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Waves of Faitha novel
a novel
By Jennie Bailor
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Jennie Bailor
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4685-5872-2
Chapter One
Just A Dream
"Faith! Come on, hurry up ... Faith!" The shrill voice sounded impatient, and rightfully so. After shopping for most of the day, being stuck in traffic for an extra forty minutes, and now waiting on her best friend to apply the final touches to her makeup and hair for another twenty-five, Brooke Hart was becoming annoyed. "We're already an hour late. And if you don't hurry your little butt up, I swear I'm going to leave without you. Faith Nevaeh Kase, are you even listening to me? Are you-" She broke off mid-sentence as Faith, fully put together and ready to go, entered Brooke's living room.
Faith tipped her cowgirl hat in a respectful gesture. "You know, patience is a virtue, ma'am. We can't all be naturally adorable or have fabulous places to live in. If I were you, I'd just appreciate your surroundings while waiting." Her voice was cheerful and she made a sweeping gesture with her hand while grinning. Brooke's house literally had it all. Fully stocked and well decorated, Faith often reminded her best friend how lucky she was. "I was here waiting on you, remember, grump-butt?" She pushed her thumbs through her belt loops and did a funny little dance in her boots. "Besides, I had to touch up this frizzy mane with your flat iron. It's practically a miracle I got ready in twenty minutes as it is."
"Twenty-seven," Brooke corrected, checking her watch. "So you're saying I should be grateful to you?"
Grinning, Faith threw her arms up in the air. "Exactly." For the first time she got a good look at her friend's costume, and peered closer. They had decided to dress up for the holiday, and Brooke had the luxury of having the day off, thus enabling her to get ready at her leisure. She nodded approvingly. "Nice black hat. Well, at least your costume matches your attitude. Where's your broomstick?"
Brooke stood up looking threatening. Gorgeous, but threatening. "I'm going to cast a spell on you if you continue to be so cheerful," she grumbled under her breath.
Pretending to strain, Faith leaned forward. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Brooke finally broke out in her pretty smile, showing her perfectly straight teeth. Attractive beyond what should be legal and (thanks to her equestrian parents) wealthy beyond what was necessary to sustain a girl of twenty-four, Brooke's house wasn't the only thing that had it all. "I said it's about time for you to get a hearing aid. And remind me to get you a key. Now let's go! Voodoo Carnival isn't going to wait on us."
Brooke and Faith grabbed their jackets, blue and black, respectively. They had bought them on clearance at the Betsey Johnson outlet store at the end of summer when they had been home visiting on a weekend, almost done with school and in a mood to go blow money. Well, technically Brooke had plenty of money to blow. It was Faith who didn't come from a wealthy background, but Brooke had helped her justify the purchase, reassuring her that it was not only something she wanted but something she needed. And besides, she had added, what kind of celebratory shopping trip would this be if Faith didn't actually buy anything? Faith had willingly consented, conscious of the fact that no matter what the occasion, Brooke always had a way with persuasion.
Almost two hours north of Manchester, they were inseparable roomies at Vermont Technical College. At that time, they each had one more quarter to go, and since they both had gotten not only a late, but also a slow start in college, they were already older than most. At twenty-three and still seniors, they took their time agonizing over their statuses and complained to anyone who asked what they did for a living that they were professional students. It was a never-ending joke between them that they would be in school forever.
Coincidentally, the two of them learned that they had overlooked some basic classes, and instead of graduating in June with most every other senior, each of them would have to take her last quarter in the summer and graduate in the fall. Untraditional but doable, it was torturous to hear. They knew the clear benefit was getting to graduate together, but they were still disappointed. The classes they had avoided were in subjects neither one of them could stand, and the entire summer had been pure misery.
Faith had been missing a couple of credits in the communications department, something she had purposely put off because the thought of speaking in front of someone, let alone an entire audience, made her break out in a rash. Prone to being red-faced and easily embarrassed, she avoided any class that required speeches or an extreme amount of verbal participation, and she had done quite well until that one popped up. Originally wanting to opt for the alternative English class offered instead, she had been crushed to find out it was full. From that point, her options had been limited: she could wait until the next quarter-thus prolonging graduation even further-or she could suck it up and learn how to face a crowd. The decision hadn't been easy, but it had been clear enough.
Since she had spent so much time at the school, she was secretly hoping the higher-ups would be kind to her, and let her bypass Effective Speaking, as it wasn't structurally important in building a foundation with animals. But unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be, as the administration didn't think much of her typed letter explaining that she'd be doing the professor and other students a disservice by attending the course. It was ... how had she put it? Oh yes, she'd written that forgoing the class was the most sacrificial thing she felt she could do for the university, especially since she knew the ability to speak in front of people was profoundly important in culture and poise; still, she had no interest in offending any of the other students by not being able to perform up to standard. Faith had worked diligently on the letter and had been wholeheartedly pleased with the arguments she presented. Even her advisor had seemed amused and slightly impressed at her spunk, birthing a tiny seedling of hope. But alas, the faculty hadn't agreed, decidedly apathetic about Faith's nerves, and had forced her through the gauntlet anyway. It had been her own personal hell.
Brooke, on the other hand, had been missing credits in math, her worst subject. After much debate about what to do with her life, and disappointing her wealthy, Seabiscuit sperm-raising family by switching her major from equine studies to respiratory therapy, she still needed a finite mathematics course and one statistics class to fulfill her requirements and graduate.
Faith had tried to be optimistic when Brooke was fighting her way through both. "It could be worse, you could have had to do calculus or trig." Brooke had just glared at her and then wondered aloud how noticeable it would be if both professors simultaneously vanished from the university.
In the end, it had all worked out, and here they were now, moved back to Manchester just in time for the fall festivities-newly graduated independent ladies ready for a night out on the town. Each girl had worked hard at landing a job and a home in the previous weeks, and now they were beyond excited to party. They were living the dream, as Brooke liked to say. Abbey, their other best friend who couldn't join them for the concert, would always jokingly retort that it had taken them long enough. She had graduated two years earlier and had been holding a steady job as a nurse at Northshire Medical Center, the local clinic. It wasn't as big as the Bennington Hospital, where Faith's mom worked, but that's why Abbey liked it: smaller-scale, regular hours.
They headed out, Brooke carefully locking her door. Brooke had told Faith that she'd heard about two months ago that the Connecticut-based band was making a rare appearance in Manchester for a special Halloween concert, an event she clearly didn't want to miss. Specializing in rock, Voodoo Carnival was notorious for their hot group of singers and their opening number, a sizzling version of the Stones' "Can't You Hear Me Knocking." The last time they had been to Manchester was on Abbey's birthday, and Levi, one of the lead singers, had invited the girls to do a pre-show shot of their favorite tequila, Don Julio. Originating from a different state, the band didn't make it up their way as much as the girls would have liked, but the few times they had been in their area, everyone had had a blast.
Tonight the concert was taking place at a local restaurant and tavern across town, The Perfect Wife, but the band was such a huge draw for the area that tickets were still required, and Brooke had thoughtfully purchased them for Faith's graduation present.
They pulled into the crowded parking lot of the tavern with the ever-popular name. The Perfect Wife was divided into two sections, according to preference and budget. Around the side and down a set of covered stairs was the glass-enclosed white linen-covered candlelit table retreat-a secluded haven to go to for a quiet fine dining experience. More romantic and expensive, Faith had only been in that part a couple of times. The tavern, on the other hand, was on the main level, flush with the parking lot and extending patio. Supplying an electrically charged atmosphere with high-top tables, a bar, and various bands, it was noisier and stimulating. This side also offered food at more reasonable rates, therefore attracting a fair amount of young adults. They featured an outstanding six-dollar burger and an unlimited variety of mixed drinks.
Stepping out of the car, Faith noticed how crisp the air was. Fall surrounded them, bragging its rights and making it obvious why this season was notoriously famous in Vermont. The trees were gorgeously donned in rich hues of red, orange, and yellow, and while it wasn't quite the atmosphere of their charming downtown, seasonal decorations abounded. The smell of leaves and pumpkins and cinnamon wafted throughout the lot, coming from, as well as spreading to, the few surrounding restaurants. Fall accents and orange lights were strung over the main door, spilling out to the connecting covered patio, making the scene fun and festive.
They hurried inside behind a short hooker and a large pimp, luckily finding a small round table for two in a side room that was away from the bar but still somewhat open to the stage area. Sitting down, Faith couldn't stop grinning as she looked around. The place was quickly reaching capacity level. "Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all."
Brooke motioned toward a table a few feet away, where a group of guys were clustered together, drinking beer and telling jokes. They were dressed up as cops, with fake handcuffs clipped to their thick black belts. One of the taller ones was using the wide span of his lanky arms to animatedly tell a story that the others seemed enthralled with. "Are you referring to the view or the seats?"
Faith giggled. "Both, actually. I think I love you even more!" They couldn't have possibly known that they were going to get an actual table, but Faith was, once again, struck with awe at her friend's charisma and thoughtfulness. Her heart was genuine and she knew that in a heartbeat, Brooke would have spent five times the original amount of money for tickets.
While not front and center, the table was still fantastic. A homey stone fireplace lined the wall adjacent to the stage, and a row of tables that had no doubt been the first to be filled were directly across from where the band would be performing, leaving only a minimal space to bust a move. Faith knew it wouldn't take long for them to get on the dance floor, but until then, Levi's profile would have to suffice. Faith decided that the view a few tables over was just another plus. Then her brow furrowed, and Brooke, noticing, leaned across the table. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Faith nodded. "I'll admit I'm not a huge Halloween fan, but I love everything else about this. But they're dressed up in costumes and since when-"
Emphatically nodding her head, Brooke cut her off. "Since when do a group of good-looking guys hang out at one of these? Making an effort with costumes and all dressed the same? I know. Almost too good to be true."
As if on cue, a swarm of girls dressed as promiscuous lady cops, rounded the doorway, walking through a bunch of orange and black streamers. Recognizing the tallest guy, one of them pointed and shouted a little too dramatically. "There they are!" The girls locked in on the group in one theatrical swoop, flirting and giggling hysterically. The laughter became even more obnoxious as the tall one made a big show of handcuffing two of the girls together.
Faith, who had been holding her breath without realizing it, let out a disappointed sigh and leaned back, adjusting her hat. "Cheesy. Isn't that the way it always is?"
Brooke nudged her friend lightly. "Now who's the grumpy one?"
At Faith's lack of response, she made a clear attempt to re-wire her thinking. "Hey, we didn't come here looking to meet anyone, right? Cheer up. I'm going to the bar to get us a drink. What do you want?"
"Uh-uh. No way. I'm getting us the drinks." Faith stood up, taking off and folding her jacket across the wooden chair, instantly feeling refreshed. With all the extra body heat in this place, she could've sworn it was at least one hundred degrees, and she was glad she had worn a T-shirt instead of a typical cowgirl flannel. "We can get loaded, and maybe that will make up for the stupid blender."
For Brooke's gift, Faith had found a workable, yet not-so-attractive blender at a discount warehouse that sold older home goods for more than half-off. The price had fit well into Faith's budget at the time and she had shrugged off the poo-brown color, as well as the obviousness of its age. Brooke was the hardest person to shop for because she had just about everything, but being indecisive by nature, Faith had argued the pros and cons with herself in the small appliance aisle for a solid fifteen minutes. The angel on her shoulder-the one fighting for her bank account- -eventually won out. Since the moment she had opened her tickets from Brooke, though, she hadn't stopped feeling guilty about it-it had to be on the list of top ten worst gifts ever given by Faith. Maybe even of all time. "What do you want?"
"Faith, will you quit worrying about the-" she paused and lifted her hands, making quotation marks with her fingers "-stupid blender? I told you, I love it." She choked on the last part and tried, unsuccessfully, to cover up her laugh as a cough. Faith stared at her, lips pursed. After a minute, when it was obvious Brooke couldn't continue because of her coughing fit, she squinted her eyes and left Brooke to hack it out on her own.
"You're getting a water," she muttered.
Faith made her way out to the well-lit bar, humming to music she hadn't noticed before. Since leaving that noisy room, the background song on the speakers was more pronounced. Axl's voice rang loud, paying a much-deserved musical tribute to the late eighties. "Sweet Child O' Mine" had always been one of Faith's favorites.
As she stood in the crowded line, she looked up at the hand-written board advertising drinks. It wasn't as if there were many choices; in order to keep it simple for everyone, the management had clearly decided to keep the menu easy and straightforward. And good Lord, was that an eight next to the dollar sign? She sighed and reached into her wallet, feeling a bit disgruntled. A couple of these for Brooke and she would never again feel guilty about getting her that ugly brown appliance.
As she stared up at the board, she wondered what had more alcohol in it, a beer or a Jack Daniels. She felt embarrassingly clueless, but the truth was, she hadn't ever been a die-hard drinker. Actually, she enjoyed wine more than anything. In fact, there was nothing better than coming home after a long day and pouring herself a glass. But because of her job, she could rarely find the time to enjoy even that. A vet assistant, as it turned out, worked more hours than she had been led to believe. As she paid for the two Down Home punches, she quickly decided that she wouldn't mind putting back a few tonight.
She picked up the drinks, turning around abruptly. Too abruptly. She literally ran head first into something rock-hard, and she could feel the shock from the coldness of the crimson punch as it began to saturate her white T-shirt, down to her skin, and she could hear the apologies being made before she even fully realized what had happened.
Immediately, she looked down and tried to blot the stain with a napkin in one hand, her now half-empty drinks in the other. Her effort was futile. If anything, she was spreading the bright-red color. She became acutely aware of how close the person she had run into was standing to her, and she tried to move into a back corner by the patio door, away from him and the rest of the impatient onlookers.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Waves of Faitha novel by Jennie Bailor Copyright © 2012 by Jennie Bailor. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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