L'Oro Verde (26 page)

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Authors: Coralie Hughes Jensen

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The
eldress turned to face me. “Boys and girls don’t socialize here. We’re all
equal in the eyes of our Lord, but we’re separate. Sins of the flesh interfere
with our work and make women inferior to men.”

Having
no idea what she was talking about, I stared at her.

“We’re
here on earth to await the second appearing of the Savior. He’s coming soon and
will be pleased by what we’ve accomplished,” Evelyn continued. “It doesn’t look
like Eldress Abigail’s here. I’ll take you next door to the retired senior
members’ dwelling and show you the school, which is nearby. I’ll get Sister
Elizabeth to help you unpack your things. If you have more questions and can’t
get any answers, you may come to my office. You’re to address me as Sister, not
Eldress Evelyn. We’re all working for God, and I’m no different from anyone
else here.”

I
remember glancing over my shoulder several times to make note of our path. I
needed to know how to get back to the wagon when my parents returned to
retrieve me.

My
first impressions of my new home were benign—at least they seemed that way. As
I said, I have few memories of anything that first day. The buildings were
painted and lined up in somewhat of a geometric pattern. The place was clean.
We walked through the five-story brick dwelling to another a few yards away.
This one was an imposing structure similar to the brick dwelling but with wood
siding and only three floors. The eldress led me through a door at one end from
which a long, wide passage traveled the length of the building.

“That
across the street is the schoolhouse. Can you read? Most of the girls your age
are still struggling with that, so if not, you’ll be able to catch up quickly,”
she said, still holding my hand. “Always enter through the left-hand door and
walk on this side, Sister Lucy. You’ll have no need to cross over to the right
side of this passage until you’re older and have reason to be over there.”

About
halfway, we turned left into another passage that crossed in front of us.

“My
office is this one near the girls’ entrance. Next to my office is my sleeping
quarters and across the hall is a small meeting room. If you have to wait for
me, you sit in there. You rarely need to cross over to the other end of this
hallway where Brother Thomas lives. Just as the boys must not come over here,
you must never ever use the door at that end. Follow me,” she said, slipping
past.

I
ran to catch up and grab her hand.

“Sisters
your age live on the second floor,” she continued. “At the end of this hall is
the dining room, and on the right is the stairway the women use. When we came
in through the meeting room door, there was also a staircase for the men. Did
you see it?”

My
head whirled. I was not used to so many rules and certainly did not understand
why the girls had to use different doors and stairs than the boys. At the top
of the stairway, we stopped at the first room that held five or six beds, a few
sets of drawers, and along each wall, a string of pegs about chest high.

“Sister
Elizabeth here will take over. She’s your elder sister and holds the key to
your contentment in the Community.”

I
must have stared blankly at the eldress, but the woman quickly turned away and
left. I did not know if I was supposed to follow her.

“Your
name?” Elizabeth asked curtly.

“Lucy
Hammond.” My knees shook.

“How
old are you, Sister Lucy?”

“I
turn eight next week.” I could not wait and hoped Elizabeth would suggest we
have a party.

“Your
bed’s over here by the window between Sister Molly and Sister Charity. They’re
a bit older but will be moved to the next room if more girls your age arrive.
Leave your things on the bed and follow me,” she said, twisting her hair
between her fingers.

Her
hands were too high for me to grasp. Trying to keep up with her fast gait, I
followed. We traipsed down the stairs and stopped in front of the door at the
end of the hall.

“This
is the dining room. The girls eat at these tables on the right, and though
there are no men eating with us, the men eat on the left. We’re the first
sitting. The senior members dine at the second,” she said before quickly taking
off down the next flight. “In here is the kitchen. We’re lucky to have our own
kitchen and dining room. Members of all the other families eat in the brick
dwelling. Sister Peg, this is Sister Lucy. Sister Peg is in charge of our
kitchen. You must listen to Sister Peg carefully because you’ll spend a lot of
time here.”

“What’s
this?” I asked, noting more doors.

“This
is the pantry. There’s an entrance to another room from here inside the
kitchen. That room’s off limits to you.”

“What
is it?”

“Don’t
be nosey, Sister Lucy. That can get you into trouble. The space in that room is
for goods going out to people all over the area. In the brick dwelling there’s
an assembly room. Businessmen sometimes gather there to do business with the
elders. Most of the time, though, the world’s people go directly to the
trustees’ house. The door to the outside from that room is over there up some
steps next to the men’s entrance, something you wouldn’t notice because you
aren’t allowed over there. We receive goods from the world’s people and sell
them what we produce. Some of the boxes are stored in that room. I’m not
allowed in there either, nor is our eldress. Outside business is done by the
deacons and trustees and sometimes by office sisters.”

I
nodded, still unsatisfied.

“We
usually start new children in the kitchen, so you’ll stash your things and
report down here to Sister Peg in about an hour. I’ll introduce you at a
meeting after dinner,” Elizabeth said, starting up the stairs again. “Hurry up.
Don’t just stand there. You aren’t my only charge.”

I
would learn that Elizabeth, though tall, was only twelve. She was the daughter
of one of the senior elders, her whole family requesting to join the commune
too. Having never committed to the Believers by signing the covenant to become
members, her mother and two older brothers returned to the outside world months
later. This was common. Many seemed to be dissatisfied with the so-called
power-sharing by the sexes. Elizabeth had been here since she was three and was
well versed in the rules set down by the elder ministers. While she was often dismissive,
she was also fair, especially when one of us tattled about those who did not
keep to the cherished rules.

The
first few months were excruciating, because I craved the caress of my mother or
one of my older sisters and wanted so badly for Elizabeth to offer me a sign of
affection. I was not one of Elizabeth’s favorites, however. I was impulsive and
on occasion bent the rules when I could not help myself. Though her tongue was
as sharp as a snake’s tooth, to her credit, Elizabeth never swatted or punished
me unduly.

Like
her, I was plain. My brown hair was thin and stringy and my features
unremarkable. Unlike her, no one had ever called me homely so I never suspected
my appearance might get in my way. For years, Elizabeth did not see me as a
competitor to her rise in the ranks and treated me with little deference. That
said, I was fiercely independent and curious to a fault, both traits eventually
destroying any hope of a relationship with her before it ever got off the
ground.

*

It
was Evelyn, the eldress of our dwelling, who taught me about my new family soon
after I arrived. She sat me down in her small office and explained that our
Community had been founded by a woman, Mother Ann Lee.

“Mother
Ann arrived on our shores from England in 1774, and because it was so close to
our war against British control, many people persecuted her,” she said. “Mother
Ann had begun winning over Americans in New York and then courageously traveled
from town to town, converting others to her new religion. Many didn’t like her.
They threw stones and jailed her because they thought she was a heretic.”

“What’s
a heretic?” I asked.

“They
said she was sinning because she wasn’t following their church laws.
Nonetheless, she converted enough people to start a new church. We became the
United Society of Believers. Early worshippers formed families, carving out the
forests and transforming the land into big farms. It was difficult at first,
but because they worked hard, look what we have today.”

“Where’s
she now?”

“She’s
in heaven with the Heavenly Father and Holy Mother Wisdom.”

“I
thought this was heaven.”

“No,
Sister, this is Zion, heaven on earth. We’re preparing the world for the second
coming of the Savior.”

“Is
he coming here? When?”

“Yes.
Because we’ve created a beautiful place for him, I’m sure he’ll come here,”
Evelyn said dreamily. “But we must be ready—work hard to make our garden
worthy.”

“Where
are the others?”

“The
early followers are in heaven too.”

“No,
the ones who threw stones at her.”

“I
don’t know,” she said. “But that’s not the point.”

“Are
they still around?”

“No.
While some people object to our success, most of the world’s people like us,”
she said, dismissively. “What’s more important is that you keep your mind on
heaven. You should do the jobs assigned to you and follow the rules.”

That
sounded ominous—the word echoed in my head. If I had a weakness, it was having
to keep track of rules.

*

“And
the Heavenly Father calls for us to work as one, that we are one owner of our
farm, yet no one owns the property for it belongs to the Heavenly Father,”
Robert, our ministry elder, said, his voice echoing through the rafters of the
meetinghouse that Sunday. “Our hard work and tenacity will be rewarded both
here on earth and in heaven. We won’t listen to those outside our Community who
call us to follow their laws, their government. For the Heavenly Father’s power
supersedes all other governments, especially those of the lower forms,
destitute without the blessing of the Heavenly Father—those who espouse marriage
and individual possession of property, who fall into wars and debauchery
because they lack conviction. The act of procreation makes us unequal. The
rights of one spouse replace those of the other. When our minds and hearts
wander from the Heavenly Father’s purpose for us, we all become slaves to the
act instead of proponents of his goals for us here on earth.”

Hoping
he was finished, I squirmed on the hard, backless bench. After his sermon, we
all got up and danced. I liked that part. The others acted silly then. They
stomped and pranced and shouted out their praises to the Heavenly Father. They
did not act like adults at all. Even Evelyn became agitated, shaking and
twitching. And I twirled until I was dizzy, bumping into the others.

*

Feeling
invigorated by the dancing, we made our way back to the dwelling. A late
breakfast of fresh eggs, bread, and preserves was to be served in the dining
room an hour after the service.

“What’s
debauchery?” I asked Molly as we walked along the path.

“It’s
when people are wicked, Sister Lucy.”

“What
do people do to be wicked?”

“Things
like flirting with boys,” said Charity. “But you can forgive the world’s people
because they don’t know it’s a sin to do that.”

“Do
what?”

“Did
you like dancing at meeting, Sister Lucy?” Charity asked, walking on ahead.

I
ran to catch up. “I’m getting better.”

“You
shouldn’t take Elder Robert seriously, Sister,” Molly said. “He always talks
that way about the outsiders. I guess he wants to warn us we’re lucky to live
here where it’s safe.”

Charity
giggled. “Do you think about Brother Seth when you’re dancing, Sister Lucy? I
watched him on the other side of the room and he acted funny, like he thought
you were watching him.”

“Seth
doesn’t act funny,” I said.

“You’d
better not go anywhere alone with Brother Seth, Sister Lucy,” Charity
continued. “Sister Molly and I can stay with you so you two can keep your
thoughts pure.”

“Gee,
Sister Charity, she’s only nine,” Molly whispered. “I don’t think she knows
what an impure thought is. Do you, Sister Lucy?”

“Well,
Brother Seth does. He’s going on thirteen,” Charity said.

Molly
smiled. “I know. What a waste for you to pair him up with little Lucy. He’s
quite handsome.”

I
did not understand. “What are you two going on about? I hate him because he
always gets spots on his clothes and loses buttons. Then I end up having to
restore them. I hate to sew on buttons. I hate to sew. I don’t know why I
always have to do his mending.”

“They
fall off because you can’t sew,” Molly said, laughing. “They always give new
indentures young people’s clothes to sew. When you get really good, they’ll
give you those belonging to senior members.”

“How
old do you have to be for that?”

“I’m
already sewing the good stuff, and I’m only twelve,” Charity said.

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