She was pretty happy, too. She liked her job. Most of the staff at the Pine Ridge branch of the Goddess had been friendly and welcoming. She’d had far worse jobs in her time; catering to the upscale and wealthy guests who stayed there certainly had its perks, especially since she did her job so well. Tips alone surpassed the salary of some of the jobs she’d had.
At night, she and Matt would work side by side, transforming their cottage into a real home. Even with the leftovers Kieran had supplied it was a challenge, given their meager budget, but they were both determined and creative. Faith had learned the invaluable skill of sewing early on, and was able to create curtains and decorative slip covers using bargain-table materials for minimal cost. Since they were doing nearly all the work themselves, progress was slow, but there was something to be said for the pride that came from their efforts.
Twice, Lacie had driven up to chat and putter. Faith appreciated her visits. Lacie was the first and only female friend she’d managed to make since relocating, and she enjoyed their hour or two of “girl time”. So much so, in fact, that they agreed to make it a regular, weekly event.
*
Kieran didn’t get to see Faith nearly often enough during the first couple of weeks, having to rely on only those few minutes each day when she came to pick up Matt. It was hard; he had to keep himself busy so he would not drive up there each night like he wanted to and take their relationship past the friend stage to the next level.
Faith wasn’t ready. She became skittish whenever he got too close. It wasn’t ideal, but he was a patient man. He understood that Faith needed some time to get herself situated, to find her place in Pine Ridge, and to accept him as something more. He and Shane had several discussions on the topic, and Shane agreed that slow and steady was the way to go.
In the interim, Kieran made good use of his time. Matt, while not overly talkative, was a wealth of information on all things Faith.
For instance, Kieran discovered that Faith’s birthday was approaching, and that Matt was saving up his earnings, thrilled that this year he would be able to get his mother something nice. He also learned, with very little effort, that Faith loved flowers, cried easily at especially sad or romantic movies (a trait that horrified her son), and preferred thoughtful gifts to expensive ones.
What Kieran had not been able to unearth had been anything substantial about life prior to Pine Ridge, or, more importantly, Matt’s father. Matt tended to clam up if asked either directly or indirectly about either.
Some things Matt didn’t seem to mind talking about, though. He told Kieran they had never had a “real” house before, having lived mostly in trailer parks. He also occasionally made mention of an older man that had taken him fishing once in a while and had taught him how to shoot, but Kieran didn’t get the impression the man had been a relative.
Kieran couldn’t help but wonder who and what they had left behind. Instinctively, he knew the basis for Faith’s reticence lie there, and until he knew what that was, he had to tread carefully. So far, he had managed to restrain himself from asking his older brother Ian to run a bio on her. Ian had a knack for anything digital. With a few keystrokes and a bit of time, Ian could create a comprehensive dossier on anyone, living or dead.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t asked Ian for the information. Maybe on some level he was afraid of what they might find. Or maybe, he wanted the information to come from Faith. He hoped that eventually, she would trust him enough to confide in him.
*
“So can we go?” Matt asked, shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to the other.
“You got ants in your pants or something?” Faith teased, the ancient phrase bubbling up from her childhood. It was something her father would say when he’d look down from the pulpit and see her squirming on the hardwood pew.
Matt scowled as only a teenager could. “Come on, Mom. You said we could go if we got everything done and we did.”
Surely not, Faith thought as she wrapped the paint brush in aluminum foil and placed it in the fridge. It was a handy trick, one that kept the brush soft in between coats without requiring her to clean it each time. But a quick glance around told her that Matt wasn’t kidding. He’d mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, and built several of the flower bed boxes she’d requested out of old scrap lumber they’d found in the shed.
She’d spent the entire morning painting the outside trim and shutters that Kieran and Shane had repaired, greatly improving the exterior appearance of the place.
“I still need to clean the bathroom and do the dishes,” she told him, wiping the back of her hand over her sweat-covered brow.
“Done,” Matt informed her.
She raised her eyebrows and glanced at the counter, now conspicuously empty of the morning’s breakfast dishes. Then she walked into the first floor bathroom. It wasn’t that her son was in the habit of lying to her, but some things needed to be seen to be believed. The clean scent of lemons and bleach tickled her nostrils, and the old fixtures literally gleamed.