L'Oro Verde
Page 25
“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.
When we returned to our room to wash up, I sat down on my bed and reached under my pillow. Grabbing my mother’s wool scarf and kneading the material between my fingers, I put my face down close and inhaled what I remembered of my mother’s scent.
*
Those first few years were quiet. I watched my peers and followed what they did. I attended school and was good at my lessons. And needless to say, I did not flirt with boys. In spite of the dependable and therefore comforting cycle of seasons, my life would change forever one November when a young orphan came to stay at our dwelling. She would bring the best and worst of the world among us, and I would slowly begin to realize just how stifling the rules set down by my new family had become.
Also by Coralie Hughes Jensen:
Lety’s Gift 2012 (Reprint)
Passup Point 2012 (Reprint)
Winter Harvest 2012 (Reprint)
The Pukeko 2013
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