of the bolt. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone."
Faith's voice faded to silence, leaving the words of Song of Solomon hanging in the air like a lament.
Mrs. Gerson leaned forward in the chair, her brow furrowed with worry. "Faith? Are you all right? You don't seem yourself tonight, dear. We can do this another evening, if you like."
Faith looked up, her breath catching in her throat. "No ... no, I'm all right."
Mrs. Gerson clucked her tongue, shifting her vacant eyes in the direction of Faith's voice.
Faith sighed. Mrs. Gerson's physical sight might be minimal, reduced to the movement of shadows, but the vision of her soul was remarkable indeed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Gerson. I shouldn't have brought my problems here tonight. I'm all right, really I am. I'll do better. I promise."
"If you're going to promise anything, my dear, promise to tell the truth-now that would be doing better." Mrs. Gerson, a devoted Protestant, settled back in her wing chair and rested her hands on one of the many Bibles she possessed. She often remarked how she enjoyed touching its smooth leather binding as Faith read its words. "Like I'm reading it myself," she would say with a chuckle. She waited calmly, her gnarled fingers clasped in expectation.
Faith closed the Bible in her lap, the rustle of its pages followed by a soft thud. Her weighty sigh darkened the mood of the room like a shadow.
"My dear, I've never known you to be like this before. Please tell me what's wrong."
"I'm embarrassed to talk about it, Mrs. Gerson."
"Why? Has someone hurt you?" The tiny woman leaned forward in her chair, a note of alarm in her voice.
"No ... I mean yes. . . in a way. But mostly I've caused my own pain. I don't know, Mrs. Gerson, it seems so silly to put into words."
"Suppose you give me the gist of it."
The springs in the sofa squeaked as Faith fidgeted. Mrs. Gerson remained silent. A loud ping escaped into the air as Faith sank back in the sofa. She took in a deep breath, then exhaled. "When I returned to school after the polio, no one would even speak to me. I was an outcast, a cripple. One day, this older boy defended me from a bully." Faith looked up, grateful the old woman couldn't see the wetness in her eyes. "He was kind, and I was lonely. I missed my sister Hope so much I thought I would die." Faith swallowed hard. "That boy's one moment of kindness was balm to my soul."
The sofa rattled as Faith jumped up to roam the parlor. "In high school we became friends for a brief time. Suddenly, he was all I ever thought about, dreamed about, wrote poetry about ..." Faith stopped to catch a breath, expelling it with a shudder. "Even prayed about. It sounds obsessive, I know, and I suppose it was. But I kept thinking I would get over it, honestly I did. Then his father died, and he changed, and I thought, this is it! Collin McGuire, the all-American boy with the winning smile, is gone. All that's left is this cocky rebel who runs with a rough crowd." Faith paused. "I thought that would do it. It should have done it."
"Done what, my dear?"
"Taken the feelings away! I'm not ten anymore, I'm almost nineteen. I'm tired of the feelings, and I'm tired of the jealousy."
"The jealousy?"
"He wants Charity, Mrs. Gerson. They all want Charity."
"I see." The old woman set her Bible on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
"Wait ... I haven't told you everything." Faith's voice broke as she sat back down.
Mrs. Gerson rose and crossed the room to sit beside her. "My dear, nothing's so terrible that God can't deliver you." She pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to her.
Faith sniffed and blew her nose. "I know, and I would be crazy with despair if I didn't realize that. But what do I do? When it was just girlhood dreams, it was safe. But now ..."
"My dear Faith, what in the world happened?"
Faith sucked in a deep breath. "He followed me to the park ... and he made advances. He kissed me, and
Faith's voice faded to silence, leaving the words of Song of Solomon hanging in the air like a lament.
Mrs. Gerson leaned forward in the chair, her brow furrowed with worry. "Faith? Are you all right? You don't seem yourself tonight, dear. We can do this another evening, if you like."
Faith looked up, her breath catching in her throat. "No ... no, I'm all right."
Mrs. Gerson clucked her tongue, shifting her vacant eyes in the direction of Faith's voice.
Faith sighed. Mrs. Gerson's physical sight might be minimal, reduced to the movement of shadows, but the vision of her soul was remarkable indeed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Gerson. I shouldn't have brought my problems here tonight. I'm all right, really I am. I'll do better. I promise."
"If you're going to promise anything, my dear, promise to tell the truth-now that would be doing better." Mrs. Gerson, a devoted Protestant, settled back in her wing chair and rested her hands on one of the many Bibles she possessed. She often remarked how she enjoyed touching its smooth leather binding as Faith read its words. "Like I'm reading it myself," she would say with a chuckle. She waited calmly, her gnarled fingers clasped in expectation.
Faith closed the Bible in her lap, the rustle of its pages followed by a soft thud. Her weighty sigh darkened the mood of the room like a shadow.
"My dear, I've never known you to be like this before. Please tell me what's wrong."
"I'm embarrassed to talk about it, Mrs. Gerson."
"Why? Has someone hurt you?" The tiny woman leaned forward in her chair, a note of alarm in her voice.
"No ... I mean yes. . . in a way. But mostly I've caused my own pain. I don't know, Mrs. Gerson, it seems so silly to put into words."
"Suppose you give me the gist of it."
The springs in the sofa squeaked as Faith fidgeted. Mrs. Gerson remained silent. A loud ping escaped into the air as Faith sank back in the sofa. She took in a deep breath, then exhaled. "When I returned to school after the polio, no one would even speak to me. I was an outcast, a cripple. One day, this older boy defended me from a bully." Faith looked up, grateful the old woman couldn't see the wetness in her eyes. "He was kind, and I was lonely. I missed my sister Hope so much I thought I would die." Faith swallowed hard. "That boy's one moment of kindness was balm to my soul."
The sofa rattled as Faith jumped up to roam the parlor. "In high school we became friends for a brief time. Suddenly, he was all I ever thought about, dreamed about, wrote poetry about ..." Faith stopped to catch a breath, expelling it with a shudder. "Even prayed about. It sounds obsessive, I know, and I suppose it was. But I kept thinking I would get over it, honestly I did. Then his father died, and he changed, and I thought, this is it! Collin McGuire, the all-American boy with the winning smile, is gone. All that's left is this cocky rebel who runs with a rough crowd." Faith paused. "I thought that would do it. It should have done it."
"Done what, my dear?"
"Taken the feelings away! I'm not ten anymore, I'm almost nineteen. I'm tired of the feelings, and I'm tired of the jealousy."
"The jealousy?"
"He wants Charity, Mrs. Gerson. They all want Charity."
"I see." The old woman set her Bible on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
"Wait ... I haven't told you everything." Faith's voice broke as she sat back down.
Mrs. Gerson rose and crossed the room to sit beside her. "My dear, nothing's so terrible that God can't deliver you." She pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to her.
Faith sniffed and blew her nose. "I know, and I would be crazy with despair if I didn't realize that. But what do I do? When it was just girlhood dreams, it was safe. But now ..."
"My dear Faith, what in the world happened?"
Faith sucked in a deep breath. "He followed me to the park ... and he made advances. He kissed me, and
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