Promise Me (3 page)

I tried to smile when my husband came for me.  Winston’s face was open and pleasant as he firmly put an arm around my shoulders.  The four women who were now my sister wives stood nearby, watching us with mixed expressions.

Delia was the first wife.  She was a vague, amiable sort who seemed rather like my mother in her quiet acceptance of the events of her life.

Leah, the second wife, had a soft look about her and a habit of keeping her eyes trained to the ground as she spoke in a scarcely audible tone. 

Mary only looked weary from the enormous burden of yet another pregnancy. 

But Deborah was only two years older than me, though she had been fourth wife to Winston for six years.  It was her expression which troubled me.  Her eyes darted between my face and the man we all called husband now.  At one point in the afternoon she had approached me anxiously and seemed on the verge of saying something when she was sharply called away by some of the older ladies of the congregation.  As she reluctantly left, she had thrown me a long look of despair which shot through my soul. 

Before I began my first night as a wife my parents bid me farewell.  The lovely wedding gown had been hung away and I was clad plainly in a long calico dress sewn by my mother. 

As the two of them reached for me for a final embrace, I found it was with some difficulty that I suppressed my boiling loathing for them.  My father had for so long behaved as a god among men that he no longer knew his own cruelty.   He smiled at me, likely believing he had done right by his faith.   And right by me, permitting me to live a short while in the world before demanding that I keep my vow to return to Jericho Valley and marry.  I allowed him to kiss me on the cheek and then I hardened my heart to him forever. 

And my mother?  She had been a teenage bride.  This was the life she knew.  The only possibility she saw for her daughters.  With a sick feeling I realized one day years from now I might stand in her shoes.  Giving away a daughter. 

No!  Lie.  Lie. Lie.  No. 

As I walked into the early summer evening with my husband, I silently swore it would be different.  I would make it different.  Winston Allred couldn’t be all bad.  He had waited patiently while I finished my schooling.  In the frequent times he had called on me when I was home on break, he seemed interested in my studies and in hearing my opinions.  He would help me. He would help Jenny. 

We were out of sight of the wedding guests, walking up the hill which led to the Allred family’s sprawling collection of living quarters.  My new home was at the far end of the road. 

Winston’s arm still had not left my shoulders during the walk.  He spoke to me casually
, pointing out odd comforts; a family of sparrows or the lovely way the descending sun caused the light to dapple through the trees.  I thought he was trying to put me at ease and was a little grateful. 

When he reached the door of the home I was to keep, he sighed and turned the knob.  People didn’t lock doors in Jericho Valley.  There was no need.

As he opened the door I stepped inside cautiously, looking around at the comfortable setting.  The click of the door closing at my back reminded me that he would be waiting.  That he would be expecting. 

Winston Allred walked toward me slowly with a small smile on his face.  The summer heat had created a steady stream of perspiration on his brow and he wiped at it absently. 

“Promise,” he said an agreeable voice.  “Your uncle tells me you did not wish to go through with the wedding.” 

I blushed angrily.  I should have known the Bi
shop wouldn’t keep a thing like that to himself.  I looked at my husband.  We needed to begin this new journey on a happy note.  “Winston, I know how long you waited for me. I am sorry that I doubted.” 

He nodded, seeming pleased with my words.  He took another step closer.

“Nonetheless,” he said cheerfully, “you will need to be chastised for your disbelief, however fleeting it may have been.” 

And then Winston Allred punched me in the stomach. 

I fell to the floor, the wind knocked clean out of me.  I had never been purposely struck before and my mind screamed with shock as my lungs begged to draw a breath.  

As I managed a gasping inhale Winston reached a beefy hand toward me and ripped my dress down the front.  My head cracked against the hardwood floor painfully when he pushed me down with force, already tearing my underclothes from my body with one hand.  While he loosened his pants with the other. 

I stared with alarm at the thing which hung between his legs.  I had never seen a man fully unclothed before.  The reddened shaft was stiff and ugly and seemed to reach for me like a talon.  I tried to shrink away, however I still couldn’t breathe properly and the room began to spin as I suffered from lack of oxygen.  I didn’t even have the strength to fight back.  Not that it would have made a difference.  There was no one for miles who would have stopped Winston Allred from doing what he wanted with me. 

But as my lungs finally filled with air I screamed anyway.  In pain, in rage, in humiliation.  I hadn’t given much thought to the act.  It bore a brutality I hadn’t counted on.  Winston grunted and held me down easily as he violated parts of me I had never touched.  All the while his hands ravaged the soft flesh of my breasts so viciously I didn’t know what to cry about first.  Afterwards, when I lay on the floor broken and bloodied, my husband fastened his pants and spoke in a casual voice.

“Promise, you ought to repair your dress now.” 

And only then, as I struggled to rise, holding the ruined fabric of my simple dress together with shaking hands, did I understand the meaning behind Deborah’s pitying glance.  

***

Winston Allred had no mercy.  I was appalled when he came for me again not half an hour after the first brutal coupling.  It seemed impossible.  The part of me he wanted was a raw, open wound.  And that time I did fight back.  It didn’t matter.  He hit me purposely in places which could be well buried under modest clothes.  Here a blow to the ribs.  There a sharp knuckle in the kidneys.  And as I saw the way his eyes glowed and the tip of his tongue hung out, I realized he enjoyed it this way.  The more I struggled, and the more he struck me, the more aroused he grew. 

The only way to end it was to stop fighting. 

Winston finally exhausted himself and fell into a loudly snoring slumber.  I lay naked under the thin bed sheet, afraid to touch my own body.  My breasts throbbed, a piercing pain ran through my ribs when I breathed too deeply, and I still felt the blood leaking from the abused core between my legs. 

I stared at the ceiling and Rachel’s words flashed before my eyes. 

“Leave them.  You can always come to me.” 

A flash of hope lit up my soul.  I could dress, find the main road and get to Harper, a common town twenty five miles down the road.  If I traveled in the trees at the shoulder I might make it there before the men of Jericho Valley discovered I was gone and began looking.  I had friends from Hale I could call.  I knew there were plenty of people outside the boundaries of Jericho Valley who would be willing to help me. 

But I would never be able to get Jenny out.  If I escaped they would know to keep her hidden.  The only thing worse than the memory of what I had endured since Winston Allre
d closed the door to our home was the idea that my gentle little sister would suffer the same fate. 

I turned my face to the cool linen pillowcase and tried to keep my sobs quiet. 

In the morning I bathed quickly and kept my head trained up, purposely avoiding looking at the horrors which were sure to show on my pale skin. 

I had fixed my dress as Winston ordered.  Several more handmade versions already hung in the cedar bedroom closet.  While at Hale I had been permitted to dress in common, though modest, clothes since they provoked fewer questions.  But since I’d been back in Jericho Valley the demands of the long sleeved, ankle length dresses necessitated by the church had been required.  Now that I knew better I understood the oppression of such clothing. 

Someone, likely one of the sister wives, had stocked the fridge.  Fresh eggs from one of the family chicken coops lay in a basket on the counter.  There were a few cast iron skillets already in the cabinet. I removed one and prepared the eggs, my shoulders tightening as I heard Winston stirring in the next room. 

“Good morning, wife,” he said cheerfully, kissing me on the cheek with such affection I stared at him in shock. 

“Good morning, Winston,” I said quietly. 

Winston peered into the frying pan and grinned.  “Scrambled?”

“Yes.”

He stood behind me as I tried to concentrate on the setting of the eggs.  When I heard his breath began to quicken in a familiar way my eyes closed, my mind already knowing what my body was about to endure once again. 

The knock on the door was sharp.  I exhaled with relief, grateful for even a temporary respite.  

Winston went to answer it and I hear
d the murmuring of multiple low male voices.  I thought I recognized my father’s among them.

“Promise!” Winston called in an irritable tone.

I turned off the burner and wiped my hands on my dress.  I moved slowly, stiffly, from the violence which had been inflicted on me. 

In the small living room stood my husband, my father and my uncle.  All three men looked grim and serious. 

“Our guests are thirsty,” Winston explained without looking at me. 

I went back to the kitchen and poured three glasses of water, bringing them promptly back to the living room.  My uncle was talking. 

“Regrettable to take you away from your new bride so quickly.” 

Winston shook his head. “I will bring Promise with me.”

Aston Talbot was displeased.  “You should not allow her back into the world so soon.  She has ideas after her time away.” 

Winston drew me to his side possessively after I silently gave out the water glasses. “Nonsense.  Promise is docile,” he said, circling an arm about my waist.

I winced, and not only because the way he’d spoken about me as a man would speak of a dog.   The pain in my body shrieked with even the slightest touch.  Vaguely I wondered if one or more of my ribs were broken. 

My uncle grunted and shook his head but didn’t object further.  My father, however, stared directly at me.  I stared back at him.  Something like sadness colored his face but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of any hint of a smile, any reason for him to believe this was all right.  It would never be all right.  Finally he looked away. 

“Pack enough clothing for three days,” Winston told me shortly when the men had left. 

I was confused.  “Where are we going?” 

Winston was on the couch opening a briefcase and sorting through papers.  “Phoenix,” he said absently.  “And then Los Angeles.  I have business in both cities which requires some attention. We will be leaving within the hour.” 

“Business?” I frowned.  “You mean about the orchards?”  As far as I knew Winston Allred owned and operated a massive pecan orchard outside Jericho Valley.  He hired the women and children of the town during harvest season. 

Winston slowly raised his head and looked at me.  “You just do as I say, woman.”

***

He would not allow me to pause at my mother’s house.  I settled back into the plush passenger seat of the Cadillac Escalade, wondering if that was for the best anyway.  It would have been difficult to keep both my physical pain and mental anguish from my sister.  It might be easier for me to be away for a few days. 

Once we left Jericho Valley behind
, Winston became almost amiable.  We did not stop driving until we reached Flagstaff where he bought me lunch at a pleasant diner.  I noted the way the other patrons stared at the long, plain design of my dress and my simple black shoes.  A few of the women regarded me sorrowfully. 

They all looked so casual and easy.  I wondered if any of them could guess at the horror of my wedding night.  I wondered if they would help me if they did know.

“Promise,” Winston said sternly. 

I snapped back to attention. 

He frowned at me and took a bite of his roast beef sandwich, chewing slowly before swallowing and continuing to speak.  “I hope I did not make a mistake in bringing you along.  You will be expected to behave appropriately.”

“Of course,” I murmured, staring at the thin gold ring on my left hand. 

Winston patted my arm lightly.  “Good.  Then let’s have no more of the unpleasantness which was required last night.”

I took a drink of water, feeling disconcerted again.  I saw the way his eyes glinted when he obliquely referred to the things he’d already done to me. It wasn’t ‘unpleasantness’ to him. 

But I was obliged to play along with the act.  I covered his hand with my own.  “I really want us to begin our life together well.”

He nodded and took another bite of his roast beef. 

I pursed my lips together.  The night before as I lay in painful darkness I had rehearsed what I would say when the time came. 

“Winston.” My husband looked at me.  “I believe I am such a happy bride today because I had those years at the college.  There was plenty of time to consider whether this life was what I truly wanted.  It’s how I am able to be sure that this the righteous path.” 

His eyes narrowed.  “I believe you wavered yesterday morning, Promise.”

I lowered my head.  “Sometimes the devil finds us no matter how prepared we believe we are.” 

Winston nodded.  “That he does.” 

I gave him a smile which was every inch the lie.  “I am grateful that you will be at my side to guide me.”  He seemed satisfied so I pressed further.  “It would serve Jenny’s future husband well if she was given the same opportunity to find her way.” 

“Jenny,” Winston frowned. 

“Yes,” I clutched his fat hand.  “Please think about it.  You have treme
ndous influence in the church.”

His eyes seemed to dim.  He pulled his hand away and his tone became icy.  “No female needs to tell me what I should and should not consider.” 

I bit my lip.  I was not artful in the way of most women and I’d been wrong about Winston Allred. He was not reasonable in the way of most men.  Or maybe he was exactly as most men were.

When I stepped out of the car in Phoenix the heat seemed impossible.  It was July, the thick of summer everywhere, but there in the desert, summer meant a special kind of misery. I felt faint as I followed Winston to a room in the lavish hotel where he had
evidently stayed before on other mysterious business trips. 

Once the door to the room was open I went immediately to the bed and sat down weakly.  There were more agonized locations in my body than I cared to dwell on but it was my ribs which troubled me most. 

I gingerly touched the place to the left of my spine where the sharpest pain emanated.  Trying to sit upright for all those miles of driving had been pure hell.  I thought if I could only get some rest it might make a world of difference.  I hoped Winston’s elusive meetings could occur without me. 

“Well now,” he said softly, swaying over to me with his hand on his belt buckle.  “You’re an eager one.” 

I knew if I cried, if I fought, it would only drive him to hurt me further.  With grim resignation I lay back on the bed as he lifted my dress.  The intrusion of his thick body was as sharp and painful as ever.  I stared at the wall, toward a picture of the Grand Canyon, and silently prayed to a god I no longer believed in for it to be over quickly.

It wasn’t. 

***

Winston made it clear he was not in favor of allowing me to remain in the room alone. I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry about the possibility that I would take off.  Not if there was a chance that by enduring I could help my sister. 

I sat in a chair in the corner of the lush conference room on the first floor of the hotel. The three men who sat around the table with Winston were dressed casually but the watches on their wrists and the air of entitlement they exuded labeled them as men of some means. 

Sitting in that chair, trying not to keel over, I was so consumed by my fog of pain I couldn’t make much sense of their tense conversation.  I gathered that the men were demanding some assurances from Winston, who spoke over them in a smooth, confident voice.  I did catch one puzzling phrase which was uttered repeatedly. 

“The Faithful Cooperative.” 

I stared at the other men.  They were not of the church, I was certain.  One of them, the youngest, glanced at me curiously a few times and seemed on the verge of saying something.  The man seated across from him caught the look and shook his head vehemently, glaring at the younger man.  I closed my eyes and summoned a hap
py memory.   Of sunlight.  A green meadow.  And picking wildflowers with my sister. 

I must have dozed off lightly because I was jerked awake by Winston’s rough grab of my elbow.  The other men had already departed the room. 

“Come along, Promise.  I’ll feed you dinner now.” 

I rose painfully.  “Winston,” I blushed.  “I need to use the restroom.”  Not only was my bladder in full scream mode, but a warm trickle between my legs warned me I was bleeding again. 

Winston was impatient.  “You can wait until after our meal when we have returned to our room.” 

I resisted the urge to slap his sweaty arm away and run like hell.  It was difficult.  Winston towed me along as if I were nothing more than a lavish accessory.  He ordered food for me and then scrutinized the fact that I didn’t eat to his satisfaction. 

Winston wiped shrimp sauce from his mouth with a white napkin.  I stared at the smear of red on the clean linen.  “Promise,” he said sternly.  “You will need to learn to take care of your body if you are to bear a houseful of children.” 

I dropped the soup spoon I’d been clutching and bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted blood.  But the words came out anyway.  “Take care of my body?  It would be a sight easier to ‘take care of my body’, dear husband, if you would refrain from using it as a punching bag to satisfy your perverse desires.” 

I immediately realized what a mistake I had made.  Winston threw down his napkin, his face white with fury, and gave me a murderous look.  I stared back at him, knowing full well he couldn’t touch me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. 

He knew it too.  Our waitress, a pretty, young Asian woman, returned and happily refilled our water glasses.   Winston didn’t take his eyes off my face. 

“I would like the check now, please.”

The waitress
had a chirpy, cheerful voice. “Can I interest you in our dessert menu?”

“No,” said Winston with a cold smile.   “We’ll be having dessert in our room, thank you.” 

The only way I was able to force myself to accompany him back to the room was the silent assurance I kept giving myself.  This would not be my sister’s lot.  I would do what I had to in order to prevent that. 

This time Winston Allred would not be satisfied with merely assaulting me physically.  He forced me to strip down to nothing and stand in front of the bathroom mirror.  The lighting cast a harsh radiance over the bruises which covered me from the neck down.  He stood beside me and ordered me to look at myself while saying the filthy things in his mind. 

And all the while I thought, how could I have been so wrong?  I had supposed Winston to be a man merely like my father; domineering and enamored of himself, but never really violent.  But Winston was more than that.  He was a tyrant, a monster.  Maybe my father was a monster too. Maybe all men secretly were. 

I did not allow myself the tears of humiliation which threatened.  But when he took off his belt and began whipping me about the legs a few shook loose anyway. 

When his arm grew tired he grabbed me by the long auburn braid which hung down my back.  “You will show respect for your king and husband now.” 

I nodded weakly, crying out only a little when he grunted and pushed himself furiously inside my battered body.