Vada Faith (31 page)

“You need to work, honey, and get your mind off things.”

“That’s right, you need to work honey,” Dorene chimed in. “We need you right here in this shop. Lord knows we do.”

“Well,” I said, “right now we need a miracle here in this shop, Dorene so you had better get started praying. Leroy has taken a chunk of hair right out of the middle of your head. If you ever go back to him,” I smacked her lightly on the head with my comb for emphasis, “don’t come back to see me. You hear?”

“I do, honey, I do. I won’t ever go to Leroy again. I swear.” Dorene’s eyes were round as Moon Pies in the mirror that reflected most of the shop.

“Well,” Marge put down her magazine, “I’ve missed you, girl. This place has been about as much fun as a wake.”

“It hasn’t been that bad.” Joy Ruth drew her eyebrows together in a frown. “Has it?”

“Well,” Dorene and Marge exchanged glances. “It’s just more fun when your twin is here,” Dorene said, “that’s all.

“We like to see those sparks fly,” Marge said, grinning.

“You want to see some sparks fly, huh,” I said and picked up the hot curling iron and shook it at Marge.

“Just saying,” Marge said, yawning, and went back to her magazine.

“Well, Vada Faith, I do love you, sweetie.” Dorene admired herself in the mirror when I’d finished. “That’s just all there is to it. You make me feel like a million bucks and I know you feel the same way about me.”

I was saved from pledging my allegiance to Dorene by the postman stomping in to leave our mail on the counter.

“Morning, girls,” he hollered, picking up his usual reward of a Hershey Kiss or two from the bowl on the counter.

Conversation was limited now with hair blowers going full blast.

“You know, Vada Faith,” Marge said, when she’d settled into my chair after Dorene left, “I’m sorry you lost your baby. More so, I’m sorry we had words on the telephone. Losing a baby is an awful thing.”

“I appreciate that, Marge,” I said, turning her around so I could start on her hair. I still had trouble accepting condolences without crying. As I ran my fingers through Marge’s hair I was thankful she hadn’t been to see Leroy too.

“If there’s anything I can do for you,” she said, when I’d finished and we were at the register. She pressed a tip into my hand and hugged me.

I nodded, unable to find words to thank her for her kindness.

After Marge was gone, mama came in, closing the shop door with a bang.

“Vada Faith,” she said, taking off her coat and heading toward me, “are you having some work done on your house? I saw a man inspecting the exterior.” She hung her coat on the coat rack in the corner. “There’s a big truck parked out front. Says renovations on it. A white real estate car was parked in front of the truck. Best Buy Real Estate. Some blond was snapping pictures of the porch.”

“You’re kidding,” I said, putting down my comb.

Joy Ruth looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Go home. See what’s going on. I can manage now with Dorene and Marge out of here. You’ll come in tomorrow. Right?”

“Right,” I said, already grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I had to get home before my husband sold the house out from under me.

When I got home there were no cars or trucks parked on the street or driveway. I rushed into the house. I could sense someone was there as I walked through the kitchen.

“Vada Faith,” John Wasper said, quietly, from the living room.

I went in to where he stood by the old brick fireplace.

“What’s going on,” I asked, standing a little away from him. He turned slowly and looked at me.

“I didn’t see your truck.” I ran my fingers through my hair hoping it wasn’t a mess.

“It’s down the street,” he said. “I needed to do some walking and thinking.” Then, he smiled that beautiful smile of his.

“My mother said there were people here inspecting the house and a blond real estate woman with a camera. I know Sandy Dooley took pictures this morning. You can’t sell this house. It’s part mine. I don’t care if Grandma Belle left it to you. My name is on that deed too. You’ve taken yourself away from us. You want to take our house.” I was frantic now.

“I’m not taking this house away from you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway I didn’t think you cared about it.”

“I do.”

“A few months ago all you could talk about was a big new house in Crystal Springs.” He moved closer to me, then turned, as if to study the old fireplace mantle.

“That was before.” I was frustrated with him for moving closer and making my heart pound out of control. “John Wasper Waddell,” I said, moving away from him, “I have finally learned what is important in my life and it’s not big houses.”

I sat down on the sofa we’d picked out together at Furniture Outlet Mall. That was during happier times. “This house is home to me now.”

He came to sit on the sofa by me which caused my heart to do flips.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking up a photo from the coffee table to break the tension.

“Old photographs,” he said, leaning back comfortably on the sofa and putting his hands behind his head. He was way too close.

“It’s our house,” I said, of the black and white photos I held. “Grandma Belle’s house back then.”

I recognized the wraparound porch which was draped with an American flag. A cluster of smiling women in summer dresses sat on wicker chairs. I recognized the famous woman who sat in the middle of the group, her head turned slightly to the camera. She wore a dark dress with a high white collar and held a dainty tea cup in her hand.

“Eleanor Roosevelt,” I said in amazement. “She was really here.”

“Yeah, she really was,” he moved his head closer to mine to look at the photo.

“Whose are these?” I picked up another photo from the table.

“Mine. Sandy Dooley gave them to me.”

“Sandy Dooley? Well, you two are close. I know you’ve been seeing her.”

“I have,” he said, “but you honestly don’t know why, do you? The way news travels in this town, I figured you’d know before I could tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I panicked, fearing what he was going to say. “Are you in love with Sandy Dooley? Are you going to marry her?”

“Vada Faith, Sandy is happily married.” He frowned at me. “She’s president of the historical society. She dug out these old pictures from city hall. Along with some newspaper clippings about this old place. She wants to help us preserve this house. Not personally. She can put us in contact with people who can help me restore it to its original state. She wants to put our house on the National Register for historic homes. They’d put a plaque on the house with the date it was built. Grandma Belle would be so proud.”

“Where does that leave us? Without a house?” I realized too late I’d said us. Then John Wasper had said us too. Us. I loved the sound of the word. I’d missed being a part of his life. I wanted to be part of an us again. “If it’s designated as this landmark,” I asked, carefully, “would we have to move out?”

“No. Being on the registry only means it’s acknowledged for its place in history.”

“All right,” I said, watching his face for some sign of where this conversation was going.

“Well, here’s the question,” he said, solemnly, “if you could have anything in the world right now, what would you want? Right today. Would you want a new house? A new life? A trip to Paris? Tell me. What would it be?”

I had to laugh. “You must have read my mind six months ago. That’s exactly what I wanted. All of those things. That’s not what I want now.”

“Then what do you want?” He asked inching closer to me on the sofa. “I’m waiting.”

“Did you win the lottery,” I asked, looking at him closely.

“No,” he said. “I just want to know what you want?”

“Okay,” I said, getting into the game. “I want to go back in time.”

“You can’t go back in time in this game,” he said softly.

“You asked what I want. That’s it. I want to go back in time to when we were kids playing in the creek and we had our whole lives ahead of us.” I choked on the next words. “I would have a clean slate and a chance to do things differently.”

“You mean you no longer want to be somebody important.” He was so close now I could smell his Colgate breath and the scented soap he’d showered with.

“I’m already somebody important. I’m the mother of two precious little girls.” I smiled at him. “I don’t want every piece of candy in the shop window anymore either.”

“Ah,” he said, moving his hand toward the coffee table, “speaking of candy.” He handed me a bag. “This is for you.”

I reached inside and pulled out a Baby Ruth candy bar. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. “You remembered.”

“Yeah, I remembered.” He moved even closer. “I’ve remembered a lot over these past few weeks. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. How happy we’ve been over the years, how lucky I’ve been to have you and the girls, and how much I want that to continue. You are the most important person in the world to me and I want us to have another chance.” He sat up straight. “You still haven’t told me what you want. What do you really want, Vada Faith?”

“I want you,” I said, suddenly shy. “I want to live in this house and raise our girls. I want us to still be living in this house when we have grandchildren.”

“You do?” He seemed to see inside my soul with those big beautiful eyes of his.

“I do but what about you, John Wasper, what do you want?”

“I want the same thing.” He moved closer until we were touching. “The very same thing.”

“Does this mean you’re coming home?” I asked and he closed the distance between us. He put his arms around me and pulled me to him.

“We have somewhere to go first,” he said, his lips against my hair.

“Where?” I asked, melting into him and never wanting to let him go.

“We have to ride our bikes out to the creek.” He nuzzled my neck.

“You mean the creek out on Old Harper Road?” I asked finding it hard to concentrate with him so close. “Where we used to play?”

“Yep, that’s the one. I was out there the other day. Parts of the old fort and wooden dock are still there. Come on.” He stood up reluctantly and pulled me with him. “Bring your Baby Ruth. I have my Hershey with almonds. We’ll share ‘em. I want to skip some rocks across the creek.” He pulled me close and nuzzled my neck again. “Bet I can skip a rock further than you.”

“Bet you can’t,” I said, rising to the challenge. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

He didn’t know it as he held me but I’d be willing to let him win at everything for the rest of our lives. “I love you,” I said. “I love you and I never want you to leave again.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, kissing me. “I love you too and nobody’s leaving. Ever again. No matter what.”

“Pinky promise,” I said, putting out my little finger and wrapping it around his.

“Pinky promise,” he said, kissing me as he lowered me back to the sofa.

Then, he said, “Pinky promise, only,” he drew out the word only, “if you don’t tell my brothers.

“Promise,” I said.

As our bodies melted together I knew this was where I wanted to be for the rest of my life.

the end

BARBARA WHITTINGTON, an award winning author, native of Putnam County, West Virginia, currently lives with her husband Raymond in a small rural town in Ohio.
Vada Faith
is Barbara's first novel. Her work has appeared in The Plain Dealer, Charleston Gazette, and Christian Science Monitor. Her short story, Mabel and the Garage Sale, was dramatized for NPR by BBC and aired world wide. Her short story, Joy Ruth and Minnie Hendrix, appeared in the UK Writers Magazine #4.
Vada Faith,
an award winning novel, has appeared under the title
Hungry For Chocolate
.