The Seventh Mother (7 page)

A
fter Thanksgiving, Daddy started working a lot of overtime. At first it was five ten-hour days a week, then five twelve-hour days. Emma and I didn’t see him very much. He dragged home in the morning, kissed Emma and me, and went right to sleep. And because he was going into work earlier, there was no one at home on the nights Emma worked at the diner. Some nights I spent at Lashaundra’s. But sometimes I just went to the diner with Emma. I ate dinner and sat in a booth, watching whatever was on the television or reading until closing time.

“Hey, Jenny, do you want a brownie?” Resa asked as she walked by my table.

“No thanks.”

“Well, how ’bout some cocoa with marshmallows?”

“Okay,” I said, smiling at her over my book. “Thank you.”

“What are you reading?” she asked as she set the cocoa on the table.

“The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”
I held the cover up for her to see.

“Traveling pants? How do pants travel? Is that like Harry Potter?”

“No.” I laughed. “It’s about these four girls who are best friends. And they travel different places during the summer, and they send the pants back and forth. And the pants fit all of them, even though they’re not all the same size.”

Resa shook her head. “Why would anyone write a book about a pair of pants?”

“It’s more about the friendship,” I explained.

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “That makes more sense. You’ve got to have friends. They’re the most important thing in the world.”

Emma stopped by on her way to the kitchen. “Friends are important,” she agreed.

“Daddy always says family is the most important thing.” And by family, he meant me and him.

“Honey, let me tell you something.” Resa plopped down in the booth across from me and rested her elbows on the table.

“Boyfriends come and go. Hell, sometimes husbands come and go. But your girlfriends are your girlfriends forever, no matter what. Don’t you forget that when it comes time for you to start dating. Don’t ever let a boy get between you and your girlfriends. You hear me?”

I nodded solemnly, even though I didn’t have any girlfriends except for Lashaundra, and I was
never
going to date a boy.

“Order’s up!”

Emma and Resa hurried back to the kitchen and I returned to my book. The pants were in Greece right now with Lena. And so was I.

Later that night, I yawned and watched while Resa mopped and Emma wiped down tables.

“You know,” Emma said, “husbands don’t always come and go.”

Resa laughed. “I know, honey. But sometimes they do. I mean, look at my ex. He took off with a younger, thinner, blonder girl while I was pregnant with my first. He never even looked back.”

“That was mean,” I said.

“Well,” she said, smiling at me, “he was just my practice husband. You know, the first pancake?”

Emma laughed, but I just looked at her.

“The first pancake?”

“Okay, listen,” Resa said. “You know how when you make pancakes, the first one always gets thrown away? Either the griddle’s too hot and the pancake burns, or it’s not hot enough and the batter spreads out too thin. Either way, the pancake ends up in the trash. That’s how my first husband was. I practiced on him. Hell, we’ve all got a first pancake.”

Emma laughed, and I looked at her, suddenly afraid.

“Is Daddy your first pancake?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

“Oh, Jenny.” She leaned down to hug me. “Don’t worry. Your dad isn’t my first pancake.”

“You mean you were married to someone else?” I stared at her.

Resa stopped mopping and turned to look at Emma, too.

Emma’s cheeks colored and she stood for a minute not saying anything. Then she sat down beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

“I got married when I was very young,” she said. “I wasn’t even sixteen. And . . . it didn’t work out. So I left.”

“But I thought you ran away from home when you were seventeen.” My head was spinning.

“I did,” she said. “But not from my parents’ home. I ran away from my husband. He was not a nice man.”

“Ah,” Resa said softly.

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “That’s why I got so upset about the way Damon Rigby was with his wife. Because his wife . . . well, that was me when I was fifteen.”

“Does Daddy know?” I whispered.

Emma sighed and squeezed my shoulders.

“Not yet,” she said. “I wanted to tell him. I know I should have told him. But . . . it never seemed like the right time.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him now.” Resa’s voice was firm.

“She’s right.” Harlan’s voice made us all jump. He stood behind the booth, a towel in his hands. “The man’s got a right to know. And, if he’s a real man, it won’t matter a lick.”

As we drove home, I watched Emma carefully. She looked the same as always, but different, too. She got married when she was only four years older than me, to a man who wasn’t nice to her. I’d always thought that Emma was strong, but she seemed afraid now.

“Are you scared to tell Daddy?” I finally asked.

She nodded, and then smiled at me.

“A little bit, I guess. I should have told him a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She sat still a moment and then sighed heavily.

“I was embarrassed, I guess. It seems so stupid now. It’s just, where I was raised getting married that young was normal. And people don’t understand it. Some people I told early on treated me like I was a freak after they knew. I didn’t want to do that with your dad.”

She sighed again. “I guess I just want us to be normal, like a normal family.”

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I have to tell him. I should have told him before I told you.”

“You don’t have to tell him that I know.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to lie to Brannon. That’s no way to maintain a relationship. I’ll just . . . tell him, I guess.”

We came home to a dark trailer. Daddy was at work.

Emma changed into her pajamas and made a cup of tea. I watched her from my bed.

When she turned out the light, I said, “I don’t care about it, you being married before. And I don’t think Daddy will care, either.”

She walked to my alcove, leaned over, and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks, Jenny. That means a lot.”

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited to see what she would say. I heard her take a quick breath and when she spoke, I could tell she was crying.

“I love you, too, Jenny. And I love your dad.”

She walked to the bedroom, but she didn’t close the door. I sat up in bed and looked down the hall, to where she sat on the bed, her head in her hands. Then I saw her kneel on the floor beside the bed, fold her hands, and bow her head. She was praying.

So I prayed, too.

Dear God, if you’re there, please let Emma stay. Please don’t let her go away
.

T
he day after I told Jenny about my past, I woke up feeling anxious and tired. I’d had bad dreams all night, dreams of Colorado City, my parents, my husband, my little sister. I tried so hard not to think about the past, to let it stay in the past. But the conversation at the diner had stirred it all up again.

I rose and made coffee, sitting at the table in the trailer, listening to the soft sounds of Jenny sleeping. She was so beautiful, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders, so quiet and innocent. She was the same age Clarissa had been when I left. God, Clarissa would be almost eighteen now. I hadn’t seen her in more than six years.

The door opening startled me, and Brannon came in, the cold wind following him through the door.

“Hey, babe.” He bent over and kissed me, then dropped into the seat across from me.

“Hey,” I said, rising. “Let me get you something to eat.”

He leaned back in his seat and yawned, stretching.

“I’ve got leftover meatloaf and potatoes, or I can make you some eggs.”

“Leftovers are good,” he said. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and yawned again.

“How was work?”

“Same as always,” he said. “It’s getting busier every day, more people on the floor. Some guy almost ran me over with a cart.”

“I hate that you’re working so many hours.” I put a plate into the microwave and stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

“It’s good money,” he said. He took one of my hands and kissed it. “But I sure do miss you.”

I kissed the top of his head and whispered in his ear, “Well, Jenny was up kind of late last night, so she’s sleeping pretty soundly. We could . . .”

He kissed my hand again and shook his head. “I can’t, babe. I’m sorry. I’m just beat.”

“It’s okay. Maybe tonight Jenny can stay at the Johnsons’ and we can have some time to ourselves when you’ve had some sleep.”

It was Saturday. Brannon wouldn’t go back to work until Monday night.

“That sounds good.”

He tilted his head back and I leaned in to kiss him. Even exhausted and dusty, he was beautiful to look at.

After he’d eaten, he headed for bed, and I heard him start snoring almost the minute his head hit the pillow.

After Jenny got up and we’d had breakfast, we climbed into the SUV to drive to the local Walmart. We were going to buy decorations for Christmas, and I wanted to get Brannon’s Christmas gift.

“These are cute.” I held up a strand of star-shaped lights. Jenny nodded, and I put them into the cart.

“Look!” She pointed toward the Christmas trees, all brightly lit and shining with ornaments and tinsel. “I wish we could have one.”

“I know,” I said. “But none of those will fit inside the trailer.”

We walked among the trees, each one prettier than the one before. At the very back, we saw it—a small tree, just two feet tall, with lights of blue, purple, green, and gold. Tiny glass ornaments hung from the branches, sparkling in the lights.

“That one would fit,” Jenny said, touching an ornament with one finger.

“It’s perfect. Let’s get it.”

“Really?” She looked at me, her blue eyes wide.

“Sure, why not?” I found a boxed tree and we gathered lights and ornaments. Jenny was as excited as I’d ever seen her.

“We’ve never had a real tree before. Can we get a star for the top?”

We put a small silver star into the cart. I couldn’t help smiling, watching her prance up the store aisle. It was one of the only times I’d seen her really act like a kid.

“Now,” I said, “we need to get something for your dad.”

“You mean like a tie or something?”

I shook my head, laughing. “What would Brannon do with a tie?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I never got him anything before. Not from the store, anyway. I used to make him stuff for his birthday.”

“Homemade gifts are the best.”

She shook her head. “I want to buy him something this year. I’ve been saving my allowance. I’ve got twelve dollars.”

We wandered through the store, looking at and rejecting several shirts, world’s-best-dad coffee mugs, colognes, and baseball caps. None of them seemed right.

“Maybe we could get him some fishing gear. He likes to fish.” She looked up at me. “What do you think?”

“I think that would be a great idea if I knew anything about fishing gear. But I don’t know what he has already and what he wants.”

“How about some lures? He always likes to get lures.”

We walked through the sporting goods aisle and stopped before a vast array of fishing lures. Jenny picked them up one by one, examining each as if it were a piece of jewelry.

“They cost more than I thought,” she said, laying aside a colorful feathered lure.

“Well, I can help out some,” I said. “Just choose one you think he’ll like and we’ll get it.”

“Really?” She launched herself into my arms. “Thanks, Emma!”

After several minutes, she settled on a beautiful green lure with a red feather tail. We added it to the cart.

“What are you getting him?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean, there are things I know he’d like, but we don’t have a lot of space. So . . .” I shrugged. “Any ideas?”

“You could get him a lure, too.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s a special gift just from you. I’ll think of something else.”

We wandered through the vast store, but nothing popped out at me.

“Can we look at the books?” Jenny was already making a beeline for the book aisle. I followed her, laughing. She didn’t know it, but she was choosing her own gift just then. I watched her pick up one title and then another.

“Look!” She held up a book. “They have the second Traveling Pants book. I keep looking for it at the library, but it’s always out.”

“Hmm,” I said, trying not to smile.

“Oh my God! They have the whole set in a box!” She held the box up and ran a finger along the book spines. “All four of them.”

She looked at the price, sighed, and returned the box to the shelf.

I stood watching her, wishing I could give her the books right then and there. Instead, I would stop by after work one night that week to buy them.

I looked at the bargain books, idly wondering what Brannon might be getting for me. And then I saw a hardcover collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s works. Brannon told me one time that the only thing he had liked in high school was English, and that Poe had been his favorite.

I put the book in the cart and smiled at Jenny, still browsing. This was going to be the best Christmas I’d ever had.

That night, Jenny slept over at the Johnsons’ so I made a special dinner for Brannon—steaks seared then broiled to medium rare, baked potatoes with real butter and sour cream, a chopped salad, and some rolls.

“That smells good,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

“Well, I wanted you to have a special treat. You’ve been working too much.”

“It’s only another month,” he said. “After Christmas I’ll be lucky to get any hours at all.”

I prepared our plates and set them on the table. Then I uncorked a bottle of red wine.

We raised our glasses, and Brannon winked and said, “To Emma, my beautiful, beautiful girl. Thanks, babe. This is great.”

I took a sip of wine and a deep breath, preparing myself to finally tell him about my past. But before I could say anything, he spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about where we should go next. Michael says they’re hiring at Disney. Would you like to spend the rest of the winter in Florida?”

“Sure,” I said. “I could use some Florida sunshine after this Kentucky cold. But—” I paused, not sure if I should go on. “Angel said they may be staying here even after the season, that there’s talk of a few permanent jobs.”

“There’s always talk,” he said. “Never any jobs, though.”

“Okay. Are the Johnsons going to Florida, too?”

“Maybe.” He cut a bite of steak and raised his fork. “This is perfect, Emma. Just the way I like my steak.”

“I’m glad.”

I took another deep breath and plunged in.

“So, I’ve been thinking it’s time to tell you about my past.”

“We’ve all got pasts, babe. The only thing that matters is now.” I took a sip of wine and another breath.

“I know, but . . . well, I want to tell you.”

He chewed his steak, watching me with one eyebrow raised. “Okay,” he said finally. “Shoot.”

“You know I was raised in Arizona.”

“Yeah.”

“And I told you the town I came from is very small and kind of . . . actually, very weird.”

He nodded.

“Well, the thing is, I was raised in the FLDS, the fundamentalist Mormon church.”

“Is that like fundamentalist Baptist?” he asked.

“No, it’s like . . . nothing else. The town where I was raised is called Colorado City, and pretty much everyone who lives there is part of the church. The church owns all the land and runs the school and almost everything else.”

He set his fork down and leaned forward, frowning slightly. “Like a cult?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Exactly like a cult. The FLDS broke away from the Mormon church after the Mormons banned polygamy.”

“You mean, like one guy with a bunch of wives?”

I nodded again.

“My dad has four wives. My mom is his third.”

“God, Emma. That’s just . . . why would any woman marry a man who’s already got two wives?”

“Like you said, it’s a cult.” I struggled to keep my voice steady and wished to God I hadn’t started talking at all. How weird would Brannon think I was when he knew the whole truth?

“We were completely cut off from the outside world and taught from infancy that people outside the church were evil and wanted to hurt us,” I explained. “And the only way for a woman to get to heaven was through her husband. I know, it sounds crazy. But like I said, we were isolated. The leader of the church, we called him the prophet, his word was law, and he decided who got married to who and when. So when the prophet told my mom to marry my father, she did. It was all she knew, and she was only eighteen. I mean, we didn’t have news from outside, we didn’t even have televisions. We were completely isolated.”

He watched me, his eyes wide.

“So, how did you get out without getting married?” he asked.

“I didn’t.”

He stared at me, his mouth open.

“You were married?”

I nodded.

“When I was fifteen, I was married to a man named Micah. He already had four wives. He was sixty-three when I married him. And he was as mean as a snake.”

I watched Brannon absorb this, willing myself to go on.

“And that’s not all.”

He said nothing, just stared at me.

“When I was sixteen, I got pregnant.”

“Oh my God! You have a kid?”

Brannon rose now, staring down at me.

“No, that is, I mean . . . I did. I had a baby. His name was Andrew. He only lived a few weeks and then he died of respiratory failure. Micah wouldn’t let me take him to the hospital. Instead, he prayed over him and told me that would make him better. But it didn’t. My baby died.”

Brannon sat down again and reached for my hands.

“Oh my God, Emma,” he said. “That’s awful. I mean, it’s unbelievable. You had a baby at sixteen and then lost him? I’m . . . I don’t even know what to say.”

I squeezed his hands, feeling the tears start.

“After Andrew died, I decided I was going to die, too. I didn’t want to live. But I was too afraid. I was afraid if I killed myself, I’d go to hell for all eternity, and then I’d never see my baby again. But something in me broke when he died, and I knew I had to get out of Colorado City, out of the church, and away from Micah. I just couldn’t stay.

“Micah started talking about having another baby almost as soon as Andrew was dead, like that would just make it all fine. He said the next time I’d be a better mother and have a healthy child, that it was my lack of faith that killed my baby. And I
hated
him! My God,
he’s
the reason Andrew died. He wouldn’t let me take my baby to the doctor. And I thought if I had to have sex with him even one more time, I’d probably kill him and then I’d kill myself.

“So one morning when Micah was in Canada on church business, before everyone else in the house got up, I snuck out. I stole one of Micah’s cars and drove to the interstate. It was only an hour away, but it felt like forever. I was so scared someone would see me and stop me. Even the police force there is part of the church. If I got stopped, I’d be taken back and I probably wouldn’t ever have another chance to leave.”

My shoulders shook and I let the tears fall. I didn’t even bother wiping them away. It had been years since I’d told anyone about Micah. Just saying his name out loud was scary. I took a deep breath to steady myself. Brannon stared at me.

“Anyway,” I continued, “when I got to the highway, I left the car on the shoulder and started walking north. I’d walked a couple hours when a woman in a van stopped and asked if I needed a ride. At first I said no. I thought she might be from the church, or that she might try to hurt me. Like I said, we were taught that outsiders were evil. But she asked again, and then she asked if I was all right. Should she call the police for me? I didn’t want her to call the police! We were still too close to Colorado City. So I got in her car and she drove me up to Salt Lake City.

“A cousin of mine who left the church a long time ago lives in the city there, so I looked up her name in the phone book and called her. She helped me find a job and a place to live. I was always afraid Micah would come find me, but I guess I was too much of a bother. Thank God of it! Anyway, I left Colorado City, and I never went back. I haven’t seen my mother or my sisters or anyone from there in more than six years.”

I waited for what felt like a very long time, waited to hear what Brannon would say. Part of me just knew he would kick me out right then and there. I waited to see “the look” cross his face—that mix of pity and fear and horror I’d seen the few times I’d told anyone about my past. I waited and I cried and I prayed.

And then he stood and pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead and my cheeks. And I saw tears streaming down his face, too.