Finding Faith. C. E. Edmonson

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СКАЧАТЬ her jaw, determined not to cry. Her father was burdened enough—her mother, too—without her adding to their misery.

      The effort left her dizzy. Inside, in her heart, the tears were now falling, and her bravado vanished like the country’s prosperity. But she somehow managed a smile and her voice shook only slightly when she finally spoke.

      “Don’t worry about us, Daddy. We’ll do okay. Me and Mom, we’re tough apples.”

      The words brought a smile to Thomas Covington’s face. Little Apple. That was his favorite nickname for his daughter. It might have been that she was so sweet, or that her cheeks were so rosy, or that her bath powder smelled like apple blossoms, or that she had been brought up in the Big Apple. Or it might just be that Faith was the apple of his eye. But as sweet as Thomas Covington thought she was, Faith had always been fearless, too—climbing every available piece of furniture before she could even walk.

      Margaret Covington hadn’t much appreciated this aspect of Faith’s personality. After all, her daughter wasn’t some street urchin, running wild while both of her parents were out working. Thomas Covington was college-educated and Margaret had graduated from high school. They had a position to maintain. Faith would have to become a lady if she hoped to marry well, and a lady she would become.

      Margaret was always careful to set the example. Even now, with every available resource already tapped, her green dress, pressed and immaculately clean, fit her slim form perfectly. Her matching, wide-brimmed hat curled down over one eye and looked as if she’d bought it yesterday. Only her tear-streaked makeup betrayed her inner feelings.

      They waited as long as they could, letting the other passengers flow around them, until the boatman was about to run a chain across the boarding gate. Then Faith took her mother’s hand and they stepped onto the ferry, turning immediately to keep Thomas Covington in sight.

      Faith raised her hand to wave as the ferry moved off. They were on the Ithaca, one of the fastest of the many ferries that crossed the Hudson. The journey across the river wouldn’t take more than a few minutes and Faith wanted to keep her father in sight for as long as possible. She was hoping for a smile, but he seemed to fall apart as the distance between them increased. Tears streamed down his face, and down her mother’s face as well.

      The realization came slowly, but was no less powerful when it finally hit her. Thomas and Margaret Covington were afraid the separation would drag out—that weeks then months would pass before they saw each other again. Perhaps they even feared a final separation. It happened, Faith knew it did. Unable to find work, to support their families or even themselves, men drifted away to become part of an army of homeless men roaming the country, without ties to anybody or anything.

      “I’ll see you soon, Daddy,” Faith called, the words already out of her mouth before she had even decided to say them.

      All around, the ferry’s engines throbbed, a steady pounding that overpowered her voice. Her father was already too far away to hear. That was fine. She had meant those words mostly for herself.

      Faith watched her father grow smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from sight. Then she watched the city retreat, the great colossus of Manhattan with its familiar skyscrapers, the Woolworth and Chrysler buildings, the newly erected Empire State Building. It seemed to be growing smaller, too—but it wasn’t just the distance.

      Thomas Covington had taken his daughter to the observation deck of the Empire State Building shortly after it opened for business. The view from the terrace on the eighty-sixth floor was stunning, and a little scary. The greater world seemed to spread out before her, a dare and a promise at the same time. Faith had dreamed, on that day, that she would somehow conquer the city, would be ushered into its finest restaurants and nightclubs and hotels. She’d dreamed that the life of the city would belong to her—but never dreamed that one day she would be banished from it. That it would have no place left for her.

      Faith looked to her right, to the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. The Lady was there, on her pedestal, to welcome immigrants and visitors. Now she seemed to be waving goodbye. To Faith’s left, in the distance, the George Washington Bridge crossed the waters of the Hudson like a necklace around the throat of a Fifth Avenue socialite.

      Faith was leaving the hustle and bustle of New York’s busy streets, the only world she’d ever known. Her destination was a blank slate, an entire unknown, but she was determined to adjust, for her mother’s sake, if for no other reason. And so she didn’t cry, or even turn for a final look at the city she loved when the ferry bumped to a halt and the passengers began to move toward the shore. She took her mother’s hand and walked resolutely forward, through the ferry terminal and into the Lackawanna Railroad Station’s vast waiting room.

      For just a moment, Faith’s mind drifted away from her troubles. The sun was pouring through a stained glass ceiling fifty feet overhead, splashing colored light onto the marble floors, transforming the room’s high-backed wooden benches into church pews. But this was no church, a reality she quickly grasped. Two railroad policemen in wrinkled uniforms were moving along the rows, rousing men who were asleep, demanding to see a ticket, sending those who didn’t belong on their way.

      Faith watched the men shuffle across the floor as her mother retired to repair her makeup. Then they purchased tickets and found seats on a bench. The two policemen approached them a moment later, but didn’t ask for their tickets or even hesitate before passing by. Margaret Covington and her daughter were still respectable, at least on the surface.

      As though reading her daughter’s mind, Margaret cleared her throat and began to speak. Her tone of voice was sure and strong, a tone very familiar to Faith. One of Faith’s pet peeves, back when the world was stable enough for minor complaints, was that her mother was always certain of everything. You couldn’t argue with her. You could barely discuss anything.

      “There’s something I want to talk with you about, so that there will be no doubt later on. Even a few years ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But you’re on the verge of becoming a woman, so I think you should know.”

      Faith responded with a nod and a simple, “Okay.” That her mother’s “conversations” tended to be monologues was a fact of life she generally accepted.

      Margaret folded her hands in her lap. She was sitting with her knees bent at a right angle, both feet on the floor. Ladies never crossed their legs in public.

      “I want you to know that your father and I did everything right. And it wasn’t easy, my daughter. Your father went to work when he was seventeen. His parents wanted him to attend college, but they didn’t have the money. So, he worked days and studied at night for many years and it nearly wore him out. Your father was in his junior year at City University when he and I were introduced at a party. I remember thinking that he was the most tired-looking young man I’d ever laid eyes on.”

      Margaret stopped abruptly, her eyes turning up as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she continued. “The point is that we were responsible and never asked for any handouts. Your father worked his way through college and then worked even harder after he was hired at Alexander and Associates. And we lived modestly, Faith, putting money aside every month. Many of our friends were heavily invested in the stock market during the boom. They thought we were fools because we put our money in the bank at low interest while they were getting rich. Well, maybe they were right after all,” she sighed. “In the end, our money was no safer than theirs. Everybody lost out.”

      Faith spoke the first thought to enter her head. Until now, the family’s finances had been none of her business.

      “I don’t get it. How is that fair?” СКАЧАТЬ