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“Now, that's funny,” I said, laughing again, kicking off my shoes and heading for the fridge and a fresh bottle of cold water.

Dan burst into laughter, too, following me then pulling me into his arms and kissing me soundly. Our moments of complete togetherness were hard-gotten these days. “Hey, it's better to laugh than cry. Huh, darlin'?”

“Absolutely.”

“Main problem with Faith is that she doesn't believe in telling herself ‘no',” he said. “She sits around thinking up ways to spend money.”

In that moment, even that was funny and the laughter kept rolling.

Needy
was the word.

“To be fair, though,” I treaded gently, “Faith more and more only asks for money because she
does
have needs. Most of the time, they're legitimate ones.”

I usually hesitated saying that to Dan because, by now, he took it as a criticism of himself. This time was no exception — his good humor vanished.

“I always end up the villain,” he complained, releasing me and heading for the den.

“There is no villain,” I insisted, following him. And there wasn't.

He bristled. “If she was getting in
your wallet
, you'd fuss, too.” He plunked down on the sofa.

“
She is
getting in mine,” I responded mildly, seating myself opposite him on the love seat, only drawing more
friction. I smiled and reminded myself that, for the sake of peace, it was sometimes best to remain silent.

It was yet another aspect of my space surrendered for family solidarity.

Our house evolved into a minefield.

I simply had to learn to walk it in a way that avoided explosions.

The evening began pleasantly. Dan stretched out on the den sofa with Poopsie napping across his stomach. I forced my voice into ultra-casual mode.

“ Dan, I'm going to use your Land Rover to take Faith to the grocery store and do a couple of errands. My VW is out of gas and yours is full.”

I thought some mother-daughter time together would be nice, too, but with Dan's growing territorial inclinations, I kept mum on that score. He cut me a sharp look over his shoulder as I placed him a hot cup of coffee on the glass top coffee table. “How long?”

“Probably a couple of hours at most. Shouldn't take long.” I shrugged negligently.

“Hurry back,” he handed me his keys and latched on to my hand, pulled me down for a kiss. “I miss you when you're gone.”

“I will,” I promised.

“Gosh, Mama,” Faith gushed when we climbed in the Land Rover, Dan's pride and joy, “Lanny just called and said he's wired me some money for cigarettes. We'll run by Western Union while we're in Greenville. My getting some cash may settle Daddy down some.”

“Faith, he doesn't fuss to be fussing. He's genuinely overloaded.”

“I know,” she said more gently. “I worry about him lately.”

“Me, too.”

We discussed the agenda for Faith's errands. She had her coupon folder, which divided into genre compartments. She'd become fairly good at rationing her food stamps with the use of coupons to stretch their value.

“Maddie's coming this weekend,” she reminded me, that unique energy of hers rising, smiting the air. “I want to get some goodies she loves. That'll pretty well finish out the stamps for this month. But they kick in again in ten days. I'm not doing too badly, am I?”

“No. You're doing much better with stretching it out. You'll soon learn how to come out completely even. It just comes with practice.”

Silence.

“Mom, please stop being negative. Why do you have to always tell me how much better I can do? I mean, I'm — ”

“I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean it as criticism.” But Dan
was
making noises at her using up the stamps before the month ran out, after which he had to make up the difference.

“Well, it comes out that way.”

We rode in silence for a short spell. Faith, always the quickest to recover, spoke as though nothing unpleasant had transpired. “Maddie loves asparagus. Can you believe that? I've only recently begun to enjoy it. So I'm gonna get a bunch to cook for her. And some linguini.” Her mind was racing full throttle. Pulsing.

I relaxed and turned into the Dixie grocery store parking lot. “I'm going to sit here and chill out, Faith. I brought a novel to read. The nightlight here is bright enough for me to see, so just take your time.”

I thoroughly enjoyed my down time. Faith was happily occupied. Dan was lounging at home. I was free and I felt the blessing of that simple fact.

Nora Roberts entertained me for over an hour. I lost track of time, actually.

The car trunk's opening impact stunned me back to reality. I slowly descended to earth as the Dixie employee deposited several stuffed grocery bags there and banged the lid shut.

In the next breath, Faith slammed the passenger door shut. “Let's go, Mom.” She scrounged around in her coupon folder, reorganizing, muttering to herself about each transaction, heaving my senses into agitation. I fought the nervous reaction.

“I need to go next door to get the wired money.” She snapped her organizer shut.

I drove to the Western Union sign and parked again. This wait was short. She was excited when she reappeared. “He sent me fifty dollars this time. Isn't that nice of him?”

“Definitely.”

Lanny was an out-of-town friend, a man whom she'd known for years and who sent her a few dollars from time to time to tide her over. Faith had long ago abandoned any false pride. She had no compunctions against accepting a helping hand from a friend.

“Is Lanny — has there ever been anything — ?”

“Romantic?” Faith peered incredulously at me. “
Lord, no
!”

“Just wondered.” I hadn't thought so. But I'd met Lanny once, a long while back. “He wasn't unattractive.”

“Just not my type.”

“Hmm.”

“He's just a friend,” she reiterated shrugging. “He's just big-hearted. He started helping me when I was going through the divorce.”

I didn't say it, but I would not have been so casual about such an arrangement. But then, I wasn't Faith.

Of its own accord, my mind veered back to the death of Faith's and Jack's marriage.

Faith's ex had felt Faith was good at simultaneously reaching out to you with one hand while pushing you away with the other.

“Jack won't romance me, Mom,” was Faith's dispassionate response when I relayed Jack's sorrow. “I'm tired of being treated like an afterthought.”

Dan and I loved Jack as our own son, which spun the entire thing into a nightmare. I was horrified that Faith could shuck Jack so easily, without a backward glance. How different we were, my daughter and I.

“We
are
different, Mama,” she agreed testily. “Why do you always take Jack's side?”

“Faith, it's not taking sides. We've always loved Jack. Now, you expect me to suddenly see him as some kind of monster.”

“He's said some terrible things to me in the past,” she insisted. “And I told him what I needed, and he refused to do simple little romantic things.”

I reminded her, “And you locked him out of the house again when he thought you two were back together. Didn't have a clue as to what he'd done wrong. That's cruel, Faith.”

“Stay out of my business, Mama. You never see my side of things.”

And it was true. Faith's callous-gene did not spawn from my pool.

Months passed, and Faith and Jack made intermittent starts and stops at reconciliation. But in the end, they both admitted they were incompatible. Each was inclined to volatile outbursts and the clashes had grown increasingly dangerous.

Soon after their divorce, Faith did the tragic slide into drugs.

How and when remained locked up in Faith's psyche vault. She'd never truly explained to me the
where
and
why
of her demise.

Tonight, I shook my head to dispel the images as Faith and I drove along I-385 to our next exit.

My mind rushed to solutions. What could fix this catch twenty-two into which we found ourselves imbedded?

A job
popped immediately into my mind.

“Have you given any more thought about getting a job?” I cautiously ventured.

Faith did her strong exhale huff, a sure back-off signal. “Can't we just enjoy the evening without the lectures, please, Mama? We don't get to do this often.”

“Sure.”

Faith's getting a job remained a hot topic of conversation. But each time she made progress, another health crisis arose and she would be forced to quit. Her last venture had been waitressing at a local restaurant. Her tips and basic below-par pay had been pitifully little. She'd ended up in the hospital with strep infection, after which Dan told her the job wasn't worth the time.

Her health was now fragile. The long drug-siege and chronic illness had taken a toll on our once stunning, healthy daughter.

“Faith,” I heard myself saying, “know what you need to do?”

She narrowed her eyes at me and cautiously ventured, “what?”

“You need to get back into the social circle and meet some nice, resourceful men to date.” One of whom can marry you and take care of you.

I felt her staring at me. Felt her guard snap in. “No, thanks.”

Defeat smacked me broadside.
Chill out, Deede
. And I suddenly recoiled from my desperation, envisioning some yesteryear radio and TV comics joking about a daughter named Rosa, whom they fervently sought to marry off to any male passerby.

No, my wish was for someone to come along and fall passionately in love with Faith. The romantic in me warbled a frantic operatic aria while I pictured a man who would marry, protect and nurture her. In whom she could find true love — her prince charming.

Of course, Faith was the least inclined person I've ever known to seek matrimony again. “Been there, done that. Not interested,” was her blunt response.

Sometimes, honestly? I felt Faith and I were born on different planets. Seemed she moved as far as possible from who I was without plunging off the other side of the earth.

But tonight, she left her dark space to reach out. “Look!” she trilled, pulling a package from one of the grocery bags she'd kept with her. “I spent five dollars on ice cream. I could not resist it.”

My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten much supper. “What kind?”

“Ice cream sandwiches with M&Ms on top.”

“Lordy.” Saliva poured into my mouth.

“Tell you what,” she leaned in close. “If you'll help me get rid of them, I'll go on a diet with you,
Mamacita
! A deal?” She stuck out her hand.

“A deal!” I gripped it. “What the heck?”

What the heck, indeed,
Mamacita.

And then she said gently, “Mama, I wish we could do this all the time. Just enjoy our time together.

So did I. Oh, so did I.

And for that moment in time, I let myself forget that things at the Stowe residence could turn in a heartbeat.

Back at home, I tiptoed into the bedroom where Dan lay fast asleep, oblivious to the television movie playing, starring Tom Berensen, one of my favorite actors. Dan looked so vulnerable lying there, breathing so deeply from exhaustion that I felt a jolt of unrest.

Slam.
The front door closed as Faith went to the porch to smoke.

Dan's heavy breathing halted. My hand stilled as I reached in the closet for a nightgown. His eyes opened and found me, looking slightly wild and disoriented. He raised up on his elbow. “What's the light doing on?” Anger limned his query.