**Part 2**
I didn’t go to bed. I sat in the armchair by the window with a wool blanket over my knees, watching the sky turn from pitch black to a pale, bruised gray. My mind raced through every possible outcome. If I kept her secret, I was keeping her safe from her father’s wrath, but I was also hiding a major medical and personal reality from the people legally responsible for her. Thomas would call the house by morning. He and his wife always woke up at five for early prayers before the children started their chores. If Rilla wasn’t in her bed when they checked her room, pandemonium would break out across town.
By five-forty-five, the blue light of dawn was filling the kitchen. Rilla was still asleep, breathing softly, her face peaceful for the first time in weeks. I walked over to the landline on the wall, the old cordless phone with the faded buttons. My thumb hovered over my son’s number. I knew his voice before he even said hello. I knew the exact tone he would use, sharp and demanding, expecting everyone to fall into line.
I pressed the call button and listened to the rings. One. Two. Three.
“Thomas,” I said when the line clicked.
“Mother? Why are you calling this early?” His voice sounded crisp, already awake, probably sitting at his kitchen table with an open Bible. “Is everything all right?”
“No, Thomas, it isn’t,” I said, my voice steady even though my heart was beating hard against my ribs. “Rilla didn’t come home last night. She’s here with me.”
There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. I could picture him frowning, shifting his weight, his mind already jumping to conclusions about rebellion and disobedience.
“What is she doing over there at this hour?” Thomas asked, his tone hardening instantly. “She has morning chores and family worship. Put her on the phone right now.”
“She’s sleeping, Thomas. She came to my door at midnight, and she was terrified out of her wits.”
“Terrified of what?” he demanded, raising his voice slightly. “We run an orderly house. If she broke a rule, she needs to face the discipline for it. Put her on or tell her to walk back right now.”
“She isn’t walking back anywhere,” I said, gripping the plastic handset tighter. “And she didn’t just break a household rule. You need to listen to me and listen good.”
“Mother, do not test me this morning,” Thomas warned, the familiar stubborn streak cutting through the wire. “If the girl has defied her parents, she needs to learn about accountability. We don’t sweep things under the rug in this family.”
“No, you don’t sweep them under the rug,” I said, the memory of 1994 flashing hot behind my eyes. “You just throw your own flesh and blood out onto the pavement like trash. Well, I remember what you did to Deb, Thomas. I sat right there and let it happen because I was afraid of you and your father. I will not make that same mistake twice.”
“What are you talking about?” he snapped, his voice rising in genuine confusion and irritation. “What does Deb have to do with Rilla?”
“Rilla is ten weeks pregnant, Thomas.”
The silence that followed was absolute. No background shuffling, no clearing of a throat, just the hollow hum of the telephone line stretching between our two houses. For a long moment, I thought he might have hung up.
“What did you say?” he finally asked, his voice dropping to a flat, dangerous whisper.
“You heard me,” I said. “She came to me because she knew you wouldn’t help her. She knew you would treat her the exact same way you treated your sister thirty years ago.”
“She is sixteen years old!” Thomas shouted through the receiver. “She is a child living under my roof! How could she do this? Who is responsible?”
“The who doesn’t matter right now, Thomas. What matters is that she is frightened, she is my granddaughter, and she is staying right here in my spare room.”
“She belongs here,” Thomas said, his voice shaking with suppressed fury. “We will handle this as a family. We will deal with the sin and the shame under our own roof. Send her home.”
“I am not sending her anywhere near your judgment,” I told him, looking over at the doorway where Rilla was standing now, wrapped in her hoodie, watching me with wide, terrified eyes. “You had your chance to be a father who protects his children back in 1994, and you chose pride instead. You locked Deb out, and she hasn’t come back through that door in over twenty years. I watched you break your own sister’s heart, and I watched you walk away without a backward glance. I will not let you do that to Rilla.”
“Mother, you are interfering in something that is none of your business,” Thomas snarled. “If you keep her there, do not expect me to come visiting. Do not expect us to include you in anything we do from here on out.”
“You’ve made your rules clear, Thomas,” I said quietly. “And I’ve made mine.”
“This is ungodly,” he said.
“No, Thomas,” I replied. “What’s ungodly is throwing a child out into the dark because you’re scared of what the neighbors might say.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. I pressed the disconnect button and listened to the sharp tone before the line went dead. My hand was shaking slightly as I placed the phone back on the cradle. The kitchen felt warm again, the morning light cutting clean across the floorboards.
