I gazed into his dark brown eyes and saw hope.
"I'll ask Momma." I hurried into the house to look for her. She was at the kitchen table making sandwiches.
"Johnny's here. He wants me to go into town with him."
She looked up. "Edgemont?"
I nodded. "Can I go?"
"We're about ready for lunch."
"I'm not hungry."
Momma walked around the table with the butter knife in her hand. "Do you think you should? You'd be alone with him, and I don't think it's a good idea."
She was probably right, but listening to her say it grated. "You can't keep me hidden away forever."
Her face hardened. "I'm not hiding you, Lizbet." Her tone was harsh. "I'm trying to protect you."
"From Johnny?"
She sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. If she wasn't careful, she'd poke her own eye out with the knife.
"No, not from Johnny. He's a good boy."
"So can I go?"
Her eyes flashed to the clock hanging above the sink. "Don't be long."
"Thanks." I swirled and dashed up the stairs before she could change her mind.
If I was going into town, I needed to change out of my old T-shirt and jeans. I rummaged through my drawer until I found the shimmery rose top that was folded into a small square. I shook it out and held it up to my chest. I walked to the mirror and stared at myself. The rose color did make my light blue eyes deeper. Somehow it also made my hair shine like Farah had said it would. It had been her blouse, but she'd given it to me on a whim right before I'd left the Home. Momma would never in a trillion years buy or sew me anything like it. It was much too pretty.
Which made me like it all the more.
I pulled my T-shirt off and left it in a lump on my bed. I shimmied into Farah's blouse and felt the smooth fabric against my skin. I was skinnier than Farah, so it hung a bit loose, but it was beautiful. I looked at myself in the mirror again. The color on my cheeks heightened as if I had on makeup.
I touched the roll of hair I always formed with my bangs. Farah used to joke about it looking like a coffee can — or a rolling pin — on my head. I smiled. I had been prettier when she’d taken it down that day, but if I suddenly changed my hairstyle, Momma would go into hysterics.
Still…
I smoothed the blouse over my waist. To be safe, I left my hair the way it was and tossed a sweater over my shoulders, pulling it closed in the front. Momma wouldn't see anything to cause her worry.
I flew down the stairs and met Johnny by his dad's old pickup in our driveway.
"She said yes?" The hope was still in his eyes.
"Yep, let's go." I climbed into the passenger seat.
He got in, turned over the motor, yanked it into gear, and we were off. The road was speckled with potholes, and I grabbed the dashboard with both hands to stay in place.
"Sorry," Johnny said and laughed. "This old truck doesn't take the ruts easy."
I laughed with him and realized I hadn't laughed much during the entire past year. It felt good.
Escaping the house felt even better.
"Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd start at Potter's near the edge of town. They have everything."
"What's so special about the markers your sister needs?"
"She needs fluorescent colors, I guess. I'm not sure, but you know my mom. She's on a mission."
I did know her, and I liked her. She was a bit frazzled and scatterbrained, but she had a quirky sense of humor and a constant smile.
We bounced down the road in silence until we neared Edgemont. "Ever wish you went to public high school in town?" I asked.
"Naw. More freedom at home. You?"
"Sometimes."
He stared at me before turning his eyes back to the road. We pulled into Potters's lot and found a parking spot toward the back. Johnny killed the motor and opened the door. "Shall we go?"
I opened my door and took the long step down to the asphalt. I flung the door closed and met Johnny by the tailgate. He took my elbow as we walked across the lot. He'd never taken my elbow before. Ever.
I tried to see his expression from the corner of my eye, but he'd angled his face away from me. When we passed through the automatic glass doors of the store, his hand dropped to his side.
"I think the stationery stuff is to the left," he said.
I followed him through the toy section. We traipsed up and down the office and school supply aisles looking for markers. We finally found them at the end of the farthest aisle. I bent down to pick through the florescent ones when I heard a tiny gasp behind me. I jolted upright. I recognized that gasp.
It was Edie, my housemother from the Home, and some girl who was obviously well into her second trimester.
Edie's face registered pleasure, but then she glanced at Johnny and her face closed off. She had no idea who Johnny was, and I knew she was trying to protect me from possible questions. She turned away as if we'd never met, but the pregnant girl kept staring, studying my hair.
"Aren't you…?" Before she could finish her sentence, Edie reached back, grabbed her arm, and tugged. Then she put her hands on the girl's back, guiding her out of the aisle.
But the girl's gaze was stuck on me, and she resisted Edie's interference. "Edie, quit pushing. That girl looks like Farah's…"
Before she could finish her sentence, Edie managed to get her out of hearing distance. Johnny stepped next to me, and I was afraid to look at his face.
The pregnant girl must be Farah's new roommate, and Farah must've talked about me enough so that she recognized me. Then I remembered. I'd left my photo with Farah. It was probably still stuck in the corner of our mirror in the bedroom. My hand flew to the roll of hair above my forehead. I should've taken it down. The girl never would have recognized me without it.
What kind of insane timing had to be in place for me to meet Edie at that precise moment?
"Lizbet?" Johnny moved around so he could look in my eyes. "Who's Farah? Who's that woman? And do you know the pregnant girl?"
"I don't know her." I turned back and squatted next to the markers and busied myself digging through them.
"Lizbet."
I sank back on my haunches. "What?" I kept my eyes down.
Johnny lowered himself next to me. "Who were they?"
"I don't know the girl."
"The woman? Who's the woman? And who's Farah?"
I picked up a package of markers and read the label. "These are guaranteed long-lasting. I think they're perfect for what your sister needs."
Johnny was silent. The moment stretched between us until my legs started to cramp, and I stood. "Shall we go pay?"
I walked to the counter at the front of the store. I wasn't sure if he followed me until I felt his hand on my back. His touch was light, without pressure. I handed the markers to the clerk, who rang them up. Johnny paid, and we went back out to the truck.
It'd been such a pleasant day when we'd gone in. Now a sour taste coated my tongue, and I was sure the clouds in the west had thickened. I got into the truck and fastened my seat belt. Johnny got in and fastened his. He put the key in the ignition, but made no move to turn it.
I glanced over at him. He stared through the windshield, and I could almost see his brain processing. My stomach tightened. What conclusion would he come to?
His hand dropped from the key into his lap. "Lizbet, who was the pregnant girl?"
"I told you. I don't know her."
"The woman?"
I pressed my lips together, and the skin around my eyes tightened. Good. If I could whip up some anger, maybe I wouldn't cry.
Johnny turned to me, and his look of confusion and tenderness cut off any anger trying to surface. He was my friend. He was on my side — for a few more minutes anyway.
Would he remain a friend? I doubted it. I doubted it to my very core.
"You can tell me." His words were quiet.
"No, I ca
n't."
"Like you can't tell Winter?"
I nodded. "Like I can't tell Winter."
"Lizbet, you were gone for seven months."
I shifted, and the seat belt cut into my shoulder.
"Seven months, Lizbet."
"I know how long I was gone."
Johnny's face lost all color. His brown eyes grew wide and horrified. "You were pregnant." His voice caught on the last word, and I thought for a minute he would sob.
Tears flooded my eyes, and I quickly jerked my head around to look out the side window. I bit my lips to keep from crying out loud.
My raspy breath was the only sound in the truck. I think Johnny had stopped breathing. The scene outside the window blurred as tears ran down my cheeks. If I kept my face averted, maybe he wouldn't know I was crying.
The minutes stretched. What was he thinking? Did he hate me? Did he want to dump me in the parking lot and flee? Was he going to rush and tell the bishop?
My parents would die.
When I thought I couldn't stand another second of silence, he yanked open his door and jumped out. It slammed behind him, rocking the entire truck. I pressed myself back against the seat and clenched my fists.
He couldn't stand to be in the same space as me. He hated me.
I looked over through his window and saw him pacing along the side of the truck. His head was down, and I couldn't see his expression.
Good. I couldn't take the disgust that was surely etched onto every inch of his face.
Should I get out? Should I try to find a different way home? I didn't have a phone. Maybe if I went back into Potter's, someone would lend me a phone. But what would I say?
My friend just found out I've been pregnant. He's in the parking lot hating my guts. May I borrow your phone?
The ugliness of it all circled my neck in a strangle hold. I gasped for breath. Johnny kept pacing. Pacing. Pacing.
I reached for the door handle, and the cold metal felt solid on my hand. I paused and stiffened my shoulders. I could do this. I could get out of the truck and find someone to help me.
If Farah were here, she'd turn this into a funny adventure. She'd toss her thick red hair over her shoulder and bat her lashes and every guy within a mile radius would rush to help her.
I could get help, too. After all, I was wearing her shirt. I pulled the handle and opened the door. The crisp spring air blew over me and somehow loosened the tight grip of panic in my heart. I slid out of the truck and onto the lot. My legs felt weak. I waited until they stopped shaking then shut the door.
Within seconds, Johnny came around the truck and faced me.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?" His look was jagged, pained.
"I'm finding another ride home." To my amazement, my voice was steady.
"Why? I'll take you home."
I swallowed past the sandpaper in my throat. "You don't have to. I can get a ride."
Johnny reached out and clenched my arm, then just as quickly dropped it. "Don't be stupid, Lizbet. I'll drive you. Get in."
He'd never been bossy before. I wanted to argue, but when I saw his fierce look of determination, I climbed back into the truck.
He got in. His hand shook as he fumbled with the key hanging from the ignition. The truck roared, and he ground the gears, searching for reverse.
I squished myself as far into the corner of the seat as possible. I wanted to disappear into the upholstery altogether. The truck was in reverse, but we weren't moving.
I looked at Johnny. He stared through the windshield, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He's crying. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I possibly say?
I waited. And swallowed. And waited.
Finally he turned the ignition off and sat with his hands in his lap. The tears had stopped, but his cheeks were wet. I looked away from him and pressed my face against my window.
The seat crackled as he shifted toward me. He touched my shoulder, trying to turn me from the window. "Are you all right?" His voice was muffled, and I knew he was crying again.
I moaned and burst into tears right along with him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know you hate me."
"I don't hate you." He put his arm around me, and I sank onto his shoulder.
I couldn't stop crying. Or shaking. Johnny's arm tightened around me, and I felt his chin on my head. He reached over me and fumbled in the glove box. He handed me a wad of tissues, and I grabbed them and pressed them to my face.
"I'm sorry," I said through my tears. "I can't stop crying."
"Me, either," he whispered.
I don't know how long we sat together. I reached into the glove box for more tissues, blew my nose, and wiped my face.
"You okay?" Johnny asked, his voice still quiet.
I would never be okay again.
I covered my face with my hands.
"What happened, Lizbet?" Johnny choked out the words. "Who was it?"
I looked into his red-rimmed eyes.
"You don't know him."
He scrunched his eyes closed, and the muscles in his jaw tensed. "The woman in the store? The guy who did it… was he… her son?"
I unclasped the seatbelt and rubbed my shoulder where it had been digging into me. "The woman was my housemother at Pleasant Living Home."
"Pleasant Living Home?"
"A place where pregnant girls are sent to live out their shame in secrecy." The bitter words tore from my mouth.
Johnny winced.
I tried again. "It's a place where pregnant girls are taken care of. They stay until it's over."
"And the guy?"
I took a huge gulp of air.
"I'm sorry." Johnny didn't take his eyes from mine. "The other girl in the store?"
"Like I said, I don't know her."
"She said something about a Farah. Who was she?"
"Farah was my roommate."
Another silence. His question about the guy responsible filled the cab. Johnny's curiosity swirled around us, filling every crevice and space.
I saw no reason to keep any of it from him anymore.
"I was raped." There, I'd said it, and each word scraped holes in my throat.
Johnny winced, and his breath caught. His hands came up in fists, and he pounded on the steering wheel. "No, no, no!" His voice hammered out each word. He leaned forward and clamped his hands on each side of his head. "Lizbet. Lizbet." This time his words were whispers of pain.
He turned to me and gazed at me with such sadness, my heart tumbled and shattered. He reached out to me, and I melted into his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Lizbet. So sorry," he mumbled, rocking me back and forth.
I sat up and wiped my face with my sleeve. "It's not your fault."
"I'm still sorry. Does Bishop know?"
I stiffened. "He can't know."
"Why not? This wasn't your fault."
"Do you think that'd matter to him? It doesn't even matter to my own parents."
"What do you mean?"
"They blame me."
He reared back and knocked the back of his head on the window. "Why?"
"I don't know, but they do."
"But your parents are nice people."
I didn't say anything.
"Where's your baby?"
"I don't know." I looked beyond him out the window. "I don't want to know."
"What do you mean?"
"He's adopted. It was a boy."
Johnny gulped in a deep shuddering breath.
A twisted sob burst from my lips. "I didn't want to know. I didn't want to see him."
The muscles around Johnny's mouth tightened. His eyes didn't leave mine.
"It was my baby. My baby." I pressed both hands over my mouth and fought the hysteria rising in my throat. Tears dripped over my fingers and splatted down Farah's shirt.
Johnny squeezed my shoulder. "I'm sorry. It'll be okay. Please don't cry, Lizbet."
I gasped great gulps of air. Johnny kept patting me, an
d I knew he didn't know what else to do. After a couple minutes, my breathing slowed, and I lowered my hands.
"Who else have you told?" His voice was gentle.
"Ned knows."
"Nobody in our community would do this. Where did it happen?"
I looked at the floorboard and took a deep breath. Johnny touched my shoulder. "You don't have to answer. I had no right to ask."
"In my bedroom."
Johnny drew back his hand. "Your bedroom?"
"On my pretty flowered bedspread."
Johnny twitched. "It's too small in here. I'm getting claustrophobic," he said. He threw open the door and tumbled out. I jumped out and went around to him.
He stood and stared at me, but I couldn't read his face. This time I touched him. My fingers rested on his arm. "I shouldn't have said it like that."
"Who was it?"
"A houseguest."
"Is he in jail?"
"No."
Johnny sucked in his breath. "Let me guess. He wasn't even reported."
Tears welled in my eyes again. "No."
He hit the side of the truck, and the strike echoed around us. "Get back in," he said and got in himself.
I climbed in and pulled the seatbelt around myself, clicking it in place.
"You don't have many houseguests," Johnny said. "I only remember one."
His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open.
"The bishop's cousin," I said.
"That's why the bishop wasn't told?"
I nodded.
Johnny was silent for a long moment. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Just take me home."
He stared at me for a long moment, then turned over the engine and backed out of our parking spot. We headed back home in silence. Every few minutes I glanced at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his expression was hard and didn't change.
We pulled into the driveway, and Johnny drove me up as close to the house as possible. Ned was standing on the porch with his hand on the column nearest the door. He studied us through the windshield, and I saw his face darken.
Chapter Seven
I slipped out of the truck without a word to Johnny and ran toward Ned. I heard Johnny grind the truck into reverse and pull out. Ned opened his arms, and I flew into them.
"You told him. Why?" Ned squeezed me hard and then pushed me away to look into my face. "Why, Lizbet?"
Lizbet's Lie Page 7