Free Space by Emily Sue Harvey Page A

some time.” I sipped my coffee, letting its warmth soothe me. “I think Faith will appreciate wheels because she’s been without for quite a spell. As for taking care of it — there’s only one way to find out, don’t you think?”
    I shrugged. Beyond that, no solution presented itself.
    â€œWell, my insurance settlement from my collision a while back will enable me to find her a fairly nice car. I could certainly use this money for us, but I won’t have another opportunity to do this for Faith. As you know, our reservoir of free cash is empty.”
    â€œI know.” I smiled at him and his generosity. Just when I thought it had run out, here he upped and surprised me. He certainly had a right to his misgivings about this pursuit.
    Both of us kept hoping that each of these hand-out episodes would be the magic bullet to get Faith on her feet and sailing in the right direction.

    â€œShe needs a life,” I said. “Something to keep her occupied. And being stranded won’t cut it. She can’t even get a job without transportation.”
    â€œYeh,” Dan agreed, rising to depart for work. I envied him because he was usually out of the war zone Faith and I shared. At the same time, I was glad he was spared because of the complexities of his and Faith’s relationship.
    He leaned to kiss me soundly. “See you later. Love you, darlin’.”
    â€œLove you, too.”
    His gaze slid slowly over my face, his big hand cupping the back of my head.
    â€œLove you more.” Another kiss and he was quickly out the door, having had the last word.
    I grinned, warmed, feeling extremely lucky.
    Blessed.
    Then I heard the upstairs door open and close and Faith’s footsteps descending the stairs. Instinctively, I braced myself. I never knew which Faith I would get on any given day.
    Actually, this was early for her.
    Faith was rarely out of her bed in recent days and neither Dan nor I dared to wake the sleeping dragon. When she did finally roll herself out, headaches or equally debilitating ailments assailed her and had her grunting monosyllabic replies to my attempts at conversation.
    Most of the time I left her alone. Like now.
    I needn’t have worried. Faith sailed past me without a word, dumped dirty dishes she’d carried upstairs in the sink of hot soapy water I’d prepared. Without pausing, she snatched her cigarettes and lighter from the counter where she kept her stash and headed for the front porch, her preferred roost.

    I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, looking at the sink full of dishes crusted with dried food. I walked over, counting to ten, scraped them and ran a little more hot water to cover and soak them. It always made me angry.
    The entitlement issue.
    Before I knew what was happening, I found myself headed for the porch to confront her. But — on the way — reason took over. I could attack her and guarantee an explosion. Or I could wisely strike up a neutral conversation to prelude the duties discussion.
    Maybe I would tell her the good news about the car.
    I took the white rocker near Faith. “Daddy and I were talking this morning — ” I began and Faith interrupted.
    â€œTalking about what a mess I am, I imagine,” she snapped, then took a long drag on her cigarette. “I know how you feel about me.”
    The words whiplashed me. For long seconds, every nerve and sense in my body burned and spun. I squeezed my eyes shut and gulped deeply of fresh air. How could she jump to such rash conclusions? Then, I swallowed back an angry diatribe.
    â€œFaith, your father is one of the most generous men I know. He’s constantly doing for you.”
    â€œHuh.” She snorted. “And he never lets me forget it. Tells me almost daily what a waste I am. So don’t bother to defend him.”
    I felt sick over the love/hate thing with them. The antagonism.
    Then the ashes mess caught my eye.