Link: Lost Faith Title Page and Description

--

Eric looked out the window of the cab through rivers of raindrops that ran down the side of the roof in little streams. The sun was just reaching the ebb of twilight in the wet October sky as he opened the cab door and stepped out onto the muddy driveway in front of the house that was to be where he would live from now on. He couldn't call it home; that was back in Newport Beach.

The scent of rain and the faint hint of ozone combined with the imposing edifice, marble pillars standing to either side of four perfect marble steps up to the massive oak front door, to create a frightening scene. The twelve-year-old gulped as he'd had no idea what his aunt Heather's home would be like when he'd left Southern California. He had thought that even in twenty-ten northern New Hampshire would all be farms and rustic shacks made of hewn logs. The last thing he had expected was what appeared to him to be a mansion.

The cab driver irately came around the vehicle, stomping through the mud quickly. "Hey kid! You owe me another thirty-eight fifty!"

Startled by the man and his situation, Eric lost his footing and slipped in the mud, falling backwards onto his rear. Looking up at the imposing and obviously irritated man as mud and rain soaked into his ratty jeans, he blinked up at him. "I... I gave you all I had left." He pointed toward the massive building. "Th-they should be able to p-pay the r-rest, sir!"

Pulling the child up by his jacket accompanied by the sound of seams popping, the cabby growled at him. "They better be able to pay kid, or I'm calling the cops!" He dragged Eric up the fine marble steps, the youth noting that their passage left the only blemishes on the pristine wrap-around porch. Banging on the door in one continuous stream of noise, the cabby nearly fell through the doorway when it opened.

Eric looked into the house and saw a monstrously huge man in a tuxedo jacket staring at them with a look of near disdain. He was obviously well muscled and very tall, seeming at least half again as tall as Eric's four foot-ten height. He guessed he could use each leg of the man's pant legs as a sleeping bag.

The stranger stepped into the doorway, blocking most of it. "May I help you, sir?" he said in low even tones. "What is your business here?"

The cabby was initially intimidated, but determined to get what was owed to him. "Look Jeeves, you know this kid?" He hoisted Eric onto his tiptoes.

The man in the doorway looked emotionlessly down at the dangling child who had a terrified and broken look in his young eyes. "I have never seen him before sir, however..."

Even as he spoke, the cabby lifted Eric up by the jacket with his free hand, popping more seams on the sleeves as he hoisted the child completely off his feet. "You little thief! Think I have nothing better to do than... Ah!" He screamed as the man in the doorway gripped his arm like a vice, making him drop Eric unceremoniously onto the soiled and torn seat of his pants. "Lego of me!" he screamed, finally stepping away as the giant man released him. "What're you, crazy!" he yelled.

Clearing his throat, the huge man answered, "I only acted to prevent you from harming the boy, sir." Looking down at the child, he bent at the waist and offered a hand to him. "I am Fredrick, Madame Hargrave's butler. Would you, young sir, be Eric Dunning?"

Nodding as Fredrick helped him back up, he stammered shyly, "Y-yes, sir."

The driver moved up again cautiously. "Say...what's the gag here? You said you didn't know him!"

"I have never met young Master Eric before, sir." Fredrick replied smartly, "However, he was expected... though not until next week at the soonest."

"Well, the kid still owes me thirty-eight fifty for his fare! I hauled him all the way out here from Boston-Manchester and he shorted me! I ought to call the cops!"

"Fredrick?" a light feminine voice said from behind the butler. "What's going on?"

"Just an issue regarding young Master Dunning, Madame Hargrave." he replied with a slight turn of the head. "It appears he is here far in advance of when you were expecting him. There is also a... cab driver... insisting on an additional fee for the fare, Madame."

Watching as Fredrick moved back into the house, a woman came into Eric's view. Heather Hargrave was dressed in a formal gown of pink satin and lace, organza sleeves extending almost all the way to her fingertips. Her lovely blonde hair was curled and coifed perfectly to frame her beautiful countenance centered around two of the bluest eyes Eric had ever seen. As she looked down at him with a concerned expression, he felt ashamed of his disheveled appearance just being in her presence.

The driver, hoping to just get his money and go, cleared his throat. "Evening, lady! I drove the kid here all the way from Boston-Manchester and... well... he shorted my fare! Then this guy grabs me and almost breaks my arm!"

Fredrick bowed slightly to her and whispered in her ear. She sighed as she looked at the two strangers before saying, "Very well, Fredrick. Pay him what he is due."

Retrieving two twenty-dollar bills, Fredrick handed them to the driver. "The change and a receipt, if you please, sir." he intoned flatly.

Snatching the money from his meaty hands, the cabby grumbled and went back to his vehicle, Fredrick moving out the doorway to follow him.

"Won't you come in?" Heather said lovingly.

Stepping slowly and cautiously into the house, Eric's shoes squished with each footfall, making him embarrassed for even being in her lovely home. "S-sorry I'm such a m-mess. I... I fell d-down outside... Mrs. Hargrave?"

"You may call me 'Aunt Heather', Eric. And don't worry about the mess. Though you might want to remove those shoes!" she said lightly. Sweeping her hand toward a marble bench along the wall opposite the door, Eric could now see it was actually the side of an ornate marble stairway.

Making his way over to it, he sat down just as Fredrick came back in; the sound of the cab speeding off into the rainy night.

"Eric?" his aunt Heather asked. "Don't you have any luggage or bags? Were they still in the cab?"

He slowly shook his head. "They... they were lost somewhere when I changed planes... Detroit maybe? I... I asked the lady at the counter about them. She just gave me a number to call. She... she said they might be able to have them in a few days or so."

Heather looked down at the child who she hadn't seen since he was three years old. Her sister-in-law's son, Eric's defeated and vacant visage vaguely resembled both of his deceased parents, but favored Erica and her late husband's side of the family more. But his hair looks so much like Jack's! she noted of the boy's bedraggled dirty-blonde locks. Smiling at him sweetly as he started pealing his soggy shoes and socks off, she swallowed back her own inner turmoil over the family's loss and lowered herself down to the floor so she wouldn't tower over him.

"We weren't expecting you until the first of the month, Eric. I am sorry that we aren't prepared for your arrival, but I do hope you come to love living at Hargrave House, sweetie!"

Eric froze as she called him sweetie, the same thing his mother had always called him. His thoughts drifted to their final time together.

Erica Dunning smiled weakly as her son entered her hospital room. "Hi, sweetie!" she greeted him weakly, barely able to turn her head toward the door.

He swallowed hard, the sight of his mother so weak and helpless making him want nothing more than to just cry, but he made himself smile. "Hey, Mom! Looking beautiful as always! Coming home today?" he chirped.

She tried to keep smiling at him, but her strength was ebbing quickly. Her usual reply of 'Thank you, Eric! I bet I'm home by tomorrow!' was one of the ways they coped with her leukemia, but today she just sadly shook her head, knowing it was simply false hope. "No, sweetie."

Pausing as his smile fell like sunset, Eric shook his head. "No, Mom! You're supposed to say..."

She coughed painfully, reaching a hand out to her only child. "I'm sorry, sweetie! I'm afraid today I will be going Home... to be with your father." Her eyes drifted away aimlessly. "My Jack!" she almost whispered, her heart breaking for him just one more time.

"Mom?" Eric said taking her hand. It was cold and fragile, almost as though if he squeezed it too hard it would crack into powder like fine china. "You... you can't go! I... I need you!"

"I know, sweetie!" she said as a tear ran down her cheek. "I don't want to... but God has other plans for us... and sometimes they're hard to endure. My biggest regret is that I won't be here for you. Taking care of you, watching you grow, and being there for you when you need me. That and there's so many things I wanted to tell you when you got old enough to understand. About your father, about our family, about love and life."

"There are so many stories I wanted to tell you. Like how you got your name?" She laughed lightly as she remembered the day. "The doctor was so sure you were going to be a girl, we didn't even have a boy name picked! Jack wanted to call you 'Erica Bella'... 'Erica the beautiful'!" She laughed again at the memory of the wondrous sense of humor that was his gift, coughs eventually overtaking the light chuckles. "You should have seen his face when we found out the doctor was wrong and he had a son!"

Eric smiled weakly. "I guess he was pretty jazzed, huh Mom!" He tried to keep his tone up beat.

Nodding, his mother slowly blinked and smiled. "And then stammered like an idiot over what we were going to call you!"

He nodded at her. "I like my name just fine, Mom. Eric Bell is a great name!"

Chuckling once more, Erica's smile evaporated with her waning strength. "There's so much more. Things I wanted you to know about your father. What kind of man he was, why I loved him so much, why he had to do what he did... but it just isn't meant to be, sweetie. I'm sorry... so very sorry!" Her eyes closed long enough that Eric thought she might have fallen asleep, but a moment later she opened them once more.

"How are the Stones treating you, sweetie?"

Eric sighed as he looked down, thinking about his best friend April Stone. Her parents had taken him in six months earlier when his mother had been admitted to the hospital expecting only a short stay, but the longer it had gone on, the less welcoming her parents had become. "It's OK, I guess. Am... am I going to be staying with them for a long time, Mom?"

She shook her head once more. "No. I've written to your aunt Heather. She was my brother Richie's wife before he and your father died. She wrote me back to say she was going to take care of you from now on. You're going to go live with her in New Hampshire."

His eyes grew wide. "New Hampshire? But... I'll be so far away! Away from April... from my school... from all my friends! Why can't I stay here?" Eric's eyes began to well up with tears. "Why can't you stay here?"

"I wish I could, sweetie!" she said as she weakly released her hand from his and wiped the tear from his cheek. "I really do! But sometimes things happen and we don't get a choice... we just have to accept them. They make us who we are." Her strength gone, her hand slid back down onto her bed lifelessly. "I love you, sweetie. Always have, always will." her eyes closing once more.

"I love you too, Mom." He paused and waited for her to open her eyes again, but the machine next to her bed started beeping loudly. "Mom? Mom!? Mom!" As he watched her, tears dripping down his cheeks, a nurse came and escorted him out of her room for the last time.

"Eric!?" Heather said a fourth time, this time nearly shouting at the child who had gone almost catatonic for several seconds in the middle of taking off his shoes. "Eric, sweetie?" She watched as he blinked back to life, tears forming in his eyes as he resumed his task. "Are you alright?"

He nodded and stuffed his soaking wet socks into his old and worn out ill-fitting shoes. "I... I'll be fine, Aunt Heather." he sniffed.

Seeing for herself just how traumatized he was, but wanting to teach him to be a man as Erica had asked in her last letter, Heather stood and cleared her throat. "Very well. We were just about to sit down to dinner. I normally insist that we dress for dinner. It's our tradition, but seeing as you have nothing else..." She turned to her butler. "Fredrick, please take him upstairs, draw him a bath, and deliver his clothes to Franchesca for laundering as quickly as possible. Dinner will have to be postponed until he can join us."

"Yes, Madame." he said in his deep monotone. Taking Eric by the hand, he walked her nephew around the railing and up the stairs.

Eric finally started taking in how truly huge his aunt's house was. The entryway emptied out into a large living room with a high ceiling. On the right wall were the expansive front windows he'd seen from the outside. The opposite wall had a spacious archway into another room with a gaping fireplace beyond it. The room was decorated with an openness to it, all with very fine antiques.

Following the huge man up the stairs, he noticed the walls decorated with old oil paintings of people who must have lived long ago. Planters, figurines, and vases filled almost every corner and crevice of what he'd seen of the house so far. Thinking it should smell musty and old, he was surprised that instead it smelled clean and fresh, as though the house had been built only yesterday. Reaching the second landing, he turned to the right, following Fredrick up six more steps, and out into a hallway off to his right. Just as he came around the corner and into the hall, he came face-to-face with a girl.

Drawing in a breath of surprise, Eric nearly shrieked. The girl who stood before him was a miniature version of his aunt Heather. Soft, long, blonde curls fell around her neck and shoulders while vibrant blue eyes stared widely back at him, looking him up and down. Her face was a creamy complexion with a cute nose above pink lips that sat agape.

Mirroring the up and down look the girl gave him, he saw what his aunt had meant when she said they 'dressed' for dinner. The girl wore a pretty pink and white dress that came down just past her knees, the kind he'd only ever seen in windows of high-quality dress shops when he was out with his mother. White stockings adorned her thin legs and pink patent leather sandals covered her tiny feet.

She recovered more quickly than he did, smiling at him gaily. "You must be Eric! I'm Faith!" Her face growing confused, she added, "Mamma told us you weren't going to be here until after Halloween."

Recovering the use of his tongue, Eric slowly shook his soaking wet and muddy head. "Um... n-nice to meet you Faith. I'm Eric..." he blushed. "...but... you know that. S-sorry." He fidgeted as his torn and soaked jacket dripped onto the pristine marble floor, the scent of rain and mud filling the hall. "So... do you always get dressed up like that? Just for dinner?"

Nodding, her smile seemed almost infectious were it not for the crushing weight of loneliness in his soul. "Uh-huh! Do you like my dress?" Faith spun around and began circling him, looking at his clothes. "Is that where you're going? To get cleaned up and dressed for dinner?"

He shrugged absently. "I guess. I don't have any nice clothes or nuthin' like yours, though." He felt like he should make a joke about that, but instead he just apathetically stood there... too hurt and scared to care.

Faith turned to Fredrick. "What'll he wear to dinner, Freddie?" she asked him innocently.

"It appears the only option is what he has on now, Miss Faith." the muscular butler answered. Turning to Eric, he urged him on as he then turned down the hallway. "This way, young Master Eric."

"It's very nice meeting you, Eric!" Faith sang as she danced around behind him toward the stairway. "I hope you'll like it here!"

His eyes were fixed on her as she walked away, slowly following the butler blindly, Faith still smiling at him as he watched her until she disappeared down the stairs. At last turning his head in the direction he'd been walking he saw Fredrick open a door on the left side of the hallway. Following the man into the room, Eric stopped at the doorway, too stunned to move.

The room before him was easily three times larger than his old room and beautifully decorated. Cream silk and white lace curtains adorned the two windows in the far wall and lush carpet the color of beach sand covered the floor. A matched set of antique stained oak furniture decorated the room, and creamy floral wallpaper brightened every wall, reflecting the light from the crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. It was breathtaking.

Turning, Fredrick saw the boy stopped in the doorway. Doubling back, he took the child's hand, leading him between the vanity and dresser that sat along the hallway wall to their left and the four-poster bed on their right. The headboard of the bed was finely carved with vines and roses, and silk pillows decorated it flawlessly along with a comforter that matched the color of the carpet. The blanket was so thick and fluffy that it alone seemed to add six inches to the height of the bed.

"This is to be your room, Master Eric." Fredrick said flatly. "And this is your private bath." He led Eric through a doorway situated between the dresser along the hallway wall and the giant bed.

The bathroom light came on with a loud snap, Eric squinting into the room cautiously as though he might have been intruding. Looking ahead of him, he could see white wooden shelves built into the far wall with more on the wall to the left; to the right sat an old but pristine white porcelain pedestal sink. Above it hung a huge ornate wall mirror with a fine stained oak frame and gold piping that ran round the edges. Passing it as he entered, he caught his reflection and turned away at the sight, his dirty-blonde hair, muddy and unkempt, hanging down past his shoulders in a tangled mess.

Opposite the sink he saw more wooden shelves hanging from the wall, each filled with towels, washcloths, and other linens the same beach-sand color as the carpet in the bedroom. The marble tiles in the floor each had an intricate swirl of gray, brown, and dirty orange that seemed to have been matched to the rest of the decor.

Stopping, he watched Fredrick approach the white porcelain clawfoot tub that occupied the entire far end of the bathroom. Nearly six feet long and half as wide, a curtain of white wispy material surrounded it that almost seemed to float in the air with the slightest breeze. Between the tub and sink, along the wall to his right, he saw an old style toilet with the tank several feet above the bowl and a chain hanging down. A finely carved marble handle at the end of the chain matched the marbled pattern on the floor.

Warming the water, Fredrick pulled the curtain and rotated another handle, sending the water up a golden pipe and out the white porcelain showerhead.

"Madame Hargrave called for a bath, however given the late hour, I believe a shower would be more prudent." He stood and looked at Eric. "Remove your clothes and place them in the basket there." he indicated a rectangular white wicker laundry basket sitting opposite the toilet. Removing a large cream-colored towel from the shelves, he hung it from the ornate gold rod that resided on the wall between the toilet and the tub.

Moving aside as Fredrick silently exited the room, closing the door behind him, Eric stripped down and dropped his wet and dirty clothes into the hamper. In doing so he saw that the cab driver had torn the sleeves from the shoulders of his threadbare shirt. The pants were iffy at best, with wide holes in the knees, a tear in the seat, and legs far too short for his size, while the shoes that he'd left in the entryway were likewise falling apart. It left him one set each of socks and underwear, the former with holes in the toes and the latter tight fitting. He'd grown several inches in the last six months, but the Stones had refused to pay for any new clothes for him.

Entering the shower, he stood in the warm water and relaxed a moment as the grime of travel began to wash away. Looking around, he saw a small golden shelf on the wall near the faucet that contained a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, body wash, and a safety razor.

Picking up the shampoo absently, he washed his bedraggled 'beach bum' hair, as April had always called it. He'd meant to get a haircut before leaving Newport Beach, liking his longer style but wanting it better kept, however the Stones had wanted him out and gone as soon as possible, barely leaving time to pack, let alone see to a haircut.

Idly wondering what city his luggage had wandered off to, he noticed a feminine scent began filling the room. Thinking that his aunt Heather had come into the room, after checking to see he was alone, he brought a hand down to sniff the lather coating it and his hair. Looking again at the toiletries, only then realizing that they were all for an adult woman, not a young boy.

Sighing apathetically, he heard the door open and watched through the gauzy curtain and plastic liner surrounding him as an eclipsing shadow entered, retrieved his clothing remnants from the basket, and exited. Rinsing out his hair, he sniffed it and confirmed his suspicions. His hair no longer stank of mud and sweat, but rather the girly perfumed scent of lilac and roses.

Unfazed, he next examined the body wash and saw it was something called Japanese Cherry Blossom. Not knowing what that was, he set it aside and sniffed the bar of soap and was overpowered with a strong floral scent. Knowing he had to get clean with something, he used the soap and turned off the water once he was clean and rinsed.

Reaching out and pulling in the soft towel, he wrapped it around his shoulders and stood in the tub for several minutes until he began shivering. The lights flickered twice as he stood in the damp tub, the sound of the storm outside that had mildly abated on his arrival seemed to regain its strength with every passing minute.

Slowly making his way out, he dried himself, becoming very aware that he was now all alone, in a strange place thousands of miles from everyone he had ever known, and had nothing but a borrowed towel. He missed April terribly, and had been missing his mother so much that he thought he might die of heartache. He also found himself missing all his girl friends from school, and even missed his teachers and April's grouchy parents. Most especially at the moment though, he missed his luggage.

Once dry, he slowly walked back into the bedroom with the towel wrapped around his chest, taking a seat on a small chair. He sighed and looked at the room again. It was then that he noticed that the room had a distinctively feminine style, and even the chair he sat in was for the lady's vanity he sat next to. Sadly, he shook his head. "I'm in a girl's room." he said absently. Thinking that he felt he should be angrier about it than he was, he lacked even the desire to be mad about it.

"I'm sorry, but this is the only available room to give you." Heather said from the doorway, a slight bit of irritation evident in her voice. "As I said, we weren't expecting you until next week. We thought we had more time."

"Oh!" Eric exclaimed, startled at her sudden presence. "I um... I wasn't... just... uh..." He hung his head in shame at seeming to complain about the lavish room she'd given him. "I'm sorry, Aunt Heather."

Entering the room, she sighed wearily. "Always be mindful of what you say, sweetie. You never know who may be listening."

"I know." he shrugged. "I wasn't really complaining about the room. It was more just like, a comment. It's really nice. Beautiful, really! I just feel like my entire life is one big disaster. I mean, what else can go wrong?"

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, all the lights went out.