Lizbet's Lie

by Brenda Maxfield

  But shouldn't parents stick up for their daughter? Shouldn't my parents have been incensed over what he'd done to me? Shouldn't they have rushed to defend me?

  A tightness crept up my throat, and my eyes filled with tears.

  Didn't they love me enough? Would they have lowered me through the roof for Jesus to heal me?

  No. They wouldn't have. The truth hit me with such force I grasped the edges of the bed.

  And then a new truth cut its jagged edges into my mind. They blamed me. They blamed me for the whole thing. Black spots whirled at the edges of my vision. I went limp and teetered over the edge of the bed.

  "Lizbet!" Winter cried, grabbing for me.

  She was too late. I crumpled to the floor, crying.

  "Lizbet!" She jumped off to the bed and knelt at my side. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Can you hear me?"

  I tried to look at her, but she was fuzzy, out of focus. Her voice seemed to come from far away.

  "Lizbet!" I saw her shadowy form dash to the door. "Mom! Come quick!"

  I sank into the carpet, down, down, down until I felt as if I'd crashed through the floor and into the depths of the earth below. Mrs. Stevenson was there, reaching through some kind of narrow tunnel toward me. She shook me.

  "Lizbet!" her voice was sharp. "Answer me. Are you all right?"

  I took a huge gulp of air, and the tunnel disappeared. My head hurt. She shook me again.

  "Stop," I said. "I'm okay."

  Mrs. Stevenson and Winter helped pull me to a sitting position, leaning me up against the bed.

  "Sorry," I murmured. "I got dizzy for a minute. I'm fine."

  Winter sat on the floor beside me. "You scared me to death, Lizbet. You've never fainted before. Is that what happened? Did you faint?"

  I had no idea if I'd fainted. All I knew was my parents blamed me. Somehow in their twisted logic, they blamed me. "Yes, I fainted." Easier to agree than try to explain the searing knowledge burning its way through my heart.

  Mrs. Stevenson knelt before me. "Shall I call your mom? Are you sure you're okay?"

  I tugged at the edges of my shirt. "I feel like a fool. Imagine fainting. Sorry to scare you. I think I didn't eat enough lunch."

  Mrs. Stevenson smiled with compassion. "Always thought you were too skinny, my dear. Now, if I had you around here for a while, I'd get you fattened up right nice." She gently pinched my shoulder. "Now, Winter, quit eating those cookies and let Lizbet finish them off."

  I took a cookie and smiled. "Thanks. And sorry. I'm fine."

  "Do you want some milk?"

  I saw the concern and love in Mrs. Stevenson's eyes, and I wanted to tuck myself into her arms and tell her I wanted to live with her forever. Instead, I mentally scolded myself for being such a baby and said, "Yes, please. Milk would be nice."

  She rushed downstairs to fetch it, and I glanced over at Winter and saw her studying me with narrowed eyes.

  "Lizbet Morgan, if you don't tell me what's going on with you, I will never speak to you again."

  I got up and my knees wobbled. I sat on her bed and took a small bite of my cookie. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Winter scrambled up and sat facing me. Her eyes were still narrowed, and her piercing gaze bore through me. "Yes, you do. Now tell me the truth."

  Mrs. Stevenson bustled through the door with a tall glass of milk balanced on a saucer. "You drink this up. Every last drop, you hear?"

  I took the milk. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

  She nodded at me and then at Winter and left, closing the door behind her.

  "Tell me," Winter said.

  "There's nothing to tell. I don't know why I fainted. I've never fainted before in my life."

  "Aren't we friends anymore, Lizbet? We used to be best friends before you left. Don't you like me anymore?" The confusion in her eyes pressed on me.

  My folks would kill me if I told her. They'd been so careful to keep it secret. Winter stared at me, and tears puddled in her eyes.

  "I can't tell you," I said.

  Winter huffed. "There is something. I knew it!"

  I pressed my lips together, but they trembled anyway.

  "Tell me."

  "I can't."

  "Why not? You know I won't tell anyone. Who would I tell? Weird Doreen?"

  "I want to tell you, but I can't."

  Her hands dropped into her lap. "You don't trust me."

  "I do trust you."

  "No you don't, or you'd tell me."

  I slid off the bed and stood next to her. "Yes, I do trust you, and I'm sorry to the bottom of my heart that I can't tell."

  Knowing she didn't believe me, I left her room and stumbled down the steps, feeling the weight of my secret choke the breath from my chest.

  Mrs. Stevenson looked up from the kitchen table, where she was reading a magazine. "You going so soon?"

  "Yeah. We're going to work on it later."

  "Okay, honey, but don't you forget to eat a big dinner. And call me when you get home, would you? I’d rest easier."

  "I will." I made an effort to smile.

  The sun was low in the sky, and the air was chilly as I walked home. I patted my pocket and heard the crinkle of Farah's letter. I was eager to read what she had to say, but I waited until I’d called Winter’s mom and was safely in my bedroom. I sat on my bed and pulled the letter out, smoothing its wrinkles over my knee. There were two pages.

  Dear Lizbet,

  I was never more surprised to see anyone than Ned. What a welcome sight he was, too. I'm sure my smile was big enough to draw in the whole county. I half expected to see you standing behind him, but no luck. Then I thought what kind of idiot would come back here if she didn't have to. But Ned was a lovely surprise.

  I think he was glad to see me, too. He gave me your letter and told me that's why he came. Lizbet, I know you weren't too keen on me liking him, but how can a girl help it? He's so nice and not to mention, hot. The greatest thing is he doesn't realize he's hot, which as far as I'm concerned makes it so much better.

  It's supposed to be a few more weeks until the baby comes, but I don't think it'll be that long. I keep telling Edie I'm going to be early. She says first time moms are hardly ever early so she doesn't believe me, but I feel it. So, I'll be out of here soon.

  I never thought I'd be here this long. Pete never changed his mind. He's still a jerk, and I never want to speak to him again.

  The Millers are happy. They can't wait to take the baby. It's odd, but I feel like I'm doing something almost heroic by giving them this baby. Kind of makes up for everything else that totally sucks.

  My brother Sam still visits me. He said I could move in with him in Chicago, but Dad won't hear of it. I can't wait till I'm old enough to leave. Then neither Mom nor Dad can do a thing about it. By the way, Mother has never spoken to me again. I guess I'll always be nothing but Total Humiliation to her. Who cares anyway? She can rot in a snake pit for all I care.

  So I have to live with Dad. He's got a girlfriend now, so maybe he won't pay me much attention, which suits me fine. He tried to keep the girlfriend hush-hush, but how stupid does he think I am?

  Ned said I could come visit you. I'd like to. Your parents will want to barricade you from me, but I promise to be on my best behavior. I can charm anyone's parents when I want to. (Except my own.)

  Oh, I got a new roommate, but she's a total whack job. We don't talk. She lies in bed all day long and moans. It can get on a person's nerves. I told her to stuff it, but she only glared at me and moaned louder.

  I can't wait to be free of this place. How can I get hold of you? Here's my number if you can call. Of course, I won't answer till afterward because as you know they have my phone. 555-3331.

  Miss you lots,

  Farah

  I pressed the pages to my chest and took a deep breath. It was good to hear from Farah. I'd missed her. We were unlikely friends, but somehow over the months, we'd bonded. The fact that she thought my brother was a
mazing didn't hurt either.

  I read her letter again and then again before hiding it at the bottom of my desk drawer. She was right to be worried about my folks' reaction. She'd never fit into our community, but somehow I knew I'd feel better if I could see her again. The constant weight pressing down on me every minute of the day would somehow lessen if she was here.

  I went downstairs to find Ned. He was sitting in the living room reading some kind of manual. I joined him on the couch. "I read the letter."

  Ned's eyes shifted to mine, and the eagerness shining there was palpable. "What did Farah say? How's everything going?"

  I shrugged. "As well as expected, I guess."

  "Is she going to stay in Edgemont when it's over?"

  "Yeah, she has to live with her dad."

  Ned let out his breath in a huge sigh. "Good. She's not going to Chicago then."

  "You like her." I kept my voice low, almost in a whisper.

  "How can I? She's sixteen and pregnant. Can you imagine what Momma and Dad would think?"

  I put my hand on his arm. "I remember what you used to think about her."

  Ned closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was a glimmer of shame. "Don't remind me. I still can't approve of the pregnancy, but I'm not judging her anymore. You understand?"

  I put my head on his shoulder. "Yeah. When you know the person and like the person, it's harder to condemn her."

  Ned jerked back, dislodging me. "Condemn her? We don't condemn. We try to lead people back to the truth."

  "No, I had it right. Condemn. Like the Bishop would. All of them would condemn me if they knew." I looked at my lap. "You know I'm telling the truth."

  Ned remained silent.

  I gathered up my nerve. "Do you believe everything we've been taught? Do you ever question things? Do you ever wonder?" As I spoke the words, my gaze moved to the door. I expected the bishop to come tearing through and strike me dead.

  Ned glanced toward the kitchen before looking at me again. "Everybody questions things sometimes. It's normal."

  "Do you?"

  He changed positions on the couch. "Yes. Of course."

  "But you still agree with everything?"

  "I believe in God and His mercy."

  I shook my head. "I believe in God, too. I meant all the other stuff that goes with it."

  "You're not being specific."

  "Like we should never cut our hair. Like we can't go to public school. Like none of us should have a boyfriend or girlfriend until we're ready to get married. Like we shouldn't go to movies. Like…"

  Ned put his hand over my mouth. "Whoa, girl. I get the picture."

  I put my hand over his and drew it away from my mouth. "Most of all, like we should condemn a girl who gets pregnant through no fault of her own." My voice was a whisper.

  Ned put his arm around my shoulders. "I'd never condemn you."

  Tears trickled down my cheeks, and I reached up to brush them away. What if Momma came in and saw me crying? I wiggled from Ned's arm and again rubbed at my eyes. "They blame me, Ned."

  Ned looked quickly around the room, I'm sure checking to see if we were still alone. "Of course they don't. They know you weren't at fault." The shadows curtaining his eyes didn't agree with his words.

  "You know they do. I can hear it in Momma's voice every time she speaks. Dad's nicer, but he avoids me. Neither of them wants me around."

  "That's not true. Of course they want you around. They love you."

  I stood and looked down at my brother. "I don't think so. Or they would've told the authorities."

  "That doesn't necessarily relate, Lizbet. It's not our way to prosecute. We're forgivers. You know that."

  "All I know is some guy is running free, and I'm not."

  "You're free. It's over."

  "Is it?" I asked and walked away.

  Chapter Six

  Monday morning came, and I made sure I was up early enough to help put breakfast on the table. I even got downstairs before Momma. When she came into the kitchen, I was putting a pitcher of milk on the table.

  "Land's sake, Lizbet, you're up early."

  "Breakfast is nearly ready," I said, going to the stove to stir the huge pot of oatmeal. "I just need to finish up the toast is all."

  "Thank you." She walked over to the coffeepot and checked the water level. "You didn't put the coffee on?"

  Well, there it was. I couldn't win.

  "I can do it right now," I said, going to the pot and nudging her out of the way.

  She planted her feet and wouldn't budge. "Not necessary."

  "Evidently it is, since you mentioned it." I was angry now, but tried to layer a tone of indifference onto my voice.

  She wasn't fooled.

  Neither was I.

  She went to the table, pulled out a chair, and pointed at it. "Sit down."

  I sat.

  She took the chair next to mine. "What's the matter with you?"

  I glared at her, and she glared back.

  "Nothing's the matter with me," I said.

  "You've been surly since you got home. I don't like it, and I don't want your younger brother and sisters to start imitating you."

  "Why would they?"

  "Because you're older than they are. Because they've always looked up to you and Ned."

  "Do you even know Susanna? She has never looked up to me."

  Momma's face hardened. I was going too far. "I think I know my own children, Lizbet." She placed her arm on the table, and her fingers tightened until her knuckles popped out like a mountain range.

  "Right. Sorry," I said. "I'll do better. Can I go now?"

  "You didn't answer me. What's the matter with you?"

  The heaviness that had taken up permanent residence in my heart pressed hard when I realized she was sincere. How could she not know what was wrong with me? How could she sit there and tell me she knew her own children when she hadn't a clue about me? Wasn't I still her child?

  "I'm just getting used to being back home," I said. My voice was quiet. There was no hint of anger now, and I knew she'd never acknowledge the sadness that was slowly strangling me.

  She sighed and patted my leg. "Of course you are. I should be more patient." She stood and pushed in her chair with a low screeching sound. "Did you need more yellow yarn?"

  I nodded.

  I needed miles and miles of yarn to knit my life away.

  ****

  All of us kids sat around the kitchen table with our homeschooling texts, and we worked until right before noon. Even Ned kept at it most of the morning, which was unusual because he had little coursework left before getting his diploma. I had the feeling he only sat there all morning to give me support.

  Every five minutes or so, Susanna gawked at me and sighed with a croak. Of course, she timed her sighs around Momma's absence, knowing Momma wouldn't tolerate such unbecoming behavior.

  We were stacking up our books when we heard a knock on the screen door.

  "I'll get it." Susanna flew to the door.

  I gathered up her books with mine to put them on the shelves next to the stairwell. As I passed through the living room, my heart lurched. Johnny.

  Susanna's face was flushed, and she jabbered like a wild horse let loose. When Johnny saw me, he stepped away from Susanna, and his eyes locked into mine. "Lizbet, I need to speak with you."

  Susanna's expression tightened, and her eyes darted from Johnny to me and back. "Wouldn't you like me to get you something to drink, Johnny? How about we all go sit on the porch?"

  Her flirting made me want to crawl into a hole. Desperation on anyone wasn't pretty, and it seemed a particularly bad match in Susanna.

  Johnny glanced at her. "Not right now, Susie. I need to talk to Lizbet."

  Susanna threw me a knife-sharp glare and clamped her mouth shut. Her lips puckered into an ugly pout, and she flounced up the stairs.

  I slid the books onto the shelf and turned to face him. "All right, Johnny. Want to go
outside?"

  He pushed open the screen door and held it for me to go through. We sat on the swing, and he pushed on his feet, gently moving us back and forth. "It's gonna be a hot one, I think."

  I looked out to the blue sky. "You never know. It's Indiana, after all."

  He smirked. "Yeah, if you don't like the weather, wait a minute."

  Weather was a safe topic. I smiled. "It's true — it could snow this afternoon."

  "Could be."

  We grew silent, and I listened to the soft squeak of the swing's chains against the porch's ceiling.

  "I didn't come to discuss the weather."

  "Didn't think so."

  "What are you going to do for the pageant?"

  "I'm not sure. Winter and I are coming up with something."

  "I talked to Winter this morning."

  I stiffened. "You did?"

  "She's worried about you."

  I didn't speak. I stared off across the street to the unplowed field.

  "Should she be? Worried, I mean."

  "Maybe," I said, then wanted to press my hand over my mouth. What was I thinking? I couldn't afford to give away clues.

  Johnny put his hand on my shoulder. "Is this about where you were?"

  "Why is everyone asking me about that? My parents were perfectly clear why I was gone." My voice raised a notch.

  "No, they weren't. They pretty much kept close-mouthed about it. We never knew exactly where you were. Were you a long ways away?"

  I stood and faced the street, keeping my back to Johnny. "It wasn't too far, but it wasn't close either. What difference does it make? I'm back now."

  Johnny got up and stood next to me. "But part of you isn't back. Part of you is still gone."

  And always will be, I wanted to say but didn't. Innocence lost can never be found again.

  "If you ever want to tell anyone anything, I have good ears." His voice was tender and listening to him, tears came to my eyes.

  He grasped my arm. "Come on, I have to go into town for my mom. Come with me."

  "Town? You mean Edgemont?"

  "Yep. Mom wants these special markers for Peggy's art project. Can't get them around here. She's already checked. Come on."