“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 tha
t 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.
“Oh, Emma,” he whispered. “Oh, babe, I can’t stand that you had to go through all that. I can’t stand that you lost your baby. I wish I could give him back to you. I wish I could kill the bastard you married, or your father, or the damned prophet! I wish I could kill them all!”
I leaned into his chest and cried, more relieved than I’d ever felt in my life. He knew, Brannon knew, and he still loved me.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Don’t!” His voice was loud. It shook with anger, and I stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he said more gently. “I just can’t stand for you to apologize for things that weren’t your fault. You were just a kid, Emma.”
He took my chin and raised it, so that I had to look him straight in the eyes.
“You were a child, and someone should have protected you. Your father should have protected you. Your mother should have protected you. None of it is your fault, and you have nothing to apologize for.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“Oh, babe,” he crooned, hugging me tightly. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. We’re together now, and I will never, never let anyone hurt you again.”
“I love you,” I said into his chest. “God, Brannon, I love you so much. And I love Jenny, too. I just feel so lucky to have you guys.”
“Shhhh,” he said, pulling me toward the bedroom.
We left our steaks mostly uneaten on the table and made love as the last of the late afternoon sun streamed through the small window. And after, I lay with my head on his chest knowing that finally, I was safe. I was home.
15
Jenny
On Christmas morning, Emma and I went with Mrs. Johnson, Lashaundra, and Malcolm to Happy Days for breakfast. Daddy and Mr. Johnson both had to work the night before, so they were still sleeping.
“You can’t even stay away from us on Christmas?” Resa grinned at us as we walked in.
“I’m just glad you’re open,” Emma said, hugging her. “We had to get the kids out before they woke up Brannon and Michael. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you, hon!” Resa hugged her back, then hugged me and Lashaundra. Then she hugged Mrs. Johnson and Malcolm.
“I’m surprised so many people are out on Christmas morning,” Mrs. Johnson said. The restaurant was about half full.
“Well, a lot of folks are like you,” Resa said, showing us to a table. “Their men work nights, and they got to get the kids out of the house in the morning. We do pretty good business on Christmas.”
“Order’s up!” Harlan’s voice called from the kitchen, and Resa disappeared to the back.
“Hey, Emma, can I get some coffee?” A man sitting in the next booth grinned at her.
“She ain’t working today, dumb ass!” Resa swatted the man as she passed, carrying a tray.
Emma smiled and sat down beside me.
“How long have you been working here?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
“Just a month,” Emma said.
“Well, it seems like everyone knows you.”
I looked around the restaurant, and Mrs. Johnson was right. Everyone there did know Emma, and they knew me, too, because I came in with her so often. I grinned at Jerry Burns and his wife, Coral, sitting in the booth across from us and they smiled back.
“Merry Christmas, Jenny,” Coral called.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Burns!”
It felt good to be someplace where everyone knew me. It felt like home.
“Goddamn it, woman! Look what you done!” A man’s voice rang through the restaurant. I looked toward the front and saw Damon Rigby rise from his seat, wiping coffee from his lap. Standing before him, Merilee held a coffeepot. Merilee was the oldest waitress at Happy Days. I guessed she must be in her eighties, but Emma said, no, she was only fifty-nine.
Merilee immediately began wiping off the table. “I’m sorry, Damon,” she said. “Let me get you a fresh cup.”
Mr. Rigby simply glared at her, then glared at his wife.
“Get your coat, Shirley,” he yelled. “This place has gone to the dogs!”
He stared hard at Merilee, then turned and stared directly at Mrs. Johnson and Lashaundra.
Mrs. Johnson said nothing. She simply returned his stare, her eyes never dropping. After a long minute, Emma rose and stood between them.
“Let me get you some more coffee,” she said, walking toward Mr. Rigby.
But he only pushed her aside and stomped out the front door, his wife still struggling to get her coat on.
“Goddamn it, Shirley!” His voice boomed from outside. “I said let’s go!”
Mrs. Rigby started digging through her purse to pay the bill, but Merilee touched her hand, shook her head, and smiled. “Go on, Shirley. It’s on the house.”
Emma came back and sat down in the booth. Resa stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the front door, then went on with her order. Eventually, people went back to their breakfasts, talking in low voices about what a jerk Mr. Rigby was.
“You all right?” Emma asked softly.
“I’m fine,” Mrs. Johnson said, nodding at her. “Not the first time, won’t be the last time. Now”—she smiled at her children—“what do you-all want for breakfast? You want pancakes, Malcolm?”
After a huge breakfast, we walked around downtown for a little while. Colored lights twinkled from the trees and lampposts under a light dusting of snow. Finally, we headed back to the trailer park. Lashaundra hugged me and made me promise to come over later so we could compare notes on what we got for Christmas. Then Emma unlocked the trailer door and tiptoed inside.
Daddy was already up, drinking coffee. He’d turned on the Christmas lights, and the room spar
kled in shades of blues and greens.
“Merry Christmas, babe!” He rose and wrapped his arms around Emma, then pulled me into the hug. “Merry Christmas to my two best girls!”
“I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” Emma said. “If I’d known, we’d have waited for you.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “It’s Christmas, and I feel like I’m a kid.”
“Can we open presents?” I asked, fully expecting him to say no, we should wait until later.
Instead, he laughed and nodded. “Sure, honey. Let’s open some presents.”
I ran to my bed and pulled out the two packages I had wrapped in bright red pepper.
We sat in the tiny living room, where our little Christmas tree held center stage. Looking around the room that morning, I was happier than I ever remembered being. I had a friend. People in town knew me. Emma and Daddy were happy. It felt like we were a real family.
“Here, open this first!” I handed Daddy a box.
“Hmmm,” he said, shaking the box and holding it to his ear. “What is it?”
“Open it and see!”
“No clues?” He grinned at me and I shook my head.
“Well, okay then.” He tore off the paper and opened the box Emma had found to disguise the shape of the lure.
“Hey!” He grinned again. “That’s great, Jenny. How did you know that’s just what I wanted?”
He opened his arms and I ran into them and we hugged.
“Now you open yours,” I said, handing Emma another box.
“You got something for me?” She took the box and kissed my cheek. “Honey, you didn’t need to do that.”
I just smiled at her, watching her unwrap the present.
She opened the box and took a sharp breath. Then she held up the glass ornament of a horse, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, Jenny,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful! Thank you!”
“Daddy helped me choose it,” I said.
“It’s perfect!” Emma rose and carefully hung the tiny horse on the Christmas tree. Then she stepped back and admired it, not even bothering to wipe away the tears dripping from her chin.
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