Healing Faith (49 page)

"I can look for anything?" he asked, biting at his
lip as he looked up in awe.

"Just about. But I'll warn you, some things might
send you to something perverted. If that happens, don't worry. Just
click the little "X" at the top there and start over. There's
really too much out there on the Internet. You could get lost
pretty easily," I said and laughed when I noticed him blush.

I patted him on the shoulder and excused myself to
check on the turnovers. I glanced back at him as he turned back to
the computer and clicked on the next link. Smiling at the wonder on
his face I busied myself with putting another batch of turnovers
into the oven and packing the few things I wanted from my kitchen
to take with me.

Cook books, my recipe cards from my grandmother of
her cakes and casseroles, and the few decent dishes I had bought
when I thought I’d have a career in baking. I laughed to myself at
the realization that in many ways, my future would include a lot of
baking. I found a large plastic container in the front entry closet
and emptied it, returning to wrap my dishes up in some towels.

All my worldly belongings managed to take up most of
the trunk, but that was all. We dug out the sleeping bags from the
storage shed in the back yard, wedging them into the back as well.
I packed us a cooler with drinks and a few sandwiches for the road,
and put the turnovers into a secure container. We loaded up the
inside of the car, my phone and my mp3 player going on the dash,
our pillows and blankets piling up.

I walked through the house once more, taking in the
odds and ends.

Dad's worn chair. The dust on the television. The
ridiculous plaques on the wall for service to the community while
on city council. Hardly any family pictures to speak of. Nathan
remained by the front door, allowing me to say goodbye in my own
way.

I glanced at the note I had left for my father on the
kitchen counter, noticing another piece of paper attached to it.
Curious, I picked it up.

Mr. Hill,

I feel I should somehow apologize for how we met. It
was never my intention to do so under such circumstances. But God
works in mysterious ways. Had it not been for events that Kate will
put behind her, I would not have met her. And I would have never
known love and kindness from such a gentle creature as your
daughter. Kate will find beauty and happiness where she is going, I
promise you that.

I give you my word that I will take care of her.

I will love her, for the rest of my days, as God
wishes.

I am a simple man. But I know what I want. I know
what is right. Kate is right in her choice to find love and
peace.

As her father I hope you take solace in that.

I wish you peace from your demons, and pledge to you
that I will respect and honor Kate.

Forever.

Respectfully,

Nathan Solomon Fisher

On the back of the note, Nathan had left his
address.

Regardless of what Nathan may have thought of him, he
had left my father a way to make amends, to remain a part of my
life if my father chose to. I took a deep breath and replaced
Nathan’s note beside mine.

His was so much more eloquent.

But then again, it was Nathan.

The Amish were right about him.

He was a faithful and good man.

And as I locked up the house, he remained at my side,
taking my hand tenderly as I stepped away from this life and into
his. I sat in the car; looking at the house I had lived in all my
life and saw it with different eyes.

It was no longer home.

It was the past.

I gripped the wheel tightly, took a deep breath and
pulled out, never looking back.

We were quiet as we made our way through town, Nathan
tracing his fingers over my arm as it rested on top of the pillows
that rested between us. It was a welcome feeling as I silently said
goodbye to everything I had known here. It didn't take long before
we were driving south towards San Francisco, Nathan's hand in mine
and the sun above us that peeked out of the trees as we veered east
and south towards the Humboldt National Park. I smiled at his wide
eyes of wonderment at the trees, as they grew progressively larger,
until the Redwoods took over. We pulled off onto Grand Giants
Avenue that ran parallel to the 101 freeway, knowing he would enjoy
the sights of the large majestic Redwoods there. I opened up the
sunroof, and his smile only grew.

Nathan spent most of his time with his eyes to the
skies, blotted out by the tall trunks that were easily as wide as
the car, if not more. I had seen the forest many times as I had
grown up, but seeing him experience it for the first time brought
back all the good memories of my childhood in the trees.

“They are so big,” he breathed as we passed close to
one particularly large redwood.

“They are hundreds of years old,” I said and recited
the history of them to him, having heard the tale so many times on
field trips.

He listened and continued to take in the experience,
a bright smile on his face as we drove. At times his hand would
squeeze my thigh, and he’d look back at me and grin. This was the
part of my world I wanted to share with him. The beauty and majesty
of it, and funny enough, he would say that it was all the things
God offered that were the things I enjoyed most in showing him. The
more I thought on that, the more I began to believe that faith had
existed all along inside of me, it only took finding Nathan and the
Amish to recognize it.

We stopped at a small tourist store near the end of
the forest, Nathan insisting he buy a few postcards for Emma and
Abigail.

“They will not believe it otherwise,” he said and
wrote a quick note on each before putting them in the mail. He
tucked the rest in my backpack and relaxed into the seat once more
and we were off.

We enjoyed the quiet for a time as I concentrated on
the twists and turns of the road. The coolness of the fog still
lingered along the coast, but Nathan still enjoyed the air as it
passed across his hand from the window as we continued south. Back
and forth along the coast we drove, the sun sneaking in through the
fog and the tree line, until the distant city appeared ahead of
us.

And before that the red arches of the Golden Gate
Bridge.

He sat up a little in his seat, marveling at the
large structure ahead of us. The lingering fog that was burning off
in the sunlight obscured part of the bridge, but the city and the
far tower beyond were crystal clear. It was the perfect portrait of
how I would always envision San Francisco.

“Are we going there?” he asked, and I could hear some
of the trepidation in his voice.

I nodded and took his hand that had been resting on
my leg.

“Welcome to San Francisco,” I replied and filed into
the line of cars making their way slowly onto the bridge.

We had arrived in the late morning, and traffic was
not as bad as it would have been near rush hour, but it was still
slow going across the bridge and into the city. Nathan seemed a
little nervous on the bridge, as we felt it sway and rock in the
breeze. I held his hand and talked about the things we could do
while in the city to serve as a distraction.

“Chinatown is impressive, as is the wharf. And if
you’re hungry there is all sorts of places we can go to,” I
explained.

He swallowed and shook his head.

I wasn’t sure talking about food while we travelled
on a swaying bridge was the best idea, so I changed subjects.

“There’s a number of museums and places to see here
too. We don’t need to drive right through without seeing at least
something,” I said.

“This is where you wanted to study cooking,” he said
as we made it to the other side of the bridge. There was a soft
smile on his face as he took in the brightly colored row homes, and
the hustle and bustle of the cable cars and milling traffic.

“I love this town. There is always something to do
here,” I replied and took it all in one more time.

“You will not miss this?” he asked and waved to the
city.

I shrugged and thought about it.

“Probably, but I had given up on it a while ago when
Sean wouldn’t let me come down here. I think I can miss it but
still appreciate the wonderful things I will have in return,” I
said and winked at him.

Nathan over San Francisco and all its diversions?

I could give it all up.

We decided on the Wharf and I parked at the closest
parking garage, sensing Nathan’s tension at the underground
structure. But as soon as we stepped out onto the street, he was
transfixed by all the buildings, and the busy pedestrian traffic
all around us. Holding his hand, I guided him down the street,
closer to the Aquarium and the few restaurants I wanted to go to.
It might be my last chance to get crab or clam chowder, and I
wasn’t driving out of San Francisco without some sourdough
bread.

Every new thing caught Nathan’s eye, and I relaxed
beside him as he seemed to enjoy himself. I had feared it might be
too much for him, but he took it in stride, even though he admitted
to not liking the clam chowder much. He stopped to watch the sea
lions on the docks, and was particularly interested in the arts and
crafts market along the street.

There were so many things I wanted to show him.

But so little time.

Was it wrong to wish for just a few more days with
Nathan in my English world?

As the afternoon drew closer to evening, I knew we’d
have to be on our way. Getting out of the city would be hard enough
with the traffic, let alone wanting to stay and show him
everything. He was quiet as we made our way out on the road again,
stopping and going in the afternoon traffic towards the Bay Bridge
into Oakland. The traffic made my body stiff, and I cringed at the
idea that we still had about four hours to go before we made it to
Reno.

I inwardly berated myself for wanting to show him the
city, cutting into our precious travel time. The tension of the
drive worked through me and I didn’t even realize I was hunched a
little until I felt his hand slip up and rub gently on my back, his
brow furrowed as he watched his hand move.

"I should share the load of this trip with you. I
feel badly that I am not driving," he murmured.

I laughed and shook my head.

"Maybe when we get to Utah. It's all open roads
there. But here, it’s all bridges and busy highways. I’m all
right,” I said, hoping to ease his worry.

I let him continue to rub my back lightly. It helped
by leaps and bounds. As soon as we passed through Sacramento, the
highway opened up and the trees and mountains took over, allowing a
bit of peace to wash over us once again on the drive. Nathan talked
to keep me occupied as we made the long stretch through the eastern
part of the state. He asked about my childhood and more about my
mom.

"Before the depression, she was very attentive. But
as my father worked more for the city, she became really detached.
She started taking antidepressants and drinking a lot to forget.
She forgot a lot of things, sometimes even being a mother," I
explained when he looked at me in horror when he learned of one
memory where she had left me at the grocery store.

It had been several hours before she finally made it
back get me.

"But to leave your child and then not worry about
coming to get you for hours?" he asked in disbelief.

“She gave up a lot to be with my father. She quit her
job teaching when she had Stacy. She had to always seem put
together and the pearl of the community when she went out with my
dad. I don’t really blame her for anything. She just couldn’t
handle being in his shadow and not appreciated for what she did at
home,” I said and thought about how insignificant my father had
viewed her role in their marriage.

“She didn’t want to be just thought of as the
housewife. I don’t think she understood just how important her role
was for us. We didn’t understand either, until she died,” I said
quietly.

“You said she died in a car accident,” he stated,
offering me sympathetic eyes.

“That was the second time she tried to leave us,” I
said and shook my head at how much her life and mine mirrored one
another. I had run too.

“Why would she leave you and your sister?” he asked,
shocked.

I shrugged, which did nothing to ease him.

“She wasn’t well, Nathan. She was sad and lonely and
drank when she shouldn’t. I know she loved us, it just wasn’t the
life she wanted,” I replied.

I had forgiven my mother years ago when I had felt
the first urge to run away to San Francisco.

He finally shook his head and let out a strangled
noise.

"I thought my losses were unbearable. I can tell you
love your family, but I can also see why you would leave it behind.
You deserved more love than you received," he said quietly,
continuing to gaze out the window as Lake Tahoe passed by.

"I didn't know what I was missing, Nathan. Maybe
that's why I don't know if I’ll miss anything I am leaving behind.
You knew the love your family had, and that is hard to part with,"
I said and looked over at him, to see if he understood.

He turned and I could see the sadness in his eyes
over his lost family.

Something I wanted to ease but had no idea how.

I didn't know his family at all. We never really
spoke of them until this morning.

"Family is very important in our lives. I can imagine
a life without them, Kate. It is what I know. It is not a good
life," he whispered and held my hand a little tighter.

He remained quiet for a while, the daylight falling
behind us and the landscape growing more barren as we neared Reno.
I wanted to ask him about his family. But I didn't want to do it
while we drove. I wanted to give him my full attention.