Finding Faith

Page 16

I hung up the phone with a big goofy smile on my face and plans to make the preacher man crazy.
The following Wednesday, there wasn’t any outside work that needed to be done around the church. Sister Francis loved her flower garden and a few ladies around the church had praised me for my gardening skills that I had no idea I possessed.
I got stuck in a back room, filing papers. It didn’t sound like much of a job, but after thirty minutes of that crap, I was dying to get outside to work in the sun. The room was too small and smelled like old lady’s perfume. Every couple of minutes, I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe and my eyes would water from the sickly sweet smell.
An hour later, I was done filing and headed over to Sister Francis to see if there was anything she needed. I stepped into the kids’ room and was caught off guard by Faith dancing around.
I stood in the doorway and watched from afar as she laughed and shook her hips with the kids to some kiddie music about Jesus. Her smile was real, her happiness genuine. It was beautiful to watch.
She raised her hands above her head and shook them around. Her skirt lifted, revealing tiny feet and ankles. It was about that time that my mind shifted and I started imagining what her knees looked like, her thighs, her flat stomach, and from that point, the thoughts only got worse. I was so caught up daydreaming about Faith naked that I hadn’t even realized she’d stopped dancing and was talking to me.
“Finn? Is there anything I can do for you?” She had her hands on her hips and looked at me like I was nuts.
Maybe I was. I’d just caught myself fantasizing about the pastor’s daughter. That could never end well.
“Finn?” she asked again loudly.
Little snickers sounded from the kids around us.
“Yeah. I was curious if Sister Francis needed me to do anything. I’m all done filing.”
“Actually, I could use your help in here if you need something to do.” She smiled.
She seemed to smile at me a lot more than she did before the whole flower incident.
“Okay. What can I do?” I asked.
I spent the rest of the time playing with the kids. I hadn’t been around kids since my last foster home. Those foster parents had entirely too many kids, so me and four others who were younger than me slept in one room. It was obviously those people just wanted the state checks that came with us.
I kind of liked spending time with the kids. They were funny and asked a lot of questions. I found myself laughing with them quite a bit. And every now and again, when she didn’t think I was looking, I’d see Faith smiling over at me. She really was beautiful, inside and out. I was pretty good at seeing through people, and when I looked at her, all I saw was goodness. She was selfless. I could tell by the way she treated the kids. There wasn’t a bad bone in her body.
The next week was a blur of smoking bowls, making deals, singing, and hanging out at church with Faith. It got to a point where I’d get excited about going to church. I loved hanging out with her and the more she was around me, the more I got to see who she really was.
She was more than just the pastor’s daughter. She was funny. She made me laugh so much most days that I’d go home with a sore stomach. She was sweet. Some days I’d sit to the side and watch as she took her time showing the kids how to spell a word or how to do something correctly. My initial assumption about Faith was right. She really was an angel.
Being around her was good. I barely smoked cigarettes anymore, since she said she hated the smell, and the only time I really hung out with my friends was when we had practice or a show. I’d make plans with them and then Faith would ask me to help her do something and I’d cancel with my friends.
I had a hard time telling her no about anything. So when the church had a bake sale coming and she asked me to help her bake some stuff, I was on board. I really wasn’t much of a cook, but anything was better than filing or working in the churchyard.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked as she mixed a bowl of cookie dough.
“Nah. I don’t think dating is for me,” I said as I buttered the baking pan.
“No girls? Seriously?” She looked at me like I had two heads.
“Oh no. There’s girls, but not one that’s steady.”
Her face lit up as I expected, and I smiled to myself.
“So you’re a player? Isn’t that what they call boys like you?” She started picking at the cookie dough and rolling it into balls.
“I’m not a player. I’m honest with girls. I just don’t do the whole girlfriend thing all that well.”