50. Faith
CHAPTER 50
Faith
“Are you okay? You sound funny.” Concern laced through my mother’s tone.
I adjusted my position on the sofa. “I’m fine, Mom. There’s just something I need to let you know before you hear it from someone else.”
“My goodness, are you pregnant? Faith, how could you? How far along are you? Who’s the father? Is it that Patrick I met a few months ago? What about Carter, dear? He really cares about you, you know. Oh no, is Carter the father? He doesn’t seem like the type that would engage in pre-marital?—”
“Mom.” I tried to get her attention without success.
“You and Carter will have such beautiful children. We’ll have to have a wedding right away, though. People will talk, but?—”
“MOM!” I yelled into the phone. She paused, and I quickly shouted, “I’m not pregnant.”
Silence.
“You’re not?” Claire asked. “So, I’m not going to be a grandmother?”
“Well, maybe eventually someday. Listen, I’m trying to tell you something important.”
“Thank goodness. That would look really bad in the press. Well, if you’re not pregnant, what is it? Do you have cancer? Oh my gosh, my poor baby?—”
“Mom, stop. I’m not pregnant, and I don’t have cancer. I’ve been writing erotic romance to put myself through school. I’ve been using the pen name Chastity Austen and one of my colleagues found out. He tried to blackmail me to keep it a secret, and I actually thought about doing what he wanted just to keep him quiet.”
I paused to take in another deep breath, eager to get it all out.
“Can you believe that? I was so afraid you’d be disappointed in me. I just wanted to let you know before you hear it from someone else.” The words flew out of my mouth like a run of verbal diarrhea. Way to go. Couldn’t give her just a little at a time? Had to spill it all at once?
The silence coming from the other end of the line was deafening. I waited a few moments for her to respond.
“Mom?”
“I’m processing, Faith. How long has this been going on?”
“I started writing my freshman year. My first book got published when I was a sophomore, and I’ve been releasing two or three books a year since then.” I hated springing this on her, but I wanted to be the one to tell her, and I needed some advice.
“Chastity Austen? I think I’ve heard that name.”
I cringed. “Yeah, my most recent book hit the New York Times bestseller list.”
“That book that’s getting all the press?” She gasped. “Oh, Faith. That’s you? Clem wrote a whole sermon about how modern fiction is corrupting our youth. He mentioned that book in particular.”
“Yep, that’s me. I’m sorry. I just kind of fell into it. I know it’s embarrassing for you and Clem, but I’m actually pretty good at it. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
Silence filled the airwaves between us.
“Mom, are you there?”
She clucked her tongue. “I’m not sure what to think about this yet. You say you’ve been putting yourself through school this way? I told you Clem and I would have been happy to cover your tuition. I just don’t understand, honey.”
“Yeah. Between the writing, scholarships, and my teaching position, I’ve paid off about three quarters of my undergrad tuition.”
“Writing about sex.”
I groaned. “It’s not like it’s, jeez Mom, it’s?—”
“I know firsthand how hard it is to make it as an author. But we need to talk about the subject matter. Your books... a lot of people think they’re immoral.”
“Oh, Mom. They’re stories and people like them. They might have a lot of sex, but I’m not writing about anything illegal.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that yet. Clem’s going to blow a gasket. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is going to be for him? His youth outreach program is just taking off. How’s that going to look when the press finds out his own stepdaughter is making a living writing porn?”
Telling her was a mistake, but what did I expect? “First or all, it’s not porn. They’re love stories. My heroines aren’t afraid to go for what they want, to stand up for themselves in and out of the bedroom.”
“I’ll have to call Clem’s new publicist. Maybe she can figure out how to spin this for him. I just don’t know, Faith. I’m going to need some time to work through this. Marcy’s a genius, but this might be a stretch, even for someone with her talent.”
“What about you, Mom?”
“What about me, dear?”
“How’s this going to reflect on your career? You write inspirational romance and devotionals. Is it all going to be ruined because of me?” That was my fear. I didn’t want to be the cause of everything my mother had worked so hard for blowing up in her face.
“Oh, honey. If there’s one thing that’s good for publicity, it’s scandal. Even in the world of inspirational fiction. There may be some major fallout, but I’ll survive.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
“Mad? No. I’m absolutely livid. Why didn’t you come to me before? If I’d have known you wanted to write, I might have been able to steer you in a different direction.”
A tear slid down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I love writing my books, and I’m not going to change my stories. The only regret I have is making a mess of things for you and Clem. I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes, you should have. Did you tell Carter about this? That poor man. He has such high hopes for your relationship.”
I stood and paced the narrow width of my living room. “There is no relationship with Carter. Don’t you see? We’d never work. He has no idea who I even am.”
“Honestly, Faith. I don’t think I have any idea of who you are either. Is this what you want? To come out to the world as an erotic romance author?”
“I don’t know what I should do. Do I try to hide? Deny that I’m Chastity Austen? I’m proud of my books, but I don’t want to make things worse for you.” I felt faint, like my legs were about to buckle out from underneath me.
“What do you want to do, Faith?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I wanted to work on publishing in literary journals and gain tenure at a college somewhere.”
“And now?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. Everyone’s going to find out I’ve been hiding behind a pen name. I love writing. I just thought someday I’d write literary fiction, not romance novels.”
“There’s nothing wrong with romance novels, honey.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just some of my colleagues will probably look down on me, and I don’t want to cause trouble for you and Clem.” Most of the people I worked with turned their noses up at genre fiction. I used to be one of them until I started reading romance and realized how much I craved a satisfying happy ever after.
Since I’d been writing, I’d learned a lot of readers felt the same way. The world was a dark enough place. If I could provide a little light along with a happy ending, that felt like a worthy calling to me.
“It’s too late for that. As for your co-workers, how many of them have paid off a good part of their student loans by publishing? They can make fun of you, dear. And you can laugh about it... all the way to the bank.”
I smiled at her last comment.
She continued. “Did I ever tell you my first attempt at writing was a mainstream romance?”
I didn’t even try to contain my surprise. “It was?”
“Sure. As a single mother, dreaming of her knight in shining armor, I had all kinds of story ideas running through my head. I wrote three hundred and fifty pages of dribble and even sent it out to agents.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I had a little interest, but no one wanted to sign me on as a new author. When one of them mentioned offhand they were seeing a new trend develop in inspirational romance, I tried my hand at that.”
“And the rest is history,” I said.
“Pretty much. I needed a way to support us. I think things turned out okay.”
I took in a ragged breath. “Not if I’ve gone and ruined it all for you. I didn’t mean to let you down.”
“You need to figure out what you want to do.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to disown me?”
“Give me some credit, sweetheart. You’re still my baby girl and I’m proud of you. But I’m also disappointed that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on, and I’m going to need some time to work through it.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
Claire sighed. “Can I offer one piece of advice?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t let anybody push you around and make your decisions for you. If you’re ready to own it, you need to be the one calling the shots.”
“Thanks. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I disconnected and let the phone drop to my lap. Then I took another sip of my drink while I contemplated my next move. If I was going to come out as Chastity Austen, I wanted to do it in style.