Lizbet's Lie

by Brenda Maxfield

  "Lizbet!" Momma called, and I heard her coming for me. Her head peered up the stairs. "I said I needed help in the kitchen. Why didn't you show Winter out? And what was wrong with the girl? She looked positively frightening."

  I stepped back out of Momma's vision. "Sorry, Momma." I forced my voice into a calm, monotonous tone. "I'll be right there. Just have to use the bathroom."

  "All right, then, but hurry yourself up."

  I ducked into the bathroom and shut the door. The mirror in there was a small, two-dollar affair, hanging by a ribbon above the sink. My pale blue eyes gazed back at me. I leaned close, staring deep into their recesses. Beverly, the counselor at the Home, had told me I should say loving words to myself in the mirror. At the time, it seemed dumb but easy enough, so I'd tried it, but the words jumbled up like marbles in my mouth and wouldn't come out.

  I decided this would be a good time to try again. I put my hands on each side of the skinny frame. "Beverly says I should say something to you." My voice was determined. I paused as if waiting for a response. I went on, "So, this time I'm really going to do it." Tears welled up and threatened to overflow.

  I ignored them. I would keep going — I could do this.

  "Lizbet…" I took a huge breath and felt the air shudder all the way down to my stomach. "Lizbet… I, well, I…"

  I jerked back from the mirror and dropped my hands to the edge of the sink. What a stupid idea. Beverly didn't have a clue. In fact, now that I thought about it, she was stupid, too.

  I didn't have time for such absurd dramatics in front of the mirror. If Momma saw me trying to say nice things to myself… I yanked open the door and fled down the steps. She’d be yelling at me again any minute.

  When I burst into the kitchen area, she looked up from the cutting board. "You needn't run, Lizbet."

  "What do you need done?"

  "Help me cut these veggies for the salad." She pointed to a head of cauliflower and a package of carrots. "Call for Susie. She's out back. No reason why she can't help, too."

  "I can do it all." I didn't relish having to stand at the counter next to Susanna with her giving me dagger eyes every second.

  "Suit yourself," Momma answered. "But she needs to pull her weight, too."

  I grabbed a knife and another cutting board and got to it. The rhythmic chopping lulled me back to normalcy.

  The two of us were alone, and I needed to take advantage of the situation. "Momma, can I have a friend spend the night on Friday? Maybe stay the whole weekend?"

  She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. "Oh, good, I thought that maybe you and Winter had fought. The way she looked when she left was…"

  "It's not Winter," I interrupted.

  She set her knife on the counter. "Not Winter? Then who?"

  "A girl named Farah."

  "We don't know anyone named Farah."

  "You don't, but I do. She's a nice girl, and she won't be a bit of trouble. I promise. We'll even help with all the meals." I was talking too fast, but I couldn't slow myself down.

  "You'd help with all the meals anyway." Her eyes narrowed until the right one was almost a slit. "How do you know this girl?" Her voice tightened into a fisted ball.

  "She was at the Home."

  I wasn't touching her, but I actually felt her stiffen. It hit me like a boulder.

  "No, she can't come. Your sisters are here, Lizbet. And how would we explain her to everyone at church?"

  "She won't be going to church with us."

  Momma gasped, and her entire body flinched. "Not go to church? What do you mean? Is the girl a heathen?"

  My hand tightened around the handle of the knife. Flashes of light danced around the edges of my vision. "No, she is not a heathen."

  We glared at each other, and I realized that if I didn't turn this around fast, there was no way Farah would be allowed to come.

  I relaxed my shoulders and slumped, speaking in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, Momma. I've been lonely for Farah since she was my best friend there. She helped me a lot." I lowered my gaze. "If it's going to be a problem, I can tell her no."

  I looked up at Momma with damp eyes. At least there was no faking the tears — I was about to cry for real. "I told her over and over again how nice it was at home and about my great family, and she's been wanting to meet all of you so badly."

  Momma wilted, and a spark of hope grew within me.

  "Regie and Susie and even Judd would love her. Farah's nice."

  "I don't want the children exposed to someone like…" She paused.

  "Her?" I raised my chin, and the jagged emptiness at what she'd implied tore through my heart. "Or like me, Momma? Because Farah and I, we're the same."

  She took in a slow, deep breath. I'd caught her. She knew it, and I knew it. She'd been living those unspoken words since I'd come home.

  I was a tramp. I was soiled. I was a bad influence.

  The injustice of it whirled around me until I thought I would choke. Momma blinked rapidly and coughed. "Of course I didn't mean that. Don't you put words in my mouth."

  She reached for my arm, and it was all I could do not to jerk back from her touch.

  "Of course, she can come and stay," she said, attempting a smile. "It will be nice to meet her." She backtracked so fast, I was surprised she hadn't tripped.

  "Thank you, Momma," I said. Thank goodness she didn't ask how I'd been in touch with Farah.

  I turned back to the cutting board and sliced a carrot in half.

  Chapter Nine

  At supper, Momma's voice was bright and cheery. She asked everyone way too many questions about whatever random thing entered her mind. She was particularly interested in me.

  "So how's the pageant project going?" she asked.

  Dad put down his fork and stared at her. A cheerful Momma was strange for all of us.

  "What's gotten into you, Genevieve? You're like a wind-up toy. Take a breath and let us eat in peace." He picked up his fork and shoveled a boatload of meatloaf into his mouth.

  "Interested in my children is all," she said. "They're growing up so fast." She reached over and tousled Judd's hair.

  Ned kicked me under the table and gave me a questioning look. I shrugged and kept eating.

  "Let's talk about the skating party," Susie said. "Dad, remember you promised to pay for all of us."

  I frowned. "Skating party? What skating party?"

  Momma's face went white. I saw her hand tremble before she laid it in her lap.

  "Our church skating party. You know, the one we have four times a year." Susanna squinted her eyes at me, and it was not a pretty sight. "Is Johnny coming?"

  "How should I know?"

  "If you said something so he's not going to come, I'll kill you."

  Dad threw his napkin on the table. "Enough. There will be no talk of killing each other at this table or any other place."

  Momma stared into the air and said nothing.

  "Genevieve, do you hear your children?" His voice was insistent, but Momma didn't answer. "Genevieve!"

  She winced and looked at Susanna. "Stop it." But her words carried no conviction.

  Odd.

  "When's the party?" I asked.

  "Saturday, you twit, as if you didn't know." Susanna was in true form.

  Judd giggled and then coughed into his hand.

  Regie frowned at Susie. "Quit being so mean. Lizbet doesn't know 'cause she was gone too long." She turned hopeful eyes to me. "You're going, aren't you? Wanna skate with me?"

  "Of course I'll go and skate with you. But I'm going to have a friend over this weekend, so I can't skate with you the whole time."

  Momma cleared her throat. "Uh, I forgot about the skating. Lizbet, I'm thinking this maybe isn't a good weekend for you to have company."

  Ned jumped in. "Too late, Momma. Arrangements are already made."

  She stared at him as if he'd sprouted an extra eye. Her mouth opened then closed, and I saw her swallow. After a pause, she asked, "W
hat do you mean, arrangements?"

  "Farah doesn't have a car, so I'm picking her up. Everything's arranged."

  "Who's Farah?" Dad asked.

  "One of Lizbet's friends," Ned answered.

  "She staying the weekend?"

  "Yes, Dad," I said. "She's staying the weekend. Momma gave permission."

  Momma's face was still white, and her eyebrows were drawn tightly down as she looked between Ned and me. I could see her brain churning, and I knew what was rumbling around in there: How well did Ned know Farah?

  Dad nodded and resumed eating. "Fine."

  Momma grabbed his arm. "It might not be the best time to have company, don't you think, Gregory? Perhaps we should have this girl some other time."

  Dad grunted and swallowed. "Don't see why. The more the merrier."

  "Her name is Farah," I said, drawing out each word. "And you said it would be a pleasure to have her."

  A flicker of anger flashed in Momma's eyes. Then I saw her careful effort to compose her face into a smile. "Of course. It will be nice to have her."

  I noted Susanna watching all of us with keen interest. Questions danced in her changing expressions, and I knew she was out for answers, or blood if necessary. She smirked into her spoon and then gobbled a hefty mouthful of peas.

  Judd and Regie helped with cleanup, so I ran upstairs to get my knitting and then went out to the porch. Ned was already there.

  "What was that all about?" he asked. He spoke in a quiet voice and patted the swing bench beside him.

  I sat and began knitting. "She's afraid of Farah."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's afraid she'll be a terrible influence, and now Farah will go to the skating party and probably taint everyone she comes into contact with."

  Ned grimaced. "That's ridiculous."

  "Not to Momma."

  "She's being weird. I'm sorry, Lizbet."

  My needles clacked quick progress through the stitches. "Not your fault."

  "I'm still sorry."

  I paused mid-stitch. "You excited?"

  "For what? The skating party?"

  I tilted my head. "Right, the skating party." I pushed his shoulder with the back of my hand, still holding tight to my knitting. "To see Farah, you twerp."

  "I don't know what you mean." But he smiled and rolled his eyes. "Don't even say it."

  "Say what?"

  "How ridiculous I'm being. Like she'd ever give me a second thought."

  "Oh, she'd give you a second thought all right. It's Momma and Dad's second thoughts I'd be worried about."

  Ned stood and looked down at me. His blond hair swept over the corners of his eyes, and the stubble on his face gave him a rugged look. Yeah, Farah would give him a second thought. And a third.

  "I'm glad you get to see her, Lizbet. It'll be good for you."

  "Two more days." I smiled, and he smiled back. He jumped off the porch and headed for the garage. He and Dad often worked on cars well into the evening.

  The screen door squawked, and Susanna came out to join me. "Why do you keep knitting yellow scarves?"

  "They're blankets."

  She reached down and pulled on the finished part of my knitting that hung from the circular needle. "Awful small blanket."

  "Blankets come in all sizes."

  "Never seen one this small."

  "What do you want, Susie?"

  She plopped down next to me. "Not a thing. Wondering about the pile of yellow growing under your bed."

  I snatched the end of my blanket from her hands. "You snooping under my bed?"

  "A month ago it was my bed."

  "It isn't anymore, and I'll thank you to keep your mitts away from there."

  She gave me a wicked smile and stood. "Fine. No problem." She stared again at my blanket and then, with a flourish, swirled and went back into the house.

  I sighed.

  Susanna was too smart for her own good.

  ****

  Late Friday afternoon, I sat on the edge of the steps, staring at the road. Ned had left an hour ago, so he and Farah should be pulling up any minute. I'd taken extra pains with my outfit and hair. Farah was Miss Stylish, and I didn't want her to think I'd fallen to the dogs. I'd put on a plain white blouse and tucked it into my one pair of jeans that fit fairly decently. I'd slipped on my brown flats and even managed to find a gold necklace in my desk drawer to wear. It was fake gold, of course, but I thought it looked pretty.

  My hair had grown quite a bit since I'd made my declaration of independence and whacked part of it off. Farah had been so proud of me then, as if I'd saved a child from drowning.

  I smiled, remembering the look of shock on her face when I'd stood in front of her, Ned, and her brother Sam after cutting it. Her shock had quickly turned to pride, and I have to admit I was proud of me, too. Cutting my hair had been my turning point, and all four of us knew it.

  I smoothed my hair back with one hand while I fluffed the front of it with the other. I'd gotten rid of the coffee can roll of bangs for the occasion. Farah hated how I rolled my hair in the front. Hated it.

  She was right, too. When I took it down, I was prettier. More modern. I didn't know if that was the right word or not, but I did know I looked more like I fit in.

  Fit in with whom?

  Fitting in is another thing frowned upon around here.

  I recognized the roar of Ned's motor and jumped off the porch. I ran to the end of the walk and looked down the street. They were coming. In my excitement, I actually jumped up and down before I realized how juvenile I looked, so I planted my feet and straightened my shoulders.

  Ned's red truck barreled into the drive. I heard him yank on the parking brake, and I ran around to the passenger's side. Farah was grinning as she opened the door and stepped down.

  "Farah!"

  She laughed and gave me a breathless squeeze. Her vibrant green eyes roamed over me in a quick once over. "Lost all your weight, I see."

  She wore dark jeans and a silky blouse with pumps. Her thick auburn hair cascaded down her back in gentle curls. She was beautiful. Like always.

  Ned had gotten out of the truck with her bag and come around to join us. "I'll take your things up to Lizbet's room," he said.

  Farah reached out to touch his arm. "Thanks, Ned."

  "Sure thing." I'd never seen my brother melt before, but he was melting now. Momma was no dummy. If Ned kept acting like a devoted puppy, he'd be asking for it.

  Farah took my arm in hers. "So this is where you live. This is your community."

  She pronounced community like a dirty word. I glanced over at her to protest, but she gave me one of her famous wide-eyed innocent looks, and all I could do was smile.

  "I want to meet the rest of the Morgans." She leaned close to my ear. "I'm a bit surprised your parents let me come."

  I shrugged and said nothing.

  Susanna was in the kitchen with Momma, and when we entered, she made a beeline directly toward us. She stopped short two feet before us, and her eyes latched onto my neck. "That's my necklace," she said and held out her hand.

  Farah's eyes grew large and then narrowed as she studied Susie. "Hello, and you're a sister."

  Susanna took a small step back. "I'm Susanna."

  "Nice to meet you," Farah responded. Her tone oozed friendliness and warmth. But I knew Farah — she didn't like Susanna.

  Momma grabbed a dishtowel and wiped her hands on it, carrying it with her to greet Farah.

  "Welcome, Farah," she said in her careful, clipped tone. "Lizbet is glad to have you."

  I noticed she didn't say, We're glad to have you. That would have been a lie. Momma was looking Farah up and down, assessing, calculating the damage Farah might cause. Her brows wrinkled slightly, and I knew she was worried.

  "Thank you for having me. I was eager to see Lizbet. I've missed her. She always spoke so highly of all of you, and I couldn't help myself. I had to meet you." Farah reached out to shake Momma's hand. Momma compl
ied, but her face hardened.

  Farah was a slick charmer. I'd seen her get her own way plenty of times. People of all ages fell under Farah's spell. But not this time. Momma seemed unmoved.

  A look of confusion flashed over Farah's face, but only for a second. She was a pro. She reorganized her features into a pleasant, formal expression. "I do thank you for having me, Mrs. Morgan. And don't you worry, I'll be happy to help with any chores."

  Momma's eyebrows raised an inch. "How nice," she said. "If you girls will excuse me, I'll finish cleaning up the kitchen."

  Susanna stared after Momma. Even she had to notice how inhospitable that performance had been. Momma was the Queen of Hostesses, so for her to walk off abruptly was miles out of character.

  Ned appeared midway down the stairs. "You're all set up, Farah."

  Farah tilted her head and looked through her lashes at Ned. "Thank you, Ned."

  Susanna hadn't moved. She had an awed look on her face like she was watching a forbidden movie. I knew what she was thinking. Farah was going to provide major entertainment.

  I feared she was right. I shuddered and grabbed Farah's arm to lead her upstairs.

  ****

  Farah wandered around my room snooping. She gave an appreciative nod as she opened drawers, lifted the edges of the photos on my mirror, and ran her hand over my closet door. "Nice room, Lizbet. A bit old-fashioned, but nice."

  She pulled open my closet and peered inside. Her body visibly tensed. She backed up and swirled around to face me. She pointed behind to the closet floor.

  "What is that?"

  She'd found the blankets that I'd moved from under my bed.

  I stared at her and said nothing.

  "Lizbet, what is that pile of yellow knitting spilling out of shoe boxes?"

  I jolted across the room and knelt before the boxes. "It's nothing. A hobby." I shoved them all back into the dark shadows.

  She knelt beside me, grabbed the boxes, and flipped off the lids. "Why? Why are you still knitting blankets? It's over. Done."

  I sat back on my haunches. "Is it?"

  She flopped cross-legged on the rug and sighed. "We're not pregnant anymore."