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“ROSE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Faith said, big eyed. “Why didn’t you say something? That was proof. The baby could prove he raped you.”
“No, uh-uh.” Her head shaking fervently, eyes wild like a cornered rabbit. “No, Faith, no.”
She went quiet. Faith was silent too, giving Rose a little emotional space. She took in her sister’s pain, the sister who was just nine months older than her. The sister who was almost her mirror image, except Faith’s hair was brown and her eyes also. Rose had honey blonde hair and sapphire eyes. They were even in the same grade, preparing for graduation. Just like twins, but not twins.
Faith huddled with her sister under the tree. Overhead, the leafed branches swayed slowly like grass hula skirts. Below the shadows danced. Fingers of a spring breeze skimmed across the girls’ faces and fluffed their hair. The scent of fresh cut grass hitched a ride on the graceful puffs of air. Crickets sang out, locusts buzzed loudly, a bird flew from one branch to another rustling the leaves.
Faith crouched on her knees, holding both her sister’s hands. “Rose, talk to me, please.”
“You don’t understand, Faith. To prove it, the baby would have to be tested.” Her head bowed and her shoulders shuddered as if an icy cold wind had passed through. “I don’t want the baby, Faith. God help me, I don’t want it.” Hot tears streaked down her face.
Faith stroked her sister’s back. Her voice was even and cautious when she spoke. “But, Rose, even if you had an abortion, they could still test it.”
Rose’s eyes cast downward. She studied the dirt. “Then everyone would know.” Her voice was hollow and full of self-loathing. “Know I was pregnant by a rapist. Know I had an abortion. Know I killed a baby.”
Faith’s heart fisted, wound into a fiery ball, feeling as if it would burst into flames any moment. Her sister’s torment and agony seeped in and engulfed her.
“But—”
“No buts, Faith, Mom and Dad would never agree no matter how the baby came to be. A life is a life—you know?” Her voice was filled with trepidation.
“What about Jonas?” Faith whispered. “Does he know?”
“Yeah, right. My boyfriend’s father rapes me and I’m pregnant.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t tell him. He’s dealing with enough.”
“Have you and Jonas ever...” Faith let the question trail off. She did not have the heart to finish it.
“No, I’ve never done it... with anyone,” she said quietly.
“Have you and Jonas talked since it happened?”
“He said he believes me, but I just can’t be around him. He would always be wondering if I lied, and I would always wonder if he believes me. Best to let it go.”
“His own son. Bastard!” Faith’s fist whacked the ground. Rose jumped in alarm. “How could he do this to his own son?” The words were raw and burdened with emotion.
Faith leaned against the tree, tapped the back of her head lightly against the bark. One time, two times, three times. She stilled. An important question eased its way in between her head tapping.
“How far along are you?”
“Four, maybe five months. It’s beginning to show. My pants are a little tight now.”
“I guess that was a stupid question considering it happened almost five months ago. Pretty soon you won’t have any choice but to have this baby. What do you want to do, Rose?” Faith’s voice was soft, supportive.
“I’ve already looked into it. I’m having an abortion Saturday, in a week. I can’t have this baby.” She shook her head vigorously. “I won’t have this baby.”
“You already have an appointment?” Faith didn’t expect that.
She nodded her head and began to make small circles in the dirt with her fingernail. “I just need a driver to take me home. They won’t do it if I don’t produce one.”
“Where?”
“An hour way. I don’t want to run into anyone I know.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way.”
Faith hiked herself up, wiped her palms on her pant legs, dusted her butt, reached down for Rose’s hand, and helped her to stand. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
They strolled side by side, back toward the pavement, heading home.
“I think he follows me.”
Faith jerked to a stop, wrenching around to gape at her sister. Her voice boomed. “What? He follows you?”
Rose shrank back. “I can’t be sure, but he seems to be in a lot of places where I am. It could be coincidence.”
Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Once, twice, maybe even three times is a coincidence. How often Rose?”
“Enough to make me uneasy, scared even. The first week was the worst,” Rose admitted.
“Good gracious, Rose. He was trying to intimidate you; make you believe he would carry out his threats if you said anything.”
Leaves crunched. The girls quieted, listened, heads whipping right, and then left. Was someone there, watching them, listening? Their feet were glued to the path. Crunching leaves again—closer, faster, louder.
Faith grabbed Rose’s hand, pulling her toward the walkway, walking faster, just as a squirrel skittered past, sniffing around, crunching leaves. Nervous laughter escaped from the pair.
Faith pressed her hand against her forehead and blew out her breath.
Rose turned to face Faith with a penetrating gaze. “That’s why I finally reported it.” Rose picked up the conversation where they had left off as if their discussion had never been interrupted. “He was creeping me out, controlling me through fear. The best offense is a good defense. Ironically, he taught me that. The only way to protect my family was to put what he did to me out in the open, make it public knowledge. Even if no one believed me, you would be safe.”
The girls trudged on with laden strides. With the densely treed area at their backs, they lumbered on, past saltbox homes with a square of green grass rolled out to meet a porch at each house. Nestled between the porches and grass were mixtures of colorful plants and bushes, each arrangement offering a hint of the owner inside. Every home was manicured and loved; all but one. It seemed alone amidst its neighbors. Peeling paint, which was at one time white, now hung on like gray dead skin. Grass and weeds reached toward the sky. Its family was gone.
The girls arrived at their house. They climbed the stone steps to the porch. Faith had her key in hand. She paused just before inserting it.
“Do you hear that? The television is on,” Faith told Rose. “Somebody’s home.”
Rose looked around. “It can’t be mom. Her car isn’t here.”
Faith worked the lock. It clicked softly. She pushed the door open and called out, “Mom, Daddy?”
Footsteps came from the kitchen, heading toward the living room. “What are you two doing home so early?” Joe asked.
“We could ask you the same question?” Faith said sprightly.
“Well,” he said pocketing one hand, four fingers in and thumb out, and running the other hand through his hair. “People are weird. A weird type of nosey.” He waved the girls into the kitchen. “I was just having an early lunch. Join me and we can share the tea.”
“Tea, Daddy?” asked Rose.
“Isn’t that what you youngins are calling gossip now? Tea?”
They all laughed, heading for the kitchen. The girls perched on chairs. Joe pulled glasses from the cabinet and juice from the fridge. “You have to at least have something to drink while we share our secrets for ditching work and school.”
Joe sat down and chomped into his sandwich. He was chewing and talking. “So, this guy and his wife come into the dealership. They say they want me to show them some nice cars. So, I show them. But while I’m showing them these cars and trying to tell them all about the bells and whistles, they don’t seem too interested. So, I spread my hands and say, what, what’s the problem? You want something different?”
He swallowed, took another bite of his sandwich, and continued. “They wanted to talk about current events—the verdict.”
“What did you say, Daddy?” Rose asked.
“I took in a deep breath to clear my head before I answered. I told him I had no intentions of discussing it with him, his wife, or anyone else. But then he started talking about how we needed to tell our story to help and educate other young people. He was from one of those religious talk shows. Finally, I told him I would mull it over. Then he bought one of the most expensive cars on the lot. With my commission on the deal, I figured I owed myself the day off.”
“That’s awesome, Daddy,” the girls said in unison.
He put his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his tented hands. “Your turn. Why are you two home so early?”
They looked at each other, deciding with eye motions which one of them would be the spokesperson.
Faith raised her hand as if in class attempting to draw the teacher’s attention. “It’s like this, Daddy, we went to school, but when we got there, they were having this big welcome back celebration,” her voice lowered, “for you know who.”
Joe’s eyebrows furrowed. His lips pressed so tightly in a line; the color drained. “And?”
Faith studied the table unable to meet her father’s pinched face. “We went in through the side door to go to our lockers.” She peered up at her father, trying to gage his emotions. She knew he could go ballistic at the drop of a hat when it came down to his girls. “There were things on the locker.” Her voice trailed off.
“Things like what?” He asked.
Rose vaulted out of her chair, threw her arms around her father, and buried her face in his neck. “It was awful, Daddy. They’re so mean.”
“Faith,” Joe prompted, “What happened?”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “There were horrible notes taped on the locker, awful names, and a picture of a stick girl in a noose.”
“What... names?” He asked slowly trying to keep the raging anger he was feeling out of his voice.
“Slut whore skank,” she said quickly as if the words made a sentence.
Rose was still holding on to her father’s neck. His chair screeched across the tiled floor, his arm went around his daughter. “Come on, Rose. I want you to rest.” He led her up the stairs to her room. She laid across the bed. Joe removed her shoes and dropped them to the floor. He kissed her forehead. “Get some shut eye.”
Faith was waiting in the hallway. Joe took her by the arm, led her back down the stairs. “Keep an eye on your sister. I’m going out.”
Faith’s face went slack. “But, Daddy, where are you going?”
“There’s someone I have business with.”