To Helen Back by Susan McBride

“Never.”
    Helen went to his side, touching his shoulder. “Amos is the best there is. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
    “Don’t I?” He turned. His dark eyes bore into hers, his stare so piercing she found it hard not to flinch. “She’ll lose the baby, won’t she?” he asked bluntly, taking Helen aback.
    “So she was pregnant?” Helen asked.
    Fister nodded.
    “You knew about it?” She wondered how it had pained him to keep such a secret.
    “Yes,” he said, anguish flooding his voice.
    “She told you?”
    “No,” he said, and his broad shoulders slumped. “But I suspected from the way she was acting, and I did know of the affair . . .” He faltered, his head dropping to his chest. “She told me she was seeing someone older. She thought it was serious.” His gaze met Helen’s. “It wasn’t, not for him,” Fister said, and his hands curled into fists. “I put an end to it and, God help me, I’m glad I did. I should have called the sheriff, but Maddy begged me not to. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for what I did regardless.” His cheeks reddened. “I’ve never felt such hatred before, such anger. I couldn’t just stand around and let it go on.”
    “She’s young, Earnest. Give her time. The two of you will work this out . . .”
    He shook his head. “She’s been growing apart from me for a long time now. I didn’t want it to happen. But no matter what I did . . . how hard I tried . . .” He threw up his hands, letting out a slow breath. “If her mother had been here, perhaps Maddy wouldn’t have sought out someone so wrong for her.”
    “Earnest,” Helen said gently, to stop him from beating himself up. “This isn’t your fault. Maddy’s a very independent girl. Surely she realized the consequences of her relationship. There wasn’t anything you could have done to stop her if her mind was made up.”
    “But I’m a minister of God,” he said, sliding into a vinyl-covered seat near the wall. “I should have been a better teacher.”
    Helen sat down beside him. It unnerved her to see the usually stoic man so torn apart. She had thought of him as stronger somehow because of his height and the shoulders that seemed doubly wide beneath his robes. Inside, though, he was as human as the rest of them, she mused. Even those up on pedestals could easily fall. “I’m sorry to say that no one’s exempt from the trials of raising a teenager, not even the clergy.”
    He leaned his brow upon his hands, pressed together as if in prayer. “Perhaps you’re right,” he whispered.
    “Of course I am.”
    He rose from the chair and crossed the room to stare out the window. He laced his fingers together and tucked down his chin, standing in silence.
    Helen knew how much he must hurt, how this affair of Maddy’s had turned his world upside down.
    She sat there quietly, checking her watch now and again, though it was half an hour at least before Doc appeared in the hallway. His white hair askance on his brow, he peeled latex gloves from his hands and walked toward them.
    Helen stood.
    Fister turned at his footsteps. “Madeline?” he said, dark eyes hopeful. “How is she?”
    “She’s exhausted. Fanny’s with her.”
    “Can I see her?”
    Doc nodded. “Let her rest for an hour, then I’ll drive you both home.”
    Fister brushed past Helen and disappeared through the doorway.
    “Did she miscarry?” Helen asked.
    Doc rubbed at his jaw, nodding wearily. “There wasn’t much I could do, except try to make it as easy for her as possible.”
    “How far along was she?”
    “No more than three months.”
    “Maybe it was for the best,” Helen murmured, hating the words even as she said them. She glanced up. “She was so young. She’ll have children someday when she’s ready.”
    Doc looked down the hall and then at Helen. “The pastor, how is he?”
    “He knew,” Helen said. “But I don’t think anyone else does.”
    “It’s a private matter,” Doc said,