Lizbet's Lie

by Brenda Maxfield

  It wasn't my fault.

  Johnny put his hand on my arm, but I was too busy looking for Farah to care.

  "Just a minute, Johnny. I've got to find Farah."

  I kept scanning the crowd. I saw the back of Bishop's head towering over everyone. When had he arrived? I hadn't seen him earlier. The head next to his wasn't his wife's. It was someone in a gray sweatshirt. Gray. Something tweaked in my memory that I couldn't place, but a sense of unease spread through me.

  I stood on tiptoe to see over the clump of skaters behind them. No, Bishop's wife was over to the side. The bishop was skating with…

  My heart froze. Terror squeezed up my throat, and my knees went liquid. I grabbed Johnny's arm to keep from falling to the floor.

  "Lizbet? What is it?"

  At that moment, Ned came swooping in. Farah stumbled to keep up, and they both careened to the rail.

  "Lizbet, we're getting out of here," Ned ordered, his voice hard. "Get your skates off."

  "What's happening?" Johnny cried.

  Ned yanked me close and led me off the rink. Farah grabbed onto my sleeve and floundered behind us. Johnny skated next to us, frowning. "What's happening?" he asked again.

  Ned pushed me to the bench and squatted before me, tearing at my laces. Farah lurched onto the bench and starting pulling at her own skates.

  "Is it him? Is he here?" she whispered, her voice rasping.

  "He's here," Ned said, and the hatred in his voice jolted through me like electricity.

  My eyes stared at the floor and I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

  Farah put her arm around me and squeezed. "It's okay. We'll get you out of here."

  Johnny stood as if transfixed, watching us.

  My skates were off. Farah crammed my feet into my shoes. Ned swirled around onto the bench beside me, wrenching his own skates off. Farah had her shoes on and Ned yanked his on. They stood and pulled me up.

  At that precise second, Bishop skated up to us with a boisterous, "Hello there, Morgans. Howdy, Johnny. I see you have a—" He stopped, and confusion registered on his face.

  "Bishop, we're in a hurry," Ned said. He put his arm around me and attempted to shove through, but Bishop James held out his arm.

  "What's going on? Are you okay?"

  "Don't have time to talk." Ned tried to push through again, but we were blocked.

  The bishop turned behind and waved the man forward. "You remember my second cousin, Larry?"

  And there he was. Standing in front of me. When he saw me, his face went purple, and he stiffened. I slumped against Ned, and he held tight.

  "Lizbet, are you ill? What's wrong?" Bishop reached out to me. He looked at Ned. "Is she ill? Let's get her seated."

  Ned lowered me onto the bench. Farah took a step toward Larry. Even in my foggy state I could see her body tighten and her lips curl with wrath. She shoved against him, and he rolled back on his skates, jerking against the bench across from us. He lost his footing and fell.

  "What? What's happening?" Bishop cried, turning from me to Farah. "What are you doing? Who are you?"

  Farah stood tall and spat. "Ask him. Ask him!"

  "No, Farah. Stop." Ned reached over and tugged on her shirt. "Sit down. We're okay."

  Farah turned on him. "We are not okay!"

  I was breathing again. I grabbed out for her arm. "No, Farah. Everyone will see." Already people's heads were turning as they skated around. The disco music pounded, and the lights were low, but people's eyes seemed drawn to us.

  Larry had recovered enough from his fall to sit. I tried not to look at him, but I couldn't help it. He was the reason. He was the reason for it all. The pain. The confusion. The rejection. The agony. He was the reason.

  My stomach reeled. I was going to vomit.

  No, no, no. Everyone would find out for sure. Everyone.

  Bishop's gaze went back and forth over us all. "What's going on here? What don't I know?" He turned to his cousin. "Larry, what's going on?" Bishop had a huge voice, but right then it had narrowed to a sharp drill.

  Ned's body was like rock. His arm around me was tight, squeezing my breath into gasps. Farah had lowered herself to the bench, but she looked ready to pounce. Johnny was spring-loaded against the post at the end of the bench, anger distorting his face.

  I looked up to see Dad barreling toward us on his skates. He skidded to a halt next to Larry. Larry looked up and backed his way across the bench, away from Dad.

  Dad's hands were in fists. I sucked in air. Would he hit him? Was Dad capable of hitting someone? Would he do it?

  Ned stood, pulling me up with him. "We're leaving."

  Dad's gaze jerked to us. He nodded then stared back at Larry.

  Farah grabbed my arm, and the three of us hurried out. Johnny skated with us to the door. "Lizbet, are you okay?"

  I glanced at him before darting through the door.

  "How could he?" Farah asked as we made for the truck. "What kind of jerk would show his face after what he did?"

  Ned unlocked the passenger side and practically lifted me into the truck. Farah bolted in after me and slammed the door. Ned jumped in the driver's side and started the motor. I lay back against the seat, willing my breath to slow down. I put my hand over Ned's.

  "Wait. Wait a minute." My voice wavered. I exhaled slowly. "Give me a second. Don't go."

  Farah's forehead scrunched in confusion. "Let's get out of here."

  "No, not yet."

  Ned rested his hands on his thighs. The truck's motor rattled and sputtered. He pressed the gas pedal and revved it but didn't shift into gear.

  "Ned, go check on Dad. Please."

  "How can you be worrying about your dad right now? Let's go," Farah said. "Lizbet, you don't have to be near that creep ever again."

  I looked up at Ned. "Please, Ned. Check on Dad."

  Ned looked into my eyes and nodded. "All right, I'll check on him. Farah, take care of her." He got out. When he shut the door, he looked at me again through the glass and then headed back toward the rink.

  "Why, Lizbet? I don't get you."

  "Dad doesn't believe in violence. He's taught me my whole life not to be violent."

  "I think this qualifies as an exception." Farah's voice was sharp and angry.

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. My heart had slowed, and my breathing was almost normal. I opened my eyes and looked at my hands, lying so calmly in my lap.

  Farah was right. What was I doing? This was more than an exception. But it wouldn't be to Dad. If he fought that creep, he'd regret it forever. I knew him.

  Forever.

  Farah sighed and flopped back against the seat. "You're all crazy."

  I gave a half-smile. "Yeah, I guess we are."

  I twisted around in the seat and gazed through the window toward the rink. No sign of Ned yet. I turned back around.

  "Are you okay? I mean, for real?" Farah asked. She put her hand on my shoulder.

  "Yes. No. Yes. I will be."

  "How do you do it?"

  "Do what?"

  "Be so calm. Live with all this." She flipped her hand out and waved it around. "Frowning upon this. Frowning upon that."

  "Sometimes I hate it."

  "But you do it."

  "Not as well as you think."

  Farah rolled her window down an inch. "Yeah, well, I couldn't do it at all."

  "It's harder now. After… you know."

  "I can see that."

  Ned approached the truck and opened his door. He slid into the seat. "They didn't fight. Dad and the Bishop are in the corner. I don't know where the cousin is. Bishop looks half-dead, and Dad is talking. Talking. Talking. I went there, but Dad told me to leave. Momma and Susanna are sitting on a bench close to the front counter. Momma looks like a cement statue about to crack. The other two kids must still be on the rink."

  "So now Bishop knows."

  "He knows."

  "I'll be thrown out."

  Ned
backed up against his door and faced me. "No, you won't. Of course you won't."

  "Yeah, I will."

  "No offense, but your church sucks," Farah said.

  Ned looked at Farah and shook his head. "She won't be thrown out."

  "It's okay if I am. I don't care anymore."

  "I wouldn't either, if that's the way they treated me," Farah said.

  Ned blew out his breath. "Lizbet won't be thrown out."

  A knock on Farah's window made us all jump. It was Johnny. Farah rolled down her window.

  Johnny leaned in. "Lizbet, can I do anything for you?" His eyes were wide, and all I saw in them was concern.

  "No. But, thanks."

  "I didn't realize. I didn't understand…" His gaze dropped to his hands, which gripped the edge of the window.

  Farah had squished back in her seat to give Johnny and me a clear view of each other. Johnny reached inside the window and took my hand. His grasp was warm and firm.

  "Forgive me?" he asked.

  We stared at each other. I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to so badly. I opened my mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. He should've been there for me. He shouldn't have judged me.

  "Someday." My voice was a whisper.

  Johnny let go of my hand and took a step back from the truck. His face contorted, and the hurt deepened his frown.

  Before, I would have rushed to reassure him. But right then, I couldn't do it. I needed time, and he'd have to give it to me.

  He took another step away. "Okay. Okay, Lizbet."

  Farah rolled the window up tight. She looked at me and frowned. "I think he means it. That he's sorry."

  "I think so too."

  "Are you ready to go now?" Ned asked. He put his hand on the gearshift.

  I nodded.

  Ned put his foot on the gas, and we left the lot and headed toward home. All the way I wondered what Momma would do to me when she got there. I didn't want to find out.

  ****

  Ned and Farah bustled around the kitchen, making hot chocolate and toast for the three of us. I sat at the table and let them fuss over me. Farah set a steaming mug on the table, and I put my hands around it. The warmth spread up my arms and to my chest.

  Farah and Ned joined me, and we each took a piece of toast and ate. Halfway through our snack, the family car pulled into the drive.

  Farah stood so quickly her cocoa sloshed over the edge of her mug. "They're here," she said.

  "They're here," I echoed.

  I pressed my feet into the floor, and every muscle went hard. Dad was the first one in. He came right over to me, pulled out a chair, and sat. He put his arm around me. "You okay?"

  I nodded, my muscles so tight they ached.

  Momma and the kids poured in.

  "Children, upstairs," she said in a voice that allowed no argument. "Now."

  Regie and Judd hurried up the stairs. Susanna paused at the bottom step and turned to me. The look she gave me was drenched with sadness. No anger this time. None at all. Tears pricked at my eyes. She frowned, wiped at her own eyes, and then climbed the steps.

  "Farah, this is private business," Momma said.

  "Yes, ma'am, I know it is, but I'm not leaving." She sat down and scooted her chair back under the table.

  Momma's glance flew to Dad's face, her look challenging him to intervene.

  "Farah, please wait upstairs," he said.

  Farah shook her head. "No, sir. I'm not leaving."

  Ned implored her with his eyes. She shook her head again. "Lizbet is my friend. I'm not leaving."

  I dropped my head and began to cry.

  Dad pulled me close to his side. It was the most physical contact I'd had with him for years. Momma yanked out a chair and sat.

  "Stop crying, Lizbet. It won't do any good." She plucked a napkin from the holder in the center of the table and shoved it my way.

  Farah grabbed it up and handed it to me.

  My body shook with sobs, and I couldn't stop. Dad's grip loosened, and he patted my arm. Ned came around the table and stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders. Farah sat like a guard, fixed and unmoving next to me.

  The phone rang, and the shrill tone jarred me into silence. We all looked to where it sat ringing in its cradle.

  Momma stood up and went to it, her movements stiff and awkward. "Hello?"

  Ned resumed rubbing my shoulders.

  "No, one of the kids wasn't feeling well so we left early…The bishop?…How should I know?…Okay. Thank you for calling. Yes, naturally we'll see you tomorrow at church."

  Momma hung up and turned to us. "It's started. Now, everyone will know." Her shoulders slumped, and a dazed look covered her face as she returned to the table and sat.

  I blew my nose on the napkin and laid my head on my arms. Every cell in my body was exhausted. All I wanted was to crawl in a hole somewhere and disappear.

  "Bishop knows," Ned said.

  "Of course he knows." Momma's voice clipped each word.

  "That's not Lizbet's fault," Farah said. I glanced up at her and saw the fierce look in her eyes. She'd take Momma down given half a chance.

  "Farah's right," Ned said. He took his hands from my shoulders and stood close to Farah. Momma watched him with narrowed eyes.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  "Now what?" Momma cried as she went to answer it. She opened the door. "Winter, what a surprise," she said in a controlled voice.

  Winter had come?

  "She knows," I said, and Dad shuddered next to me.

  "You told her?" His shoulders lowered, and his head jutted out from his neck.

  "I told her."

  "It's Lizbet's secret to tell, Dad," Ned said in a quiet tone. "We have to respect that."

  "Lizbet's busy right now," Momma said at the door. "She'll talk with you later."

  Momma closed the door and came back into the kitchen.

  "Winter knows," Dad told her.

  Momma's eyes went big. "Who else knows? We spent all that money. All that money sending her away so she'd be safe. And now look. What a mess."

  She sank into her chair.

  I raised my head and looked at her. "Sorry I was such a waste of money." I bit out each word.

  Momma flinched and shook her head. "I didn't mean that, Lizbet. I didn't mean you were a waste of money."

  "That's what you said." I wiped at my eyes.

  Momma shook her head again. "Don't put words in my mouth."

  "She only meant it was a waste of money if everyone finds out," Dad said. "That's what she meant."

  "I can talk for myself," Momma snapped.

  "I know what she meant. Besides, the family that took the baby paid for the bulk of it, right?" Something inside me grew hard and wooden. "All you care about is avoiding gossip."

  "We were trying to protect you. We still are." Momma's voice rose.

  "And him," I said, and the acid in my tone scared even me.

  Momma clamped her lips shut, but the rest of her face screwed into a mass of wrinkles.

  "He's being dealt with," Dad said quietly. He stretched his arm out on the table and studied his fingers.

  "What do you mean?" Ned asked. "You're going to prosecute?"

  I stared at Dad. He cleared his throat. "You know we don't believe in prosecution. But Bishop is insisting he get counseling." Dad patted my arm. "Bishop is upset and deeply sorry."

  "Counseling? That's it? He's going to get counseling?" I shook my head, trying to shake off a dull stupor creeping up my spine, and the tears started again.

  Farah grabbed my hand and held on.

  "Yes, there are programs. He won't get away with it," Dad said.

  "He already has," Farah said, her voice harsh.

  Ned put his hand on Farah's shoulder.

  Momma stood up. "This is ridiculous. It's over and done with. Lizbet is home now where she belongs." She glared at Farah. "And this is no business of yours, young lady." She gathered up the mugs and marched to the sink.r />
  Farah got up from the table, walked to the front window, and looked out.

  "Lizbet," she called in a soft voice. "Lizbet."

  I wiped at my face with the soggy napkin and went to join her.

  "Look," she said, pointing through the glass.

  Winter and Johnny were sitting on the front porch.

  "They're here for you." Farah put her arm around me. "They're here."

  I gazed at my two friends. Their faces were somber as they kept vigil.

  "I'll be a minute," I said to Farah.

  I pushed open the screen door. It squawked behind me and slammed with its normal bang. Both Winter and Johnny scrambled up to face me.

  "Lizbet," Johnny said. He walked to me and stopped a foot away as if unsure. He cleared his throat. "Want to take a walk with me tomorrow?" The muscles around his mouth quivered, and there was a soft pleading in his eyes.

  I pressed my lips together and swallowed.

  Winter came forward and stood next to him. "Yeah, Lizbet. And don't forget, we still have to plan the pageant stuff."

  Their faces blurred in front of me as tears filled my eyes. Winter grabbed one of my hands, and Johnny grabbed the other. We stood there, the three of us, while all the noises — the bugs zapping around the porch light, the crickets chirping across the street, the breeze through the trees — all the noises fell away. The three of us stood alone, in silence.

  They were my friends. And they were there, beside me, holding my hands. I thought they'd given up, rejected me. But they hadn't.

  Winter squeezed my hand and then let it drop gently to my side. She smiled and backed away, leaving Johnny and me alone.

  His grip on me was strong, and he didn't let go. I looked down at our clasped hands and the words frowned upon echoed through my head. I gazed into his eyes and his look was steady. No more quivering. He took a step closer, and I held my breath.

  "Lizbet," he whispered. "Forgive me. I was stupid."

  I was tired of crying, but the tears kept coming. I shook my head. "You weren't stupid."

  "Yes, I was. Say you'll walk with me tomorrow."

  The tears moistened my lips.

  "Please, Lizbet."

  Johnny's look of love wrapped me in a blanket and I felt warm. Safe.

  "I'll walk with you," I whispered back.

  He grinned, and the sun broke out over his face. "Good," he said. "Good."