I shook my head. "Edie was there. She was at the store."
Ned drew in a quick breath. "Oh, no. Did she say something?"
"She didn't have to. Johnny's not stupid."
"I don't understand. Just because you know Edie doesn't mean you had a baby."
"She was with a new girl. The new girl figured out who I was. Farah must've done some kind of miracle job describing me or my photo is still stuck to the mirror in our room."
Ned shook his head. "Are you okay?"
"Everyone keeps asking me that," I said, leaning onto his shoulder. "Nobody gets it. I'm never going to be okay again."
I felt Ned twitch and heard the air catch in his throat. "But you will, Lizbet. You will. I promise."
I pulled away from him. "I've always trusted you. Of everyone in the whole world, I've loved you best, but even you can't promise me that."
I walked away from him into the house. Momma jumped off the couch, and a book slipped from her lap onto the floor with a thump. "You're back."
"I'm back." I headed straight for the stairs. All I wanted was to get to my bedroom and sit on my bed and knit.
"Wait," Momma said. "Can we talk for a minute?"
I sighed and stopped. "What?"
She studied my face and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. Her face changed from concern to alarm. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no."
With a huge effort, I kept my expression calm and, I hoped, blank.
"You told him! How could you do such a thing?" Momma backed away from me as if I had the plague.
"He guessed."
"But how? How could anyone ever guess a thing like that? It's impossible." Her voice ramped into a frantic tone.
Ned came through the door, and the screen behind him shut with a bang. "Momma, leave her be."
Momma's eyes flicked back and forth between us, and a look of hopeless despair covered her face. "But how? How?"
Ned took three long strides to my side. He put his arm around my waist. "It doesn't matter how. What difference does it make? Johnny is a good guy. He won't spread this around. He won't."
Momma sank to the couch and put her hands to her face. "We've worked so hard, so hard to keep this quiet."
I watched her tears and something in me hardened. I was a spectator, watching the whole scene play out. The drama, the frantic despair had nothing to do with me. It was like I was floating up next to the ceiling, watching.
Ned squeezed my body again and then went to Momma on the couch. "It'll be all right. You'll see. Nothing's changed. Johnny won't say a word."
There was a squeak from the stairwell, and Momma's head jerked to the side. Ned went stiff, but I continued to hover, still watching.
It was Susie. She walked into the middle of the room, and her eyes grew large. She frowned and surveyed us all. "What's going on? Where's Johnny?"
Ned got off the couch. "He had to go back home. And nothing's going on. Want to help me sweep out the drive in front of the shop?"
Susie stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "In your dreams," she said and flounced outside.
I floated back down to my body and observed her leave. She looked up and down the road, no doubt searching for Johnny.
Momma had crumpled against the back of the couch, reminding me of a lost puppy. I looked at her and tried to muster up a drip of compassion, but my heart felt nothing. Nothing. I turned away and went upstairs.
I wondered if Johnny would ever speak to me again.
****
The next day at midmorning, I took a break from my studies and wandered out to the back yard. I was tired of reading Great Expectations. Dickens's crazy jilted bride grated on me. Maybe her nuttiness was too close to home. I envisioned myself ten years in the future, sitting upstairs on my bed without a life, without a love, without my sanity.
A twenty-first century Miss Haversham.
Only I'd be knitting yellow baby blankets.
I bent down and ran my hands over a low border of peonies. Their large, drooping blooms brushed softly against my skin. If I squinted, the brilliant reds and oranges looked like a bed of roses. I breathed in the cool air and let my mind wander. Warm weather should be setting in for good soon. I could change to sleeveless blouses and capris.
"Lizbet? What are you doing?" It was Ned.
"Taking a break."
He walked up to me. "Do you have another letter for Farah?"
I stretched up and faced him. "Would you take it to her if I did?"
"It's Tuesday. Visiting hours tonight, you know. Yes, I'd take it to her."
"What'll you tell Momma and Dad?"
"I'm nearly eighteen. They don't make me account for every second."
"Like they do me."
He nodded with sorrow on his face. "Like they do you."
"I'll write her now."
I went into the house and up the stairs. I shut my door and grabbed my tablet and pen. Just knowing I was writing to Farah made me feel better, lighter. Almost hopeful.
Which was crazy.
No matter. I still felt better.
Hi Farah,
Ned said he'd take a letter to you if I wrote one. It's Tuesday, so maybe he can visit you for a while. I wish I could see you, but if I went with Ned, Momma would ask all sorts of questions. And then if she found out I was going back to the Home, she'd come unglued.
How are you? Did your new roommate tell you she saw me? At least I think it was your new roommate. Problem is, I was with Johnny, and he figured everything out. Me. The pregnancy. Everything. Now I'm pretty sure he's not speaking to me.
Momma is furious because she thinks I told him. In a way I did, but he'd already guessed.
When you're done at the Home, can you come and visit? Will your dad let you? I wish you could, and Ned wishes you could, too. Maybe you could spend the night.
I want to talk to you. I feel like I'm in a cage here and there's no one to talk to except Ned. There are things I can't say to him. I've tried, but he doesn't get it. You would.
Hurry and be done there. I know how stupid that sounds. Like you could hurry if you wanted to.
But still, hurry.
Your roommate,
Lizbet
I folded the paper and stuck it in an envelope I had left over from birthday party invitations I'd given out once. It was a small envelope, so the letter ended up a tiny square. I licked the flap of the envelope and pressed it down.
I knew Farah wouldn't even notice, but for some reason I carefully wrote Farah Menins on the front in my best script. I lingered over the envelope. Holding it made it seem like Farah was still my roommate, and even though I'd gladly blast the whole memory of the Home from my mind, I wouldn't blast her. I missed her sarcastic comments. She said things I'd never have the nerve to say.
And I liked her for it.
I glanced at the pile of yellow on my bed. I was nearly finished with my second blanket. The first was carefully folded in an old shoebox under my bed. I'd wrapped it in some white tissue paper I'd found in the junk closet downstairs. The blanket was soft and was waiting patiently in its little home until I needed it.
Needed it for what, I wasn't sure.
I turned on my heel and ran back downstairs to find Ned. He was waiting on the porch.
"Here it is," I said, a bit breathless. I held it out to him like an offering.
He took it and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "Thanks. I'll give her your regards."
"It's too early for visiting hours."
"I know, but I actually do have some errands to run. I'll grab something to eat and then go to the Home." He looked around quickly, I thought realizing he'd said it too loud.
No one was near.
He reached out and tweaked my braid. "Wish you could go. I'll bring you a letter back, okay?"
"Okay."
He opened the screen and yelled inside, "Mother, I'm off. See you later tonight." He looked at me and smiled. "Hope she heard. Dad knows I'm leaving anyway."
He h
urtled down the steps and hurried to his truck. I watched him pull away as if he were in a race. He couldn't get to Farah fast enough.
The idea of Ned and Farah together used to bother me, mainly because Farah was always talking about the father of her baby and how she was going to marry him and raise her baby with him. She went on and on until everyone at the Home was ready to scream. But the guy dumped her. Flat out. Farah never got dumped — she was beautiful and smart and always got her way.
Except that time. Afterward, Ned liking Farah hadn't bothered me so much. Although I was still stunned Ned would fall for a girl who was pregnant. I could only imagine what Bishop James would say about that.
Or Momma.
I walked back into the kitchen and sat down to work a little more before lunch. Susanna glared at me.
"Nice of you to join us again. What were you and Ned plotting?"
"Plotting? Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did it have to do with Johnny?"
I gave her a disgusted look. "Why would I be plotting with Ned about Johnny?"
"How should I know?" She laid her pencil down with a slap. "All I know is ever since you came back, Johnny's different. He comes over, then rushes away. He hardly says a word to me. He didn't even want to stay for something to drink the other day."
"How is that my fault?" I squirmed in my chair and made a pretense of trying to get comfortable. Susanna had an annoying way of drilling down to the truth of any situation.
"It's your fault, all right. I just can't figure out why. But I will." She turned back to her math book and picked up her pencil.
Regina's eyes were wide as she watched us. She leaned toward me from the opposite side of the table. "It's 'cause Susie likes Johnny," she said in a loud whisper.
Susanna slammed her book shut and stood up, nearly knocking her chair over. She marched outside with a huge sigh.
Judd put his hand over his mouth and laughed.
Regie's eyes got wider yet. "Oops, I should've kept still. Susie's always telling me to shut up, but I don't like it. You think she's mad?"
I nodded. "Oh yeah, I think she's mad."
The three of us got back to work.
After lunch, the afternoon dragged. All I could think about was Ned getting to see Farah. I couldn't wait till he got back, even though I knew it would be evening. I helped Momma with supper, doing more than my share of the cleanup. She kept watching me out of the corner of her eye, though for what reason, I wasn't sure. She jerked around the kitchen, her body all stiff. Every few seconds she let out her breath in a mini-moan. She was probably still stewing because Johnny knew.
To her credit, she said nothing. I don't think I could have talked about it if I'd tried. Truth was, I couldn't bear to think of Johnny. All I could see in my mind was his sad, hurt face. And his anger. I thought it had been directed at the guy who’d done it. But when he'd torn out of the driveway, I’d figured I’d been wrong. He was angry with me.
"Lizbet, want to play dolls?" Regina pulled on my sleeve. "I have them all set up."
I looked down at her freckled face and smiled. "Sure, honey. Let me dry these last dishes."
She skipped off into the living room.
Momma stopped wiping down the counter and looked at me. "Be careful."
"What do you mean? Careful with what?"
"With Regina. She's just a baby." Her voice was low, and she spoke each word like they scratched her throat coming out.
My heart jolted. I laid down the dishtowel, smoothing the folds flat. I turned to face her. "Are you implying I would harm Regina, my own sister?"
Momma flinched, and her hands shook. "I… well." She took a deep breath. "You know what I mean."
She fussed with the edges of the washrag.
"I'm afraid I don't have a clue as to what you mean."
"Lizbet, you told Johnny…"
"Johnny guessed. There's a difference."
What was the matter with her? Did she think I'd do anything to harm my little sister?
I gaped at her, and she opened her mouth then closed it again. I waited for a moment, but she was done talking.
"You can finish drying," I said and strode off. I rounded the corner into the living room, and Regie looked up, grinning.
"You can be Posie today," she said and held out her chubby redheaded baby doll. "I'll be Gladys."
She hugged her rag doll to her chest, and I joined her on the floor. "Okay. Shall we start with a tea party?"
****
At eight o'clock that evening, Ned's truck rolled into the drive. I'd left my bedroom window open a crack, so I'd be sure to hear him. I went to the glass and gazed down. He climbed out and trudged to the house. I tried to see if he was carrying a letter, but it was too shadowy. Besides, it'd probably be in his pocket.
I sat on my bed. I knew he'd come up right away, and I was right. He rapped on my door.
"Come in."
He opened the door, and the look on his face brought twinges of fear to my heart. "What is it? What happened? Is Farah all right?"
He sighed and slumped into my desk chair. "She's fine. I'm tired."
"What happened?"
"She's at the hospital."
Without realizing it, I'd gotten off my bed. The fear swelled into my throat. "But she's okay, right? It's her time, right?"
Ned ran his hand through his hair. "She's early. She was in labor when I got there. You know Farah — she tried to make jokes. I gave her your letter, but I don't think she read it. I only had a few minutes with her before Edie and Steve hustled her out to the car. Some lady named Beatrice came to stay with the other girls. I was completely in the way, but my feet were stuck to the floor. I couldn't leave."
"Did you go to the hospital?"
Ned closed his eyes. "Had no right to go." He opened his eyes again and stared into mine. "I wanted to, Lizbet. I wanted to."
I put my hand on his shoulder. "Farah gets under your skin."
He leaned against my side. "Yeah, she does."
I stood silently, remembering a time not so long ago when Steve and Edie had taken me to the hospital. The terrified feelings of that night rushed back over me, and I wondered if Farah was scared.
Ned got up. "But now it will be over for her."
The birth part, yes. The mess of emotion afterward, no.
I said nothing.
Ned gave me a quick hug. "Maybe she can come see you when it's over. I know she wants to."
"I'd like that."
He started for the door then turned back. "Did it hurt a lot, Lizbet?"
"Yes."
"But she'll be okay."
I nodded. "She'll be okay." I attempted a smile. "You know Farah. She's tough and proud of it."
He gave a soft laugh and shut the door behind him. It wasn't late, but suddenly all I wanted was to curl up in my bed and sleep for the next five years or so.
Chapter Eight
Ned met me at the bottom of the stairs the next morning. He pulled me out to the porch. The air was still damp, and the chill sank right into my skin.
"What?" I asked.
"I called the hospital. They connected me to her room, and I got to talk to her."
"What'd she say?"
"Her dad is picking her up today. I made sure she had our phone number, and she promised to call."
"How'd she sound?"
"Strong. Sarcastic. Beautiful."
I grinned. "Told you she'd be okay."
Ned's lips drew up in a satisfied expression.
"Momma and Dad aren't going to approve of her," I said.
He looked off to the field across the street. "I know. But once they get to know her…"
I made a wry face. "They still won't approve."
He grimaced. "I know."
"I wonder if she'll call right away."
"I think she will. She misses you, Lizbet."
"I miss her, too. Thanks for seeing her and taking my letter and everything."
He walked to the scr
een door and opened it for me. "No problem."
We went inside to eat breakfast.
****
Winter came by after lunch. "We've got to plan for this pageant whether we want to or not," she said in a crisp voice.
I was glad to see her. I didn't like the way we'd parted the other day. "Let's do it. Come on up to my room."
We settled on my bed and stared at each other.
"Well?" she asked.
"We're writing a play, right?"
"I saw Johnny yesterday."
I stiffened. This couldn't be good. "Oh?"
"He looked horrid. Like he hadn't slept for a month. I happen to know you saw him the other day. Does his ferocious appearance have anything to do with you?"
My gaze fell to my hands. I was tired of secrets. I was tired of trying to fool my friends when they weren't stupid and knew something was off. And I was tired of feeling guilty for something that I knew in my core wasn't my fault.
"Lizbet?"
I looked up into her penetrating eyes. "I want to tell you, I do. But Momma would kill me, and you would hate me."
Winter scrunched her forehead. "I could never hate you."
"Yes, you could."
Anger flashed across her face. "You haven't even given me a chance. You used to tell me everything. Haven't I proved I can keep a secret? I've never ratted you out yet, have I?"
She jumped off the bed. "I was so excited you were coming home. I thought we were still friends. But then you came, and nothing has been the same. You walk around with this sour look on your face like someone has either died or attacked you in your sleep. You refuse to tell me anything. Now Johnny looks like he's been shot through the heart. I'm sick of it, I tell you. Sick. Of. It."
She stood there heaving like she'd run a sprint. The veins in her neck protruded, and her eyes spit fire.
Tears blurred my vision. Winter was right. Everything she'd said. She was right.
She must've noticed my tears because she sat by me and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of it. I had no right."
Lizbet's Lie Page 8
