Witcha'be (17 page)

We walked through the French doors into the house.

“Why don’t you stay over tonight? I want to go to church in the morning and I’d like you to come with me,” I said.

“I usually only go to church on holidays.”

“Well, let’s pretend tomorrow’s a holiday.” I nudged her shoulder.

She sighed. “What’ll I wear?”

“C’mon, Len, you have the
holiest
jeans in town.”

“You dork. Okay, I’ll come.”

We stepped into the kitchen. “Do you have a Bible? It’s okay if you don’t. You can borrow one at church.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve got one.” Lenni stopped in front of the large pantry and thumbed through a shelf of cookbooks. She slid a leather Bible from between the other books and wiped the grease-freckled cover.

I smiled and bumped her with my hip. “Let’s get your stuff. Do you need to call your mom and tell her you’re staying?”

“I’ll text her.”

We climbed the stairs. Lenni showered while I sat on her bed, eying the green bottle we’d spun the night I’d learned about Sam. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I crossed the room and glanced through her nail polish caddy. The slot for Sensuous Skin remained empty. I wondered what Bianca did with the doll after she took it from my bag. Not that it mattered now.

“I’m ready.” Lenni stepped through the door, model perfect, wearing a mauve t-shirt covered with silver butterflies and jeans covered with holes. Her still-wet hair glistened in a loose knot on top of her head. She buckled on a pair of silver sandals and tossed the Bible in her backpack.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning off the light. I followed her into the hallway.

“Are you sure your mom doesn’t mind me staying?” Lenni asked on the way down.

“I’m sure. She loves you. But I do have to warn you, she’s been a little moody lately.”

“Like, in a bad mood?” Lenni sounded apprehensive.

“No. Emotional. Weepy.”

“Your mom, weepy? I can’t imagine.” Lenni punched a code into the alarm’s keypad then shut the heavy front door.

“I know, it’s weird. She’s been sick a lot, too, especially in the mornings.”

“Maybe she’s not eating right.”

“She’s eating a lot of cabbage. Before, she couldn’t stand the stuff. Wonder if she’s allergic to it?”

Lenni stopped walking. “Molly, is your mom pregnant?” She looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“What? That’s crazy. She’s, like, forty-something years old.”

Lenni shrugged.

She was right. Of course, Mom was pregnant. It made perfect sense. The morning sickness, moodiness, sudden craving for cabbage. And Lenni—normally oblivious to the obvious—figured it out. Just like that.

“Do you really think so?” I asked, already convinced.

“Sure sounds like it.”

I recalled the dress she’d worn last night, too loose to show a bulge.

“You know, I never really noticed this church until you mentioned it last week,” Lenni said as we walked by Cornerstone.

“The youth center is around back, in the huge add-on. Mrs. Piper’s father, Mr. Cecil, is the bus driver. He took me home Wednesday night. We talked while he dropped everybody off around Redbend and Old Town.”

“Old Town?” Lenni asked, her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, several kids from the youth group live there—a set of twins, Kim, the amazing singer, and Derek.”

“Really? Wow. I thought just uppity kids went to church youth groups.”

“Uppity kids, like you?” I swayed into her, making her stumble.

“Quit. You know what I mean. Cliquey-kids.”

“It’s not like that. I really think you’ll like it. Tomorrow morning you’ll meet everyone. Maybe you can come back Wednesday night.”

“Can’t. The play, remember?”

I’d forgotten.

“It’s okay if you skip opening night. I’m not all that excited anymore,” she said.

I looked up at my house and tried to picture a baby living there. Porch witch sneered from her post as we ascended the steps.

“Mom, I’m home. Lenni’s here, too.” The smell of cabbage assailed my nose.

“In here.”

We followed the sound of Mom’s voice to the kitchen.

“I’m making German red cabbage and new potatoes.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to you about that, Mom—” Lenni stamped my foot. “Hey!”

Lenni shook her head, mouthing the words, “
Not now
.”

“You want to talk to me about red cabbage?” Mom asked.

“Never mind.” I rubbed my sore toe with the other foot.

“So, if I get tickets to this thing next month, will you come with me?” Mom motioned to the fridge where the battered
Squaller
flier hung from a magnet. “I don’t think I can talk your dad into it.”

I stared at Mom’s stomach, ambiguous under her flared gray top, wondering how far along she was. Would excruciatingly loud and, by the looks of the band,
obnoxious
eighties music be good for the baby?

“Umm, we’ll see,” I mumbled. “Me and Lenni are going upstairs now.”

* * *

Sunshine seeped through my eyelids, coaxing them open. My room was way too bright. I jolted upright and checked the clock.

“Lenni, get up. I forgot to set the alarm. We’re going to be late.” I roused Lenni from sleep, shaking her shoulder.

“What?” She rubbed her eyes, insanely clear and blue in the morning sunshine.

“Church. We have to hurry.”

“Maybe we should skip it.” She rolled over, folding a pillow around her head.

“No. This is important to me.” I scrambled to the closet and pulled down my best jeans and the lime-popsicle top. “Please.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” She yawned.

“We don’t have a second. It’s almost nine forty-five. Church starts at ten.” I slid out of yesterday’s clothing into the outfit I’d pulled from the closet. Lenni mumbled and rolled from the mattress.

“Let me take a quick shower.” She stretched her arms above her head.

“No time. We have to go.” I slipped into one of my ballerina flats. “
Eww
! They’re still wet.”

Lenni chuckled, rising from the bed.

“Oh, well. Hope I don’t get foot fungus.” I slid the other shoe on. Finding this hilarious, she fell back on the mattress.

“Get up.” I grabbed her limp-noodle arm. “Or I’ll tickle you.”

“No! Alright, I’ll get up.” She wriggled and squealed, the mere thought of being tickled throwing her into hysterics. She rolled to the floor and crawled to her backpack, ferreting out a stick of gum, lip gloss, and her Bible. After rearranging the clip in her hair, she strapped on her sandals and stood. “Ready,” she said, folding the gum into her mouth and smoothing her butterfly top. She looked radiant. It just wasn’t fair.

“Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my bag, slid my Bible inside, and held it open for Lenni. She tossed in her Bible and lip gloss. We bounded down the stairs.

“Bye, Mom! We’re going to church!” I yelled toward the kitchen as we dashed through the living room.

“Bye.”

I jumped, startled. Mom laid on the couch, damp rag on her head. “Are you okay?” I asked, going to her.

“A little nauseous from too much red cabbage. I’ll be fine. Say a little prayer for me, okay?” She smiled.

“Okay. Love you, Mom.” I kissed her forehead. Her nightgown clung to her swollen abdomen. Lenni gave me a knowing glance. “See you in a little while.”

“Be good at church.” Mom closed her eyes.

We ran past porch witch, down the steps, and over the walkway. “I can’t run in these sandals,” Lenni squawked.

“You have to.” I winced, a blister forming on my big toe. We limped toward the church parking lot in a matter of minutes. “Waah, waah! I can’t run.” I rubbed my eye with my fist, mocking Lenni.

She laughed. “Bet those shoes smell real good right about now, Mol—”

“
Shhh
!” I stopped walking and put a finger to my lips. Angry yells carried to where we stood on the curb.

Bianca faced Mrs. Piper in front of the church, arms jerking, red hair whipping around her head. We crouched behind Mrs. Piper’s SUV.

“You’re such a gossiping hypocrite. I’ll get you fired. I know all about school confidentiality laws. You can’t reveal a student’s personal life to another student. My dad will sue you—probably sue the entire school district. Big mistake, Piper. Hope it was worth it.”

The earth sank beneath my feet. Dread oozed through my stomach.

She wouldn’t dare.

I knew she would.

“Bianca, calm down.”

“I will
not
!” Bianca screeched. People gathered around.

This was all my fault. I should have kept quiet about Bianca’s mother.

Lenni pressed her hand to her throat, tears in her eyes.

I could fix it. I’d tell Bianca it was Mr. Cecil, not Mrs. Piper, who told me about her past. No. It wouldn’t work. Mr. Cecil was an old man, and Bianca was capable of anything. Helplessness overwhelmed me.

What do I do, God?
I’m scared.

I dropped to the pavement, unzipped my bag, and wrapped my hand around a Bible. I opened the grease-splattered cover and thumbed to the concordance in the back, searching for a passage on fear. Second Timothy, chapter one, verse seven. Lenni stared at me, question marks nearly visible in her wide, blue eyes.

I turned pages until I found it. “For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, sliding Lenni’s Bible back into the bag.

Bianca and Mrs. Piper turned to the small bus as it rolled to a stop. The door opened. “Daddy, keep the kids on for a minute,” Mrs. Piper said.

“What’s the trouble?” Mr. Cecil asked, stepping down.

“We’re trying to get a miscommunication worked out,” Mrs. Piper explained.

“Liar!” Bianca shouted.

“Young lady, this here’s my daughter. You can’t speak to her that way. She’s a schoolteacher and your elder.” Mr. Cecil pointed at Bianca then slowly dropped his hand. “Say, you’re that little redheaded, Ravenwood girl, Beatrice.”

“Her name is Bianca.” A man in a worn suit-coat and jeans stepped from the bus. “She’s my daughter.”

I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Cecil had knocked hard enough to get Seth Ravenwood to come to church. My mouth fell open.

Bianca’s father approached her and lightly cupped her chin. “Mr. Cecil’s right, Bianca, you can’t speak to Genevieve—Mrs. Piper—in that manner.” Bianca turned her head. He moved his hands, resting his thumbs on her cheekbones, looking into her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. “It’s okay,” her father’s voice was tender as he pulled her to him.

People joined hands to pray, forming a circle around Bianca and her father. Bianca glared at them through tear-dampened hair. “Stop it,” she spewed.

Lenni and I exchanged concerned glances and rose to our feet. We took slow steps toward the church.

Amy, Saul, Kim, and the other kids filed from the bus, weaving in with people praying for Bianca. She covered her ears and struggled to break free of her father’s arms. He readjusted his grip, holding her tightly, stroking her hair.

“No! Not here. Let go of me. I hate you!” Bianca balled her hands and pounded his chest, her punches growing slower and weaker until her fists uncurled, palms resting motionless against him. “She left. I hate her for leaving me. I prayed for her to come back, but she didn’t. I wanted to die and be with Sam. I still do. I prayed for it to happen, but it didn’t. I prayed for you to quit drinking and nothing happened. Nothing at all. I don’t need a powerless God. I have my own power. People respect me. They
fear
me…” Bianca’s words hitched on her breath.

“I’m sorry.” Her father’s voice broke as he held her. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you after Sam died, after your mom…went away. I miss them too. I miss them so much.” He swayed, rocking Bianca in his arms.

Bianca shuddered as raw, brokenhearted wails tore from her. Her back quivered and her long, layered skirt rippled as if blown by the wind.

Invisible. Visible.

Inside the church’s glass doors, Pastor Jacobs and Mr. Piper stood blinking out at the scene. Seth gently pulled Bianca away from the doors. The men walked outside, their expressions bewildered.

“Seems that while you were having Sunday morning prayer inside the church, God showed up outside.” Mrs. Piper rested her head against Mr. Piper’s shoulder and watched Seth Ravenwood hold his daughter, tears sliding from his closed eyes. The congregation continued to pray softly for a few moments then slowly entered the building. Seth put his arm around Bianca’s waist. She hesitated in the doorway, head down.

Lenni stopped walking. My elbow brushed her trembling arm as I adjusted my bag. She stared at Bianca and Seth, hands clasped over her mouth, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Lenni, go to her.”

She shook her head.

“You’re her best friend. Her only friend.”

Lenni took two halting steps forward then ran to Bianca, throwing her arms around her neck. Bianca returned her embrace. My vision blurred as they walked through the doors together.

Mrs. Piper caught my hand as I stepped up beside her. “You sit with Mr. Piper and me.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, blinking tears away.

People filed into the pews as the pastor stepped to the pulpit. Bianca sat a few rows ahead of me, between her father and Lenni.

“Welcome,” Pastor Jacobs said, gaze sweeping the congregation. “My, what a magnificent group of people we have gathered today to worship the Lord. I would like to ask a very special guest to the piano. Please, turn to page two hundred and thirty-eight in your hymnals.” He looked at Seth. “Mr. Ravenwood, would you do us this great honor?”

Patty Francis left her keyboard and slinked to a chair on the platform. She rested her jaw on her fist and glared at Seth. I got the feeling she didn’t want to share the spotlight.

Seth slipped from the pew and stepped briskly up the platform stairs. He slid onto the piano bench, picked up a hymnal, and turned the pages. After flexing his fingers a few times, he lowered them to the keys. “Whispering Hope,” he read aloud. He jerked his gaze up and down the rows of people then settled his eyes on the music. I held my breath and glanced sideways. Mrs. Piper seemed to be holding hers, too.