Amy nods and moves to the next place on the table. “This is my job.”
Mother plasters a smile on her face as Uncle Hyram enters the dining room. “But he’s ready to eat,” she says between clenched teeth.
“And she’ll be finished with her job in a few minutes,” I say. “Right?”
Amy nods again. “Of course. I do it neater than anyone else, even Meryl.”
I smile, remembering how it used to get under Meryl’s skin when Amy said that. “You sure do.”
In the kitchen behind us, the whole family has started to line up for a plate of food. Boys bump up against one another, elbowing for a better spot. Channing takes his place at the end of the boys. The wives form a single line behind him, followed by the girls.
I near the end of the line. Everybody’s staring at Amy, but she’s oblivious as she perfectly sets each piece of silverware. I cross my arms over my chest. They’ll have to wait.
“This is ridiculous,” Uncle Hyram snaps and rushes toward Amy. He rips the basket from her arms. She startles, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Let me help,” Mother says, opening her hands to take the basket.
“It’s my job,” Amy insists.
“Not anymore,” Uncle Hyram says, dumping silverware in the middle of all three tables with a clatter. “Everyone can find their own tonight.” He tosses the basket aside.
My hands clench.
Amy looks to Mother, confused. “But it’s my job.”
Uncle Hyram’s face turns red. “You’re too slow.”
“She is not,” I say, breaking from the line. Some of the girls grumble behind me.
“It’s a misunderstanding,” Mother says. “Amy likes to set the table when it’s her turn. It’s just that there’s more people now and—”
“This girl’s a curse,” Uncle Hyram interrupts.
Mother winces.
“She is not a curse,” I say, snatching Amy’s hand as I glare at him. “You are!”
My new brothers and sisters gasp. Mother covers her mouth as I draw Amy into the living room. Away from them all.
“Am I a curse?” Amy asks, making me stop.
I turn and wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “Of course not. You’re our greatest blessing.”
Amy sniffles. “That’s what you say, but everyone else says the devil lives inside me.”
“Who says that?” I ask, defensive.
“The other girls.” She’s having trouble breathing. “They say—that’s why I’m so—stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” I insist. “They are.”
Tears run down her face. “They said it would’ve been better if I died in the river.”
“Who said that?” I ask, ready to fight anyone who talks that way about my sister.
“Dirk—and the other boys.”
“He’s a jerk. Don’t listen to him.”
“But Uncle Hyram said I’m going to kill Mother with worry.” She looks up at me with weak eyes. “Is that true?”
I take her in my arms. She gasps for a breath. I loosen my hold, but don’t let go. “Of course not. You make us all happier. If anything, we’ll live longer because of you.”
“Really?” she asks, her voice full of doubt.
Uncle Hyram stomps into the living room. “Show me where it is,” he barks.
Amy stiffens in my arms.
Channing trails Uncle Hyram, his eyes forward. What’s going on? Mother’s next to enter and everyone else gathers around the fringes of the living room. Watching me. Like they’re expecting something to happen.
From the corner of my eye, I see Channing pull a case from behind a pile of firewood. My violin case.
“What are you doing?” I say, but he won’t look at me. My chest aches. He’s betrayed me.
“You will keep sweet,” Uncle Hyram barks, and yanks my violin from the velvet.
I move toward him, eyeing my beautiful honey-colored violin. “Please I’ll do anything you say. Please let me keep it.”
“You covet this thing, when you should obey the Prophet.” He holds my instrument by the neck. The only thing I have left of Father. Tanner. My old family.
I reach for my violin, but he smashes it against the stone fireplace before I can stop him. Wood splinters in two. My tears come quick.
“You will learn to obey.” He tosses the pieces into the fire. It crackles. Flames lick the wood. “And soon, your husband.” Immediately, the honey varnish turns to black. The neck falls away from the body. The strings warp and curl.
Next, he tosses my bow into the fireplace. The blond horsehairs turn brown and then blacken, filling the room with the smell of burnt hair.
Only then do I realize Amy’s holding me, instead of the other way around. Tears wet our faces, but Mother remains fixed in place as she blankly watches our old life burn away.
The faces around me range from confused to pleased, with Dirk’s smiling the broadest.
My insides burn and break with my violin.
Uncle Hyram nods at his family before moving his hands together. “Let us pray before dinner.”
Out of habit, I bow my head. Amy releases me but remains at my side. I close my eyes and wipe the tears from my face.
Uncle Hyram starts to pray, but I somehow don’t hear the words he says.
All I can think is the one thing that truly belonged to me is turning to ash. Without music, I’m trapped. My old life is gone. How did the gaping hole between now and then grow so wide?
I sense someone move in close to me and brush against my left side. The hairs on my arms suddenly stand on end as I smell his rotten breath and lean into Amy.
Uncle Hyram closes the prayer and a clammy hand grabs mine. I open my eyes: It’s Dirk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I yell, wrenching from his grasp.
Everyone’s looking; finally, I think, he’s caught. Finally, people see his sin instead of mine.
But some of the girls giggle. Some of the boys shake their heads. Channing’s eyes remain on the floor.
I know they saw what he did. Why don’t they say something?
Uncle Hyram grins as he puts one arm around Dirk and pushes Amy aside to place one arm around me. I want nothing more than to slip free from the weight of Uncle Hyram’s arm. He destroyed my violin. I don’t want him anywhere near me.
Mother places her steepled hands against her lips, like she couldn’t be prouder.
Suddenly, my heart sinks. I shake my head. No, it can’t be.
Uncle Hyram joins our hands, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “May God bless Gentry and Dirk.”
18.
If I’m forced to marry Dirk, it’s not only permanent. It’s forever. I’ll suffer in this life and in the next. How can this be God’s will?
“You two make a beautiful couple,” Mother says from our bedroom floor as she rolls the silky white fabric she picked for my wedding dress and pins the hem.
“We’re not a couple.” I cross my arms over my chest, my eyes red and puffy in the mirror. “I can’t stand him.”
“Put your arms down,” she says, crawling around me to fold the next section. “I don’t want the hem to be crooked.” She adjusts the delicate fabric. “And don’t say that.”
My arms fall to my sides. “I can’t marry him,” I say, pleading to her stooped reflection. “Remember, you said I was too young to get married?”
Mother shakes her head. “I said no such thing.”
“But you did,” I say, desperate for her to remember. “When Meryl said I could be next, you said thirteen was too young.”
“You should trust in the Lord.” Mother finishes and stands, her fingers sorting through piles of ribbon and lace. “You should feel honored to be engaged to the Prophet’s son. To have the privilege of being his first wife. You don’t have any other choice.”
I bite my bottom lip. It’s painful to hear her say it. But what did I expect? She said the same thing to Meryl.
&n
bsp; She said nothing when Uncle Max threw Tanner out of Watchful. She said nothing when the Prophet reassigned us to Uncle Hyram and then told her to remarry. She said nothing when Uncle Hyram smashed and burned the one thing that meant something to me. For her, the priesthood and the Prophet always before anything else. Religion over family. No matter what.
But she’s right about one thing. I wipe my eyes. If I don’t marry Dirk, there are no other choices. I’ll be a thirteen-year-old girl with no family and no place to live. “You’re right, I don’t have any other choice,” I concede.
Mother puts a hand on my wet cheek and smiles softly. “Good girl.” Then she removes a couple of the pins between my shoulder blades and comes between the mirror and me, carefully slipping the dress from my body. As Mother slides my wedding gown over a dress form, I put my simple cotton dress on over my sacred underwear.
“It will be ready for you to try on tomorrow morning before the wedding,” she says, admiring her work.
A wave of nausea crashes inside my stomach. I can’t marry Dirk. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
“We can make any tweaks to the fit then.”
I crook my arm behind me to reach the zipper along my back. I need air.
Mother touches my shoulder. “Here, let me,” she says, helping to zip me up. She lifts my long braid and twists it into a bun. “You know, I’ve heard Dirk thinks your hair is really pretty. How do you want to wear it tomorrow?”
Gall rises and coats my tongue. The thought of using my hair—the hair I’ve been growing since birth—to wash Dirk’s feet in heaven makes me gag. I quickly shake my head. “Whatever you think.” I have to get out of here. I swallow the bitterness, willing myself to keep it down. “May I go now?”
She nods. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”
I dash through the hallway and hurry downstairs, snatching my coat from the hook and, without stopping to put it on, run outside beneath the gray sky.
The cold air feels like a slap in the face, but I take a deep breath anyway, trying to burn away the nausea. With a quick nod at the guard, I tug on my coat and hurry toward the thicket.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice I detest asks. Dirk emerges from the side of the house.
My shoulders tighten as he marches after me, the snow crunching beneath his boots. I don’t stop. “For a walk,” I say without turning around or slowing.
I can hear him closing in on me when, out of the blue, he snatches my hand with his scarred one. I try to tug away from him, my feet sliding against the packed snow. “Let go of me.”
“You’re going to be my wife,” he says, squeezing harder, shooting pain through the top of my hand. “I can do anything I want.”
“Please,” I say with another tug. “You’re hurting me.” I yank again.
But it’s no use. He’s too strong.
Dirk sneers at me for a second. “If you remain faithful, God will change your feelings about me.” He finally lets go.
I stumble backward and hold my hurting hand against my stomach. Never, I think. I will never ever feel different. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
“You will be obedient like the Prophet commands,” he says. “I’ll make sure of that.” Then he gives me a wink, followed by a cruel smile. “See you tomorrow.” He heads in the direction of the house.
I smear a stray tear from my cheek and turn, running toward the river. The cold air stings my face as I slip between the trees.
My feet slow as I near the bridge. I hear a snap up ahead and spot Amy in a giant tree that overlooks the river. Her legs dangle over the bare branches, her lavender dress flapping in the wind. She leans against the trunk with a carrot in her hand.
I wipe my eyes and nose, so she doesn’t see I’ve been crying again. Even though the sun is strong and has melted the river along its shallow edge, it’s still cold. The wind swirls around my neck, making me shiver. I draw my hood over my head to block it. “Find him?” I call to my sister, knowing she’s looking for the rabbit.
Amy sighs, her breath forming a cloud in front of her face. “Not yet,” she says before gracefully climbing down the tree. She makes it look so easy.
When she lands on the soft snow beside me, I can see the tips of her ears are pink from the cold. “Here,” I say, reaching for the hood on her coat, pulling it over her head. Face-to-face, I spy the dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t sleep last night, either. “Better?”
Amy nods and longingly searches downstream with her eyes. The wind rustles the trees, making them groan and click along the shore.
“I know it’s wrong,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing wrong with looking for that rabbit. You’ll find him when he’s ready.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She takes in an extra breath like she’s having trouble catching it. “It’s just . . . I don’t want you to marry Dirk.”
“Amy . . . ,” I say, wishing I could protect her from worry. But what can I say? I’m scared, too.
My sister twists the carrot tightly between her fingers. “I know it’s selfish.”
I shake my head.
“Following the Prophet’s will is supposed to fill your heart with God’s love, but I still don’t want you to marry him.” Her breath shudders as she drops the carrot inside her coat pocket. “I’m sorry I’m having mean thoughts.”
I touch the sleeve of her jacket. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”
She rubs her lips together—like she’s not sure whether she should say any more. “Dirk does, though,” she whispers. “He’s really mean.”
“He is,” I agree. It’s no use denying it. She’d know I was lying, and I’m not going to do that. Not to her.
Amy’s bottom lip quivers. “I don’t want you to live with him in another house.”
I wrap my arms around her.
Her shoulders shake. “I don’t want you to go into hiding, where Channing can’t find you.”
I pull away, shocked. “What did you say?”
Tears roll down her pink cheeks. “Then I’ll have to stay here with Mother.”
“Where’d you hear we’re going into hiding?”
Amy’s head falls against my chest. “I overheard Uncle Hyram telling Mother,” she says, her voice muffled against my coat. “It’s not fair.”
I should’ve realized it before. But in all the mess of learning I’m supposed to marry Dirk, I’ve only focused on the fact I’ll have to be with him every day of my life, and in the hereafter. I haven’t even thought about where we would live. I didn’t even realize this would break the last of my family away from me. I’ll be alone. I clench my jaw to prevent the tears from flowing.
Footsteps crunch the snow, and over the top of Amy’s head, I spot Channing heading straight for us. I stiffen. For a second, my anger—for his betrayal in handing over my violin to Uncle Hyram—overtakes my sadness.
“Come on,” I say, spinning my sister toward the trees. “We’ll look for the rabbit later.”
“Hey,” Channing says.
Amy turns to wave, but I push down her hand. “We’re ignoring him,” I say, willing her to keep moving. Thankfully, she follows my lead.
“Wait,” Channing calls.
“No!” Amy shouts, still walking. “We’re ignoring you.”
He laughs. “You’re what?”
I whirl around to face him. “Don’t you dare laugh.”
The smile immediately leaves his face.
“Leave us alone.”
He shakes his head. “Gentry, I’m so, so, so sorry about your violin. I didn’t know he was going to destroy it.”
“I don’t care what you say you knew,” I say, angrily poking my finger through the icy air.
Channing looks at Amy. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”
My sister gives me a sly smile. “Sure,” she says with a nod. “Okay.”
My cheeks flush. “You don’t have to leave just because
he asked.”
“I know,” she says and then walks toward the house anyway.
I cross my arms over my chest.
When she’s gone, Channing points in the direction she left. “People underestimate her.”
“Don’t you forget it,” I say, the sadness seeping in again and mixing with the anger in my gut. Who will defend her if I’m not around? A few days ago, I would have asked Channing to look after Amy, but now I know I can’t trust him.
He puts up his hands. “Look, I only told Uncle Hyram about your violin because he thought we were sneaking off to the barn to kiss.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say.
For some reason, he suddenly looks hurt.
But I don’t care. “Why would Uncle Hyram think that?”
Channing shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I had to tell him the real reason why you came out to the barn.” He wipes his hands across his pants. “I thought I was protecting your honor by telling him about your violin.”
“My honor?” I say.
He nods. “He didn’t believe me. So, I had to show him your violin to prove it.”
“Oh, sure. Right before he smashed it and burned it.”
Channing flinches. “What choice did I have?” There’s an edge to his voice. “He told me I’d never see my mother and brothers and sisters again, because I’d defiled you.”
“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” I slap my hand against my chest. “I’ve lost my father, my brother, my sister, my mother, and by tomorrow, pretty much my entire family. You want me to feel sorry for you?”
He shifts between his feet. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” he says. “I was so focused on seeing my family again, I didn’t stop to think.”
“You sure didn’t,” I say, anger rising. “While you’re happily reunited with your family, mine is being taken away.” My fists clench, thinking of the way Dirk squeezed my hand. “And I’m being forced to marry the biggest jerk on the planet.”
Channing smiles slightly. “I thought I was the biggest jerk on the planet.”
I scoff, forming a cloud before my face. “For once, I think you might be right.”
“Then let me try and make it up to you,” he says, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
The Prophet Calls Page 16