Read Online Faking Faith by Josie Bloss - Free Book Online

interacting with a bunch of little kids?
    “Everyone, this is Faith,” she announced. “You all be good and polite to her, and remember what we practice about joy.”
    “Joy?” I said.
    Abigail gave me an odd look. “Children, remind our lovely guest what joy is,” she said in a teacherish tone.
    “Jesus first, others second, and yourself third,” they recited dutifully.
    Whoops, I should have known that. It was a common saying on the blogs.
    “Of course, how nice!” I said. “Thank you for reminding me.”
    Abigail introduced all of the smaller kids in order of age. “This is Matthew and Jed and Luke and Martha and Joseph, and this little one is Mercy.”
    Abigail took the baby from the arms of the oldest girl, whom I knew from the blog was about fourteen years old. She looked like a mini-Abigail, with the same wispy hair and round face, her hands clasped in front of her.
    “And this, of course, is one of my greatest earthly blessings, Chastity,” Abigail said, propping Mercy on her hip and putting her free arm around Chastity’s shoulder. “She’s been so sweet and offered to give up her bed for you while you’re here so you can stay in with me.”
    I smiled, feeling touched.
    “Thank you,” I said. “That was very sweet of you.”
    “Hello Faith, I’ve heard so much about you,” Chastity said, a little too cheerily. “We’re going to have such fun with you here!”
    Asher walked by us toward the front door, carrying my suitcase. As he closed the screen door behind him, he shot me a smile that I pretended not to notice, even as it sent a thrill through me.
    Stop. Stop that immediately, Dylan!
    “I hope so!” I replied, looking back at Chastity.
    “Will you keep watching the littles for a while?” Abigail asked her sister. “I need to show Faith around the house.”
    Chastity’s smile clouded over.
    “But, I wanted to—”
    “Please, dear,” said Abigail firmly. “Be a good helper.”
    I watched Chastity’s face as an obvious internal debate raged inside her. She clearly wanted to pout and complain about being left behind, as I knew from experience that younger siblings often did. But within a few seconds, Chastity mastered herself. Her expression cleared and she smiled and nodded at her sister.
    It was kind of amazing to witness.
    “Of course, whatever you say,” Chastity said, taking the baby back from Abigail and going back inside, calling to the kids.
    “Sorry about that. Chastity’s going through a bit of a willful phase,” Abigail said, looking embarrassed, as if Chastity had just thrown a screaming tantrum. “Plus, she’s a little clingy and never has to share me, so I think she’s a bit envious that you’re here.”
    “Oh!” I said. “That’s perfectly okay. I understand.”
    Abigail took my hand and grinned at me.
    “Come up to my room. I want to show you my hope chest! I just embroidered a darling new set of sheets!”
    . . .
    Later that evening, as I sat at the dinner table and let myself get lost in the flow of words, my reasons for coming felt more valid.
    Every member of the family was present, from Abigail’s mom and dad bookending the long table, to Asher and Chastity on down to Mercy in her high chair, eating a home-cooked meal of beef stew and biscuits. There had been a long prayer, and now everyone was respectfully listening as each family member talked about something nice that had happened that day.
    “They’re putting on a little show for you, you know,” Abigail whispered, grinning.
    “It’s wonderful,” I replied, genuinely.
    “I helped process chickens with Asher,” said Matthew, the oldest of the little boys. “I learned a lot and it was real neat.”
    Asher, who was sitting next to him, reached over and ruffled his little brother’s hair affectionately.
    “Really neat,” corrected Mrs. Dean gently. She was a kind-faced woman who looked like the absolute cliché of a mother with many children. When I’d first met Mrs. Dean in the