Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) (22 page)

After leaving my mother’s home feeling supported and confident that Aspen and I could fix this together, I begrudgingly went to work. There was no way I would do anything to tip off Clarence, to give any indication Isaac had told me about the abuse. I had to keep my head down and bide my time until I could speak to Aspen.

When I finally came home and joined my family for dinner, I attempted and failed to catch Aspen’s attention during the meal. As my wives were preparing the food, I wandered into the kitchen where she was chopping fresh vegetables for the salad.

“Can I help with that?” I asked, peering over her shoulder. She froze, her shoulders tensed, and her hand hovered above the cutting board. I was sure my offering to help was the quite the surprise as I’d never done that before. Early on, Flora established my role was to come home from work and enjoy time with the children in the parlor as she and the other wives cooked dinner. I was in the mood to change things up.

“Um, no. I have it covered,” she said, still looking down at the tomato in her hand. I could see her chest rising and falling quickly beneath the cotton of her violet dress. I opened my mouth to ask her for a few minutes after dinner, when Flora interrupted us.

“Paul, don’t be silly. Go put your feet up and we’ll call you when it’s ready.”

I had five pairs of eyes staring at me as each wife stopped what she was doing to focus on the interaction between Flora and me.

“I really don’t mind—”

“Too many cooks, Paul, go, go. The children have been waiting for you to come home.” Flora placed both hands on her hips and shook her head. I knew it was time to make my exit. I wasn’t going to win this one. Aspen glanced up from her vegetables, and I opened my mouth once again to say something, anything, but thought better of it. I gave her a genuine smile filled with the kindness I could only hope to give her when we finally had a chance to talk. She didn’t return it but looked quickly back at her cutting board and resumed her chopping.

During dinner, I found my gaze drifting to her as it used to years before when we were newlyweds. Everything about Aspen was attractive to me, from her rich brunette hair to her deep sapphire eyes. She had two little freckles on her tiny nose and when she allowed herself to smile, she had dimples that softened the appearance of her face. My favorite thing, though, was her lips. They were full and pink and when I was lucky enough to kiss them, they were the softest I’d ever felt. I longed for Aspen’s lips and her kiss.

My cheeks grew hot as I allowed my mind to wander with thoughts of Aspen naked in my arms, the way she cried out when I gave her first orgasm, the way she dug her fingernails into my skin, piercing it as her pleasure consumed her. It was the most exciting moment of my life—pleasing her, introducing her to new feelings and sensations, seeing her eyes catch fire when they stared into mine.

“Paul, please pass the salad.” Flora interrupted the erotic thoughts running through my head. I passed the large wooden bowl then adjusted my pants as I pressed against the seams. I had to stop thinking about Aspen this way at the dinner table. It was improper and disrespectful to all my wives, including Aspen. She was the only woman to ever make me question my devotion to plural marriage. She was the woman I imagined as a boy when I wondered if this life was something I could handle. Aspen brought out another side of me that didn’t quite align with my faith—the desire to please just one woman, the eagerness to love her and devote myself to only her. As I pushed the roast chicken around on my plate, I wondered if the teenage boy in me knew one day she would come . . . one day she’d be mine, tempting me and reminding me I was nothing but a weak man full of sin and lust.

“Are you enjoying your meal, Paul?” Pennie whispered from next to me. “Is the chicken cooked through?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said, patting her on the shoulder, knowing she wasn’t the most confident when it came to preparing poultry. “You did a fine job. My stomach is off today, that’s all.”

Pennie offered a comforting smile. She and I always did have such a kind, amiable kinship. No muss, no fuss. “There’s cola syrup in my medicine cabinet if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

Hearing the words
cola syrup
made me think of Aspen, of course. Memories of her lying to me, saying she was out of cola syrup and needed to go into town. Now I knew she was probably at the police station visiting with the detective. Only now, despite the fact her dishonesty still stung, I had a new understanding of her desperation, of her need to protect Ruthie from Clarence. And with this realization, forgiveness soothed the sting.

Once the meal was completed, I checked the calendar to see where I’d be sleeping that evening. I was with Pennie. A smile crossed my face knowing that, unlike Flora and some of the other wives, Pennie wouldn’t keep close tabs on me and wouldn’t necessarily be looking for intimacy. Some nights with Pennie were spent playing checkers in her room or discussing current events. Although we had a handful of children together, she wasn’t as set on having as many as some of my other wives were. She was content with what we had together, and I appreciated that about her. Because of her relaxed attitude, I knew it would be all right if I paid Aspen a visit before retiring for the evening.

When I knocked on Aspen’s door, my heart raced. I wasn’t exactly sure how to break the ice with her, but I was prepared to think of something. She answered the door with a look of surprise on her delicate face.

“Oh, Paul.” She looked into the hallway. “Did you need something?”

“I, uh . . . my stomach isn’t so good. I know you usually keep cola syrup.”

Coward.

“Yes, of course.” She gestured for me to enter the room and she scurried off into her bathroom, opening and closing cabinets. She returned with a bottle of syrup and a small paper cup. “Here you are. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

When I reached for the cup, my fingers brushed hers and she tensed at my touch. “Thank you. Listen, Aspen, I was hoping to—”

A roaring cry pierced the quiet air between us. “That’s Jeremiah. I should go.”

“Is he all right?”

Aspen shook her head. “He’s having night terrors; it’s a new phase. Nothing like blood-curdling screams to wake you up at night.”

“Anything I can do?” I asked, not ready to part ways with her. I needed to speak to her, for her to hear my apologies, for her to give me another chance to be the husband and support she deserved.

“No, just take your cola syrup and I’ll calm him down.” She passed me the bottle and forced a smile. “Here, just in case you need more. I do hope you feel better.”

I held the bottle up in front of me and smiled with appreciation. “Thanks.”

And with that, she rushed down the hall to the children’s bedroom. On my way I stopped to listen as she soothed our son. “Shh, Mama’s here, sweet boy. Shhhh.”

I stood by the door for just a moment, listening to Aspen as she sat with Jeremiah. Once he’d calmed, she hummed his favorite lullabye and I leaned my head against the wall, knowing the biggest mistake I ever made was turning my back on her. I was determined to fix it. All of it. I hoped I could catch her the next morning.

Aspen was nowhere to be found when I entered the kitchen for breakfast. Jeremiah was playing with the other children in the parlor, and Flora was wiping down the breakfast tables. Impulsively I thought to ask Flora where I might find Aspen, but corrected myself knowing it was a bad idea. Flora didn’t care much for Aspen, and it was best not to rock the boat.

Where are you, Aspen?

I turned toward the hallway that led to her bedroom and spotted the back of her braid. My heart jumped to my throat as I set out to follow her and finally discuss everything with her.

“Paul,” a voice called and I turned to see Sarah, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What is it?” I asked, rushing to her and placing one hand on her shoulder.

“It’s Isaac. He needs you.”

“Yes, of course.” I turned back, but Aspen was gone.

Isaac must come first, Paul. You’ll find Aspen later.

“Ugh, that child,” Flora muttered under her breath.

“Bite your tongue,” I hissed at her. “You know nothing of what’s happening with
my
son. You will keep sweet and mind your business. Am I understood?”

Startled, Flora nodded and returned her attention to the table. It wasn’t often that I lost my temper with my wives, but I had no patience for Flora’s attitude, especially when it came to Isaac.

“Thank you for that,” Sarah said softly, wiping her tears as we walked. “She’s never been easy on him.”

“She’s not the most patient, is she?” We stopped outside his door and I whispered, “What’s going on?”

“He’s having nightmares, and he can’t get the thoughts out of his head. I don’t know how to help, and seeing him like this is so hard.”

I nodded. “I see. Should I go in alone?”

“I think that would be best.”

I offered Sarah a comforting hug, rubbing her back gently as we stood in the hall. “I’ll let you know how it goes, all right?”

“Thank you.”

Sarah walked off, sniffing away her tears, and I knocked gently at the door. “Hey, buddy, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a pause and then I heard Isaac’s meek voice. “Yeah, okay.”

I entered the room and saw that his brothers had already risen, made their beds, and vacated the room. Isaac was under his covers and I crossed the room to sit next to him, pulling the quilt from the top of his head.

“Hey there. Your mother said you aren’t sleeping well.”

“I can’t get my mind to forget. These pictures keep flipping through my brain—it’s like I’m reading this book, only I’m in the pages. And then I can’t breathe, Papa. I can’t breathe.” His voice cracked and he turned his eyes into his pillowcase; wetness formed in the clean cotton.

“I’m so sorry, buddy.”

“And my forty-eight hours are almost up. Soon I’ll be gone and I won’t ever see you or Mama again. I won’t see anyone, and I don’t know where I’ll live or what I’ll eat. What if I starve to death? No one will know, Papa, no one will even know I ever existed.”

“You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me?”

“But the prophet, he said—”

“I know what he said, but I’m not going to let that happen, you understand? If you go, I go. And I’m not going.”

Isaac turned his head and looked up at me. “Really?”

“Really.” I stroked his head and was relieved when he didn’t jump at my touch. “You’ve been through more than anyone ever should. But it’s over now and your mother and I are going to do everything we can to help you heal . . . and to make sure your uncle Clarence is brought to justice for his actions.”

“Is he going to get in trouble?”

“I hope so.”

“Will he still be the prophet?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I sure hope not.”

“Me too.” Isaac sniffed and wiped his tears with his trembling fingers.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

He shook his head.

“Can you do that for me?” I asked, patting him on the shoulder. “I have to go, but I’ll check in with you later, all right? I promise.”

“Thanks, Papa.”

With anger brewing inside me, I left Isaac’s room and stalked across the house. I knew I couldn’t wait any longer before pursuing justice in regard to Clarence’s acts.

“Has anyone seen Aspen?” I called out to the common room as I passed through, scanning the area for any sign of her.

“She just left a few minutes ago,” JoAnna answered. “She ran out to the pharmacy.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Let me guess, for cola syrup?”

She tilted her head to the side with a bemused grin. “Yeah, how did you know?”

I shrugged with a sigh. “Lucky guess.”

Leaving my hesitation behind me, I walked with confidence and determination to the Colorado City Police Department. I was done playing games and whispering in corners. I was ready to nail Clarence to the wall, and I knew exactly who could help me.

Chapter 20

I saw her inside the office and for just a moment I felt betrayal sneaking in as I watched her talking to the detective. There was a familiarity there between them. Even without hearing their words, I could see that. She was comfortable around him, maybe even more comfortable than she was with me. And as much as that bothered me, I had to let it go . . . for now. There was plenty of time for Aspen and me to discuss her relationship, partnership, friendship, or whatever it was with the detective.

I looked at the name on the door. “Detective Jonathan Cooke.” Yes, I remembered him from that day at the park. It was time for me to make my entrance. Just before I turned the knob on the door, both of them turned to me.

“Detective Cooke?” I asked.

“That’s right.”

“Paul, I can explain,” Aspen began, stepping in front of me. Panic emanated through her voice, but I couldn’t lock eyes with her. I needed to stay firm in my resolve.

“Please, just listen to me, Paul,” she continued, pulling on my sleeve.