Down from the Mountain (13 page)

January

Nineteen

The Promise Ceremony is a big deal. I have always loved it. When I was little, I saw a couple go through it, and of course, Ezekiel went through the ceremony with each of the mothers. But I mostly remember Rachel and Ezekiel’s Promise Ceremony because Rachel was so young and excited and in love. There were only two women he married without the Promise Ceremony, and that was because their husbands objected and Ezekiel felt the marriage needed to happen immediately.

I meant it when I told Ezekiel I wanted to have the ceremony. It wasn’t just to buy time so Mother Martha could have the baby safely.

When I imagined myself in the ceremony, I never pictured going through it with Ezekiel. I imagined a disciple I hadn’t met yet who was young and handsome. And I pictured myself in love, like Rachel.

The whole congregation sits in our little triangle chapel. I wear the same lavender smock that all the mothers wore. It is plain except for the embroidery around the neck that consists of one small row of dark purple crosses and another of intertwined vines in various shades of green.

Rachel did my hair. I don’t have the long, flowy hair that is usually a part of the ceremony, but Rachel placed silk lilies in my hair and managed to make it look nice.

None of the lights are on in the chapel. It is lit by candlelight alone, which makes it feel warm and sacred. I sit in the first pew with Mother Esther next to me. The congregation is behind me, and Ezekiel waits in the back.

Brother Paul and Mother Esther are the chosen assistants, which is convenient because they were also the assistants of Rachel and Ezekiel, and we didn’t have time to change the names on the scrolls.

The ceremony begins with a loud knock on the chapel door. Esther gets up and approaches the door. She wears a plain black smock and opens the door in silence.

Brother Paul enters, wearing a brown hooded smock. The hood is down. He carries a scroll that he unfolds. Everyone has a written script so they know their lines. He reads from the scroll.

Brother Paul: “The Servant and Prophet Ezekiel has been called by Our Lord for the duty and honor of marriage.”

Mother Esther: “Will you please come forward, Prophet Ezekiel.”

Prophet Ezekiel comes forward, walking with a light step. He too is wearing a tunic. Like mine, it is a light lavender. Instead of embroidery on the neck, his has a large cross embroidered on his chest.

Brother Paul: “The woman Eva May has been called by Our Lord for the duty and honor of marriage.”

Mother Esther: “Will Eva May please come forward.”

I walk to the altar. I feel so pretty in my lavender smock. I let my smock swirl just a little so everyone can appreciate it. None of this seems real. It’s like I’m playing a part in a skit, like we used to do as kids.

Mother Esther: “The duty of the husband is to love, support, nurture, and serve as the spiritual guide and master to the promised for her earthly life and life in the hereafter. Are you willing to accept these duties and promise this to Eva before God and your congregation?”

Prophet Ezekiel: “I promise to marry Eva and to take on the duties of a husband after marriage. I make this promise before God, Eva, and my congregation.”

Mother Esther turns to me: “The duty of the wife is to love, support, and nurture her husband; to accept his authority as spiritual guide and master; to obey him; to lay with him; and bear his children, God willing. Are you willing to accept these duties and promise this to Ezekiel before God and your congregation?”

I am floating somewhere beneath Ezekiel’s smile and above the congregation. I am watching the amber glow of the three candles twinkling on the altar and noticing the shadow cast over Ezekiel, who stands just an inch outside the light. I strain to read my line in the dim light.

Eva: “I promise to marry Prophet Ezekiel and to take on the duties of his wife when we become married. I make this promise before God, Prophet Ezekiel, and my congregation.”

Mother Esther now goes to the pulpit where she pulls out a purple satin ribbon. It’s about an inch wide. She ties one end around Ezekiel’s left hand and one around my right hand. “This ribbon symbolizes that you are bound together by your promise. Please hold up your arms so that the congregation can see the symbol of your promise.”

We hold up our arms with the ribbon intact. Everyone is smiling at us. Even little David and Daniel.

Mother Esther takes a seat in the front row, and Brother Paul motions to the congregation to read the next part. They do so in unison.

“We, the congregation, witness this symbol of Ezekiel and Eva’s promise of marriage made before God and this congregation today.”

Brother Paul: “Now we must hear from each congregant individually.”

One by one the members stand up and read the line on the scroll: “I, Mother Rebecca, am witness to this sacred promise of marriage between Prophet Ezekiel and Eva May.” When it is Mother Martha’s turn, her voice cracks. I carefully avoid looking at her out of fear that I’ll burst into tears.

Before the service began, I had decided to go through the motions without thinking about what was really happening. So far, it’s been easier than I expected. I just have to know my lines.

When everyone has witnessed the promise, Brother Paul goes to the podium and brings out a pair of scissors.

I freeze.

I picture myself back in the chair at the Community Concerns Meeting. I reexperience the horror of Ezekiel chopping off my hair and screaming at me to say that I will obey. I look at him now in his robe, a gentle smile on his face as he gazes lovingly at me.

The spell is broken.

This is the man I just promised to marry. My heart races, but my feet remain frozen to the spot. I want to run. Just in time, I stop the scream that makes its way to my throat.

Where is Rachel? I find her face. She looks concerned, but when she sees me looking at her, she smiles and mouths, “You’re fine.”

I think I nod slightly. When I hear the snip of the scissors as Brother Paul cuts the ribbon that binds me to Ezekiel, I almost stumble, but I keep my eyes on Rachel and manage to stay standing. She is the source of my strength.

Brother Paul: “I now cut the ribbon because the two remain separate until the wedding. But each of them will now tie the ribbon around the wrist of the other, and they will continue to wear the ribbons until they marry in the spring.”

I manage to tie the knot on Ezekiel’s wrist so that it fits loosely. He ties mine uncomfortably tight.

We sit in two of the chairs behind the pulpit. I hear Brother Paul lead the congregation in prayer. Thankfully, I know all the words and can easily mouth them while my head and heart go away.

Aslan now has a full mane. I nestle against him, drawing comfort from his presence.

Twenty

Rachel and I make small talk while we dress for Boulder the next morning. I want to hug her and thank her for how she saved me and Mother Martha when Ezekiel proposed to me. She saved me again yesterday when she showed me how to respond to the Promise Ceremony. I think her actions mean that she understands me. I think they mean that she has her own doubts. She was manipulating Ezekiel, especially when she said that Mother’s concerns were just hormonal. Manipulation is a sin.

She’s done other things that are against Righteous Path rules—like deciding we could spend money on lunch that time—and she breaks the rule of two. She asked if I’d mind doing the bead shopping by myself each week, so she could do the shopping to save time. I’m excited, but it is breaking the rules, so maybe Rachel has doubts about Ezekiel and Righteous Path.

Does she believe that what he says comes from God? Does she believe that all the outsiders are damned? Does she believe that the baby will be a prophet and that Mother Martha will give birth safely without medical help? Does she ever question marrying Ezekiel or think about leaving?

None of these are safe topics.

Dear Lord, please give me a sign that tells me whether or not it’s safe to talk honestly with Rachel.

I’d love for her to be my confidante, but it’s probably way too dangerous. I don’t even feel safe about expressing doubts to Mother Martha.

The roads are pretty icy again, so Rachel concentrates hard and we don’t talk. But when we get to the paved part and the road is dry, Rachel visibly relaxes.

Finally I think of something safe to ask her. Something I really need to know. “Rachel, now that I’m promised to Prophet Ezekiel, is anything going to change between now and the day we get married, or should I expect some things to be different?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Rachel says. “You were only eleven when I was promised.”

“Yeah, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“Well, the changes may not look big, but they are. You’ll get a lot more respect from the mothers even though they’ll be struggling with their own jealousy. You’ll be let in on more of the gossip, so you won’t have to try so hard to listen in.”

I laugh. She’s got that right.

“Ezekiel will want to spend more time with you. He’ll probably want to sit with you at dinner and will talk to you more. He may even take you to town with him, though he hates driving on icy roads. And, let’s see … that’s pretty much it until you’re married.”

Rachel stops the van in front of Beads Galore. It’s a relief to see the green-and-gold sign, but I’m sad about betraying Ezekiel by giving Trevor money. With all that’s happened in the last few weeks, it’s great to get my mind back on something that is certain. In the last couple of days, I’ve been coming up with images of new pieces I’d like to try making. I push the button on my seat belt and practically leap out of the van.

“Hang on,” Rachel says, laughing. “I haven’t given you any money yet.”

“But I’m not allowed to …”

“Hush! That was before the Promise Ceremony. None of that matters anymore.”

Shocked, I take the money envelope and begin to open the door. But I hesitate.

“Rachel”—I struggle to talk without crying—“I just want to say thank you. You helped me so much these last few days. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Rachel looks from me to the steering wheel. “You’re welcome,” she says in a quiet voice. “But I did it for Prophet Ezekiel. See, I love him. And I didn’t want to see him hurt, not by Mother Martha and not by you. Do you understand?”

Perfectly. An invisible boulder just rolled off the mountain and smashed all my hope. None of her actions had the meaning I thought they did.

I say nothing. I just get out of the van and start to go inside.

Rachel calls after me. “I forgot to tell you. It’ll be between three and three thirty when I get back. So, take your time in there. It’s almost noon now. Don’t get lost in too many choices,” she teases.

I nod again and manage a smile.

Inside the store, the bubbly clerk who helped me with all the spilled beads welcomes me and signals me to the checkout counter.

“You’re Eva, right?”

“Yes,” I say, almost as if I’m asking a question.

She looks at me like we share a secret, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a slip of paper. “He said that if you were alone, I should give you this number.”

“What?” I’m so surprised that I look down at the folded paper without taking it from the clerk for a long time. Finally I reach for it and unfold it. I stare for a long time.
Trevor 303-722-0419
, it says. Ten numbers shine up at me like the sun.

Maybe this is pretend. Maybe it’s a dream.

The clerk keeps talking. “I’ve been holding on to it since before Christmas. I thought you’d
never
come in.” She leans in to me with peppermint breath and the stale smell of cigarettes. “Do you have a cell phone? Because if you don’t, you can borrow mine.” My head nods no before I even think about it.

I mumble a thank-you to the clerk when she hands me the cell phone, but I don’t start dialing right away. I’ve only used a phone a couple of times in my life and never a cell phone. This one looks exactly like the one Ezekiel carries, so I flip the top up like I’ve seen him do. There’s a green button and a red button, numbers and symbols. I feel like an idiot, but I finally ask the clerk to show me how to use it. She looks surprised, but she helps me.

“No problem,” she says. “You push the green icon of the phone and then punch the numbers.” I do what she says and look to her for further instructions. “Now hold it to your ear. It should be ringing.”

She’s right. I wait as it rings again and again. Then I hear his voice say hello, and my shaky one responding.

“Eva? What’s up, girl?” He chuckles. “With all our planning we forgot to factor in the holidays, so I had no idea when you’d be back. Are you at Beads Galore?”

“Yes,” I say. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Are you alone? Can you meet me at the library?”

“Yes,” I tell him. I hang up. In five minutes, my hopes about Rachel have been dashed and the hope I had for Trevor is blossoming.

Finally, after all these years, I’m inside a real library. The lobby is huge. It smells like the pews in our chapel right after they’ve been polished. I look at all the people milling around—a few standing in line at an enormous desk holding stacks of books in their arms, others sitting in comfortable-looking chairs and leafing through books of all sizes. A lady holds a finger in front of a little boy with a warning look when he pops a bubble with his gum. I’m self-conscious. I don’t know what to do or where to go. Even though I’m in my heathen street clothes, I bet the people around me can see that I don’t fit in.

Do I want to fit in with the damned? No, I shouldn’t think of them as damned. A strange idea crosses my mind. Maybe God is in the library, not just in Righteous Path.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and swing around too fast, practically knocking Trevor off his feet. He recovers quickly and his smile is electric. Maybe it’s his hair that’s now dyed a sunny yellow on one side and partially shaved on the other, but the world seems to be changing from black and white to vibrant colors the instant I see him.

“Hi, Eva,” he says, pulling me into a hug.

“Hi,” I say back, hoping I wasn’t too stiff when he hugged me.

He catches me staring at his hair and laughs. “You like?” His laughter is a song. “My hair shocked you, huh?”

I nod.

“Sorry,” he says. “But, hey, I’m in Boulder now instead of the Podunk, Iowa, town where I grew up. Why not have a little fun?”

“Okay,” I say, returning his smile. I don’t understand why it’s fun to make your hair like that, but it sure is colorful.

“Let’s find a conference room and I’ll show you what I got.” He points to the backpack he’s holding.

I follow him up the wide, winding staircase, and he ushers me to a small room with a table, four chairs, and three glass walls. He starts digging in his backpack before either of us sit down.

“You got the beads?” I say, half question, half statement.

“Of course.” His eyes study my face. “Oh man! You didn’t think I’d rip you off, did you?”

“Well, yes. I’m sorry but I did.”

“Oh, Eva. You must have felt terrible. But don’t go getting all paranoid on me.”

I have no idea what the word
paranoid
means, but I’ve heard it before. It’s the same word that Ezekiel used when he was talking about what outsiders might think if they knew we were stocking guns. “But I am
not
paranoid,” he had said. “I’m just making sure we’re protected so the government doesn’t burn us out like they did the Branch Davidians. I won’t let that happen to us.”

My eyes are drawn to the crystals spilling from one of the plastic bags Trevor has taken from his backpack. I begin to separate them. They’re multicolored and a variety of sizes. I hold up a bag of sterling silver clasps and another of findings that are used to separate the beads and make all kinds of designs. These too are sterling silver and consist of shapes I’ve never seen before. This one an elephant. That one a lion. “They’re beautiful!” It’s what we ordered—and more.

He pulls out several more small bags. I open one after another, computing what they’d cost if I purchased them at Beads Galore. “You got all of these for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“No, actually it was a hundred and fifty-one dollars and twelve cents.” He flashes me another smile. “You owe me.”

I plunk myself down in the nearest chair and really look at Trevor for the first time. His eyes are blue like mine. And the blond—no, sun-yellow—hair makes them stand out even more. In spite of the strange things he does with his hair, he’s good-looking, taller than Jacob, taller than Ezekiel. More importantly, he’s not the thief I convinced myself he was. He is nothing like the heathens Ezekiel taught us to fear.

“Thank you, but why?” I ask. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this for me.”

“I thought we went over this at the flea market,” he says. “I think it’s a real disadvantage for anyone over the age of three to not know how to use a computer. Plus, you seemed really interested in learning, especially since you were paying too much for jewelry supplies. And … I thought I could help, you know?”

I continue staring at him, taking it all in, thinking about what he’s saying.

He pulls his lips inside his mouth like he doesn’t want to say what he has to say and studies an empty spot on the table. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were at a Community Concerns Meeting and he was getting ready to confess something.

“I’m a religious studies major so I’m interested in learning about alternative religions and what things people in cults believe and stuff,” he says. “But if it makes you uncomfortable …”

“No,” I say too quickly. “You did tell me that. I’m afraid that my upbringing has made me a little suspicious. We’re taught not to trust any heathen—er, anyone outside of Righteous Path.”

He smiles.

I think about the terms “religious cult” and “alternative religious group.” I think about how kind it was for Trevor to get me all these beads and how I understand his curiosity about me and my world because I am just as curious about him and his.

“Thank you!” I say finally. “You have no idea how helpful this is for me.”

He studies my face, his eyes sympathetic. “I probably don’t. But, hey, I want to know all about you and what your beliefs are and stuff. But—anything you want to tell me is fine.”

I want to tell him everything. I’ve wanted someone to talk to for a long time. I want to ask questions that I’d get in trouble for asking at Righteous Path and share thoughts that would make Ezekiel furious. But an image of Ezekiel, furious and vengeful, silences me. So I repeat, “Thank you,” and change the subject. “Are you still willing to teach me computer?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says.

According to the wall clock, it’s one thirty. “I have about an hour, then I need to be back at the bead store to be on the safe side.”

“That’s great,” Trevor says. “Where do you want to begin?” he asks.

“First I want to know what you mean by ‘religious studies major.’ Then I want to look up the words
cult
and
paranoid
.”

“Okay!” Trevor says. “That’s kind of random but I’ll bite. Let’s fire up Google.” His face is one huge smile. “But don’t forget we need to pick out the beading stuff for the next order.”

A wave of excitement swooshes through me. Finally, I can learn about anything that interests me.

“Eva, look.” He points to a row of desks on the library’s main floor. Each desk has its own computer. “You can use any of those computers anytime you visit.”

“By myself?” I count as many computers as I can see from where I’m sitting. Six, no seven. And four of them are free at the moment. I stand up and can see nine more computers—all vacant. The whole world is in my reach all of a sudden.

My hands shake when Trevor shows me how to position them on the keyboard.

It takes me a while to find the letters Trevor instructs me to enter. It would go faster if I could type with one finger, but he insists that correct fingering is worth learning.

Half the battle is figuring out the key words to enter so the computer looks up what you want. Trevor suggests I enter the words “religious education major at CU” to get the program he’s in.

By the time I finish my computer training, I know more about Trevor and college programs. I know that Righteous Path is one of hundreds of cults, each claiming to be the one way to God and salvation. I know what it means to be paranoid. And I know that the description fits Ezekiel.