Sundry Days

by Donna Callea

  They bring in outside women sometimes when there’s a shortage, she notes wryly.

  After Willa is wed, there won’t be another girl old enough to be a bride for at least a few years. So I suppose I’ll come in handy.

  “We women are interchangeable to them,” she says, “as long as we’re fertile. They prefer wives to be young and pretty, of course. But usually they have to take what they can get.”

  Trula looks as if she had been pretty once. Now she just looks tired, worn out and bitter. She tells me she’s 35, but probably won’t make it to 45. And not as a result of natural causes.

  When there are more girls coming of age than there are men ascending to master status—which happens from time to time—it’s not unusual for a wife who’s past her prime to die in her sleep so her husband can take advantage of the surplus, according to Trula.

  “They have pills for that, you know, in Winnipeg,” she says. “The men can get them. The women take them. I’m pretty sure that will happen to me someday.”

  Trula says the widow of the man her husband replaced was lucky.

  “That’s her over there.” She points with her chin to one of the black-clad women. Widows are put to use cooking and cleaning for the single men.

  “She really resents me, though, for taking over her house. Can’t say I blame her too much.”

  Trula says she wishes she’d stayed in Winnipeg.

  “The only good that came to me here was my babies. This one will be my fourth. But what kind of happiness are they going to have in this place, unless one of my boys is lucky enough to grow up to be righteous?” She spits out the word. “And I pray I don’t have a girl.”

  Being a woman isn’t easy wherever you are, we both agree. But some places are a lot worse than others.

  When the time for socializing ends, and we’re all herded back home, I try again to catch David’s eye. He’s surrounded by men. They’re making sure he doesn’t get anywhere near me.

  How are we ever going to get out of here?

  Then I notice young Caleb, standing by himself, not too far from David.

  Because they’re so close in age, Willa and Caleb talk sometimes at home when Walter’s not around. They’re fond of each other. He tells her what he’s been doing during the day. He helps care for the animals, works in the fields when needed, and sometimes runs errands, sprinting between the mill and the hydro-works. He has a certain degree of freedom during the day.

  He’d never directly disobey Walter, or misbehave unless he had a good reason. Or an incentive.

  An idea occurs to me.

  It’s not much. It may not work. But it’s all I have for now.

  Chapter 29

  Rebekah

  Seducing Caleb

  I feel a little guilty telling Willa what I plan to do—what I want her to do. I don’t like having to involve her. She’s a good girl. She’s very afraid of Walter. And she’d never want her brother to get into trouble.

  But there’s no way I can help it. I need her cooperation.

  “Oh no, Rebekah,” she protests, clearly shocked and not a little distressed when I tell her what’s on my mind. “That’s wicked. How can you do that?”

  I know that Caleb won’t help me unless I give him a very compelling reason to do what I ask. Why would he? So I’m planning to offer him something a boy his age likely won’t be able to refuse.

  As soon as the opportunity presents itself—when Walter’s not around and Sally is in another part of the house—Willa will tell Caleb to come to the kitchen. She’ll say that it’s important for him to listen to what I have to say—that he won’t regret it. And then she’ll stand guard.

  Willa knows that David and I love each other. She knows that I intend to escape with him, no matter how impossible and dangerous that might be. She’s heard me say over and over that I’d rather die than stay, and she knows I mean it. I don’t let up. Willa and I have become close during the time I’ve been here, and I think we both feel a real bond. Almost like sisters. I’m older and much more worldly than she is. She trusts me. Eventually she relents, and becomes my co-conspirator.

  It happens the next day.

  “What do you want?” asks Caleb, clearly puzzled when he comes into the kitchen. Why would the used woman from the evil outside world want to talk to him? He’s never before exchanged a word with me. And his father, no doubt, has warned him to keep his distance.

  But he’s a curious boy—a growing boy whose voice is changing and body is maturing. Puberty happens in Eden Falls the same as it does in the Coalition.

  “I need you to help me,” I say.

  “Why should I help you? Why do you need help?”

  “My friend, David, who came here with me, is worried about me. I could tell from the way he looked at me in the meeting house on the Sabbath how worried he is. We can’t talk to each other, of course. But we’ve been very good friends for a long time. And I want to send him a message. Just to let him know that I miss him. To let him know how I’m doing.”

  “I’m not stupid,” says Caleb. “I know that you’re used. I know he’s not just a good friend. He’s probably the one who used you. And I’m not doing anything that will get me in trouble. Why should I?”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “But if you give David a message from me, I’ll give you something you won’t soon forget.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll let you see my naked breasts up close. I’ll bet you’ve never seen naked breasts. I’ll bet no boys your age, or even much older, have ever seen breasts.”

  He’s speechless. He blushes. He looks a my chest, and I know he’s imagining what’s underneath the coarse brown fabric of my dress.”

  “If you agree to give David this little message I’ve written, I’ll unbutton my dress and let you see my breasts. You can stand right next to me. And, if you bring back a reply from David, I’ll let you touch one of them.”

  He’s biting his lips now. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but he’s already got a bulge in his pants.

  “You must be a sinful woman,” he says. I don’t disagree.

  “So will you do it?”

  He nods. I unbutton my dress.

  I let him take a really long, hard look—not just a fleeting glance.

  “Remember,” I tell him. “When you come back with a message from David, I’ll let you touch one of them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He nods again, speechless. I button up, and hand him the folded up note.

  “Don’t let anyone see you give this to him. You can find him, right?”

  “I can find him,” Caleb assures me as he regains his composure enough to ask me how it is that I know how to write. Women aren’t supposed to read or write.

  “Women can do a lot of things you don’t think they can do, Caleb. Keep that in mind as you get older.”

  I remind him again that secrecy is of the utmost importance as he sets out on his mission. He’ll get in as much trouble as I will if he’s caught.

  It only takes a day before Caleb makes arrangements with his sister to meet me again in the kitchen.

  “I got it,” he says proudly—looking smug and anxious.

  I take a quick look at the note he hands me to make sure it’s really from David.

  “Good work,” I say.

  I’m not thrilled about our bargain. I’m not proud that I’m manipulating this boy who’s not yet 13, and letting myself be used this way. What I’m doing is not that much different from what the women at the Birch and Bay do, giving part of myself for a price. David would be appalled. Someday I’ll have to tell him. But what choice do I have? There’s no other way.

  If David and I can keep exchanging messages, we can make a plan. We can figure out how to get out of here together.

  I unbutton my dress.

  Caleb shuffles nervously in front of me.

  “Now?” he asks.

  “Now,” I say.

  He takes his hand—a blunt-
fingered, pubescent hand that has at least been washed reasonably clean—and places it lightly on my left breast over the nipple. I let him keep it there for a few seconds, until he gets carried away and gives it a squeeze.

  “None of that,” I warn sternly.

  “Sorry,” he says. “When do you think you’ll want me to deliver the next message?”

  Chapter 30

  Rebekah

  Wedding Preparations

  Our best chance, maybe our only chance to escape, will be during the wedding.

  It’s an all-day affair. The ceremony will be a long one, according to Willa. There will be pontificating on the sacredness of one man-one woman marriage, and speeches by the Righteous Ones on the proper behavior of a wife. Then, after the ceremony, there’ll be a big communal feast. People will be in a happy mood—as happy as they get around here, anyway. The men will be ogling the prepubescent girls. From a distance, of course. And they’ll also be partaking of some libations obtained from Winnipeg just for the occasion.

  The women, meanwhile, will be allowed to go off by themselves and visit with each other for as long as they like until sundown.

  There’s a good chance David and I will be able to slip away unnoticed, thanks to our ever-faithful courier, Caleb.

  He’s agreed to charge our sun-cycle—he knows how—and put an extra sun-cell on it. He’ll make sure it’s in a spot where we can get at it.

  I’ve told Caleb not to tell David about how I’m rewarding him for his services—especially the extra-special reward he’ll be getting for taking care of the sun-cycle.

  I’ll tell David myself when the time comes. Caleb says David hasn’t asked. Maybe he thinks the boy is just good-hearted and wants to be of help. But I doubt it. He’s been giving him stuff, like his extra razor. He’s also been trying to build a rapport with him, spending extra time with him, explaining things to him about the hydro-works and how the mill operates.

  Caleb likes that. For now, he’s probably the happiest little citizen of Eden Falls. And, with any luck, no one will ever find out that he’s been our go-between.

  David has been pretending to adjust to life here. He’s written to me about all the incentives Jacob has promised him—how he’s been assured that he can become a Righteous One when he’s older. So he’s stopped asking about me—stopped staring at me during Sabbath services. David is supposed to move in with the single men after Jacob and Willa get married. He’s been making friends with some of them. Finding things out—like where the landmarks are between here and Winnipeg. He’s got our backpacks.

  Willa is understandably terrified about her upcoming nuptials. Sally tells her she’ll be fine. That they’ll still see each other every Sabbath. But I can tell she’s grieving for the life her daughter will have to live.

  I think Sally is hoping Walter won’t die until she’s old enough to remain a widow. Maybe someday, after Willa has birthed enough babies and Walter has finally died, she’ll get to live with her daughter again. Widows are sometimes allowed to become helpers in households with lots of children. That’s the best she can hope for.

  But I worry for Willa. She’s not built for childbearing yet. Her hips are still too narrow. Her breasts are still very small. She only started menstruating this year. Some girls take longer than others to mature. There’s a reason females aren’t required to marry in the Coalition until they’re 18.

  So the day before the wedding, I plan to give her a gift.

  In my last message to David, I asked him to take three of the smallest sponges from my backpack, wrap them up so they can fit in Caleb’s pocket, and give them to him along with his message.

  David must wonder why I want them now. Or maybe not. I’ll explain later—assuming there is a later for us. I’m just relieved when he does what I said.

  Caleb hands me the package, not in the least curious about what’s inside. He’s only got one thing on his mind. I put the sponges aside.

  Willa, as usual, is standing guard. She’s extremely nervous. So am I. This will take a little longer than the usual breast squeeze.

  I sigh, roll my eyes at Caleb, who’s standing where I told him to—more than an arm’s length away—and unbutton my dress. Then I slip it off my shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and step out of it. I’m stark naked.

  Caleb’s eyes are open wide enough for his eyeballs to pop out of his head. He’s breathing hard. His jaw hangs open.

  “Stay where you are,” I warn. He does as he’s told. I don’t think he could move now, even if he wanted to. I take that back. He clearly wants to. He just can’t.

  I turn around slowly. I’ve promised him a view from the back as well as the front.

  “Seen enough?”

  He can’t speak.

  I pull my dress back on, and button up. But Caleb still hasn’t moved.

  “I love you, Rebekah,” he finally croaks out in a breaking voice that doesn’t know yet whether it belongs to a boy or a man. He looks as if he might cry.

  “No, you don’t, Caleb,” I say as kindly as I can.

  “Listen, little man. Someday I hope you will have a woman of your own. If you do, try to love her. Because if you love her, and she loves you back, what can happen between you will be much more pleasurable than anything you can ever imagine. Far, far better than regular old sex. No matter what the other boys and men tell you.”

  I’m not sure if he hears me, or if he has any understanding of what I’m saying.

  But Willa does.

  Later, when we’re alone, she cries in my arms.

  “I’m afraid, Rebekah, really afraid. What if Jacob never loves me? What if he beats me? What if it hurts more than I can stand when he does his duty? We’ve never even said a word to each other. He doesn’t know me. I don’t know him.”

  What can I say to her?

  “Willa,” I sigh. “You’re a beautiful girl inside and out. You’re a girl who’s very easy to love. Jacob would be a fool if he doesn’t grow to love you. And in the meantime, you need to do everything you can to love yourself.”

  She looks at me as if I’ve said something in a language she doesn’t understand. So I go into more detail.

  “By loving yourself, I mean you should be good to yourself and take care of yourself, because no one else here will. I also mean that even after you’re married you should feel free to pleasure yourself, if you feel the need. You do that now sometimes, don’t you, when you’re all alone?”

  She blushes, but nods.

  “Mama says it’s evil for a girl to touch herself except to wash.”

  “But you do it anyway, privately. You touch yourself or rub yourself in a way that feels very good. Maybe the whole general area, or maybe mostly the little nub at the top between your folds?”

  “We shouldn’t talk about that.” She blushes even deeper now.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, Willa. And it’s not evil, no matter what your mother or anyone else says. Why would it be evil? Your body belongs to you. All of it. And if you can get your most intimate parts to respond pleasurably all by yourself, it’s more likely those parts will eventually respond to your husband, if he’s not a total clod. Men aren’t the only ones who are supposed to have a good time during sex. We women are made the way we are so we can enjoy it, too.”

  I’ve told her before that sex can be a joyful thing, and she didn’t believe me. I’m not sure she believes me now. But at least the idea has been planted in her head.

  Then I show her the sponges, explain what they’re for, and tell her how to use them.

  “Jacob won’t know you’ve got one inside of you, unless he decides to stick his finger in there. Which is highly unlikely. He won’t be able to feel the sponge with his penis, not in any kind of way that would make him suspicious. So whenever you think he’s going to want sex, put in a sponge ahead of time.”

  I make her try one out. We soak it in some vinegar first, so it’s soft and pliable. I tell her about the herbal concoction, but vinegar is e
asier to get and probably works just as well.

  She has trouble at first getting the sponge where it’s meant to be. She’s very tight inside. But eventually she gets the hang of it.

  I tell her that if she can, she should try to make herself slick before hand. It’ll help the sponge go in easier, and Jacob, too.

  “Please, Willa, use the sponges and don’t have any babies until you’re older and your body is ready.”

  “But won’t everyone think it’s strange when I don’t conceive. Won’t Jacob get mad at me for not getting pregnant right away?”

  “Tell him that you’re too young inside. He won’t mind if he’s having a good time with you in bed—if you’re trying to have a good time, too.”

  She promises me she’ll try to do what I say.

  I won’t be sorry to leave this place tomorrow. But I will be sorry to say goodbye to Willa.

  I don’t usually pray. But before I fall asleep, I have a little talk with The Designer—who I’m sure must be female and just as upset as I am about the way things have turned out here on Earth.

  “If you can,” I say, “please look after Willa. And please help David and me get out of this place safely. I’ll try to return the favor.”

  I dream that night of sponges and a little boy who grows up to worship women.

  Chapter 31

  David

  Escape

  She’s wearing that awful yellow dress, but she blends in with the other women—a sea of blue and black, with Willa in white at the center. The women will all walk into the meeting house soon, in a kind of procession before the ceremony. We men file in first. I sit as near to the door as I can. No one will be paying any attention to me this morning.

  Jacob is so happy and excited he can hardly contain himself. This is his big day.

  “Someday, this could be you,” he tells me, “marrying a sweet little thing, young enough to last you the rest of your life. Willa’s just 14, bless her. That means, if I’m lucky, she’ll stay fertile and pretty until I’m too old to care. That’s what The Designer intends. He’s smiled down upon me, David, smiled down on me. I’m a blessed man.”