by Fleur Beale
‘Rebecca!’
They were embracing me, all three of them — Daniel, Miriam and Esther. They kept their arms around me, leading me up stairs, along corridors, down stairs and out again into the wind.
Miriam kept saying, ‘You’re safe now. It’s okay, you’re safe now.’
Esther said, ‘Hate to say it, Rebecca, but that’s one god-awful dress you’re wearing.’
‘Gently, Kirby,’ Daniel said. ‘Watch your language for a day or two.’
‘Sorry, kid,’ my cousin said.
I wanted to tell her it was all right. I wanted to tell her how much her ideas had helped me. Tomorrow. It could all wait until tomorrow.
‘We’re taking you to our aunt and uncle,’ Daniel said. ‘They’ll help you like they helped us.’
‘They’re truly good people, Rebecca,’ Miriam said.
I couldn’t take their words in. I was too tired to make sense of anything.
Daniel drove. It felt like we were back in Wanganui, with him at the wheel and Miriam sitting in the back seat with me.
It was bliss to have my sister’s arm around me and my brother’s steady hands guiding the car. We soon left behind the flat land to follow winding roads up a steep hill. Eventually, Daniel pulled up outside a house with a little tower on top. The girls helped me out. A man and two women came hurrying out. Daniel told me they were my Uncle Jim, my Aunt Nina, and Esther’s mother Ellen.
The women took one look at me and bustled me away. ‘Sleep,’ Ellen said.
Nina turned down the bed. The nightdress she gave me had tiny blue flowers printed on it. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had time to get you anything of your own yet,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid this will be too big.’
‘It’s pretty. Thank you.’ It must have belonged to her. She was taller and sturdier than me.
I slept.
Miriam woke me some time later, stroking my face and crooning, ‘Wake up, little sister. You can eat, then sleep some more.’ She helped me put on a pale pink dressing gown.
I ran my hand over the fabric. ‘It’s so soft. Magdalene would …’
Miriam put her arms around me. ‘I know, Rebecca. Believe me, I understand.’ She took me to the bathroom. ‘I’ll come back for you in a minute.’
I looked around the first bathroom I’d ever been to in a worldly house. It wasn’t so different, except for the mirror. I wasn’t ready to look in a mirror.
Miriam was waiting for me. She led me to the dining room. Daniel said grace, a short and simple one Father wouldn’t have approved of. ‘We give thanks for food, friendship and family. We welcome Rebecca and give thanks she is with us. Amen.’
I was still dazed with tiredness. Somebody put food on my plate and I found I was hungry.
‘Back to bed with you,’ Esther’s mother said as soon as the meal was over.
Miriam and Esther took me back to the bedroom, helped me out of the dressing gown and tucked me up as if I was Zillah’s age.
Thirty-two
ALL I DID FOR THE NEXT three days was sleep, eat, shower and sleep some more. None of them minded. They cared for me and asked no questions.
I was awake enough at one stage to hear Miriam tell me she had clothes for me. ‘Just something to wear until we can go into town.’
I remembered the girls at the market in their fairy dresses. I remembered too Rachel’s choice of a bikini top and shorts when we’d played our secret game at the market. I didn’t care what clothes Miriam had for me, so long as there was no plain white wedding dress.
On Wednesday I woke early in the evening, got up, showered, washed my hair, plaited it into a braid, then picked up the clothes that Miriam had laid out for me. An ankle-length skirt, long-sleeved tee-shirt and lacy underwear — probably my sister’s own.
I got dressed, praying — hoping — I wasn’t taking more steps along the path to damnation. What was true? My mind wasn’t any clearer about what to believe.
I hesitated in my doorway. I couldn’t show myself to others dressed as I was.
Yes. I could. I must. I was worldly now and these clothes were very modest by worldly standards.
Before I lost courage I found my way to the rest of the family.
‘Ah, you’re awake,’ Aunt Nina said. ‘Excellent. You’re just in time for dinner.’
There were only five of us — me, my brother and sister, my uncle and aunt.
Miriam noticed me looking around and said, ‘You’ll see Kirby often, Rebecca. She and her mum live quite close to us.’
I’d have to get used to calling her Kirby, although I suspected she’d always be Esther in my heart.
During the meal they let me be quiet while they chatted about the events of the day. To them, it all seemed normal, this talk of ordinary, everyday happenings. Even my brother and sister could have no idea of how my mind was stretching, just trying to make sense of words such as lecture, lab session, assignment, deadline.
But Daniel seemed to be aware of the question I’d wanted answered from the moment he’d been cast out, because he said, ‘Studying medicine was the right choice for me, little sister. It was hard to leave but it was the right thing to do.’
Yes. He was different now. He no longer gave the impression of using huge effort to hold the pieces of himself together.
‘Damaris has a son,’ I said. Stupid to tell him that. He wouldn’t want to be reminded of her — he’d been expelled for refusing to marry her.
He surprised me. ‘Did she marry Gideon? He’s much more suitable for her than I was. I hope she’ll have a good life.’
Miriam put a plate of fresh fruit salad and ice cream in front of me. ‘Eat that, Rebecca. It’s good, and you need fattening up.’
I obeyed. I wasn’t ready to ask her if she regretted choosing art over her family. But she too knew the turmoil in my head. ‘Sometimes you don’t have a choice. You can’t fit yourself into the box for a moment longer. If only they’d let me draw, if I could have painted, I’d still be there.’
‘And married to Jairus,’ Daniel said.
My spoon fell with a clatter. ‘Jairus? You were to marry him?’
She pulled a face. ‘He’d asked Father for me. He was devout, godly, a good worker …’
‘And totally brainless,’ Daniel said.
‘He married a girl from Nelson. They’ve got a couple of little ones now.’ I’d looked after both the children in the nursery.
Miriam swished the memory away with a wave of her hand. ‘I wish them well. My life’s exciting now. I’m at design school. It challenges my mind. I love it.’
They told me Kirby had finished her first year at uni. ‘But she’s taking a gap year next year. She’s going to teach English in Japan.’
My head began to ache. So much new information. So many new ideas. All three of them — Daniel, Miriam and Esther — were doing what they themselves wanted, not what the Lord wanted.
Uncle Jim said, ‘Try not to worry, Rebecca. You’ll be okay. Don’t try to hurry the process.’ His quiet voice was like an anchor in the storm.
Aunt Nina said, ‘They’ve all been where you are now, my dear. All three of them. Kirby’s mother has too. Getting used to living in the world will happen if you give yourself time. Even Kirby found it hard to get used to ordinary life again.’
I stared at her. ‘But she was only with us for a few weeks. Not even two months.’
My aunt smiled. ‘Exactly. So be kind to yourself. We’ll find you somebody to talk to when you’re ready. But now, you look to me as if you need to go back to bed.’
I was happy to obey, though I had no idea what she meant about finding somebody for me to talk to. I knew that if I asked her, she’d tell me, but right then my mind couldn’t handle any more information. Somewhere, deep down, there must be a kernel of joy in knowing people would now answer my questions. I prayed, or rather hoped, I’d one day find it.
THE DAYS PASSED. I told them all what had happened, why I’d run away. I cried whenever I thought of
my family, of how they must be suffering.
I found I couldn’t ask the questions plaguing me. It was as if they were locked inside and I deserved the torment of never having them answered.
A week went by. By the second week I no longer slept all day, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house. Even the thought of sitting in a worldly church with them when they went to worship filled me with terror.
It was on that second Sunday that Aunt Nina said, ‘I think it’s time for you to talk to a counsellor, Rebecca. Ellen and Kirby will take you there tomorrow.’
I didn’t argue, didn’t ask questions. Shameful as it was, I was grateful to be told what to do with my life again. ‘Yes, Aunt Nina. Thank you.’
She put her hand over mine. ‘Call us Nina and Jim. The others do. You’ll get used to it.’
THE CLOTHES MIRIAM GAVE ME to put on that day would have meant instant expulsion from the Children of the Faith. My sister knew how big a step it was for me to wear them. ‘Sorry sweets, but they’re the plainest I’ve got.’
I pulled on the black stockings, the short denim skirt and the black jumper. She zipped me into a pair of knee-high boots and grinned at me.
‘Think of the Elders having fifty fits if you turned up in front of them dressed like this. They’re control freaks, the whole lot of them. You so did the right thing to run.’
It felt wicked to even listen to such words.
A long mirror was fixed to the back of the wardrobe door. There was only one way to do this — quickly. As soon as Miriam had gone, I hauled the door open. There I was. And the only familiar part of me was my hair in its godly braid.
The face was a shock. It was Rachel who gazed back at me — but my sister would never wear such clothing. It had to be me. I was so used to seeing her face, though, it was hard to believe the girl in the mirror who looked like her was actually me.
Esther — Kirby — and her mother came for me while I was still trying to juggle the two images, to fit them into my new existence. ‘You’re doing fine,’ Ellen said. ‘It all takes time. Try not to worry.’
Esther waved me into the front seat of the car. ‘Hey, Rebecca, the leader you were meant to marry — was it old Misery-guts from Wanganui?’
‘No. We got a new leader when we moved to Nelson. He was old, too. Seventy-six.’
‘Jeez,’ Esther said.
THE COUNSELLOR WAS A MAN. I’d assumed it would be a woman. I hadn’t asked. ‘Call me Edwin,’ he said. ‘I know your story, Rebecca. You’ve had a tough time.’
I stared at him. Why was I here then? He was a counsellor — I’d imagined I’d tell him what had happened to me, he would tell me to give myself time, I would agree. It would all be over.
He saw my bewilderment. ‘Don’t look so worried. We’ll begin with the easy stuff.’
There was easy stuff? I still didn’t ask.
He leaned his elbows on his desk, chin on hands. ‘Tell me — if Malachi walked through that door right now, fell on his knees and begged you to marry him, would you say yes?’
I started to say, ‘Yes, of course I would,’ but the words didn’t reach my tongue. I sat back in my chair, needing something solid at my back. Did I still want to marry Malachi? I glanced at Edwin. He looked completely at ease; he looked, too, as if he’d wait until doomsday for my answer.
‘May I speak the truth?’ What a stupid question. How would he know if what I said was truth or lies?
He grinned at me. ‘Give it a go. See how it feels.’
I’d never met anyone like him before. He was a man. In my experience, men always wanted to tell me what to do.
‘Okay.’ I paused, wondering how to put into words the truth of what I felt. ‘When we lived by the Rule, he’d have been a good husband. Not too strict, and he’d have cared for me and our children. But I don’t know what he’d be like with no Rule to guide him.’ I stopped to think, to imagine. ‘No,’ I said at last. ‘I wouldn’t marry him. Neither of us knows how to live in the world. Not now. Not without the Rule to guide us.’
Edwin gave me a grin and a thumbs-up. ‘Well done. There’s a good brain in that skull of yours, young lady.’
And that was a good thing? Men didn’t expect women to use their brains. We didn’t need to. We just had to obey the Rule, obey our husbands or fathers, and nurture our children. I put my hands up to my head, pressing to hold it together. This was a different world.
‘Here’s another question for you,’ Edwin said. ‘What do you want for your life? Is it still marriage and a dozen or so children?’
He had such an easy, friendly way about him. I didn’t think he’d judge me. He wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t give him the answer he wanted.
I checked, just to make sure. ‘Is there a right answer? Easy questions always have a right and a wrong answer.’
He shouted with laughter. ‘You’ve caught me out!’ he said. ‘Well done again. You’re the only one who can know if you give the right answer. The right answer for you will probably be the very wrong answer for somebody else.’
‘Rachel. My twin. I know what she wants. But I don’t know what I want. I used to. Before Malachi left, I knew what I wanted. Not now. Not any more.’ Now I was only a hollow, empty shell. ‘I don’t even know what’s right and what’s wrong. I don’t know what to believe.’
‘Are you wanting me to tell you?’ he asked in his gentle voice.
I sat up in a hurry. ‘No! I don’t want anyone to tell me. I’m sick of being told what to think. I want to find out for myself. But I don’t know how.’ I sagged back in the chair. ‘I just don’t know how.’
‘Good girl. You’re going to be fine. Start with the little things. Find out about the little things first. Work your way up to the big ones.’
He stood up. The session was ending.
Very well, I would do as he said. ‘I want a book to write in. Just an ordinary school notebook. And coloured pens.’
Thirty-three
KIRBY AND ELLEN STOPPED at a huge shop to buy me an exercise book, pens and clothes.
‘Not trousers,’ I said, hanging back in the car. ‘Not yet. Please.’
Kirby said, ‘Okay. Just very bright, very short skirts. Sleeveless tops and shoes with five-inch heels.’
‘Esther!’ I wailed — and she ran off laughing.
They came back after half an hour and tumbled a heap of plastic bags into my lap. I didn’t want to look at the clothes, but the pens enchanted me. They’d bought me black, blue, red, green and silver ones.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything.’
Kirby turned around in her seat and grinned at me. ‘Even the clothes?’
‘Only if you bought me shorts and a bikini top,’ I retorted, delighted when she shouted with laughter.
That night I sat up in bed and wrote my questions in the book.
Will I go to the torment of eternal damnation when I die?
Some days, I was certain hell awaited me. Those were days when I missed Rachel and the others so badly I ached.
But the day after my second session with Edwin I found myself writing:
Will the Children of the Faith be the only ones out of the whole world to go to heaven?
It comforted me to know my family would go to heaven, but I woke at midnight and with the red pen wrote:
If it’s true, hell will be rather crowded.
Malachi would be there with me, burning away. Kezia too. Mara also, but that wasn’t right or fair — she didn’t deserve to suffer torment.
At three in the morning, I took the silver pen:
I don’t think it can be true.
I showed Edwin on my next visit. ‘Hmm, good points. So what do you think can’t be true, Rebecca?’
Did I dare say it? Oh, why not? If hell was real, I’d be burning bright the second my soul left my body. What did one more sin matter?
‘I don’t think hell and damnation are real. Are they, Edwin? Please tell me, I really need to know.’
THE SESSIONS CONTINUED until Christmas. Edwin said, ‘I’ll be away till mid-January. Don’t freak out, kid. You’re doing great. In the break, think about what you want to do with your life. Dig down deep. Be true to yourself.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I told him. ‘I don’t think I’ve got a self any more.’
He laughed at me. ‘Want to bet?’
‘A bet? You’re asking me to gamble?’
He grinned. ‘I’m betting you’ll find a good tough self if you dig hard enough. If I’m right, you get a chocolate-dipped ice cream.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘Ah! I won’t be wrong. Merry Christmas, Rebecca Pilgrim. Go forth and have fun.’
I went out into the street to wait for the bus. Kirby had taught me how to use it, and how to get around the city by myself. I liked being out among the people — in a way, it was like being back at the market, except that here the people dressed more formally and I didn’t see any alpacas, or dogs with dreads. This city was windy, though, and I got tired of my braid getting blown around. Maybe one day I’d be ready to cut my hair. Miriam’s was short compared with mine. It still came past her shoulders and she often wore it tied back.
The bus route took me past a church. It was smaller than the temple in Nelson but more attractive with its wooden walls and small spire. I hit the bell, got off at the next stop, and walked back to the church. But I was frightened of going in. Worldly churches were evil and the god their leaders preached about was false.
Use your brain, Rebecca.
But my brain didn’t know what to think. I stopped walking, closed my eyes, and made a huge effort to cast Elder Stephen and the Rule out of my mind. It didn’t work. So, instead, I found myself cupping my hands and imagining the Rule crushed into a small bundle. I carried it forward, stepped through the church door and dropped it on the floor.