Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2)

by Melissa Brown

  The air whooshed from my lungs, collapsing my chest, and the temple spun. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. How could this be happening? How could he do this?

  No. No. No. No. No. She’s just a baby!

  My arm shot across Susan’s chest to grasp Ruthie’s elbow. I squeezed.

  You can’t take my baby!

  “Mama?” Ruthie whispered loudly, rising from her seat. “What are you doing?”

  “Sit down,” I hissed sat her through clenched teeth.

  “Mama, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Let go of me.”

  “Aspen, stop,” Paul scolded, his voice low so only those around us could hear. His eyes were cold, stern, and unwavering.

  I was embarrassing him, embarrassing the entire family. And it wasn’t the first time I had done so. That reality crashed into me and I loosened the grip on my daughter, forcing an obligatory half smile as Ruthie jumped to her feet and ran to join the Prophet in front of the congregation.

  Flora led the rest of our community in a round of applause and I glared at her, furious. I wanted to scream at her, at all of them. How could they approve of such a union?

  She’s too young! I wanted to shout. How can you support such a thing?

  I stared at my precious girl, beaming from the pulpit. Tears burned my eyes as I fixated on her bashful grin and red cheeks. She was enjoying this. Too much.

  “Now, Ruthie, do you understand the revelation that our Lord has revealed to me?”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Um, I think so, sir.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think the Lord revealed?”

  “That we are to be married, sir?” Ruthie stopped fidgeting and looked at up him with stars in her eyes.

  Stop it, baby, no!

  “And how old are you, my dear?”

  “Eleven and a half,” she croaked.

  “Yes, and the Lord stated that it’s not time for us to be joined. Not quite yet, anyway.”

  His callous smirk made my stomach churn. My fingers trembled in my lap as he took Ruthie’s hand in his and continued to speak.

  “But on your thirteenth birthday, you will become my wife, and it will be a glorious occasion. How do you feel about this news?”

  The redness in Ruthie’s cheeks deepened and she stared down at her feet. “I—I’m honored, sir.”

  “As you should be, dear.” The Prophet nodded, releasing his grip on her hand and smoothing down her hair. “As you should be. The Lord only chooses the most worthy of women to marry the Prophet.”

  I couldn’t allow my daughter to marry anyone at such a young age, especially the Prophet. But did I have a choice?

  A boulder formed in the pit of my stomach when I realized that I had absolutely no say in the matter. Despite the wrongness of it all, my daughter was engaged . . . engaged! . . . at the tender age of eleven.

  A small voice inside me wondered if this had something to do with what I saw, with the man by the tree, with the Prophet’s threat in my backyard as he gripped my arm and warned me that my life could change in an instant. He’d warned me to be careful. And now he’d shown me what he’d do to keep me quiet.

  Once again, I was reminded of his power. His absolute power.

  • • •

  “I need to speak with you. Immediately,” I whispered into Paul’s ear as he mingled with groups of men in our congregation, and he merely grunted and walked away.

  I knew he was avoiding me and the inevitable confrontation between us. He knew I was disgusted, confounded, and alarmed by this announcement. He knew that strife was on the horizon, that it would seize our marriage once again, holding us in its darkened grasp.

  And we would never be the same.

  “Well, well, well,” a familiar snooty voice said.

  I turned to see Leandra, my former sister wife, her hand firmly in Lehi’s grasp. My first husband and I hadn’t seen each other since I left his home, and this was not a happy reunion. He glared at me as Leandra continued to speak, her tone snide.

  “What an honor for you, dear Aspen.”

  Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

  I covered my horror with a blanket of sweetness. “Indeed. An unexpected one, but an honor nonetheless.”

  Leandra tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you marry the brother of the Prophet. You must be so very . . . proud.”

  Lehi’s nostrils flared at Leandra’s words. The two of them were desperate for the Prophet’s approval at any cost. If Lehi could have married Ruthie off at the age of eight, he wouldn’t have hesitated if it meant pleasing the Prophet. I could see in my former husband’s eyes—he felt cheated out of this honor, this privilege of marrying a daughter off to the Prophet.

  We locked eyes, and I ignored Leandra’s words. “You look well, Lehi.”

  “Elder Cluff.” He corrected me sternly, insisting I use the formal greeting usually reserved for acquaintances.

  “My apologies,” I deadpanned. “Elder Cluff. Well, this has been a most blessed reunion, but I must be going. I have to find my daughter.”

  As I said the words, I searched Lehi’s face for a reaction, but there was nothing. He didn’t miss his daughters, their affection, their smiles. He was a cold and bitter man, and a man I was relieved to no longer call my husband.

  “Do come for a visit, Aspen. We simply must catch up,” Leandra called after me as I walked away.

  Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

  After searching for several minutes, I found Ruthie below a tree, surrounded by a large circle of girls her age. They were asking questions, fawning over her as if she’d been named royalty.

  She has, Aspen. Your daughter will, for all intents and purposes, become royalty when she turns thirteen.

  A shiver ran down my spine as I watched her. She was glowing as she fielded questions and a multitude of compliments from the girls who wanted to impress the Prophet’s latest betrothed.

  Their excited chatter ran through my head. Are you excited? You must be so excited! Will you wear a special braid? Did you know this would happen? Will your mother sew a dress? Will you have your own room? The house is so grand! You’re so beautiful, Ruthie; it’s no wonder you were chosen.

  I cleared my throat. “Ruthie, dear, it’s time to go.”

  Ruthie sighed, and her head tilted back in frustration as her shoulders slumped. “Please, Mama, just a few more minutes. The girls and I were just—”

  “No, now. We’re needed at home. There are chores to be done.”

  “Did you ask the Prophet? Surely, he wouldn’t want me to leave prematurely.” She raised her eyebrows, challenging me as the girls’ mouths dropped open at her defiance.

  It’s starting already . . .

  With no hesitation, I grabbed her by the elbow, digging my fingernails into the sleeve of her dress, and dragged her away from the crowd of young girls.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me!”

  “Keep your voice down,” I hissed, keeping my voice low so that those we passed by wouldn’t hear our conversation. “Now, you listen to me. You may be set to marry the Prophet, but you are still my daughter, and you will mind me. When I say it’s time to go, you go. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “When we get home, you will go straight to your room, do you understand?”

  “But the chores. You said—”

  “I know what I said. And I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  When we reached her bedroom, I stepped inside with her and closed the door behind me.

  “Mama, I don’t understand. Everyone is happy for me but you. Why aren’t you happy?” Tears formed in her eyes.

  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 someon
e—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 thi
s 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.”

  Chapter 12

  “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.