I heard a muffled thump on the other side of my door. My eyes widened, and I scrambled off the bed and hurried to my door, throwing it open. Susanna had fallen in a heap on the floor. She'd been listening. Guilt covered her face.
"You wretch!" I cried. "How dare you eavesdrop?"
She scurried into a standing position, then put her hands on her hips and faced me squarely. "It's a free country, and I can stand here in the hallway if I want to."
"With you ear pressed up against my door? I don't think so."
"My ears are free, too! You aren't my boss. It was better when you were gone!"
And there it was. What she'd been dying to say since I got back. Surely even she heard the cement in her tone. She backed up a step, and a twinge of regret flickered over her face.
Both of us pressed our lips into silence. Then she leaned toward me and spoke again. "What did you do to Johnny?"
I took a deep breath. "I didn't do anything to Johnny. Not that it's any of your business."
I turned and strode back into my room, slamming the door. Winter sat wide-eyed on the bed. "I'm sorry, Lizbet," she said, her voice lowered. "It was all my fault. I never should have yelled like that. Your mother probably heard me, too. I'm so sorry."
I sat cross-legged next to her. "Susanna was already mad at me. She has a crush on Johnny."
"Haven't we all at one time or other?"
I raised my eyebrows. "No way. You too?"
She smiled. "Of course me too. I have eyes in my head, and he's gorgeous."
"None of us are supposed to notice for years yet."
"Yeah, well, church can't stop our eyes from seeing what's right in front of our faces."
I laughed. "No, it can't."
"I know you're laughing right now, but you're mad all the time, Lizbet. I can tell. At church last Sunday, you were downright strange. What's the matter?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I agree with everything Bishop James preaches."
Winter studied me. "Like what?"
"All our rules. Don't you want to cut your hair? Go to public school? Like a guy?"
She laughed. "Of course. I'm human, aren't I? But those rules are to protect us."
"I don't feel protected."
She didn't hear my words. At least she didn't hear what I meant. She jabbered on. "You can cut your hair if you want. It's not a law. Besides, you already did."
"If I really cut my hair off, I would be lectured at, stared at, frowned upon, and in general, bring disgrace on my family."
"Lizbet, cut the drama." She stretched her legs out in front of her, hanging them off the side of the bed. "My legs are getting fat, don't you think?"
I shook my head. "Your legs are not fat. They're perfect."
"You're right, though. Everyone would have a fit. Not as loud a fit as you say, but still a fit." She looked at me. "You never used to care about it so much. What happened?"
"I don't know what I believe anymore."
Winter sucked in her breath. "What do you mean? You don't believe in God anymore?"
I took my time answering, and I saw her fingers fidget. "I think I believe in God. But lately, I've wondered. I'm not sure about any of it."
Her eyes bugged out, and she got off the bed. "You aren't sure you believe in God? You need to talk to Bishop James."
I backtracked. "No, no. I believe in God. I didn't say it right. Of course I believe in God."
Her shoulders lowered an inch, and she took a slow breath. "Good. You made me scared."
Why hadn't I kept my big mouth shut?
"Sorry. Now about the pageant."
On safe ground again, Winter jumped back on the bed and crossed her legs. "Okay, I've been thinking a lot about it. How about we write a play bounced off of the Good Samaritan story in the New Testament? We could change the time period, modern it up a little."
"I thought you wanted to do the lowering the guy through the ceiling story. The Good Samaritan has been done a bazillion times already."
She pursed her lips. "Not at our pageant it hasn't. Do you have a better idea?"
"No." I put my hand on her elbow. "It's a great idea. I'll be the poor wretch lying by the side of the road."
Winter laughed. "I figured. Less lines." She pulled a pink spiral notebook and pen out of her oversized purse and settled in to write. "Okay. Go."
My insides relaxed as we began working. I purposely pushed all God-thoughts out of my head. I should've known better than to bring up serious religious talk with Winter. Or with anyone from our community for that matter. We weren't encouraged to question our faith, our customs, or our rituals. After all, they'd served generations before us, and they'd serve generations to come.
But ignoring it didn't feel good. My questions gurgled and rumbled and demanded my attention. Maybe if the bishop's relative hadn't done anything to me, I could've talked to the bishop.
Maybe.
I thought about Bishop's stern round face that looked like he'd stuffed his cheeks with plums. A bit of a Santa Claus face, but without the jolliness. And his eyes always flicked back and forth, checking, checking, in case one of us might be doing something that needed to be frowned upon.
Frowned upon. What a phrase. Forbidden was more like it. Who were they kidding?
"Lizbet?" Winter snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. "Earth to Lizbet."
I jerked. "Sorry. Where were we?"
"You were lying next to a mall with bruises all over your face. I was about to rescue you."
My bedroom door burst open, and Ned stood there, breathing hard. "Phone, Lizbet. Phone for you."
"What's the emergency?" Winter asked.
I'd already leapt off the bed. "Is it…?"
"Hurry and see what she wants." Ned backed away from the door so I could rush through.
I heard Winter calling me, but I hurtled down the stairs to grab the phone. "Farah?" I nearly yelled into the receiver.
"Man, Lizbet, you're gonna break my eardrums," she said, but her tone was playful.
"Where are you?"
"Dad's apartment. Sam is coming down from Chicago tomorrow to see me. Dad is actually going to let him crash here on the couch. Imagine Dad letting his wayward son sleep over. Amazing."
My hands tightened their grip on the phone. Energy from Farah zapped through the phone line, easing my worry and fear. I had no idea how she did it.
She laughed. "But how are you doing? How's that hot brother of yours?"
"Ned? He's fine. Don't know about the hot part, though." I grinned. "When can you come over?"
"Soon, I think. You sure your parents want someone from the Home invading your space?"
I felt tension move up my spine. "No, I'm not sure, but Ned wants you to come, too. You can spend the night. He'll get you if he needs to. Your dad's apartment is in Edgemont, right?"
"Yes, Miss Chat-a-rama. It is. You never answered me."
"What?"
"How are you?"
Whenever I heard concern in Farah's voice, it took me by surprise. She wasn't one to ever be overly gushy about anybody else. When I'd first met her, she hadn't cared a fig about anyone but herself. But now it was different.
I guess being pregnant, giving birth, and handing over your baby does something to a person.
"I'm okay," I answered.
"You don't sound okay."
"When can you come? Do you need Ned to pick you up?"
"Yeah, he'll have to come for me. Dad only has the one rig, and there's no way in this universe I'm asking Mother for anything."
"How long is Sam staying?"
"Long enough to make sure I'm okay. I think he'll take off on Friday. So, maybe I can spend Friday night?"
"How about the whole weekend?"
She hesitated. "Including Sunday?"
"Yes."
"Meaning I'd have to go to church?"
"It's not so bad. You'll see."
Again, a hesitation. "I'll come, but no promises about church."
&n
bsp; I grinned. Farah was coming. I felt better already. "Okay, I won't hold you to church. But be warned, Momma might."
She laughed. "I do have some skills in getting my own way."
"So I've heard." I laughed with her.
"Ned can come any time after dinner on Friday. Dad's apartment is 3B at 4500 Long Street."
"Okay."
"Did you write it down?"
"Don't need to. 3B at 4500 Long Street. I've got it."
"See you Friday, then."
"See you Friday." I set the phone in its base and turned to go back upstairs. Ned was at the bottom step, eyebrows raised, eagerness all over his face.
"She's coming?"
"You have to go get her. I better clear it with Momma." I craned my neck and looked into the kitchen. No one was around. "Later. I'll clear it later."
I squeezed his arm as I passed him to climb the stairs and go back to Winter. When I got to my room, she was lying on my pillow, twirling the end of her braid through her fingers. When she saw me, she sat up.
"Who was on the phone? And what was the huge rush?"
"One of my friends from where I was helping all those months. She might visit this weekend."
Winter's eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead. "I see. That explains a lot. A new best friend, then?"
"No, a new friend. You're my best friend." A surge of annoyance rose inside me, but I stuffed it down and put on my best smile.
Winter focused on her notebook but not before I glimpsed the scowl on her face. She ran her hand across the pages as if smoothing them out.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What is what?" She kept smoothing the pages and the sound of her skin rubbing on the paper added to my irritation.
"You're acting mad," I told her.
She pinched her lips into a pucker and raised her eyes to mine. "All right, I'll tell you. If I'm your best friend, then you should be telling me your secrets." She huffed and stared at me.
Someone started the mower outside. It roared to life, and then a steady whine told me that whoever it was, probably Judd, had taken it around back to cut the grass.
"You're right," I whispered.
Winter's eyes bugged out. "You'll tell me?"
"You don't want to know."
"But I do."
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you." I walked to the door and wiggled the knob to make sure it was tight. I pressed my ear against the wood and listened. Nothing. Susanna must be off outside somewhere.
I pulled the wooden chair from under my desk and sat on the pink cushion I'd stitched together when I'd been in fourth grade. The stuffing had long since disintegrated into a sad bunch of lumpy foam.
I scooted the chair around to face the bed.
"Get on with it," Winter said. "You're making me nervous."
"You should be nervous."
She snickered and reached out to hit my arm, but when she saw my face, she changed her mind. Her hand hovered in mid-air, then retreated back to her lap. She swallowed. "I'm ready."
"I had a baby."
Her jaw dropped, and she wiggled backward on my bed until she smashed up against the wall. Her forehead scrunched into a frown. "Not funny, Lizbet. Not funny at all." She attempted a laugh, but all I heard was a choking rush of air.
"Look at my face. I'm not joking."
"What? Why? But how?" Tears trembled on her lashes, and her sadness for me caught in my throat.
"I was raped." I reached up and rubbed my neck.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes were huge, stunned.
I grimaced. "You know why."
She swallowed. More than once. I watched her throat. "I could've kept quiet."
"Maybe."
She jerked into a stiff sitting position. "What do you mean maybe? That's insulting." Her tone hardened.
"Do you understand what I just told you?"
"I understand fine. I'm not a child."
I'd been holding my breath, and now I blew it out. "I never said you were. And I know you'd have wanted to keep quiet."
"I would've kept quiet."
"Think about it, Winter. You would've felt obligated to tell the bishop."
"Would that be so bad?"
I raised my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "See what I mean? What you just said shows why all of us kept quiet."
"I repeat, would it be so bad if the bishop knew?"
I shook my head. "He would judge me."
"You said you were attacked. He wouldn't judge you."
My stomach tightened as I saw a glimpse of judgment in her eyes. A fist formed in my chest. Momma had been right. I should've kept my mouth shut.
"The bishop looks out for us, Lizbet. He wouldn't judge."
I sat completely still and watched a parade of emotion march across her face. I could see she was trying to absorb the news. Was she trying to be supportive? Trying not to argue with me?
"Who was it?" she asked.
"The bishop's cousin." My words dropped like bricks.
She choked on her breath and then went completely still. Her eyes dilated and tears overflowed down her cheeks.
I shrugged. "Another reason not to tell him."
"During the revival? When he stayed with your family?"
"Yes."
Winter scuttled to the edge of the bed and leaned toward me, putting her hand on my leg. "Were you hurt?"
"Depends on what you mean by hurt."
She shuddered. "Of course you were hurt. What a stupid thing to ask. I'm sorry." She squeezed my leg. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. It's over now. I got pregnant. I had the baby. I gave it away. Period. The end."
She shuddered again. "But how awful. How horrible for you. What did your parents do?"
"They shipped me off to Pleasant Living Home, where I stayed with a bunch of pregnant girls until it was over."
"No. I mean when they found out."
"They forgave him and told me to do the same."
Her face fell and fresh tears came to her eyes. "I'm so sorry. And the baby?"
I pressed my hand on my chest, trying to hold back the familiar piercing pain whenever I thought of him. "He's gone. He has a new mother."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I am."
"I know."
"So, this Farah person…"
"My roommate at Pleasant Living Home."
"She was pregnant, too?"
I nodded.
"She was attacked, too?"
I hesitated. It wasn't my place to spill Farah's secrets, but I didn't want to make Winter mad by holding back. "She had a hard time, too." That was safe to say, and it wasn't a lie.
Winter took her hand from my leg and clenched her hands together on her lap. Her knuckles whitened with pressure.
"Nothing was done to the bishop's cousin?"
I tipped my head and observed her for a long moment. "What do you think?"
Her shoulders fell, and she exhaled in a slow, drawn-out breath. "Nothing was done. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too."
"That's why Johnny was walking around as if his right leg had been ripped off. I can't believe you told him before me."
"I didn't tell him. He guessed."
"How could he have guessed? It's not like we have a bunch of girls from our community turn up pregnant."
"I'm aware." I was in no mood to explain what had happened at Potter's. In fact, I was tiring of the subject entirely and wanted to get off it. "Shall we get back to work on our skit?"
Winter shook her head as if shaking off a heavy weight. "What? Our skit?"
I grabbed her notebook, which had fallen from her lap, and waved it before her face. "Skit. Pageant. Remember?"
She flinched. "Yes, okay. Right."
I laid the notebook back on her lap and handed her the pen. "Let's continue."
"Is the pregnancy why you don't believe in God anymore?" Her voice was soft, but I thought I heard an accusin
g tone underneath the words.
"I didn't say I didn't believe in God."
"Yes, you did."
"I did not. Now, let's get back to the skit. Come on, Winter, we don't have much time."
Winter gave a heavy sigh, and we returned to our skit. We worked for another half-hour, but neither of us could concentrate. My confession hung over us like a heavy bank of smog. I worked at staying calm and breathing. Winter's eyes kept flicking my way under her lashes. I pretended not to notice, but it was pretty hard, considering every time she looked at me, she'd stop writing or speaking.
To say it was a weird half-hour was the understatement of the century. When Momma yelled up the stairs for me to come down and help prepare supper, I let out my breath in a whoosh of relief.
I jumped off my chair and cleared my throat. "We've almost got it done," I said with fake cheer. "One more session ought to do it."
Winter closed the notebook and stuck it and her pen back in her bag. "Yeah, one more session."
I walked to my door and opened it, standing to the side like an usher, inviting her to leave.
"I'm going. You don't have to worry," she said, her voice strained.
"Sorry. I do have to help Momma, though."
"Yeah, I heard." She started to walk through the door but paused and grabbed my arm. "I am sorry. Truly. Are you sure you don't want to talk with the bishop? You wouldn't have to say who did it, and it might make you feel better."
Blocks of ice moved up my legs, then shattered through my stomach and head. Was she insane? Had she heard one word I'd said? Her implication came through like words from a bullhorn.
I had done wrong.
The fact that a rapist was running around free had nothing to do with anything.
I stared at her and saw a spark of confusion and then worry flicker in her eyes. Before speaking, she took a step back, and her hand dropped to her side. "You could at least think about talking to him. You're falling away from God, Lizbet. It's not good, and it's not right."
I took a huge breath, trying to break the frozen tightness in my lungs. "Thanks, Winter, for your advice." I sounded like a robot, producing words like a machine. "I'll see you later."
Her brows drew down to a sharp point above her eyes. She swallowed with a quiet gulp and stomped down the stairs.
I watched her go. Even when she was out of sight, I couldn't move. My eyes stared over the railing at the bottom step as if transfixed.
Lizbet's Lie Page 9
