theroadhouse: (Young Faith)
[personal profile] theroadhouse
Title: On the Occasion of the First Day of the Fourth Decade of the Life of Faith the Vampire Slayer
Author: [personal profile] telaryn
Word Count: 5013
Rating: PG
Characters: Faith, Nathan Ford (Leverage), assorted OFCs and OMCs
Summary: A look at the start of each decade of Faith’s life.
Author’s Notes: This story is part of a larger universe of stories I have archived/master listed here. You don’t need to have read them first to read the story – all you need to know is that in canon, Faith recently realized that Nathan Ford (from the show Leverage) is her biological father. This fact is still very much a new discovery for both of them. I also draw a lot from the book “Go Ask Malice”, particularly with regards to the character of Gable, and his on and off again relationship with Faith’s mother (and presumed responsibility for her death).

“Go Ask Malice” is also where the name of Faith’s father comes from. Faith’s mother has never been named to my knowledge in canon or out, so the character of Ellen Maguire is entirely my own creation.

I’d like to think you don’t even have to be a fan of (or familiar with) Leverage or “Go Ask Malice” to read the story, because at its heart it’s about Faith finally getting what she’s missed her entire life…a place where she belongs, and where someone who matters is happy she’s there.

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December 14, 1980

Ellie had never imagined anything could hurt so much. Even the time Gable had gotten hold of a bad batch of coke and tried to beat the devil out of her paled in comparison to how she felt right now, lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

“She’s beautiful.” Ellie hadn’t heard her mother come back into the room – but she smiled weakly in response to the broad grin on Fiona Maguire’s face. “You did good, pet – a healthy baby girl.” The middle-aged woman drew a chair up next to the bed. “Do you need anything? Water?”

Without waiting for Ellie to say anything, Fiona Maguire turned and busied herself pouring a glass of water from the pitcher by the bed. Ellie dutifully opened her mouth and sipped several mouthfuls of the tepid liquid; nodding her thanks when her mother finally withdrew the cup. “Can I see her?” she asked weakly.

Her mother looked suddenly uncomfortable. “They’re running some tests,” she said – adding hastily, “nothing to worry about.” She paused, and Ellie felt her stomach clench nervously. “George Lehane is here. He wants to talk to you.”

Georgie. Even though she’d been distracted by the small matter of giving birth, Ellie had suspected for a while this moment was coming. George had been spending too many afternoons lately talking to Father Patrick. Ellie’s situation was one of the worst-kept secrets in the neighborhood, and a lot of people were watching and waiting to see what would happen. “Mama…” she tried, but Fiona cut her off with a sharp look.

“Ellen Maguire, don’t you dare start with me. It doesn’t matter how many excuses you make, or how long you dig in your heels and decide to wait – that boy is not coming back to you!” Her mother gripped the bed railing so hard Ellie could see the skin across her knuckles go white. “George Lehane is willing to step up and do right by you and your daughter. The least you can do is hear him out.”

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. She hadn’t asked to fall in love with the wrong boy, or end up pregnant and abandoned. And she sure as hell hadn’t asked for the kind of attention that demanded she be foisted off on the first boy that would have her. “You know the kind of trouble we’re in if Mr. Ford thinks you’re waiting for his son to come back to you,” her father had yelled just before smacking her in the mouth so hard he broke three of her teeth.

She’d been five months pregnant at the time.

“Okay,” she said at last, closing her eyes. “I’ll talk to him.” She felt her mother’s hand brush lightly against her hair, then heard Fiona heading for the door. There was a low murmur of voices, and then a heavier tread approached.

“Ellie? Are you awake?” A work-roughened hand closed over hers. Bowing to the inevitable, Ellie opened her eyes.

George was already legal – twenty-two, going on twenty-three. He wasn’t handsome or smart or charming, the way her baby’s father had been, but when everyone else had turned their back on Ellie he’d been there. He’d done his best to protect her from predators in the neighborhood as well as the more well-meaning folk trying to stay on the Fixer’s good side.

You could definitely do worse. Gable had already been pleading his case. As fascinated as she was by the neighborhood bad boy, Ellie knew she could expect nothing but a life of drugs, alcohol and abuse from tying herself and her newborn daughter to him.

George, on the other hand. “You know why I’m here?” he asked, his expression absolutely open and uncertain.

She nodded weakly. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at church.”

He smiled. “Father Pat’s been helping me figure some things out.” A small flare of color bloomed on his cheeks. “And I think he’s right – your baby needs a father, and you need somebody who’s ready to look after both of you.”

Ellie desperately wanted to argue with him on that point, but it had been made perfectly clear to her that she was in the minority on all sides of this subject. Her belief in her own inner strength had been dismissed so many times as flights of fancy that she knew better than to rely on it anymore.

Fairness to George and loyalty to her lost love, however, demanded that she remind him, “She’s not yours, Georgie.” Before he could answer there was a quick knock on the door – followed immediately by it opening and the nurse she liked wheeling in a bassinet.

“Somebody wanted her mommy!” the heavyset woman exclaimed.

Ellie’s mother came around to stand by George. Fiona was smiling her biggest grin – the one Ellie knew she kept in reserve for winning people around to her way of seeing things. “How are things with you two?” she asked, clapping George on the shoulder.

“Good,” George said. He glanced at Ellie – who nodded.

The nurse was lifting a small, blanket-wrapped bundle out of the bassinet. Ellie felt a lump in her throat when she saw a tiny fist waving in the air. “Is this the father?” the nurse asked.

George glanced at Ellie again, who paused for a moment, then nodded. “I am,” he said, getting to his feet. Trying to ignore the pain of bowing to the inevitable, Ellie struggled to push herself up into a sitting position. Her mother moved closer and helped her adjust herself in the bed.

“Well,” the nurse said, walking over and passing him the baby, “it’s about time you met your daughter then.”

It was almost comical watching big, tough Georgie trying to be careful as he took the baby in his arms. Her tiny fist continued to wave, and Ellie felt her eyes ache with unshed tears as she saw his expression melt into the most tender look she’d ever seen.

“You did good, pet,” her mother whispered, kissing her hair. Trying to ignore her own misgivings, Ellie nodded.

“Have we decided on a name yet?” the nurse asked, looking between them.

George looked up at her – and almost as if he sensed her need, turned to put the baby in her arms. Ellie looked down at the tiny, peaceful face; the dark blue eyes of her daughter looking up at her. She can’t see me, she reminded herself. She’d read every book she could get her hands on, and knew the baby wouldn’t be able to see anything reliably for at least a month. The eye color will change too, she thought, although she couldn’t help rebelliously hoping that somehow the little girl would retain her father’s eyes.

“Ellie?” her mother asked; gently reminding her that there was a question pending.

Blinking back tears at last, Ellie looked up at Georgie – the man who’d always been there; the man who would protect her and her daughter, come what may. “Faith,” she said finally.

“Her name is Faith.”

December 14, 1990

Faith knew the rules. When Mama was at rehearsal, she was supposed to sit quietly in the loft and read her book. She could draw or color if she brought her own things, or if she could convince Miss Carrie in the nursery to let her carry off a handful of the church’s art supplies. Whatever choice she made though, being QUIET AND INVISIBLE was the one thing the grown-ups all agreed would make them happy.

She still wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of making all the grown-ups happy, but singing practice was important for Mama. Everybody said so. It made her happy and kept her from drinking too much of the stuff that made her sad. Most days Faith figured she could deal with the rules if it meant Mama was happy.

Today was her birthday though – her tenth birthday, which everybody said was a very big deal. Mama had talked about them having dinner at the McDonald’s with the playground, but even at ten years old, Faith knew a lot could happen between now and dinnertime.

And she just didn’t feel like drawing. So part way through “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”, she snuck out of the loft and made her way to the Lady Chapel.

In the entire church, the Lady Chapel was the one place Faith absolutely wasn’t supposed to go by herself. “Too many opportunities for disaster,” Mrs. Ford had said when she’d caught Faith in there the first time. The grown-ups had talked a lot about the candles and banners, and even though Faith had tried to remind Mama that she knew how to keep from setting things on fire, she’d gotten a spanking as soon as they were home.

“I have to live with these people, Faith!” Mama had yelled. “You have to be a good girl – they can make things very hard for us if they’re angry.”

Memory of that rule hovered at the back of her mind as Faith crept into the cool, dimly lit chapel. It was her birthday though, and the scary ladies were in a meeting in the back room of the church. She figured the combination of the two might buy her a little leniency in the event she was caught.

The statue of Jesus’ mother on the back wall of the chapel was one of the most beautiful things Faith had ever seen. The Lady’s face was so gentle and kind – Faith could easily believe that she’d never lost her temper or given Jesus a spanking. She’d certainly never drunk too much of the stuff that made Faith’s mother so sad.

Standing on her tiptoes, Faith ran her fingers across the carved stone shoes and the folds of the Lady’s dress. The stone felt cool against her skin; looking up, she wondered if she could climb up on the statute’s base without knocking anything over.

Her musings were suddenly disrupted by somebody grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up in the air. Faith tensed, but before she could figure out whether she needed to fight or not she was being settled in a pair of strong arms, and looking up into a decidedly non-angry face. “Sucks being short, doesn’t it?” the man said – smiling at her.

She wasn’t sure what to make of him at first. Mama and Grammy had been very definite in telling her that she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. But he had a nice smile, and he’d given her exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for without her having to figure out how not to break anything. Faith knew you weren’t supposed to waste chances like this, since they didn’t happen often.

So, trusting the stranger to support her, Faith reached out and brushed her hand along one of the larger folds of the Lady’s skirt. It felt just as cool and interesting as the parts she could reach on her own – but what was even better was that this close the Lady’s face looked even kinder and gentler than it had before. I wish you were my Mama, she thought.

“It’s nice in here,” the stranger said, settling her more securely against his hip. “I like coming here to pray.” Faith turned to face him, ready for the lecture that she wasn’t supposed to be playing in here – but there was no hint of rebuke on the man’s face.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said quietly – not sure how she was supposed to be responding to this kind of adult. He was different than most of the grown-ups she encountered at church, but he was still a stranger.

The man looked at her quietly for a long moment, and then set her down on the floor and crouched in front of her. “That’s a good rule,” he said, nodding at her. Then – to Faith’s surprise – he held out his hand for her to shake. “My name is Nathan.”

After weighing her options, Faith took his hand. “I’m Faith,” she said as he shook her hand very carefully. “Today’s my birthday.”

Nathan smiled at her. Faith decided that she liked his smile – it was a good smile, the kind of smile she’d always imagined a father would have. Shifting around until he was sitting on one of the steps leading up to the altar he said, “Well then, Happy Birthday, Faith! Since I’m not a stranger anymore, is it all right if I ask you how old you are?”

Faith thought about it for a moment, then decided it would probably be okay. “I’m ten.”

“Ten!” Nathan seemed to understand immediately how important ten was. “I hope your Mommy and Daddy are going to take you someplace special?”

“I don’t have a Daddy,” Faith admitted. “Grammy and Mama said he’s in jail, but I don’t think I’m supposed to know about that.” She thought for a second about asking Nathan if he could be her daddy, but she was pretty sure the world didn’t work that way. “Mama’s going to take me to the McDonald’s with the playground when she’s done with singing practice, though.”

Before she could find out what Nathan thought about the McDonald’s with the playground, Faith saw his eyes shift to looking over her shoulder. A moment later she heard the sharp sound of a woman’s shoes against the stone floor and felt her heart sink. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, dear…” Nathan got to his feet immediately, but Faith stayed frozen in place – stupidly hoping that somehow Mrs. Ford wouldn’t realize she was there.

“What’s going on here?”

Faith began to tremble. Mrs. Ford was really angry – she knew that tone even without looking at the woman’s face yet. Nathan didn’t seem to understand everything that was going on yet. “Faith and I were talking, mother,” he said, stepping out of Faith’s line of view for a moment. She heard the sound of a kiss, and quickly wiped away a tear that spilled down her cheek.

“Faith knows she’s not supposed to be in here,” Mrs. Ford said sharply. “Look at me, young lady.”

“Mother,” Nathan said, “she wasn’t doing anything wrong.” He was trying to take the heat for her, and Faith kind of loved him for it – but her battles with Mrs. Ford had been going on a long time. All Faith had to do was see the anger in the older woman’s eyes and she knew nothing Nathan could say would stop her getting punished. It might not happen immediately or directly, but Mrs. Ford would talk to the choir director and the choir director would talk to Mama…and at this point Faith figured she could pretty much kiss her trip to McDonald’s good-bye.

“You are too kind hearted,” Mrs. Ford said, patting Nathan on the arm. “Faith is a trouble-maker. She needs to learn that the rules are there for everybody to follow.” She glared at Faith. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“In the loft,” Faith said.

“Or in the nursery, helping Miss Carrie,” Mrs. Ford added. “You have your choices, Faith – one place or the other. Now.”

It took Faith a moment to process that she wasn’t going to be escorted in shame to one or the other of her “proper” places. In the past, Mrs. Ford had seemed to take great satisfaction in taking Faith by the arm and marching her off to the nursery – the implication being that Faith wasn’t grown-up enough to be trusted on her own.

Now though… “Is there a problem?” Mrs. Ford asked coldly.

Flinching, Faith shook her head. “No ma’am,” she whispered. Turning on her heel, she ran for her life.

As she was rounding the corner into the sanctuary, Faith imagined she could hear Nathan say, “It was nice to meet you…”

December 14, 2000

Somebody somewhere probably registered that it was Faith’s birthday, but it was doubtful anyone who did knew that this was the year she’d officially beaten the odds. “Dead by twenty” had been the neighborhood’s judgment from the moment of her first run-in with the law at age eleven.

And even though it was a technicality, a coma wasn’t death. Not really…

Trapped in her own mind, Faith dreamed. They bled together, horror and hope overlapping each other in an endless loop of madness that robbed her of all sense of the passage of time. She was hunter and hunted – facing off with the Mayor, Angel, Buffy, Giles – everyone she’d ever loved or lost marching through her subconscious, demanding to be heard.

Sometimes he was there; strong arms, kind eyes and gentle smile making her feel safe from the nightmares that crowded so close. She barely remembered meeting the man – but she would never forget how he’d made her feel.

“You have to be patient.” They were sitting together under the same tree she and the Mayor had once had a picnic under. Faith was resting with her back against the man’s chest – his arms were around her, holding her safe and steady.

“I’m tired of waiting,” Faith sighed. “I wish they would just kill me and get it over with.”

Her protector’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Your body needs time to heal. That’s what’s going on here, Faith. It’s not punishment – it just is.”

She was tempted to turn and face him, but sometimes when she tried to look too closely at his face he went away. On some level she understood it was because she couldn’t remember him very well; they’d been apart for too long, and they had only spoken for a few moments. And she couldn’t risk losing him to the nightmares.

Not today of all days.

“I should have died,” she said, sighing quietly. “That was the plan, you know. Knife in the gut, fall off a roof – it would have been easier for everybody if I’d died.”

“Wouldn’t have been easier on you.”

Faith’s answering laugh was hard and bitter. “Says the figment of my crazy.”

She shivered, feeling the small puff of his breath against her neck. “Maybe I’m the part of your subconscious that knows what’s right – did you ever think of that? Maybe I’m the part of you that knows you can be better than this.”

It was so tempting to believe him, to cling to that small scrap of hope. “I’m trash,” she said quietly, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. “I’m a troublemaker, a fuck-up – an accident. Dead by twenty, that’s what everyone always said.”

She felt the gentle press of lips against her hair. “Well you’ve already proven them wrong about that, haven’t you? Maybe it’s time you start thinking about how to disprove the rest of it.”

December 14, 2010

Even though she knew it was deeply wrong, Faith couldn’t help being amused whenever people assumed she was Nate’s girlfriend. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence as best she could when their server walked off blushing a deep scarlet and mumbling to himself.

Her father was glaring at her across the table, but there was a hint of amusement in his blue eyes. “You’re shameless – you know that, don’t you?”

Faith shrugged, grinning. “Not my fault you were apparently a total chick magnet when you were a fetus.” They were having dinner at one of the best restaurants in Boston – both of them dressed for the occasion. Nate had offered the evening to celebrate her thirtieth birthday, and Faith had accepted eagerly. From day one she’d been most comfortable accepting her father’s desire to spend money on her when it came in the form of shared experiences.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, raising his wine glass in a toast. “Sophie did you justice with that dress.”

Self-conscious all of a sudden, Faith touched the lace-trimmed neckline. “She wouldn’t show me how much it cost,” she admitted. “And I was really afraid to ask.”

“One of these days we’ll get you comfortable with the idea of people doing things for you,” Nate said. He took a sip of his wine, then set it down on the table. “Sophie enjoys dressing you up.” He paused. “You apparently appreciate her efforts a little more than Parker does.”

Faith grinned. “You know that’s not hard, right?”

Nate shrugged, considering her words. “Fair point.” Reaching under the table, he passed her a wrapped package. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Faith felt her chest tighten against a sudden stirring of emotions. She would have felt stupid admitting it out loud, but every time Nate looked at her like that it was the best gift she’d never expected to have in her life. “I thought,” she began, tearing into the paper, “the dinner…Dad…”

“If it makes you feel better,” Nate said – his grin widening, “I didn’t spend any money on this. Just time.”

It was a photo album – leather bound, with gold edges. Faith turned the first page, and grinned at the image of a chubby dark-haired baby in a navy blue sailor suit. “This isn’t you?” she asked, looking up at her father incredulously.

Nate looked suitably embarrassed. “I know how much you want to learn about your family,” he admitted. “And I want to help – all I ask is that you don’t show any of those pictures to the others.”

Faith snorted softly at the idea of Hardison and Eliot looking at her father’s baby pictures. “Yeah,” she conceded. “That wouldn’t end well at all.” She turned the page, and was greeted with slightly older pictures – all of her father. “Nate, I love it,” she said, looking up at him again. “Thank you!”
“There are some pictures of your grandfather,” Nate allowed. “No getting around that. But…” He reached across the table and turned the page, “I did find some really good pictures of your grandmother.” He pointed at a picture of an older, smiling woman wearing a large apron and carrying a pan of food. “I really wish you could have known her, Faith. She was an impressive lady.”

Faith heard the wistful tone in Nate’s voice, but it burned to ashes in the flame of recognition that suddenly tore through her soul. “I…” she began, then stopped. Turning the next handful of pages, she stopped on an image of her grandmother with a group of other ladies standing in a church sanctuary. The Scary Ladies, Faith thought; her chest tightened painfully as the pieces began falling into place at last.

“I did know her,” Faith whispered hoarsely, forcing herself to look at Nate. “I did…I…” She pressed a hand over the photo, struggling to breathe against an unexpected swell of emotion. Ford. Nathan Ford. I’m such an idiot. Mountains of evidence right in front of her, and she’d never made that last, all-so-important connection.

“Faith, is something wrong?” Nate reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “I thought…you said…”

“I used to dream about you, did you know that?” Those words were clear and strong – cutting off whatever apology he’d been about to make. “When I was in the coma…you were the one that chased the monsters away.”

He looked confused, and she realized abruptly that he didn’t know. It wasn’t only her failure – he hadn’t realized the older connection they shared either. “This is my grandmother?” Faith asked, lifting their hands away from the album and pointing at the picture of Katherine Ford.

Still uncertain, but obviously getting that whatever she was dealing with was important, Nate nodded. “That’s my mother. She died almost ten years ago. Faith…”

She’s dead. Faith had a moment of regret that the strict older woman who’d so dogged her childhood wasn’t alive to see how things had turned out. “Did she…do you know if she knew about me?”

Nate blew out a quiet breath. “I don’t know. I’m sure my father didn’t – if he’d thought for a second I was your father instead of Georgie…” His voice trailed off, and Faith saw him shudder. “Mom knew a lot of things,” he went on when he could speak again, “but she also knew when to keep a secret. If she did know, I can believe she would have kept that information to herself.” He paused, looking embarrassed. “She would have thought it was for the best.”

I can believe that, Faith thought, looking down at the picture again. “The grown-ups were all afraid of her,” she said, brushing her fingertips across the slick plastic. “Mama always told me that I had to use my best manners with Mrs. Ford, because she could make trouble for us if she didn’t like me.” She looked up at her father again and finally saw realization dawning on Nate’s face. “You saw how good I was at that, remember?” Faith smiled sadly. “I never did get that trip to McDonald’s, by the way.”

“The Lady Chapel.” Nate’s jaw literally dropped. Faith would have laughed out loud, if his eyes hadn’t been so stricken with grief. “Oh, Faith. Oh my God.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly struggling to come to grips with what she was telling him. “Sweetheart, I…”

“It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head. “Really. It’s just…” Words failed her. They’d been so close – she’d been so close to having her entire life turn out differently. Christ – I wanted to ask you to be my dad. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – the whole situation was so ridiculously tragic.

He exhaled sharply. “She had to have known. It’s the only explanation that…” His voice trailed off again, and she saw a flash of old pain in his eyes. “Ellie…your mother. She was in the loft that day, wasn’t she? Rehearsing?”

Faith nodded. “Grandma…my other grandmother,” she amended hastily, “thought that getting more involved with the church would help her stay sober.” Memory of how well that had gone darkened her mood. “Gable obviously had other ideas,” she said bitterly.

“Don’t.” Focusing in on her father again, Faith saw Nate shake his head. “Don’t give him that kind of power, Faith. We all messed things up for you – you shouldn’t give any of that the power to take away from what you’ve done and who you’ve become.”

In one of the greatest displays of timing either of them had ever been witness to, their server returned bearing their salads. Faith was so grateful she almost apologized for teasing the man earlier; Nate’s willingness to heap praise on her tended to far outweigh her ability to accept it. He’s seen the worst of you, she reminded herself, deliberately spearing a forkful of greens so she could avoid eye contact for a few precious seconds.

How are you even real? It wasn’t the first time she’d thought it. How are you even mine?

Nate patiently sipped his wine and tasted his own salad, sensing – as he did with such frightening precision – her need to process everything that had just happened. Finally Faith saw him glance at the photo album. “I’ll take it back if you want me to,” he said quietly.

“No!” Faith realized with a jolt that she’d pulled the leather-bound album to her and out of his reach almost before she’d realized what he was offering to do. “Nate…Dad…no.” She paused, struggling to bring herself under control. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” She slid the gift off the table and propped it carefully on the floor by her chair. “It’s exactly what I want – even with the pictures of Jimmy,” she added, trying to get him to lighten up a little.

Memories of all the battles she’d had as a child with her formidable grandmother were still hovering around the fringes of her awareness, though – refusing to be ignored. “Do you think she was worried about you figuring things out?” she asked, not bothering to clarify which “she” she was talking about.

Nate considered her question for a long moment. “I think,” he said, “that my mother had big dreams for me, and she was willing to go a long way towards making sure I achieved them.”

“I need to know her,” Faith said abruptly, setting her fork down. “I want to learn how to see her the way you do.”

“Okay,” Nate agreed, “but you have to do something for me in return.” Of Faith’s questioning look he elaborated, “You have to introduce me to my mother through your eyes.” Before she could argue, he shook his head. “I have a tendency to see my parents in very black and white terms,” he said. “If you can help me understand who Mom was around other people, it may help me put to rest some issues I’ve been struggling with for a very long time.”

Put that way, Faith knew she could hardly refuse.

They ate in silence for a while, continuing to talk about inconsequential things through the arrival of their main course. Faith declared the steak she’d ordered to be the best she’d ever eaten, which obviously pleased Nate.

It was in the brief lull between their dishes being cleared away and the arrival of dessert that Nate brought the subject back up. He’d ordered a whisky for himself, while Faith had stayed with coffee.

“I still can’t believe you remembered,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I’m flattered – and embarrassed I can’t say the same – but Faith, we only spoke for a moment twenty years ago.”

Faith’s answering smile was wistful; she could still feel the sadness, just under the surface, for everything that could have been for them. “Moments were all I ever had,” she said, finally. “That’s why I held onto you so hard.” Realizing something, she chuckled softly. “In fact, now that I think about it, the majority of my really happy moments have you in there somewhere.”

Nate looked genuinely overwhelmed by her revelation. “Happy birthday, Faith,” he said; his voice trembling with emotion as he raised his glass.

Faith met it with her cup. “Thanks, Dad. For everything.”

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