Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (10 page)

I sighed, knowing my child was confused. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Please, Mama. I need to understand.”

“You’re young, my darling, so very young. It’s just not time. You’re not ready to be married to someone—anyone—let alone the Prophet. You’re just a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” she huffed. “I dress my sisters and I help with the cooking. I’m learning how to be a proper wife; you’ve said that yourself.”

I pressed my eyes shut. “That’s true, my darling, but there’s more to being a wife than cooking and cleaning. So much more.”

The hair on my arms stood at attention as I pictured my innocent child on her wedding night. Bile rose in my throat at the thought of the Prophet’s expectations for her, for her body. Lehi had expected so much from me on our first night together that I was overwhelmed, terrified by what he forced me to do. My body was his to dominate, to control, and I suspected the Prophet would be no different. She would be thirteen years old, several years younger than I was on my first wedding night.

“Like what?”

My poor sweet girl had no idea how babies were made, what a man and a woman did to create life for Heavenly Father. She had no idea what the weight of a man would feel like, or the pressure she would experience in her most private of places.

Her naivety is saving her from fear. You must protect her, Aspen.

I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. I couldn’t and wouldn’t be the reason that my daughter lived in fear for the next year and a half of her life. No. That would have to wait.

“I’ll explain more later. Just know that there’s more, and that I would never lie to you.”

“But, Mama, I want you to be happy. Can’t you be happy for me? I know Father is.”

A surge of anger spread through me. “He is?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes bright. “Outside, before I talked to the girls, he congratulated me. Told me this was the greatest honor our family could receive.”

How dare you, Paul!

I pursed my lips and nodded. Leaning down, I placed a kiss on the top of her head and walked to the door.

“Mama?”

Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

Taking a deep breath, I gave my daughter the most genuine smile I could muster. “It is an honor, my darling. Your mother just . . . wants to protect you, is all.”

Relief spread across my girl’s face. Her eyes softened, her shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

I closed her bedroom door and stalked to my husband’s study, full of newfound rage at his betrayal. The door was open and he was seated at his desk.

His face fell when he saw me. “Aspen, this is not the time—”

Slamming the door behind me, I stormed to his desk and slapped my hand to the wood. A stinging sensation rippled through my palm and down my forearm. I grimaced but kept my gaze steady.

“She’s just a child, Paul. An innocent child!”

He inhaled, his chest rising as his jaw ticked. “It’s a revelation, Aspen. You can’t argue with Heavenly Father.”

Desperate, I approached and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in mine. Paul closed his eyes at my touch. It had been so long since we’d had any form of personal contact.

I lowered my voice, attempting to appeal to his sensitive nature. “It’s wrong. You know it is.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. This is an honor—for Ruthie, for the entire family.”

Tears fell from my eyes and I looked down at our hands, still joined on his lap. “She’s just a baby, Paul. He’s going to expect . . . so much. She’s not ready. Her little body isn’t ready.”

“He’s not marrying her tomorrow, Aspen. He’s waiting until she’s thirteen.”

“That’s still too young. When I was married, we waited until I was sixteen and I was still terrified. He
still
hurt me.”

Paul exhaled roughly through his nose, pursing his lips in anger. Just alluding to the man I married before him inspired jealousy.

“I’m sorry to mention him, but it’s the truth, Paul. I was older than her, and it hurt. It hurt so much. He’ll split her in two!”

Paul pushed my hands away and jumped from the chair. “That’s enough!”

“It’s the truth, even if you don’t want to hear it! Her little body isn’t ready for such things. It’ll cause her grief for the rest of her life—is that what you want?”

“Of course not!”

“Then we have to do something. We have to talk to him, ask him to postpone it . . . until she’s sixteen, fifteen even.”

“He won’t agree to that.” Paul shook his head, pacing the small study. “Besides, it was a revelation. You
know
what that means. You and I have no right to question what Heavenly Father has revealed to our Prophet.
None
.”

It’s time, Aspen. You must tell him about the Prophet’s threat. He’ll listen; he will!

“I don’t think it was a revelation.”

“Bite your tongue,” he spat at me.

“No, Paul, please. Just listen to me. I didn’t tell you this for fear of causing more conflict between us, but I saw him . . . the man by the tree, I saw him again. The Prophet, he was leading these men into the new temple. You haven’t even set foot in there Paul, but they did. Gentiles in the temple, Paul. Gentiles.”

“You’re making no sense whatsoever.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to explain myself properly. “The gate was left open and Scout ran away. I found him by a tree in front of the temple. And that’s where I saw them. The Prophet was holding the door for them, and they walked in.”

“He would never do that!” Paul’s voice boomed like thunder. “You’re speaking nonsense!”

I walked to him, my arms outstretched. When I touched his arm, he pulled away. “I’m not, I promise you. I know what I saw.”

“It’s impossible.” He scoffed. “And besides, what does this have to do with Ruthie?”

“It has everything to do with her. When Jordan married, the Prophet cornered me at the party. He threatened me, Paul. Told me to mind my business, that my life could change in an instant. He threatened to hurt Jeremiah.”

“Are you insane?” Paul glowered at me. Obviously, he didn’t believe a word I said, and my heart plummeted at the realization. “That didn’t happen.”

“Yes, it did. I wouldn’t lie to you!”

“Untrue.” He shook his head. “These are nothing but lies. You’re upset about the revelation and you’re being irrational.”

“No, I swear to you on the lives of our children, Paul. He threatened our baby. He did!” My throat was raw, my cheeks stained with tears.

“Well, it makes no sense and I don’t believe it. If this had actually happened, you would have told me sooner. I know you, Aspen, you’re never one to hold back. I don’t believe for a second that you kept this to yourself. You must have misunderstood; that’s the only explanation.”

“No, I understood him perfectly. He wants me to stay silent. That’s why he’s taking Ruthie. He’s keeping me, keeping
us
under his thumb.”

Paul paced the study once again, avoiding my eyes. “And who are you to question the Prophet?”

“I’m her
mother
,” I screeched. “If I don’t protect her, protect all of them, then who will?”

His eyes were cold as stone and I knew, right in that moment, that I was alone.

“Jeremiah is fine. He’s a healthy, happy little boy. And Ruthie will be fine too. She’s been glowing since she heard the news. She’ll be revered, honored and respected by everyone who crosses her path the moment she becomes his bride. Can’t you see that this is a blessing, Aspen? It’s a blessing for our entire family. But you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

Trembling with fury, I said, “You want to bury your head in the sand, but I refuse to join you. I won’t do it. I’m the only one who sees the truth.”

I walked to the door, grasped the cold knob, and turned to face my husband. Disappointment darkened his eyes, but I didn’t care. My babies came first. I
had
to protect them. If only I knew how . . .

“You’re wrong,” he said flatly.

“No, I’m not. And if you won’t help me, then I’ll figure this out on my own.”

His eyes widened. “What in the world does that mean?”

I turned the knob and yanked the door open. The hinges creaked as the cool air of the house breezed through my hair. I turned back and glared at my husband.

“It means I’m their
mother
.
That’s
what it means.”

“If we have faith in our Prophet, the hardest times in life can be a blessing.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

Paul and I were no longer speaking. For two weeks, we’d ignored each other inside our bustling household. It came as no surprise to me when Flora removed me again from his weekly rotation.

She watched as I studied the calendar she’d recently placed on the refrigerator. I knew she was waiting, looking for a reaction. But she wouldn’t get one. Not from me.

I simply said, “Hmm,” shrugged my shoulders, and went about my day. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d affected me. That either
of them had.

I was fairly confident that Paul had shared our arguments with Flora, for ever since I was first removed from rotation, a smug expression appeared on her wide face whenever she spoke to me. The wife who’d originally welcomed me with open arms was no longer friendly, no longer kind. She was bound by duty, obligated to acknowledge me as her sister wife. Obligated to care for my children as her own. And obligated to place my name on the weekly rotation. That is, when I was in good favor with our husband. Which I wasn’t.

I wasn’t losing any sleep over Paul’s detachment, however. I needed my solitude, my solace. I needed it to connect with Heavenly Father, to figure out a way to save my Ruthie from the clutches of the Prophet. Since the revelation two weeks prior, she had been almost impossible to deal with. She was reveling in the assignment, celebrating the status that would certainly be bestowed upon her. But that would only last so long.

What came after the fanfare? What happened when the celebrations came to an end and everyone went home? What happened when he came to her that first night?

The thought had made me physically ill, and I’d struggled to keep food down for days.

“Can I speak with you, Aspen?” Pennie asked after I’d walked away from Flora’s rotation calendar.

“Of course.” I nodded. “Walk with me, won’t you? I’m on laundry duty, and I’m falling behind already.”

“I’ll help. We’ll do it together.”

Pennie and I walked down the hall to retrieve two large laundry baskets. We took turns gathering worn and stained garments from the children’s bedrooms.

“I saw it . . . the calendar.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “You
always
do.”

As soon as the snide remark left my lips, a smidgen of guilt burned through me. Pennie was my only friend, and her concern was genuine.

But I couldn’t help it. The distance between Paul and me was private, and I wasn’t quite ready to discuss it. Even with her. Pennie was a loyal friend, but at times she overwhelmed me with her presence. She inserted herself into my business, and even though I assumed she was just trying to be supportive and friendly, I was used to handling things on my own. I didn’t need someone to hold my hand.

Pennie looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry. I know I can be intrusive.”

“Some things are just private, Pennie. That’s all.” I shrugged. “Paul and I are going through a rough patch. Everyone does.”

She was silent.

With a raised eyebrow, I turned to lock eyes with my sister wife. “Haven’t you?”

Pennie looked back down at her toes and shook her head slowly back and forth.

I cocked my head to the side and placed my free hand on my hip. “Are you seriously telling me that your marriage to Paul has been peaches and cream for . . . how many years have you been married?”

“Fifteen,” she answered, staring at the cotton dresses in her arms.

“And you’ve never had conflict?”

She shrugged. “Not really. We . . . we’ve always gotten along; we’re friends. He’s a good man, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Oh.” I licked my lips, taken aback by that. “Do you think I’m ungrateful?”

Pennie sighed and swallowed hard. “No, not at all, I just . . . I was raised in a different type of household. My father beat us on the regular, and I don’t mean spankings. He broke my arm half a dozen times, throwing me into the wall. Marrying Paul was . . .”

“A relief?” I asked, feeling my defensiveness subside.

Corporal punishment was an acceptable practice in our faith. In fact, it was, in my opinion, a healthy part of child-rearing.
Spare the rod, spoil the child
was a mantra repeated often during congregation and in study of the Prophet’s words. However, some parents weren’t satisfied with simple swats on the behind, and it wasn’t unheard of to see some little boys with swollen eyes, puffed a deep shade of violet, and girls who were unable to sit down from the lashings given to them by their mother. Clearly, Pennie had been one of those children.

I placed my hand on her wrist and when she flinched at my touch, I pulled back. “Sorry. I just . . . I’m sorry about that. About your father.”

She nodded, her cheeks turning a deep shade of scarlet. “No, no, I’m sorry. I should be more supportive of your troubles with Paul. And I should stop interfering.”

“Don’t be silly.” I reached for a few more dresses, placing them on my towering stack. I couldn’t make any more enemies in the house. I had to be smart. “There’s nothing wrong with being observant. I was defensive and I’m sorry. You’re just about the only friend I’ve got here, even after three years of living with this family. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course.” The creases in Pennie’s forehead smoothed out and her face appeared to relax. “I’m always here for you, Aspen, no matter what.”

“Listen,” I said, placing my basket on the floor and reaching for hers. “I’m going to get the wash done and I’ll check in with you later, all right?”

“Do you need anything else?”

She seemed eager to continue our conversation, but I needed my solitude once again. I had to gather my thoughts.

“No, I’ve kept you from your own responsibilities long enough. Thanks for your help.”

She nodded and a polite smile crossed her face, but that smile didn’t reach her brown eyes. There was something she wasn’t telling me, but I couldn’t take the time to think about Pennie. My thoughts were occupied with protecting my children. I was at my wit’s end trying to figure out what I could do to keep them from harm.

You have to leave. It’s the only way.

That nagging voice inside me refused to silence itself, and it angered me. I had no intention of leaving our community, of abandoning everything I stood for and a way of life I believed in because of one man’s abuse of power. He wasn’t the first Prophet, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

I’m not leaving
, I told that voice.
There’s got to be another way to protect my babies without abandoning my faith, my beliefs, and everything I hold dear. I have to find another way; I just have to.

And then, like an answer sent to me from Heavenly Father himself, my phone chimed from my pocket.

A text from Brinley.

Since Jordan’s wedding, I’d transferred her information to my new phone from Paul, and we’d exchanged the occasional pleasantries. But as I read her simple message, something clicked within my brain.

Call her. She can help you, all of you.

I didn’t know exactly how my former sister wife could prevent the Prophet from marrying my little girl, but I couldn’t ignore that voice in my head. I had to try.

And so, as I busied myself for hours in the laundry room, washing, sorting, and ironing clothes for dozens of Paul’s children, I planned my conversation with Brinley—what I would say and how I would say it. I had to be careful, cautious. I practiced my delivery with each stroke of the iron, and the washing machines thumped in a rapid rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart.

Anticipation was my adrenaline.

Finally, the last load of laundry was clean, dry, ironed, and delivered to the appropriate bedroom. With a deep breath, I sneaked past the common area, hoping Jeremiah, who was under the watchful eye of Pennie’s oldest daughter, wouldn’t see me. I couldn’t resist his smiles and calls for his mama.

I let my breath go, knowing I’d safely traversed the home with my little ones none the wiser. Checking quickly, I ensured that the bedrooms surrounding mine were all empty; my sister wives still busy with their daily chores.

Now is the time. Here’s your opportunity, Aspen. Make that call.

After closing the door and locking it behind me, I retrieved my phone from my pocket, took another deep breath, and made the call I’d been planning for hours.