"Lizbet! I've never been so happy to see someone in my entire life." She pushed me away but kept her hands on my shoulders. "It was positively boring around here without you. I got so bored I actually took up with Doreen Wilder. Now that's desperate."
She dropped her hands from my shoulders and grasped my hand, pulling me outside to the porch swing. We sat, and the swing creaked with our combined weight.
Winter slapped her thigh and snickered. "Doreen is so dull she's like a mouthful of pancakes with no syrup. I'm so glad you're back. Now tell me all about your stay. I thought you'd never come home!"
Winter had been my best friend since first grade, and never once had I deceived her the way I would be forced to now. "I was bored silly like you. All that housework and not one friend to be with. I must've done a million dishes."
At least that part was true. We'd always had a stack of dirty dishes to scrape and rinse at the Home because we were always hungry.
Was deception the same as lying? Was leaving out some of the truth a lie? Farah would tell me no. She'd say that since an untruth hadn't been spoken, I was fine. Not that she cared much one way or the other.
Winter gasped, and her eyes grew huge. "I forgot to tell you. Johnny asked about you every single day for at least three months. He couldn't figure out why you weren't writing me." She folded her hands in her lap and composed her face into a solemn expression. "I'm not going to cry, Lizbet. But I still don't understand why you couldn't write. At least once. Where exactly were you, anyway? Mars? Ned wouldn't say one word. I asked your mom once, but she looked ready to bust out crying, so I never asked again. Were you mad at me or something? Why all the mystery?"
I shifted on the bench and put a fist to my mouth. What could I say? For all her jabbering and silliness, she wasn't stupid. "Mom asked me not to write to anyone. I didn't even write to her. I was pretty busy. Ned came to see me, but that's all. I never saw any other family for all that time."
Winter's solemn expression was replaced by a face full of worried crinkles. "It doesn't make sense. None of it. Are you sure you're all right?"
I pasted on my best smile. "Of course I'm all right. Glad to be home and glad to be with you."
She giggled. "Okay. I'll shut up. I guess the important thing is you're back. Do you still love Johnny?"
I gave her shoulder a light slap. "I never loved Johnny. What are you talking about?"
Winter put her hands on her chubby waist and grimaced. "Don't play innocent with me, Lizbet Morgan. I know you had a crush a mile long on the boy."
I thought about where I'd been during the last months and what I'd gone through. Johnny was about as possible as a personal tour of Jupiter. "If I ever did like him, it's over." My voice fell flat.
"Did you meet someone else? Tell me. Did you meet any cute guys?"
I shook my head. "Do you realize what Bishop James would say if he heard you right now?"
"But he can't hear me right now, can he?" Winter tossed her frizzy braid over her shoulder and laughed. "We may be backward around here, but we're not dead."
"Did Bishop James mention me being gone? Did he wonder?"
"How would I know? I'm not his personal confidante." Winter leaned back in the swing, and I feared the top board would give way. She turned around and grabbed the board, giving it a vigorous shake. "This is sturdy, isn't it?"
"Don't lean so hard."
"Fine." She eased forward. "I'm sure Bishop wondered. Everyone did. But we respect your family. So if your folks said you were helping with housework for some sick friend, then that's what you were doing."
I gazed at the scraggly tulips wilting in the front flowerbed and said nothing.
"Then that's what you were doing," Winter repeated.
With a slight jerk of my head, I focused back on her. "That's what I was doing."
"Come on, let's go." Winter jumped up and descended the porch steps.
"Where?" I asked.
"For a walk. And if we happen to stroll by Johnny's house, then so be it."
I ran my hands over my long hair and frowned. "I don't want to see Johnny right now."
"Don't be silly. Of course you do." She was already down the steps and walking toward the street. "Come on, Lizbet."
I opened the screen door with a metallic squawk and hollered inside that I was going on a walk with Winter. Then, with my heart fluttering nervously, I followed her down the street.
"He might be out back in the garden," Winter said when I caught up with her. She looked over at me and then froze. "Lizbet, did you cut your hair?"
I reached up to cover my blond head with my hands. "What do you mean? You know it's frowned upon."
She took a strand of my hair and pulled it straight out. "Yes, you did. It was longer than this when you left."
I'd hoped no one would notice my hair, and I wasn't in the mood to justify what I'd done. I looked past her shoulder to the rambling brick house across the street.
"Don't avoid my eyes. You did cut it."
"Okay, I gave it a trim. No big deal."
Her eyebrows shot up high enough to fly off her face.
I snatched my strand of hair back from her hand. "It's not a sin."
"Not exactly. But pretty close."
"I trimmed it a bit. It was uneven and ugly."
"Worrying about being ugly is pretty close to a sin too, as far as I can figure."
"You won't tell?"
Winter shrugged. "Tattle to the Bishop? Why should I? We're friends, aren't we? Besides, I'm not sure I like the whole never-cut-your-hair thing anyway."
"It's almost grown back," I said and started to walk again. Thoughts of Johnny came rushing back. "Let's walk someplace else."
Winter shook her head. "No way. Johnny would kill me if he knew I'd kept you away."
"He doesn't care if he sees me."
"Says you." Winter slipped her hand through my arm. "I'm so glad you're back. I've been lonely."
"I doubt it. Sounds like you and Johnny had plenty of time together."
Winter yanked on my arm. "Whoa, are you jealous?"
"I'm only saying you weren't lonely."
We walked again. "You've changed," Winter said. "You're louder."
"What does that mean? I'm not being loud."
"Maybe not louder, but something. I can't quite figure it out."
Try having a baby and pretending you didn't. That'll change you fast enough.
I said nothing.
Winter tugged on her braid, which she always did when she was nervous. She attempted a carefree laugh. "No matter. I'll take you however I can get you. Hey, there's Johnny."
He was coming around the side of his garage from the back yard, and he had a shovel and a metal rake over his shoulder. I could see he was whistling, although I heard nothing.
"Johnny!" Winter cried and ran toward him, dragging me along. "Look who's back."
Johnny stopped and stared. When we got close, his eyes searched mine. I looked away.
"She got home today," Winter said. "We came right over to see you." She shoved me forward.
Johnny tossed the shovel and rake against the side of the garage, then turned and gazed at me. He shifted his weight but made no move to come any nearer. He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin, and I saw that he hadn't shaved for a while. He had the heaviest beard I'd ever seen on someone only sixteen years old.
"Lizbet Morgan. Nice of you to wander back into our neck of the woods."
"Hey, Johnny."
"You never wrote or called anyone the whole time you were gone." He stated it in a nonchalant tone, but his jaw was tense.
"I couldn't…" I started then clamped my mouth shut. How would I possibly explain why I couldn't make contact? "I was busy." My words fell like limp balloons on the ground. It was obvious I was omitting something.
He picked the garden tools back up and headed for the side door of the garage. "Glad you're back," he said and disappeared into the garage.
Winter threw
her arms wide. "What just happened here?" She took off after him, but I grabbed her arm.
"Don't bother, Winter. I told you he didn't care if he saw me." I dropped her arm and headed toward home.
"He was downright rude if you ask me," she said, scrambling to catch up.
Again, I said nothing. Soon I'd be known as the girl who rarely talked — which wouldn't be far off of my previous reputation. Truth was I had wanted to see Johnny, even though I hadn't thought much about him over the past seven months. Mainly because I'd had no right to think about him.
I still had no right. Not after what had happened.
We walked in silence. I knew Winter was watching my every move. I knew I wasn't acting normal. And I knew that she knew I was keeping something secret.
"We're having the spring pageant at church soon," she blurted.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, homeschooling is about over for the year. It should be a lot of fun, and of course, you'll be in it."
"Why? I've been gone most of the year."
"You've been helping someone who was sick, so it's not your fault. Besides, you've been part of our group since forever. We haven't chosen parts yet. We do that next week, so you got home just in time."
"Right."
"No, it's going to be fun. Jennifer's mom is organizing it this year." She chuckled. "What a fiasco last year. Do you remember?"
"How can I forget dressing up like a piece of fruit and parading across the stage?" I laughed with her. "Fruit Basket Drama indeed."
"We can thank Scott for writing that play. It stunk!"
"Yeah, like rotten eggs."
We were almost back to my house when I heard my name being called from behind. My breath caught in a jagged gasp, and I stopped moving.
"It's Johnny," Winter whispered and nudged me in the side. "I'll see you later."
I turned around and saw Johnny running toward me. The expression on his face was serious. He came to a stop a few feet away.
"Lizbet."
"Johnny."
"What's the real reason you didn't write?" He spoke quickly. His left hand clenched as tight as his voice. I blinked and couldn't hold his gaze. He took a step closer. "We were good friends. Seems weird you didn't at least write once."
"My folks told me not to." My voice was low, and I couldn't make myself look at him.
"Why? Were they mad at me?"
My eyes flew to his. "No. Why would they be? No." I couldn't have this conversation, but before I could stop myself, I continued. "You didn't write me either."
"How was I supposed to write? I didn't have your address."
I shook my head and let my breath out in a whoosh. "It doesn't matter. Besides, it wasn't like we were boyfriend and girlfriend."
He stepped back. "Of course we weren't. You know it's frowned upon."
"Yes, frowned upon. Like so much else." My snide undertone surprised me. I didn't talk snarly.
Johnny frowned. "You seem different."
"I'm the same."
"Did Winter tell you about the pageant?"
"Yeah."
"You'll be in it, won't you? I mean, you're a good actress."
Back on safe territory, I grinned. "No, I'm not. I do make a good banana, though."
Johnny's dark eyes crinkled at the corners. "That was a hoot. No fruit this year."
"Let's hope not."
"See you at church." It wasn't a question.
"Sure. See you at church."
Winter had disappeared, so I went back into my house. Judd was sitting on the couch in the living room, sucking on an ice pop. "Momma was mad at you."
I paused. "What do you mean?"
"You went for a walk without her saying you could." He slurped up the grape stream that trickled down his wrist.
"I don't need permission to take a walk."
"That's what I said. Then she got mad at me, too."
I closed the front door behind me with a soft click, then headed to the back of the house to climb the stairs. When I was ready to take the first step, Momma came out from her room.
"How is Winter?" she asked.
I looked at her face, trying to decipher whether or not she was still mad, but all I saw was her normal tired expression. "She's fine."
"Did she ask you questions?"
I leaned on the stair rail. "Of course she did, Momma. The excuse for my absence isn't very good."
She sucked in her lips, making a weird mouth pouch. "It's not an excuse. It's true."
I stared at her and knew she was incapable of admitting there might have been something wrong with the whole setup. Months ago, when we'd discovered the assault had made me pregnant, both she and Dad had sat in my bedroom staring at me for what felt like hours. With each passing minute, I'd wilted further into my desk chair like some wayward sinner. They'd sighed and looked at each other and looked at the floor and looked up at the ceiling until I'd wanted to sob for mercy.
Finally, Dad had said, "We'll send her away. No one need know."
Mother had nodded in agreement. "Yes. No one need know."
And I'd sat there with my arms around my stomach in silence. They were my parents. They knew best.
I'd suffered their judgment. Like a good little girl. I hadn't questioned their plan until I'd met Farah, my roommate at the Home. She'd been furious we weren't pressing charges against the guy who'd done it to me. I tried to explain we didn't do that. Our lives were about forgiveness, but Farah wouldn't have it.
It made me think.
But the thinking made me question things I shouldn't question. So when Farah brought it up again and again, I'd walked away.
Easier to ignore all of it.
Like my folks had.
Now, Momma reached out and touched my arm. "It's best this way, Lizbet. It's over now. All of it is over."
For you, maybe, I wanted to scream, but I didn't. Morgans weren't screamers, either.
"Can I buy some yellow yarn tomorrow?" I asked.
She blinked, I think surprised to have the subject changed. But relieved, too. "Do you want to do some knitting?" she asked, and her eyes reflected excitement.
"I thought I might."
"Some mittens, or a scarf?"
"I thought maybe I'd knit a blanket."
She flinched. "A blanket? That's a huge project. It'll take a lot of yarn, Lizbet. It'll be expensive."
I climbed a step and looked down at her. "No, a small blanket. It won't take much." I turned and climbed the rest of the way upstairs. I walked down the hallway to my room and went inside and shut the door. Tight.
Maybe Ned could put a lock on my door. I'd ask him first thing tomorrow.
****
Everyone was already at the breakfast table when I came down the next morning. "You didn't help with the bacon," Susanna said to me the minute I rounded the corner from the stairs.
"I helped," Regie bragged.
"Girls," Dad said. "Lizbet just got home. She can have one morning off."
Momma frowned. "I suppose. But tomorrow, Lizbet, we'll be waking you up."
"You won't have to. I never sleep in. Today was weird."
"You're tired from yesterday." Ned always stuck up for me. I smiled at him and took my place at the table.
Judd handed me the bowl of scrambled eggs, and Regina held out the plate of bacon as if presenting a gourmet assortment of food. I forked two pieces onto my plate and then scooped some scrambled eggs from the bowl.
"We need to do some garden work today," Momma announced. "Plus, let's not forget school isn't out for the year. You all have your week's studies. Lizbet, we'll take up where you left off."
"I went to school at the… I mean, I went to school where I was. I don't need to start where I left off."
"Nevertheless," Mother said. She picked up her coffee cup and took a drink.
"But I did well there. I shouldn't have to repeat."
Dad folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. "I'm a bit surprised to hear you argue wi
th your mother, Lizbet. Especially when we're eating. It isn't good for digestion — yours or anybody else's. Now enough. Everyone eat."
I looked down and scooted my eggs from one side of the plate to another. No one spoke, and Dad's heavy air of disapproval hung over us. I could feel Ned's eyes on me from across the table. I knew what he wanted me to do, and since I felt like I owed him so much, I obliged.
"Sorry, Momma," I said. I heard a collective sigh of relief from everyone present, and a renewed clacking of forks and gulping of milk ensued.
"Ned, we need to start on the Jamisons's car this morning. I promised him I'd have it back by tomorrow, and if we don't start, I'll make a liar out of myself," Dad said.
"No reason we can't get to it," Ned said.
"We'll make better time now you're not running to visit Lizbet twice a week."
"Won't need to go anymore now she's home." Ned gave me a slight nod and nudged my foot under the table like he used to when we were kids. Sometimes I could tell what he was thinking from his nudges alone. It was a kind of game for us, but right then I didn't feel like playing.
I pushed my chair back with an awkward screech. I stood and grabbed up my plate and the empty egg bowl and marched to the sink. "Sorry I was such a bother," I said as I passed Dad's chair.
Dad sputtered for a second and then said, "Didn't mean it that way."
Anger boiled in my stomach, and I didn't know what to do with it. I plunged the frying pan into hot water and squirted in too much soap. Momma brought her dishes over to me. "Don't get smart with your father, young lady. You took it wrong."
I nodded but said nothing.
I could feel the heat of Momma's glare on me, but I kept my head down and concentrated on the dishes. Momma set her glass and utensils on the counter with a clatter and walked back to the table.
Chapter Three
I'd gotten out of the habit of homeschooling and didn't much relish the idea of starting back up. No one in our church except the rebellious Hendersons sent their kids to public school. Everyone homeschooled. Period. No discussion. No choice.
Lizbet's Lie Page 2
