forward. “You’re going to drop her, Charlotte. Please, hold on to her.”

“Get away,” the woman said
again, backing up. “You’ve got no right to come here, no right to tell me what
to do.” Her features contorted. All softness left her face. “This is my
property. My home. And this is my baby.” With the lantern in one hand, she
clutched with the other at the screaming, flailing child. “You can’t have her.
You’ll never have her now.”

“She’s not your baby,
Charlotte.” Lucille moved another step closer, then jumped back as the crazed
woman growled and lunged at her.

“She’s mine! She loves me.”

Tears fell from his mother’s
eyes. Tom looked away. He could not let her emotional display affect him in any
way.

“That’s all I’ve ever
wanted,” she went on. “Just love, Tommy. Nobody ever loved me. All those men…”
Bending down, she set the lantern on the ground, then cradled Faith tighter in
her arms. “They wanted me. They used me. But they never loved me.”

Tom exchanged glances with
Lucille. With his eyes, he gestured to the ground ahead of her, silently
directing her to slowly move forward.

One step at a time. Easy. Take it slow.

His mother reminded him of a
frightened horse, a wild creature caught in a trap, desperate to run. Instead
of anger, she needed understanding. Instead of shouting, she needed a soothing,
comforting voice. Gentleness. Kindness. Yes, love.

But she needed truth, too.

As much as Tom wanted to
speak words of love to the woman who’d given him life, he couldn’t find them.
Not knowing what more to do, he hung his head and stared down at the ground.

“Charlotte, yes, Faith loves
you very much.” Lucille picked up on his cue. “So does Tom. We all love you,”
she said, her voice soft and sing-song. “That’s why we came to find you. We
want to make sure you’re all right.” Slowly, she moved one foot forward, then
the other. “You love Faith, too, and you want her to be safe.”

Tom glanced up, relieved
when his mother nodded. “Ma, you need to do the right thing now. Lucille’s
going to come to you. She’s going to walk real slow, real easy, and when she
reaches you, you’re going to give Faith to her. You’re going to let Lucille
take Faith now, all right?” He held his breath, only letting it out when his
mother finally bobbed her head again. “Easy, now,” he said, guiding Lucille.
“Step by step. Just move slow, honey.”

Only a few feet separated
the two women, yet traversing that ground between them seemed to take a
lifetime. Lucille at last reached her. With all the loving care a grandmother
could give, Tom’s mother placed Faith in her outstretched arms.

“Thank you.” Lucille’s
whisper carried through the hush of the late afternoon. She backed away.
Suddenly the earth shuddered, breaking the stillness as another clap of thunder
rumbled across the darkened skies. A fierce wind picked up, rattling the
branches of the trees and whipping through the grasses.

* * * *

The sudden gust must have spooked Charlotte. Confusion shot
through her red-rimmed eyes. Her features screwed up, and a cry of pure anguish
ripped from her throat. Her hands came up, the fingers knotted into grotesque
forms. Fearing the woman might come after her, Lucille backed away.

“Leave her alone, Ma,” Tom called out. “She’s never done
anything to hurt you.”

The haggard woman spun around, her fury now directed toward
her son. “Well, isn’t that nice, real nice. You take her side, do you? Forget
your own mother, never mind that I was the one who brought you into this world.
Yeah, well, I can be the one to take you right out again.”

“Ma, you’re talking crazy.”

Lucille glanced toward her husband, caught his
almost-imperceptible nod, and knew the moment had come for her and Faith to
safely get away. Charlotte’s attention remained fixed on Tom. Holding her breath,
and praying the innocent child in her arms would remain quiet, Lucille slipped
into the shadows, then bolted for the relative safety of the wagon.