Lizbet's Lie

by Brenda Maxfield

  "Lizbet, wanna help me with math?" Regina asked. "You used to help me all the time, 'member?"

  I finished washing the last serving spoon and grinned down at her. "I do remember, and yes, of course I'll help you. But I imagine these days you don't need my help so much. No siree. I imagine you could now help me."

  She wrinkled her nose and giggled. "No, I couldn't. I'm only finishing second grade."

  "And I'll bet you're the smartest second grader in the whole county."

  She giggled again, then threw her arms around my waist. "I'm so glad you're home."

  Momma watched us with a look on her face I couldn't figure out. Was she even happy I was home? Or did she wish I'd gone away forever, like Farah's mom had wished about her? Momma caught me studying her and a red flush covered her face. And then I knew. She cleared her throat and bent over the center of the table to rearrange the napkin holder. I'd found her out.

  She hadn't wanted me back.

  I turned to rinse the dishrag out in the sink, and the doorbell rang. In our tight church community, people visited each other all the time without notice, but usually not this early in the morning. Susanna dropped her dishtowel on the counter and ran to get it.

  "Bishop James, come in," she said.

  My hands went still. Bishop James? Why was he here? Was he checking on me?

  "Hello, little lady, how are you this fine morning?" Bishop James's robust voice echoed through the house.

  "Fine, sir."

  Momma scurried into the living room. "Bishop, how nice to have you come over."

  "Always nice to visit the Morgans, Gen. I came to welcome Lizbet home. Can she come on in and visit a spell?"

  I pulled my hands from the water, and they dripped across the linoleum until I wiped them on the towel hanging from the refrigerator door. Walking into the living room, I saw that Bishop had already dropped his heavy body onto our couch. He patted the spot next to where he sat, but I perched on the opposite end.

  He wasn't responsible for what had happened to me, but his relative was, and somehow in my mind that twisted him into the mess. My hand went to my stomach, and tension rose in my gut. Mother looked where my hand rested, and she quickly joined us. I saw nervousness flash in her eyes as she sat across from us on the recliner.

  "I hear we're supposed to have a good gardening year," Momma said, her voice too loud. "Did you hear the same?"

  The bishop looked at her as if she was blubbering in Chinese. "I wanted to talk to Lizbet about her time away from all of us. We did miss you." He looked at me and clucked his tongue. "I never knew where you were, Lizbet. No one did. Your folks said you were helping sick friends?"

  "Yes, Bishop," Momma said. "As we shared, Lizbet did a lot of housework for some sick friends."

  Momma had answered for me, a fact I'm sure was not lost on the bishop. Our church community had a strict moral code, which did not include lying. I wondered what it cost Momma to phrase my absence in such a way. I also wondered what it cost her to call the group of pregnant girls at the Home my friends. They were my friends, but how could Momma possible be happy about that?

  "Yes, helping friends. I see." And all three of us knew the bishop did see. There was more to the story, and he knew it, but Momma pressed her lips together and didn't say another word.

  Bishop James gazed at Momma, then at me. I tried to paste a smile on my face but knew my attempt fell flat. Finally he heaved himself from the couch with a sigh and moved toward the door. "I can tell you're all busy, so I won't be staying."

  Momma hastened after him. "Thank you for visiting, Bishop."

  He nodded then looked back at me. "See you in church this Sunday, Lizbet."

  Just like when Johnny had said it the other day, it wasn't a question. Attending church was never an option. I'd always been fine with going, so why did it make me want to clench my fist now? I had faith. I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't had faith, and church was part of it.

  But still, I wanted to say If I feel like it, Bishop.

  Of course, I tipped my head in assent — like the good girl I was. Besides, my folks would ever let me get away with skipping church.

  A steel grip clutched my throat, and my breath stopped. Remember what happened the last time you missed church, Lizbet? Remember?

  My hand flew to my throat, and I massaged it hard until I could breathe again. The screen door banged behind the bishop, and Momma pivoted slowly from the door to face me, a mixture of relief and dislike covering her face. Heaviness pulled my heart to the floor.

  Her dislike was aimed directly at me.

  ****

  After lunch, Susanna and I dug in the garden. Momma had already put in the carrots and the lettuce, but not much else. It was still a bit early. The left quarter of the garden was untilled, so we were laying in the compost.

  "This job stinks and I hate it," Susanna said. "You were lucky to be gone for so long. Do you think I could go next time they need help?"

  I nearly choked on my saliva. "Um, no, I don't think so, Susie. Besides, everyone is well now, so it won't be necessary."

  "I still think it was stupid we couldn't write to you. I wanted to, you know."

  I squatted back on my heels. "Did you? Thanks. Who said you couldn't write?"

  "Both Mom and Dad. I threw a bit of a tizzy and that's when they told me I could use your room."

  "So when you got my room, you decided to quit pitching a fit? I can picture it all clearly now." I put on a hurt tone and sighed with mock sadness.

  Susanna nudged me in the side, and I nearly lost my balance and fell into the pile of compost. She laughed and bumped against me again. "You'd have done the same thing if you were me, and you know it."

  I shrugged and grinned. "Yeah, I guess I would have."

  "I had to wait to move in until they bought a new bed cover. I told them I didn't care, but they insisted."

  I became busy with my trowel, keeping my eyes on the dirt.

  "Don't you think that was weird? Since when did they ever spend money on anything not necessary? And you know what's even weirder?"

  I shook my head.

  "I think Momma burned your old bedspread. It wasn't even worn out. I would've been glad to have it."

  I kept digging.

  "Lizbet, are you even listening to me?" Susanna's voice warped into irritation mode.

  I looked up. "Sure, I am. Hey, what are you going to do in the pageant?"

  She groaned. "I'm sick to death of the stupid pageant. Every year it's the same dumb old performances with us acting like a bunch of ninnies."

  I realized I'd been holding my breath. Susanna was off the bedspread and onto the pageant, so now I could breathe again.

  "Hey, you two."

  I stiffened. Johnny stood next to the swing set watching us.

  "Hey, Johnny!" Susanna jumped up, threw her gloves to the ground, and dusted off her jeans. "How are you?"

  "I'm doing fine. You planting?"

  "No, composting."

  I stood, picked up a shovel, and put my foot on the butt of the blade, ready to turn the soil. Talking with Johnny was not on my agenda today. Besides, Susanna seemed happy enough to chat for the both of us.

  I wasn't going to get off so easily. Johnny walked over and stood in front of me. "Hello, Lizbet." His rich voice sounded like a radio sports announcer.

  I raised my eyes to his and gave him a small nod. "Johnny."

  I stomped the shovel into the dirt.

  "Can you stop for a minute and talk?"

  Johnny was the only person I knew who looked good in overalls. Not like some hillbilly with straw hanging out the side of his mouth, but like a guy who could tackle anything and win.

  "Yeah, okay." I put the shovel down.

  "You want some lemonade?" Susanna asked, coming to stand between us. Her hand trembled as she smoothed down sweaty wisps of her hair.

  Was she primping? Did she like him?

  Johnny kept his eyes on me. "No thanks, Susie.
Maybe later."

  Susanna's lower lip puckered out the slightest bit, and then she tossed her head. "Fine. Holler if you change your mind." She picked up the shovel I'd dropped and attacked the clumps of dirt and compost.

  I took a quick step back to get out of her way. Johnny's gaze flickered to her, then back to me. "Want to sit on the porch swing?" he asked.

  I rubbed my dirty hands down my pants. "If Momma sees me lazing around, she'll have me for supper." Johnny laughed, and the sound fell over me in a heady rush. I laughed with him. "It's true. She's not one for slackers."

  "I'd never call you a slacker, Lizbet. Quiet, maybe. A slacker, never."

  In my circle, that was a huge compliment, and I saw by the flush on his face he meant it as such.

  "Maybe this one time?" he asked.

  I knew it was the worst possible time to be found lounging on the swing when I was supposed to be working with Susanna. I hated to risk any further revulsion from Momma. "Don't think so. Sorry."

  "Okay then." He looked over at Susanna, who was furiously turning shovels full of dirt accompanied by loud sighs of aggravation. He smiled at her back and then pulled me a few steps farther away.

  "How did you sleep?"

  "Fine," I answered. Weird question.

  "Are you glad to be back?"

  Where was he going with these questions? "Sure. I missed everyone. Yes, I'm glad to be back."

  "I missed you." His words were simple, but there was urgency behind them. I stared into his eyes, then looked away. There was more in his gaze than should be there. Much more. I didn't merit it, and he shouldn't be giving it.

  "Thank you," I said. My words were polite, but I could tell by how his eyebrows scrunched he'd hoped for more.

  He shuffled some loose dirt clods with his right foot and glanced up at the sky. "We're in for good clear weather the whole weekend."

  The weather? Really? That's what we were going to talk about? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I guessed the weather was as good a subject as any. "Good for planting."

  "Good for planting," he repeated. "I'll be seeing you around." With those words, he turned and left.

  "Nice going," Susanna said, looking up from her shovel. "You chased him off in record time."

  "I didn't chase him anywhere."

  "Did so. If not for you, he'd have stayed for lemonade."

  "Oh, good grief."

  Susanna stomped her foot. "And don't swear, or I'll tell."

  "I wasn't swearing and you know it."

  "Were too."

  I pulled my gardening gloves from my pocket and put them on. I knelt and broke up the compost clumps with my hands.

  Susanna snorted. "That's disgusting. Use the trowel."

  I didn't answer. Seeing Johnny had disturbed me more than I cared to admit. I'd wondered before if he liked me. I knew I liked him. I also knew I couldn't do anything about it; it wasn't our way.

  Nothing was the same anymore. At the Home, Farah and I had talked about guys. She'd gone on and on about a guy named Pete who'd turned out to be the biggest creep ever, but I'd said nothing about Johnny. But then Farah had done most of the talking anyway.

  I sat back in the dirt. I missed her.

  Susanna and I kept up the work until we'd spread the rest of the compost. Now Dad could rototill it in, and the entire garden would be ready for planting. I wandered over to our sprawling garage to see how Ned was doing. Dad's car mechanic business seemed to be doing well, and Ned was always glad to help him as soon as his schoolwork was finished. Of course he did plan to take it over some day, and it looked like Judd was headed in the same direction.

  The heavy metal door was open, and the Jamisons's car was on blocks. Two other cars waited their turns next to the Jamisons's. Ned had his nose under the hood, and Dad was on his back underneath the car.

  "Hey Ned, how's it going?"

  Ned ducked out from under the hood and wiped his hands on the rag tucked into his belt. "It's going. Should be finished by supper."

  "You want some lemonade?"

  "I'd love some," came Dad's voice from under the car.

  Ned grinned. "Me, too."

  I bustled into the house to fill two glasses. Momma always kept a pitcher ready in the fridge, so it only took me a few minutes. When I got back to the garage, Dad was still under the car, but Ned was leaning against the garage door opening.

  "Dad, I'm putting your glass over here," I said and set his lemonade on the cement floor a few feet from the car. I handed Ned his glass, and he sauntered off toward the porch, motioning with his head for me to follow. He sank down on the swing, and I sat next to him. The air was perfect — not too warm and not too cold. I breathed in the spring air and watched the birds fly to and fro with scraps of straw and string hanging from their beaks.

  Ned put his head back and sighed. "Love this time of year."

  "Me, too."

  He sat upright and looked at me with his dark blue eyes. "Are you doing okay? You feel well?"

  I nodded. "I'm fine, Ned."

  "How do you think Farah's doing without you?" A deaf person could've heard the yearning in his voice.

  I put my hands on my legs. "I don't know. I was thinking about her earlier. I miss her."

  He shifted in the swing, making it creak. "I do, too."

  "She should be done with the Home soon," I said. I couldn't bring myself to say that she should deliver soon. The words wouldn't come out of my mouth.

  "She decided to give the baby up, right?"

  "She said she was going to. The Millers."

  "Aren't they the ones who were supposed to get Jasmyn's baby before it died?"

  I nodded.

  Ned put his empty glass down on the wooden porch floor and looked at me. "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." He leaned over and gently nudged my shoulder. "We don't have to talk about any of it if you don't want to."

  "I want Farah to come over to visit."

  Eagerness flickered in Ned's eyes. "That would be nice. For you, I mean."

  "Where do you think she'll live? Back with her dad in Edgemont or in Chicago with Sam?"

  "My bet is her dad."

  "She'd rather be with her brother."

  "I'm sure she would, but I bet her dad will never agree."

  "Will Momma allow her to visit?"

  "Momma has always let your friends come over."

  "You know what I mean, Ned. Like you said before — Farah doesn’t exactly fit in here. And Momma doesn't know her, and she doesn't attend our church. Not to mention the reason why I know Farah in the first place."

  Ned sucked in his lower lip. "I know. I was worried about that earlier. But then Momma's pretty big on hospitality. She's never turned anybody away yet."

  The last person she didn't turn away… the last person… I lurched off the swing, leaving it twisting with my absence.

  Ned jumped up and put his arm around me. "I didn't mean him, Lizbet. I wasn't talking about him."

  My eyes filled with tears, and the tightness in my throat increased.

  "None of us knew. Momma didn't know. How could any of us have known?" Ned's arms were tight around me.

  I jerked from his embrace and stepped away. He blurred as the tears fell from my eyes. "I can't forget, Ned. I can't."

  He pulled me back into a hug. I rested my head against his grease-covered T-shirt and cried. He patted my back. "It takes time. You need more time. Soon it'll all be a memory. That's all, a memory."

  The screen door squawked, and I looked through my tears to see Momma staring at us. I closed my eyes against her judgment and held onto Ned. She cleared her throat and spoke with quiet deliberation. "Ned, aren't you supposed to be helping your father?"

  "Give me a minute, Momma. Can't you see Lizbet is upset?"

  "I'll take care of Lizbet. You go on out to the garage."

  Ned cupped my chin and raised my face to his. "You okay?"

  "I'm okay." I bit my lips to keep them from trembling.


  He peeled me off of him and headed back to the garage. Momma let the screen door bang shut and then walked over. "Sit down with me."

  She sat on the swing, and I sank down beside her. She handed me a dishtowel. "Dry off those tears. You don't want appear weak, do you?"

  I took the nubby towel and wiped my eyes.

  "I'm sure this has been a hard time for you. Heaven knows it's been a hard time for all of us." She looked at me. "Your father and I did what we thought best. You understand, don't you?"

  I nodded. "I understand."

  Momma sighed as if a truck sat on her shoulders. She sank back into the swing. "But you don't think it was right."

  "It's not my place to question you." The words slipped from my mouth on a well-worn groove.

  "No, it isn't." She pushed on her feet and started us swinging in a gentle rhythm. "But yet you don't think we did right."

  "I had counseling there," I said. "Beverly thinks I should still have it."

  "Beverly?"

  "My counselor at the Home. She says you should get me counseling." I was surprised at my nerve.

  The swing stopped. "Yes. Your father and I read the report."

  I held my breath.

  "Counseling would be done by the bishop, and under the circumstances, I don't think that's a good idea."

  My breath gushed out. "No. No, not him."

  Momma patted my head the way she used to when I was Regie's age, only this time I felt like she was placating a pet dog. "I know this Beverly thought she knew what was best for you. But you're home now. We don't go in for counseling, honey. If there's a problem, the bishop helps us. So if we don't go to him, well, time will have to take care of it. In fact, time already has taken care of it."

  She stood up and gazed down at me. "Lizbet, it's all over now. So let's have no more tears."

  She had to notice my stricken look because she bent down and put her hand over mine. Her touch was warm but rough. "I found some yellow yarn for you so you can knit another blanket or scarf or whatever it was you want to knit."

  The hopeful look in her eyes turned my stomach. Give the girl some yarn. That should make her shut up and stop crying and forget the whole dirty mess.

  "Thank you, Momma." I sniffed and stood up. "Susanna and I are done with the compost. Is there anything else you want me to do?"