Faith, Hope & Love Read online

  Faith, Hope & Love

  Rachel Hanna

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Foreword

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  Chapter 1

  There are days in life that a person never sees coming. Sometimes, those are good days, but other times they’re not so good. Occasionally, they might even be surreal. For Faith McLemore, today was a very surreal day.

  As she stood at the end of the long concrete pathway leading into the ominous brick building, she tried to assess how her life had gotten here.

  Now almost in her mid-twenties, she expected to be at a totally different place. Traveling the world, working in fashion or maybe even politics, dating a handsome man with a strong jaw and even stronger work ethic. She certainly expected to have a big rock on her left hand by now, just like most of her other high society friends did. Even Eileen Lawrence, the most homely girl in her circle of wealthy friends, was engaged, albeit to an equally homely man. But he had money, lots of it, and that always made men more attractive.

  Instead, she found herself in a very different stage of life - standing in front of this building, single, jobless and going in for a meeting she never expected to have. Yes, her life had definitely gone off the rails in recent months.

  The death of her mother, Jane, had started the whole chain reaction of her life spiraling out of control. The sudden car accident that had claimed her mother’s life rocked her world, but also her father’s. He still hadn’t recovered, and then he’d made his own poor choices in the years following that dreadful time.

  As she approached the glass doors leading into the building, she steeled herself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe her visions of what this meeting would be like would be far off the mark. But as soon as she opened the door, she knew. The smells, the sounds, the energy of this place was unmistakable and worse than the nightmares she’d been having lately.

  “Can I help you?” the woman behind the glass enclosed cubicle asked. Her face was impassable, and it seemed if she cracked a smile that her skin might actually split open.

  “I’m here to see Jim McLemore,” Faith said softly as she looked around her. It was like a foreign country, the dull roar of sounds she didn’t recognize and voices she couldn’t decipher. She pulled her expensive handbag closer to her body.

  Sometimes she thought maybe she’d been too spoiled in her life. Her father and mother had made sure she had all the best. A big house, a pony as a kid, more family vacations than she could count, a brand new car when she turned sixteen. But that life was long gone, even though she refused to get rid of her expensive handbag. It was one of the only things she still had.

  “Inmate number?” the woman practically shouted.

  Inmate. Her father was now an inmate. Faith slid a small piece of paper through the window with the number written on it. The woman looked at it without speaking and printed a sticker.

  “Put this on and go through that door. Take a seat.”

  Suddenly she feared the woman might slap an orange jumpsuit on her as soon as she crossed the threshold. There was something about being in an actual prison building that made her throat constrict a bit, and she wondered how her father was managing to put one foot in front of the other each day.

  He’d only been there for two months now, but it seemed like an eternity. Aside from missing him desperately, Faith had lost the only home she’d ever known when the government had seized it as part of her father’s assets. They’d taken just about everything at this point which was why she held her designer handbag so close. Well, that and the fact that she was well aware that criminals surrounded her at the moment.

  She pulled her shirt sleeve down over her hand and turned the doorknob, noticing in her peripheral vision that the woman who’d checked her in was watching her closely and probably judging the fact that she didn’t want to touch the doorknob.

  “I’m a germophobe,” Faith said, lying as she smiled at the woman. The woman didn’t smile or respond and went back to looking at her papers, slightly shaking her head.

  Faith walked through the door into a room with about ten small metal tables. Each one had two chairs across from each other. It was stark white with a smell she couldn’t place. Maybe the aroma from what was probably a very nasty cafeteria?

  She looked around at the families already having their visitation time. Mothers staring lovingly at sons, wives holding babies. There was an air of sadness, although everyone was smiling for the most part. This wasn’t normal.

  “Miss, you need to take a seat,” a very large guard said as he towered above her. Faith nodded her head quickly and found the closest table.

  There were no windows. The walls were concrete blocks painted over with chips every few inches. The floors were some kind of 70’s looking tile with flecks of avocado green. And her father lived here now. He would be living here for up to ten years, or maybe more. The judge hadn’t gone lightly on him.

  It was a far cry from their sprawling home near the city with its marble floors and huge swimming pool. Moments of her life flashed through her mind. Christmas parties with full orchestras right in her living room. Lucy, their live-in housekeeper, humming her made-up songs as she prepared four course meals in their state of the art kitchen. Getting her first car, a convertible, in their circular driveway. Her father had even placed a large pink bow on the top.

  Her car had been confiscated, and last she heard, Lucy was working at a local diner slinging hash behind the counter.

  Faith’s eyes started to well with tears as she thought about the man she’d loved all her life sitting in some stinky cell for hours each day. What if someone attacked him? What if he had a medical emergency? Would they even help him? He was allergic to peanuts. Did they know that? Where was his epinephrine pen?

  “Faith?”

  She turned to see her father walking through another door. Faith stood, ready to embrace him after so many weeks, but a guard stepped between them.

  “No physical contact.”

  “Come on, man. This is my daughter. I can’t give her a hug?” Jim asked, looking up at the guard.

  “No.”

  Faith swallowed hard and vowed not to cry. She didn’t want her father worrying about her. He had enough to worry about.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Jim said as he took the chair across from her. Faith sat back down and smiled sadly at her father. He already looked different. Thinner. Pale. Darkness under his eyes that he only got when he wasn’t sleeping well.

  “Daddy. Are you okay?” she asked softly. She instinctively slid her hand across the table only to hear a grunt from the guard who was standing very close to them.

  “I’m fine, honey. How are you?”

  Faith took in a deep breath. “Not fine. My Dad is in prison, and I can’t even touch his hand.”

  Jim nodded. “I’m so sorry, Faith. I really let you down.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. He’d let her down in many ways. Embezzlement from his employer and federal tax fraud had put him where he was. When he’d gotten caught, he’d tried to cover his tracks, but he had done a sloppy job and made things so much worse.
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  “How are they treating you?”

  “Actually, pretty good. Not as bad as I’d feared. My crime doesn’t put me in the company of murderers or gang members, which is good. I’m in a different area.”

  “Oh, well, I guess it’s just like a four star hotel then?” Faith said sarcastically.

  “Honey, this is my home for a long time. I have to make the best of it.”

  “I know, Daddy. I just worry. I never saw you living out your older years in a place like this.”

  Jim let out an ironic laugh. “Yeah, me either. Let’s talk about something else. How’s Ted?”

  Faith stilled in her seat. “He dumped me.”

  Ted had been her steady boyfriend for three years, but he’d broken up with her almost as soon as her father went to prison. Working at the same company as her father, he wanted no association with what her father had done. And truthfully, theirs had been more of a relationship of convenience than love. Still, right now she needed someone and she had no one. Everyone had basically abandoned her, not wanting to get the remnants of her father’s misdeeds on them.

  “That jackass,” Jim mumbled under his breath. “I’m so sorry for all of this. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I wish I could show you just how much I’m sorry, honey.”

  Faith looked into her father’s sad eyes. If she was being honest with herself, she was mad at him. Mad that he’d chosen what he thought was an easier path to wealth than actually following the law. Mad that he hadn’t considered her feelings when he’d hid money all over the world. Mad that everything was crumbling around her, and now she didn’t have a mother or a father.

  “He did it over text,” she said of her breakup with Ted. She didn’t know why she was telling her father even more information than he needed, but a part of her needed him to know that she was struggling. Putting on a brave face was a lot easier said than done.

  “I don’t know what to say, Faith.”

  She sighed. “There’s nothing to say, Dad. It is what it is.”

  “Where do you go from here?”

  Honestly, she hadn’t considered that question. She’d spent the last few weeks moving into a crappy little apartment and putting out fires in her personal life.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Have you looked for work?”

  Faith chuckled. “Well, let’s see. Who wants to hire a college dropout whose only work history includes being her father’s personal assistant before he got put in prison for stealing money from his company and the United States government?”

  Jim’s face fell, and Faith suddenly felt terrible. It dawned on her that he spent every single hour of every single day sitting in prison thinking about all the ways he’d failed her, and now she was piling more onto him.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. Gosh, this is all so hard.” She put her head in her hands, wishing more than anything that he could take her into his arms and give her one of those hugs she’d so loved as a kid. How she would miss those hugs.

  “I failed you miserably, honey. And I can never make that up to you…”

  “Three minutes,” the guard said as he approached the table.

  “Wow, the time sure passed quickly,” Faith said, looking at her watch.

  “Faith, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, turning her attention back to her father.

  “I called you here today because I want to give you something. Actually, it’s something I should’ve given you years ago. You’re going to need a pen and paper.”

  Faith pulled both out of her purse. Jim was talking fast, aware that the time was running out.

  “I have a safety deposit box at United Federal. The one off Jackson Avenue. You know where that is, right?”

  “Of course.” Now she was getting worried. Had he hidden more money?

  “The box number is 3459…”

  Faith listened and wrote down the information as her father rattled it off.

  “Dad, is this something I can get in trouble…”

  “No, of course not sweetie. But that box is your future. It’s how I think you can get back on track in your life. Make no mistake; it’s going to be shocking. And maybe you’ll never want to see or talk to me again, but I can’t go on without you knowing…”

  “Time’s up,” the guard said as her father stood up.

  “I don’t understand, Dad.”

  “I love you, Faith. Just remember that, okay?”

  He slowly walked away with the guard until Faith could no longer see him in the window, and she was left to wonder what other secrets her father had been hiding. Would these shatter her world into a million pieces like his last secrets did?

  “Miss McLemore? I’m Constance Arnold. One of my tellers said you’re here for a safety deposit box?”

  “Yes. I have the information right here.” She handed the piece of paper to Constance.

  “Great. Follow me, please.”

  She followed behind the woman into a small room off the main banking area. There was a nondescript wooden table sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by walls of shiny safety deposit boxes.

  Constance unlocked one from the wall and placed it on the table. “Take all the time you need.”

  Faith just stared at the box for a long while, her hands shaking in her lap. Why would her father be so secretive and not just tell her what was in the box when she visited him? Why keep her in such suspense over a whole weekend until the bank opened again?

  She slowly opened the box, prepared to find any manner of illegal material or stacks of hidden money. Instead, there was a simple white envelope and a file folder. Almost not worth paying for a safety deposit box.

  The envelope had her name on it, written in her father’s unmistakable handwriting. She rubbed her fingers across it for a moment, trying to feel any connection to him that she could. His cologne wafted up from the box, and she brought the envelope to her nose. She missed him. Things would never be the same, and thinking about that made her sick to her stomach.

  One day, she might get married. Have kids. But her Dad wouldn’t get to walk her down the aisle or hold his firstborn grandchild. She felt sad and mad at the same time.

  “Stop it, Faith,” she said to herself. Refocusing her mind, she stared down at the envelope in her hands, took a deep breath, forgot to let it out, got light headed, finally exhaled and then opened it.

  To her surprise, only one piece of paper was inside and it was all in her father’s handwriting. He rarely wrote long letters like this; mostly he’d just signed checks and report cards over the years.

  Dear Faith,

  If you’re reading this letter, something went wrong in my plan to change our lives. I want you to know that I always tried my best for you. Being your father has been the greatest joy I’ve ever known, sweetie. But now I have to tell you something that may forever change our relationship because I know it’s what’s best for you.

  I am not your father.

  Faith’s breath caught in her throat as her heart began to race. What? He wasn’t her father? She struggled to take her next breath, positive this is what a panic attack must feel like. Steeling herself, she continued reading.

  I know this must come as a shock to you, but it’s true. Your mother and I kept it from you when you were little because we didn’t want to confuse you. But when she died, you were all I had in this world and I couldn’t risk losing you. So I continued to lie by omission.

  Your biological mother was young and in a bad situation, from what we were told. She couldn’t take care of you, and at the time your mother was volunteering at a crisis pregnancy center. Your mother gave birth in Virginia, and we got the call from one of our connections at the adoption agency. From what I understand, she went home afterward and finished school.

  So now I have to give you back to your original family, Faith. It’s the only gift I have left to give you - a chance at being a part of a real family and having somewhere to belong in this
crazy world.

  I adore you, my sweet girl. Always know that. I wish I’d been strong enough to tell the truth and not keep secrets, but I wasn’t. You were too special to me, and I kept you to myself. And I don’t regret a moment of being your Dad.

  I love you, honey.

  Faith shook in her seat. She felt a swirl of emotions come over her. Anger. Shock. Sadness. Grief. Confusion.

  Jim McLemore wasn’t her biological father. And her mother hadn’t been her mother. Her brain hurt.

  “Miss McLemore, are you alright?” the woman asked as she came in to check on her.

  Faith’s face was red, her eyes full of tears. She eked out a few words. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little emotional.” The woman nodded and walked out, although she still had a look of concern on her face.

  Faith reached down into the box and pulled out the file folder. There wasn’t much in it aside from her birth certificate, which listed Jim as her father - and another piece of paper.

  On it, there was random information written including her birthdate and a town in Georgia. Faith had lived in Virginia her whole life, so she knew no one in Georgia. Well, until now, apparently.

  “January Cove,” she said to herself as she pulled out her phone and did a search. Looked like it was a small beach town near Savannah, and it honestly looked like a great place to escape to right about now. Staying at a hotel or even a B&B would be a lot better than her current ratty one bedroom apartment near the prison. God, her life was a mess.

  But first, she had some questions for her father.

  “Ma’am, I told you. This inmate has specifically requested not to receive a visit from you at this time.”

  “Can you please talk to him for me? I need to ask him some questions. It’s very important.”

  “No, I cannot. Maybe try writing him a letter?”