Faking Faith (17 page)

“Oh
is right,” she said. “You know, what you told me before makes so much more sense now. I understand why your friends don’t want anything to do with you. I understand why you cuss and don’t seem to really know the Word. There are naked pictures of you all over the Internet! It’s the most awful thing I’ve ever seen. I had to immediately erase my browser history so Mama wouldn’t see what I looked at!”

I glanced at her face, still so pretty and wholesome even in her justified rage. It was all over. I was right back where I had began. Alone.

I sighed in resignation. “You’re right. I sent those pictures to my boyfriend at the time, and when we broke up, he sent them out to everyone and it was awful. And shameful. I was an idiot. So, go ahead and say it then.”

She squinted at me, looking taken aback.

“Say … what?”

“Go ahead and call me a whore. A harlot. A … a Jezebel or whatever you would call someone like me. I know that’s what you want to say. And it’s not like it wouldn’t be true. It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.”

Abigail crossed her arms and shook her head, eyes looking toward the sky. “That’s what you’d expect me to do, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “Isn’t that the truth, though? And isn’t lying a sin?”

And without a word, Abigail sat down. Right in the middle of the garden path, next to the tomatoes. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead toward the back field, looking deflated.

Surprised, I sat down in the next row over, watching her through the leaves of the plants. The sun was shining down on us and the warm breeze ruffled our hair. I dug my bare feet into the soft soil, feeling it slide between my toes. Except for what we’d just said to each other, the moment was perfect.

“You know what the funny thing is?” Abigail said, sounding almost amused. “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about you.”

“You weren’t?” I was shocked.

She looked over at me with a sad ghost of a smile. “No. For two reasons. One, because I thought maybe I could still be a good influence on you and maybe even lead you to the Christ, or at least to some self-respect. Because
obviously
you need some sort of help there.”

I almost chuckled, even in that horrible moment. The self-respect thing was true enough.

“And the second reason?” I asked.

“Faith … I mean,
Dylan
… even though I barely know who you really are and even though you’re a liar and a sinner and you told my secrets … ” She stopped and took a deep gulping breath. “You’re actually the best friend I’ve ever had. And even after all this, I just … I really don’t think you’re a terrible person at all.”

We regarded each other through the tomato plants. I found myself breathing through that pre-crying pain in my lungs, trying to will the tears not to come and humiliate me.

“Abigail, you’re my best friend, too,” I said. I felt a line of tears slip down my cheek and I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed. “And even though I’ve lied, and even though I don’t know the first thing about the Bible and you don’t know the psycho details of my stupid life, you do know …
me.
I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

Abigail put her chin on her knees and looked at me.

“I believe you.”

I was so surprised, I couldn’t think of what to say for a moment.

“So, um, what happens now?” I eventually asked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea anymore. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been praying and praying.”

“And?”

Abigail shrugged and glanced at the sky again. “Nothing. The Lord seems to want me to figure this one out on my own.”

“Do you … ” I hesitated. “Do you think He wants you to forgive me?”

She gave a short laugh. “Um, probably. That’s sort of what He’s all about, if you get right down to it.”

“I guess,” I said. “I mean, you’re the expert.”

“ ‘Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye,’ ” quoted Abigail.

We sat in silence again, and I realized that some giant chunk of tension had been released from the base of my spine. I hadn’t even realized it had been there until it was gone. The worst had happened, but the sky hadn’t come crashing down and I had survived.

So with nothing else left to lose, I decided to keep talking.

“Abigail, I’m really, really sorry about telling Asher your secret,” I said. “But he’s your brother and I’m just so worried about you.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh.

“So, what about Beau? What about what he did to you? And what he wants?”

Abigail pulled her knees in even tighter.

“It’d kind of weird, you know? If you weren’t who you are, if you were really part of my world, there’s no way I could actually tell you this. But … I just don’t know. I should be happy … I
have
to be happy. This is what I want for my life. This is what my parents want. But Beau is just … not what I was picturing. Not at all. And I wonder if it’s punishment, if the Lord is showing me that He is in control of my life, not me. That I need to submit to His will. But I just don’t know, I don’t … ”

Tears were slipping down her cheeks now, leaving wet spots on her denim skirt. I reached through the leaves of the tomato plants and put my hand on her arm.

“For whatever it’s worth, I’ll still be your friend. Whatever you choose.”

She nodded slowly, not speaking. I took my hand back.

“Can I ask one thing, though?” she said. “Just one.”

“Yes, please. Anything,” I said.

Our teary eyes met again, and she looked at me fiercely.

“Don’t break my brother’s heart. You’ve made a fool out of me, but don’t do it to him. He’s already so confused and has been hurt so badly.”

I bit my lip and then said, “Believe me, hurting him is the last thing I want to do.”

“Okay, well, then one more thing,” she said. “You have to tell him who you really are.”

I sighed and watched a ladybug crawl ponderously up my arm. “But won’t that break his heart?”

“Not if he really adores you.”

I looked over at her sharply. “Adores me?”

Abigail shrugged. “It shows in the way he looks at you. Anyone can see it.”

“But—”

“Do you care for him?”

I thought of Asher’s handsome face, his strong arms around me, the way it felt like he could look right into my eyes with no trace of deceit or guile because he didn’t have an ounce of that in him. I thought of how I wasn’t scared when I was kissing him, because I knew he was good, because he always wanted to do what he believed was the right thing, because I’d seen him with his family and knew how kind and gentle he was, even when he thought no one was watching.

And I thought of how bright his face could be when he was looking at me, like I made him feel happy as well.

Even though there were entire oceans of things between us, an eternity of things we’d still need to figure out about each other, I couldn’t stand the idea of hurting him.

“Yes. Even though I’ve only known him for a week, I care about him a lot. But … don’t you disapprove? Aren’t you concerned about the fact that I’m not … like your family?”

“Look,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want my brother to be happy. He’s been miserable for months and, to be honest, I don’t think this”—she gestured to indicate the farm—“is ever going to make him happy. And if you, Dylan-of-wherever-you’re-from, are what he wants, then I’m not going to stand in his way. In fact, I think you could be good for each other. Maybe you could make each other better people.”

“But your dad will stand in the way,” I pointed out.

She laughed a little, morosely. “I think my father will stand in the way of whatever Asher wants to do if he doesn’t exactly follow Daddy’s vision. And Daddy’s vision is almost impossible to live up to. That’s just how Daddy is, for better or worse.”

“But if you think that, why are you—”

She interrupted me. “Don’t. It’s not the same.”

“But—” I said, frustrated.

“No. It’s different for girls. Asher can head off into the world and do what he needs to do. But my place is here. The Bible itself says my place is here, in training to be a helpmeet to my husband.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “ ‘Wives, submit to your husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church.’ ”

I cringed, wishing I could reach into her brain and shake it, convince her that women could be more than just submissive daughters and wives if they chose, that they were fully equal to men and she was wasting herself out here in these fields. But I felt so helpless and weak against her convictions.

“But, Abigail—”

“That’s what I believe,” she said, looking at me, no expression on her face. “It’s not up to you.”

“Girls!” called Mrs. Dean from the porch. “Time to come in and get dinner ready! Where are you?”

“Here, Mama,” Abigail said, standing up.

“What were you doing sitting in the garden? Come on up here and get yourself cleaned up! It’s a big night!”

As I got up, Abigail stopped and turned toward me. “Remember what I asked,” she said.

“Right, telling Asher,” I said.

She nodded.

“And after I do that,” I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself, “I’ll leave. Tomorrow.”

Abigail looked surprised and sad for a moment, but then she closed her eyes and nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

TWENTY-TWO

W
hile Abigail, Mrs. Dean, and I toiled in the kitchen (I’d been given the task of cutting up vegetables for the salad, which even I couldn’t screw up), Beau and Mr. Dean were secluded in the study.

We were all throwing anxious glances over at the closed door, wondering what was going on inside. Mrs. Dean would giggle occasionally and give her daughter a little hip bump. Abigail would smile back with clear and delighted eyes.

I had to give it to her, Abigail was a far better actress than I could ever be. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was actually happy.

“So exciting!” Mrs. Dean said in her just-us-girls voice, which now made me feel a bit sick given the circumstances. “My little princess is growing up!”

“Mama, hush,” said Abigail. “We don’t know what they’re talking about in there.”

“A little bird told me it’s a very, very important conversation,” said Mrs. Dean.

Chastity, who was setting the table, put down the last plate so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. “What
is
it, Mama?” she said. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

“Be gentle! You’ll find out soon enough, munchkin.” Mrs. Dean turned back toward the stove. She started humming.

Chastity watched her, looking as if she might burst into tears. I suddenly realized that if Abigail got married and left, Chastity, as the next-oldest daughter, would move into the spot of eldest at-home daughter and take over all the tasks that position entailed. Even though she was just fourteen, it would be the end of her childhood. Obviously she’d figured that out.

Chastity noticed I was watching and looked at me with watery eyes. I smiled at her, but she just sighed and turned away.

I went back to cutting the vegetables and tried to enjoy the noise of a large family surrounding me. I’d looked up bus times online, bought a ticket, and told Abigail that I would leave tomorrow morning. But beyond all the embarrassment I’d just endured, I was sad that this was my last night with the Dean family. My last night to take it all in.

Despite everything, despite the fact I found so many of their beliefs deeply upsetting and wished I could snatch Abigail and Asher up and take them back to Chicago with me so they could be normal teenagers, I’d miss this place. The chaos of all the little kids, the baby girl who was so sweet and squishy, the constant smell of cooking food, the way everyone worked together and spent so much time around each other with barely any fighting.

My house would be the same—quiet and dark and mostly empty. My parents always gone. My brother a stranger.

I sighed and looked down at the cutting board. At least I’d learned to slice carrots into neat little chunks. Maybe I could apply some other lessons to my life.

The men emerged from the study a few minutes later, looking pleased with themselves, like they’d just conducted a successful business meeting. And I remembered why I would be happy to leave.

. . .

I sat directly across the table from Beau and made it my mission to give him as many dirty looks as possible.

He’d be in the middle of bragging about something and his eyes would sweep over the table to assess the audience and there I would be, shooting daggers directly into his skull.

Once, he laughed nervously and smiled at me. “Everything okay there, Faithy? You look a little peaked.”