The Fall of Alice K. (38 page)

She wouldn't argue, but she had found ways of seeing him before her parents knew about the pregnancy. She'd find ways now too. The fetus could sleep any time it wanted to, but her parents couldn't keep their eyes open forever. If you love someone, there is always a way. Always. There was no way on earth they were going to keep her from seeing Nickson.

“Have you even thought about your sin?” said her mother.

Wasn't that one of those have-you-stopped-beating-your-wife-yet questions?

Alice didn't answer her.

Her mother persisted: “Do you have a spiritual life at all anymore?”

“Yes, I do,” said Alice. “I'm going to go see Rev. Prunesma right now, and you'd better not try stopping me.”

They didn't. She had outmaneuvered them and gotten out of the interrogation corral, but, yes, this was one of those solutions that brought on a new problem: Rev. Prunesma.

As she drove the 150 toward Dutch Center, her greatest distress was in how her father had changed so much so soon. In the basement with his own confession, he had seemed so
real,
so gentlehearted. Her mother had done a Lady Macbeth number on him and now he had joined her conspiracy to do Alice in, to entrap her, to write the script of her life!

Alice's best hope now would be with Rev. Prunesma. She would tell the Rev that her parents were trying to push her out of the house the way they had pushed Aldah out. Aldah in Children's Care and Alice in a home for unwed mothers? Both children cast out of the house? The Rev would have to understand how wrong this whole picture was.

She would start with the clear announcement. She knew where the church stood on out-of-wedlock pregnancy. It fell back on the Big Gun of the Ten Commandments and called it a sin against the Seventh Commandment. It was seen as a public sin, so it needed to be confessed publicly. In her great-great-grandfather's time, the offending couple's confession had to be made by the couple standing in front of the entire congregation. Now it could be made more privately to the minister as Alice planned to do. The confession was usually followed by an announcement of the wedding.

The wedding. She had hardly admitted to herself that she assumed she and Nickson would get married, but her parents hadn't even mentioned the possibility.

Rev. Prunesma would think otherwise. He would be in his office preparing his sermon on a Saturday afternoon. She drove past the large brick parsonage and into the church parking lot. She could see the Vangs'
house across the street and the single overhead bulb in Lia's workroom. The simple dwelling of the people who would soon be part of her family.

Alice heard the organist practicing some wretched hymn variations for tomorrow's service as she opened the back door of the church. She walked down the basement corridor past the children's playroom to Rev. Prunesma's office. She knocked lightly.

The reverend himself opened the door, looked slightly surprised, then nodded. Alice was not the kind of person who would interrupt him in his office without a good reason, and he knew it.

“Come in, Alice.”

He gestured toward the leather chair next to his desk. It had a serious business look about it and was large enough to hold a person who was carrying all the burdens in the world. It didn't look as if it had been used very often, which made Alice think that her visit was of a rare sort for the Rev.

She sat down. “I am with child,” she said.

He nodded and sat quietly for a minute studying her. The arms of the leather chair seemed to rise under Alice's arms to support her.

“You're telling me that you're pregnant?”

“I am going to have a baby.”

The Rev showed no alarm. “Who would the father be?”

“Nickson,” she said. “Nickson Vang.”

He kept nodding and looking at her steadily. His professionalism was comforting. He almost looked serene with the news and at that moment seemed wonderfully different from her parents.

“How are you feeling right now?” He gave her a kind smile.

“I don't have any morning sickness or anything,” she said.

“No, Alice,” he said, and his kind smile remained. “I mean how are you feeling
spiritually
right now?'”

She nodded vigorously and said, “I feel I need to talk to you.”

“This is good,” he said. “Do you feel ashamed?”

“I don't want to feel ashamed. I love him.”

He paused, looked to the side, and then back at her: “You just met him in September?”

“Yes.”

The Rev's chest inflated. For the first time, his look was stern, not comforting. “Child, love does not happen that fast.”

“Help me,” said Alice. “Help me deal with my parents.”

He raised his eyebrows and his eyes opened wide. “Your parents are your parents,” he said. “What do they want you to do?”

“You wouldn't believe what they said, Reverend. You wouldn't believe it. They want to send me to a home for unwed mothers—like I'm some sort of runaway kid or something. You should talk to them. They were just awful about this. I feel like they're disowning me. And they already kicked Aldah out. They're just emptying their lives of their children. You need to help them. They're really way off base on this whole thing. They won't listen to reason.”

Alice had gotten increasingly animated as she spoke, but she could not detect in the Rev's expression that he was joining her in her dismay with her parents.

“It sounds to me as if they're trying to think of what is best for you in your situation.” He did not sound angry, but he wasn't showing comforting concern either. He was on his own autopilot, reciting as if he were reading from a manual.

“Best for me! This is Nickson's and my baby. We love each other. This baby was conceived in love. I will never deny love. I can admit I sinned if that will make you feel better, but I will not give this baby up for adoption. That's what you're suggesting, right? That's part of this whole unwed mother program, right?”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Many unwed mothers keep the child.” He was still reading from his manual, and Alice sensed that from this point on, she would be getting standard-issue stuff. She felt deflated with his words: somebody she thought would be her ally sounded more like someone who had chosen to move into the enemy camp. She should have walked out, but she had no one else to turn to.

“Are you really suggesting that I keep the baby and raise it as an unwed mother?”

“This is a time of great decision for you, Alice. You must choose.”

“I choose Nickson,” she said. “I want to marry him and have our baby. I can finish school. I can get scholarships.”

“There should be larger considerations than your own ambitions. You
have much larger obligations. You need to start by humbling yourself. I don't see humility. I don't see regret. I don't really see a penitent heart.”

“All right,” she said, and tried to regain her resolve. “I know you don't approve of our having sex. I'm sorry about that, but I love him. I wish this hadn't happened, but it did and I'm not going to do anything now that doesn't include Nickson. Isn't that what love is about, sticking with each other when the unplanned happens? I want to marry Nickson and have our baby.”

“It would be unfair to the baby,” he said. “And it would be unfair to your parents. Have you thought of the emotional drain on your mother? The economic drain on your father?”

“It would not be their child! It would be my and Nickson's child.”

“So Nickson and the Vangs have the means to provide for a child?”

“Are you saying you don't think I should marry Nickson?”

“Have you even studied the Hmong culture?” said the Rev in a voice that Alice heard as false sincerity. “Do you really want to become a part of a clan? A clan in which the men decide everything? You'd probably have to rely on Nickson's relatives for support. Do you think they'll give support without wanting control?”

“The Vangs are not like that,” said Alice. “Nickson's not like that.”

“From what I know,” said the reverend, “he would be as soon as you married him.”

The Rev sat motionless and speechless and slowly shook his head. He had started out by sounding so kind and reasonable, but then he had sunk back into his bunker. A Dweller. He was as bad as her parents. It was still unimaginable to Alice that he would not encourage marriage. She had never heard of anyone in her church not getting married after they found out they were pregnant. It was a natural consequence. One followed the other as certainly as light followed sunrise.

The reverend asked that they pray together before she left. He prayed for wisdom and forgiveness. He prayed for the Krayenbraak family and that they would together find God's will in this matter. He thanked God for parents and the wisdom of parents. Afterwards, he smiled kindly and shook Alice's hand as she left. “Do not underestimate your parents' wisdom,” he said.

When Alice left the church, the 150 was one of only two vehicles in
the parking lot. People driving by would recognize organist Louise Den Leuwing's old Dodge and they'd probably recognize the Krayenbraaks' 150 too. Folks would assume Louise was practicing organ; they'd probably also assume that someone from the Krayenbraak family was seeking out the Rev for some kind of help. So what? Alice didn't have much to hide. Not anymore.

She got into the 150 and stared through the windshield toward the Vangs' house. She wondered what Nickson was going through and whether it could be half as bad as what she had gone through with her parents and Rev. Prunesma. The light in Lia's sewing room was on, and Alice wondered if she had turned to work as a way of dealing with the news of Alice's pregnancy. Was the Rev right in his supposed concerns about money to provide for the child? I have money, Alice reminded herself. I could provide for this baby by myself, if I had to. She and Nickson could get married and live happily by themselves on her thirty-two thousand dollars if it came to that. She was not about to be corralled by anyone else's agenda. She was not about to let anyone or anything stand between her and Nickson.

39

That Sunday passed in a peaceful vacuum of silence at the Krayenbraak house.

Alice did not mention her conversation with Rev. Prunesma. She did not look at her mother's expression when the Vangs walked into church—looking so normal, looking as if nothing new had come into their lives. Alice's parents went off to visit Aldah at Children's Care after church; Alice went home and did the evening chores.

After supper, Alice studied Emily Dickinson. She saw Nickson in the hallways at school on Monday. He looked sad but gave his warm smile when he saw her. They both knew how much they had to talk about and agreed to meet after school.

Miss Den Harmsel introduced Emily Dickinson by reading “After great pain, a formal feeling comes. / The nerves sit ceremonious—like tombs.” She read the lines as if they were self-evident. To Alice, they were. She had gone into the darkness of the tomb and come back out. The formal feeling had come to replace the informal feelings—those scattered feelings of fear and resentment. She felt as if she had gone through all the stages of grief and come to the grand finale of acceptance. Or was she just exhausted from it all?

At the end of the class period, Miss Den Harmsel called Lydia and Alice as they were leaving the room. “Do you two have a minute?”

It was hard to read her expression, which looked apologetic, as if she were afraid that she was imposing on them.

“Sure,” Lydia answered for both of them.

Miss Den Harmsel wore her hair in bangs and had recently had the sides cut to curl up under her ears. When her hair was longer, some gray streaked through the glossy dark brown, but the gray was hardly
noticeable now that she had cut it short. Alice didn't think it was vanity that led her to cut her hair: it was just a way to allow herself to do her work more efficiently—less time wasted. She wore plain blouses that resembled men's shirts, with the top button open and a gold chain around her neck. That day she wore a sky-blue blouse with a dark blue skirt that came down just below her knees. Little gold bulb earrings. And always those sensible low-heeled black shoes and gray-tinted hose.

“I've been wanting to talk to you two,” she said. She closed the classroom door and sat down behind her desk. Lydia and Alice sat down in desks in front of her. Behind Miss Den Harmsel, just above the chalkboard, sat the model of the Globe Theatre which, from the angle where Alice and Lydia sat, looked oddly like a crown on her head.

“I know both of you will be graduating next spring.” She paused and swallowed.

“With a little luck,” said Alice.

Lydia gave out a nervous giggle.

“Sometimes my best students graduate and I never really have a chance to talk to them.”

Lydia looked back over her shoulder, pretending that Miss Den Harmsel was talking to someone behind her.

“Very funny, Lydia.” Miss Den Harmsel paused again. She folded her hands and put her forearms on her desk. Alice saw how long and lean her fingers were. Long and lean like her face. She seemed more physical than usual. In her classes, Alice noticed what she wore, but she had a presence that didn't feel physical. Just her energy and the intensity of her mind. Her body was an instrument for knowledge.

The expression on her face became very serious. “Students like you two are a blessing. I want you to know that.”

Alice could feel herself blushing. She glanced at Lydia. She was feeling the same way.

“You're a wonderful teacher,” said Alice. “My favorite ever.”