Chapter Thirty-one
My hike toward home is slow. Each hill is steeper, more difficult than the last. Each step away from the Nature Preserve is another thousand miles between me and Noah.
When our house finally comes into view, it’s dark.
No doubt Dad fell asleep watching TV. And since, as he so truly stated, I’ve spent so much time in my room this summer, by the time he woke up to shuffle off to bed, he probably forgot I went for a walk.
If Mom’s home by now, she, too, has likely assumed I’m up in my room.
It’s a relief, but a dull one, considering the two years stretching before me without Noah.
The front door is locked. I punch in the code to the garage door and enter that way instead, waiting for it to shut all the way before opening the door to the house. When the latch on the inside door catches, I wince, knowing how easily sound carries through a dark house at night.
Janey’s claws click against the slate floor, but that’s not an unusual sound, since her food and water dishes are in the mudroom—and that’s where she goes.
On cautious feet, I tiptoe down the short hall, passing Dad’s study on my way to the stairs, but with only patches of moonlight guiding me through the house, it doesn’t register that someone is standing just inside the study until a cold chill sweeps down my neck.
“Where in God’s name have you been?”
“Mom!” I jump inside my skin. “Geez! You scared me!”
“I scared you?” She steps through the door. “Answer the question.”
“The waterfall. I went to the waterfall.”
“Right. You sneak into the house like that after eleven o’clock at night and expect me to believe you’ve been at the waterfall, in the dark, this whole time?”
“I was at the waterfall!”
“Were you alone?”
My heart rate speeds as if trying to propel itself out of my body. I hesitate a moment too long.
“Were you with Noah Spencer?”
“Yes.” I will not lie about it. “I was with Noah.”
“I knew it!”
Mom grabs my forearm, like she’s going to drag me to the time-out chair. Or the execution chamber, maybe, if her stony, wrathful expression is an accurate indication of her plans for me.
“You’ve been sneaking off to fool around with that boy behind my back all summer, haven’t you?”
“No! I didn’t even know for sure that he’d be there tonight. I—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me!”
The pressure of Mom’s grip eases from my arm, but the look in her eyes is Medusa-deadly.
“You’ve been sneaking around with that boy for months. I know you have.” Her whisper is a hiss. “You’ve been carrying condoms around in your school bag, for God’s sake. Your school bag!”
A gasp rakes my throat. How does she . . . ? “That wasn’t even mine!”
“After everything we’ve done to break his hold on you, to keep you away from him, I can’t believe you’re still so intent upon throwing away your future—not to mention the reputation of this family—by behaving like a cheap, reckless little slut!”
The insult shocks all ability to argue from my mind, but she doesn’t stop there.
Her voice is barely above a whisper—so Dad doesn’t hear?
—but her insinuations and accusations reverberate against my ears.
She spews venom, describing what she assumes about the nature of my relationship with Noah.
But those vile phrases can’t come close to the shock of feeling—hearing—the smack of her palm, striking the side of my face.
I stagger backward, blindly grabbing for something to help me catch my balance, but my hands find only air. I fall hard onto the slate floor, my cheek scraping against the corner of a side table on the way down.
Tears of pain and disbelief spring to eyes I had thought were spent from the grief of saying goodbye.
She hit me. Not only that, but the things she said . . . She called me a—
God! My heart cries through the sob exiting my lips.
Spare patches of moonlight spill through the sidelight windows of the entry door.
Towering over me in the half-light, my mother looks almost inhuman.
Malevolence drips from her shadow. Her eyes are enraged, but also focused, intense, like those of a predator.
From my position on the floor, she appears twice as tall as she should.
I’ve feared displeasing my mother many times. But never before have I been afraid of her.
I lift a hand to my throbbing face. Along my right cheekbone, warm moisture—sweat, tears . . . or blood?—meets my fingers. Did I hit the corner of the side table hard enough to break the skin? I don’t think so.
Mom hit me. The stark realization plays over and over in my mind. Physical violence is something I never imagined. Not from one of my parents.
She hit me. My mother hit me. My mind cannot wrap around what has just happened.
When Mom steps forward, I flinch. I can’t help it.
“I’ve confiscated your car keys,” she says.
“You’re grounded until further notice. You will not leave this house unless another member of the family is with you.
If that boy comes within two miles of you—or even within two miles of our property—I will call the sheriff and press charges of statutory rape. ”
What did she say? Rape? Oh, God! No!
“This is—how can you—how can you be so . . . evil!” My heart stutters back into motion, freeing my tongue.
“Keep your voice down!” She grips my upper arm. “Your father has an early surgery tomorrow.”
And she doesn’t want him to know what a horrible, evil ogress he married? “Noah would never hurt me!” I whisper. “Never.”
“You’re a minor. He’s an adult. It doesn’t matter if you wanted it or not!”
“I didn’t want anything!” I cry out, but when her fingernails dig in to my triceps, I lower my voice. “We haven’t done anything! How can you even think I would—?”
“Save it, Faith. Save the innocent act. I know the truth.”
“No, you don’t! You don’t know anything! And you certainly don’t know me if you think I—”
“I’ll tell you what I do know. Your father was already in bed when I got home, and since I couldn’t find you in the house, I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I called Jenna’s mother to see if you were with her, which, of course, you were not.”
“I told you. I was at the waterfall.”
“Jenna’s mother told me about the condom you had in your schoolbag.
Your schoolbag? Really?” Her tone is coated in disgust. “And that was months ago, which means you’ve been fooling around with that boy for at least that long.
But that doesn’t mean you used it. My God, Faith!
” Mom’s voice breaks. “Please tell me you at least used protection with him. And whoever else.”
Whoever else?
I can’t . . . She can’t think I . . .
Shoulders shaking, teeth chattering, I drop my gaze to the floor. “We didn’t need to use pro-protection.” I hiccup on a sob. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Not necessary? Why? Because he said you were the first? Ha! If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.
I’m sure you’re not the first girl Noah Spencer has sweet-talked into the back seat of his beat-up old car.
You’ve taken Sex Ed, Faith. You should know better!
You always need protection. When you’re sleeping with someone, you’re sleeping with every other person they’ve ever—”
“But we’re not sleeping together! We never did!”
“Save it.”
Recognizing the stony expression on her face, I clamp my lips. No argument in the world will alter what Mom believes about me now.
My face throbs where I bumped it against the side table. A strange prickly heat resides on the other side, where my mother slapped me.
Mom drones on about my supposed stupidity, what a disappointment I am. I keep my eyes locked on the floor until one phrase catches my attention.
“You’ll what?” My head shoots up. “What clinic? Why?”
“I’m taking the day off tomorrow. After your dad goes to work, I’ll take you to the women’s clinic in Iowa City. That’s far enough away that we won’t risk running into anyone we know.” Mom looks as if she’s just caught the scent of rotten garbage. “You’ll have to be tested, of course.”
“Tested? For what?”
“Did you even pay attention in health class?” Mom mumbles and looks at the ceiling. “You’ll need to be tested for herpes, gonorrhea, chlamydia, HIV, and all the other various STDs girls like you might come in contact with. And pregnancy, of course.”
“Girls like . . . like me?” My hands fist at my sides.
“Yes, Faith. Girls who are so promiscuous that they feel the need to carry condoms, even in their schoolbags. Girls who sneak out of the house to fool around with boys in the woods. Girls who . . .”
Blood pounds in my ears as Mom lets loose with a vivid stream of words and descriptions, all variations of the same contemptible accusation. By the time she’s finished, I am numb.
She flips on the light. I blink against the sudden brightness.
“I’ve been down this road before.” Mom leans against the door frame. “I should have expected this. I wanted so much more for you. But with all your music and drama, and your head always in the clouds . . .”
“I’m not Becca.”
“Save it.” Mom repeats, holding one hand up, like a crossing guard.
“You may be a pretty good actress, Madeleine, but I’m not a fool.
Or maybe I am, for believing you were old enough to be rational.
” She lets out a long breath. “In any case, I’m sure you need a shower after the evening you’ve had, so get cleaned up and go to bed.
I’ll expect you in the car and ready to leave at eight a.m. sharp. ”
I push myself up off the floor and take two steps toward the stairs.
“Stop. One more thing. Come here.” She pivots and enters the study, flipping on the light. I follow.
“Close the door.” She goes to Dad’s desk and grabs the handset of the landline phone. “Call him. Now.”
“Who? Noah?”
She nods. “Now.” Mom’s voice is iron, encased in ice. “Tell him what I told you. Tell him you’re through. Tell him if he comes within a hundred feet of you, I’ll have him arrested.”
She shoves the phone toward me.
My hands shake, but I dial Noah’s number.