Her mother was already crying by the time she came out of her room, and Ryan looked grim, as though she had wronged him too. Her father had told Noelle to stay in their room. And he was like a raging bull as he stormed around the living room, telling Maribeth how she was just like her aunts, and had behaved like a whore, and dishonored them all. And then he demanded to know who had gotten her pregnant. But she was prepared for that. She didn't care what they did to her. She wasn't going to tell them.

She had thought Paul was dazzling and exciting, and she would have loved to fall in love with him, and have him want her. But he wasn't in love with her, and he was marrying someone else. She didn't want to start her life out like that, at sixteen, and ruin it completely. She'd rather have the baby, and give it away. And they couldn't force her to tell them.

“Who is he?” her father shouted at her again and again. I'm not letting you out of this room until you tell me.”

“Then we'll be here for a long time,” she said quietly. She had done so much thinking since she'd found out that even her father didn't scare her. Besides, the worst had happened now. She was pregnant. They knew. What more could they do to her?

“Why won't you tell us who he is? Is it a teacher? A kid? A married man? A priest? One of your brother's friends? Who is it?”

“It doesn't matter. He's not going to marry me,” she said calmly, surprised at her own strength in the eye of the hurricane that was her father.

“Why not?” he raged on.

“Because he doesn't love me, and I don't love him. It's as simple as that.”

“It doesn't sound simple to me,” her father said, sounding even angrier, while her mother cried and wrung her hands. Maribeth felt terrible as she looked at her. She hated hurting her mother. “It sounds like you were sleeping with some guy, and didn't even love him. That's about as rotten as you get. Even your aunts loved the men they slept with. They married them. They had decent lives, and legitimate children. And what are you going to do with this baby?”

“I don't know, Dad. I thought I'd put it up for adoption, unless …”

“Unless what? You think you're going to keep it here, and disgrace yourself and us? Over my dead body, and your mother's.” Her mother looked imploringly at her, begging her to undo this disaster, but there was no way for her to do that.

“I don't want to keep the baby, Dad,” she said sadly, as tears came to her eyes at last. “I'm sixteen, I can't give it anything, and I want a life too. I don't want to give up my life because I can't do anything for it. We both have a right to more than that.”

“How noble of you,” he said, furious with her beyond words. “It would have been nice if you could have been a little more noble before you took your pants off. Look at your brother, he plays around with lots of girls. He's never gotten anyone pregnant. Look at you, sixteen and your damn life is down the toilet.”

“It doesn't have to be that way, Dad. I can go to school with the nuns while I stay with them, and then go back to school in December, after I have the baby. I could go back after Christmas vacation. We could say I've been sick.”

“Really? And just who do you think would believe that? You think people won't talk? Everyone will know. You'll be a disgrace, and so will we. You'll be a disgrace to this whole family.”

“Then what do you want me to do, Dad?” she asked miserably, tears streaming down her face now. This was even harder than she'd thought it would be, and there were no easy solutions. “What do you want me to do? Die? I can't undo what I did. I don't know what to do. There's no way to make this better.” She was sobbing, but he looked unmoved. He looked icy.

“You'll just have to have the baby and put it up for adoption.”

“Do you want me to stay with the nuns?” she asked, hoping he would tell her she could stay at home. Living at the convent away from her family terrified her. But if he told her to leave, she had nowhere else to go.

“You can't stay here,” her father said firmly, “and you can't keep the baby. Go to the Sisters of Charity, give up the baby, and then come home.” And then he dealt the final blow to her soul. “I don't want to see you until then. And I don't want you seeing your mother or your sister.” For a moment she thought his words would kill her. “What you've done is an insult to us, and to yourself. You've hurt your dignity, and ours. You've broken our trust. You've disgraced us, Maribeth, and yourself. Don't ever forget that.”

“Why is what I did so terrible? I never lied to you. I never hurt you. I never betrayed you. I was very stupid. Once. And look what's happening to me for it. Isn't this enough? I can't get out of it. I'm going to have to live with it. I'm going to have to give up my baby. Isn't that enough for you? Just how much do I have to be punished?” She was sobbing and heartbroken, but he was relentless.

“That's between you and God. I'm not punishing you. He is.”

“You're my father. You're sending me away from here. You're telling me that you won't see me again until I give away the baby …you're forbidding me to see my sister and my mother.” And she knew her mother would never disobey him. She knew how weak her mother was, how unable to make her own decisions, how swayed she was by him. They were all closing the door on her, and Paul already had. She was totally alone now.

“Your mother is free to do whatever she pleases,” he said unconvincingly.

“The only one she pleases is you,” Maribeth said defiantly, making him angrier still, “and you know that.”

“I only know that you've disgraced us all. Don't expect to yell at me, and do whatever you want, dishonor all of us, and bring your bastard here. Don't expect anything from me, Maribeth, until you pay for your sins, and clean up your own mess. If you won't marry this boy, and he won't marry you, then there's nothing I can do for you.” He turned then and walked out of the room and came back five minutes later. She hadn't even had the strength to go back to her own room yet. He had made two calls, one to their doctor and the other to the convent. Eight hundred dollars would pay for room and board and her expenses for six months, as well as her delivery by the nuns. They assured Mr. Robertson that his daughter would be in good hands, her delivery would be handled right in their infirmary, by a doctor and a midwife. And the baby would be given to a loving family, and his own daughter would be returned to him a week after the baby's birth, providing there were no complications.

He had already agreed to send her to them, and the money was in crisp bills in a white envelope, which he handed to her with a stony look on his face. Her mother had already retreated in tears to her own bedroom.

“You've upset your mother terribly,” he said in a voice filled with accusation, denying any part he may have played in the upset. “I don't want you to say anything to Noelle. You're going away. That's all she needs to know. You'll be back in six months. I'll take you to the convent myself tomorrow morning. Pack your bags, Maribeth.” The tone of his voice told her he meant business, and she felt her blood run cold. For all her problems with him, this was home, this was her family, these were her parents, and now she was being banished from all of them. She would have no one to help her through this. She wondered suddenly if she should have made a bigger fuss with Paul, if maybe then he would have helped her … or maybe even married her instead of Debbie. But it was too late now. Her father was telling her to leave. He wanted her out by the next morning.

“What'll I tell Noelle?” Maribeth could hardly squeeze the words out. She was breathless with the grief of leaving her little sister.

“Tell her you're going away to school. Tell her anything but the truth. She's too young to know about this.” Maribeth nodded, numb finally, too grief-stricken even to answer.

Maribeth went back to their bedroom then, and avoided Noelle's eyes as she got down her only bag. She only packed a few things, some shirts, some pants, a few dresses that would fit for a while. She hoped the nuns would give her something to wear. In a little while nothing would fit her.

“What are you doing?” Noelle asked, looking panicked. She had tried to listen to their arguing, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. But Maribeth looked as though someone had died as she turned, trembling, to face her baby sister.

“I'm going away for a while,” Maribeth said sadly, wanting to tell her a convincing lie, but it was all too much, too hard, too sudden. She couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye, and she could hardly withstand the battering of Noelle's questions. In the end, she told her that she was going away somewhere, to a special school, because her grades hadn't been as good as usual, but Noelle only clung to her and cried, terrified to lose her only sister.

“Please don't go …don't let him send you away …whatever you did, it can't be that terrible … whatever it is, Maribeth, I forgive you … I love you …don't go …” Maribeth was the only one Noelle could talk to. Her mother was too weak, her father too stubborn to ever listen, her brother too self-centered and too foolish. She only had Maribeth to listen to her problems, and now she would have no one at all. Poor little Noelle looked miserable as the two sisters cried through the night, and slept in one narrow bed, clinging to each other. And the morning came too soon: At nine o'clock, her father put her bag into his truck, and she stood staring at her mother, wanting her to be strong enough to tell him he couldn't do this. But her mother would never challenge him, and Maribeth knew it. She held her close for a long moment, wishing that she could stay, that she hadn't been so foolish, or so unlucky.