“Yes. I will tell you.”
Lehi inched closer to me and placed his hand on my cheek. “I’m sure you must be frustrated. But we’ll get there. Perhaps we should pray together.”
My stomach churned. I hated false prayer. God knew when I was lying. Not only was I sinning by preventing pregnancy with my husband, but I kneeled on the floor next to him, week after week, pretending to pray to God to give us a baby when it was the last thing I truly wanted.
Of course, I’d be less lonely if I had a baby. I could imagine myself with the tiniest of little girls. I’d sew pink dresses for her and knit little blush booties. I’d snuggle her and love her and protect her with everything I am. But not yet.
Together we knelt, facing the bed, our elbows resting on the mattress. I closed my eyes as Lehi spoke for the both of us.
“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this consummation in the hopes that you will allow Brinley to become pregnant. Lord, we pray that you’ll give her the gift of motherhood, to secure her place in your kingdom. In Jesus’s name, we pray.”
“Amen,” we said together.
Lehi took my hand in his and planted an obligatory kiss on my skin. “It’s time for bed. I have an early day tomorrow.”
I nodded before climbing to my feet.
“You should wash that stuff off your face.” His words were matter of fact, as if he was in denial that the “stuff” on my face was completely for him, for his desires and his needs.
Without complaint, I excused myself to the bathroom to scrub my face, and pushed down the irritation that bubbled beneath my skin. When I finished preparing myself for sleep, I returned to our bed. Lehi was facing the wall, his rib cage rising and falling as he breathed heavily.
I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how long I could keep my secret. How long it would be before I was found out—by Lehi or Leandra or the midwife who assisted in birthing all the Cluff children.
I knew that day would come. And I knew that God would punish me.
For preventing pregnancy and for keeping secrets.
For not loving my husband.
For not giving him all of myself, all of my heart, my body, and my soul.
Every day I merely went through the motions knowing that it was unacceptable, and that I would most certainly be punished. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, or even next year. But it would happen.
I knew that I should be determined to fix whatever it was that was broken inside me, to welcome a child into my womb, to accept my role as Lehi’s seventh wife.
I simply didn’t know how.
Chapter 4
Another day going into town. I was elated. I’d been lucky that week and had been sent twice by Leandra. Today it was my responsibility to visit the local pharmacy for vitamins, batteries, and cosmetics. Leandra had obviously requested that I be discreet so as not to embarrass our husband and his desire for painted faces in the bedroom. Gladly, I accepted the chore.
As always, I grabbed my purse and reached in to check for the plastic disk in the hidden compartment. It was still there; no one had discovered my secret yet. I could only hope that by the time I was ready to stop taking them, the secret would remain mine.
When I stepped outside the confines of our home, I felt a prickle between my shoulder blades, as if someone’s eyes were upon me. It was unsettling so I scanned the property, but couldn’t see anyone following me. It had to be my imagination. When I approached the edge of the compound, my suspicions were validated.
“Pardon me,” a gruff voice said behind me. A tall, handsome man with blond hair shot through with silver jogged to catch up to me.
I stiffened, knowing immediately who this man was.
Burt Jameson.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. His blue eyes were sunken and bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept well in weeks.
Just like Rebecca.
“Miss Brinley, right? You’re my wi—I mean, you’re Rebecca’s sister wife?”
I nodded, trying to avoid direct eye contact. If I were seen talking to Burt, I could be in all sorts of trouble with Lehi, or even the prophet. It was best to be as dismissive as possible.
“I’m the project manager on the prophet’s new home.” He gestured a block away to the unfinished home behind us. “I saw you walk by and, well . . . I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I have to.”
He extended his hand, a folded envelope clutched between his calloused fingers. “Would you please give this to Rebecca?”
“I don’t think—” I shook my head and glanced around me, my heart racing in my chest.
“Please. I beg of you,” he said, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard and his eyes glistened.
My heart broke for him. The love he felt for Rebecca radiated from every pore of his body. Quickly, I snatched the envelope from his hand and crammed it into my purse, then walked away as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you,” he said in an anguished whimper from behind me. “Thank you.”
• • •
I couldn’t get Burt out of my head. So much so that I walked right past the store that Leandra had sent me to. I was in a daze; the anguish in his face haunted me. The obvious nights without sleep, the heartache that was plain in his eyes. I couldn’t imagine how that felt, but I wanted to feel it. As strange as it might sound, even heartache sounded like a better alternative to the indifference I experienced each and every day.
So lost in my thoughts of Burt and Rebecca, I didn’t notice the footsteps that dogged me, and probably had for several blocks. Unlike earlier, I didn’t feel that sense of dread and self-preservation that one feels when they’re being followed, when they’re being stalked.
Until it was too late.
A man looped his arm through the strap of my purse and gave a hard yank, trying to pull it from me.
I was being robbed.
I’d heard of this, of people stealing from others in the outside world, but had never experienced it. We didn’t steal. We shared, we gave, we accepted. But we never stole.
The placement of my hand inside the pocket of my dress was my saving grace. When the man pulled on my bag, he was unable to break free and run. Instead, the shock of the jarring pain to my wrist as he attempted to yank the purse from me was all it took to shock my system, making me fully aware of what was happening to me. So I dug in my feet and pulled back.
When the bag didn’t give, the man turned back and glared. His blue eyes bored into me and I lost my breath. I knew those eyes. I hadn’t seen them in so long, but I knew them.
“Porter?” My chin dropped as I said his name.
His eyes widened in shock, but his grip on the bag didn’t lessen. Instead, he tugged harder and swept me off my feet. I landed hard on the warm sidewalk, still clenching the purse’s strap in my hands.
“Let go,” he hissed through his clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring. It was then that I noticed how different he looked. He was not the boy I remembered.
Porter Hammond had been one of the most handsome young men in the compound. He was several years older than me, and I wasn’t supposed to admire him. After all, in our church, we were raised to view the opposite sex as villains, as snakes, as those we couldn’t possibly trust.
Until we were assigned to marry them. Then we were magically expected to get over it.
But Porter—there was always something about him. Something that drew me to the light in his eyes, the dimple in his pale cheek, and the warmth in his smile.
That smile had been permanently etched in my brain since I was ten years old . . .
• • •
When I was ten, Porter was a teenager and was one of the most talented boys when it came to construction. From a very young age, the boys in our community were sent to work with their fathers at various sites—both on and off the compound. Porter was especially talented at driving the forklift. And he was on said forklift on the day his smile became permanently etched in my
brain.
My sister Winnie and I were walking down a dirt road in the compound. In my dress pocket, I carried a small doll I’d made out of cloth, my hand clutching it tightly as we walked. One year prior, the prophet had ordered all our toys to be removed and destroyed, claiming that God had revealed toys to be destructive to our maturing brains. When my parents took my baby dolls away, I’d sobbed, ignoring my mother’s stone-faced instructions to “keep sweet” and present a brave face despite my misery.
In perhaps my first act of defiance, I’d hidden remnants of fabric from my mother’s sewing box. Each night, I twisted and cut and twirled the fabric to create a small doll. She was my new baby and I’d never let anyone hurt or destroy her.
On that day, Winnie and I were walking past a group of boys working hard to build an addition to one of the prophet’s homes. Porter was driving the forklift while other boys walked, carrying two-by-fours on their shoulders.
“We should go the other way,” Winnie said, pointing away from the boys. But I was curious and wanted to observe them, even if only for a minute or two as we walked past their work site.
The boy on the forklift called out, “Hey, girls.”
“Don’t say anything,” Winnie whispered. “He’s a snake.”
Deep down I didn’t believe her, or my parents, or the prophet. He was just a boy. A boy with a beautiful smile who was looking right at me. He didn’t look like a snake or a predator, just a friendly boy. An innocent, friendly boy.
Without thinking, I released the doll inside my pocket and I waved. As I did, Porter’s gaze darted to the ground and instinctively, I looked down too.
My doll.
Oh no.
He’d report me. I’d be in so much trouble.
Dread swept over me, causing my heart to pound, and Winnie gasped. But Porter was calm. Within seconds, he’d hopped off the forklift and had retrieved the small doll, then placed it in my hand. A sweet, nonthreatening smile wreathed his face.
He nodded his head toward me. “There you go.”
Stunned at his kindness, I had looked up at him and breathed out, “Thanks.”
“Brinley,” Winnie had snapped, yanking me away by the elbow. “We need to go. Now!”
• • •
I’d never forgotten that day.
But this Porter was different. His skin tone was gray and sickly. The whites of his blue eyes were red, so bloodshot he looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair was tucked under a beanie cap despite the warm summer weather.
I said his name again. I had to. I needed him to know that despite his departure from our compound, from our world, I knew exactly who he was.
“Porter . . . Porter Hammond.”
H closed his eyes, as if he were trying to block out any memory of that name or of someone who might remember him from his childhood in the compound. When he opened them again, the anger in his eyes was alarming. I didn’t know those eyes. They looked possessed.
“Fucking drop it,” he said through clenched teeth and I gasped, shocked by his choice of words.
What had happened to him? My grip loosened unintentionally and he managed to rip the bag from my hands.
And then he ran. Fast.
Suddenly, I remembered the two things in that bag that could not be lost.
I couldn’t let Burt down . . . or Rebecca. And I needed those pills.
Within seconds, I had climbed to my feet and was chasing after the boy I had known for years, one who would never have stolen from others. A boy who was once kind and forgiving. I ran as fast I could, but the gap between us grew larger until the boy faded away.
I couldn’t catch him.
He was gone.
Chapter 5
“What do you mean? How did that happen?” Aspen stood with her hands hooked on her narrow hips, a look of disgust twisting her pale face.
“I was distracted and he snatched it away.”
“Are you all right?” Rebecca asked, her fingers grazing my elbow.
I couldn’t look her in the eye. She had no idea that I’d let her down, that I’d lost the note from Burt. Even though I was hesitant to help him, he’d trusted me the moment I put that envelope in my purse. If Rebecca didn’t respond, he’d assume her silence was a message, a decision of some sort. He wouldn’t know the truth.
I couldn’t let that happen. They’d been through enough already.
“I think I bruised my bottom,” I replied, “but I’ll be fine. I’m just afraid of what Leandra will say.”
“She won’t be pleased, that’s for sure,” Aspen said, pursing her lips together. “How much money did you lose?”
“Twenty-five dollars.”
Both women sighed. With eight wives and twenty-nine children to support now that Rebecca and her boys had joined our family, money was tight in our household. Lehi worked a minimum of fifty hours per week on construction projects both in and outside of the compound. I didn’t want to add to his exhaustion or work load.
“She’ll ground me, won’t she?” I asked, starting to panic. If Leandra didn’t allow me to leave the compound, I’d never get my purse from Porter, or be able to visit the clinic each month. I’d be pregnant by fall.
No, no, no, no, no!
It was happening again. My chest tightened, my cheeks turned hot, and the room spun in circles. Another panic attack.
“Brinley?”
I knew Rebecca was standing next to me, but her voice sounded as if she were whispering to me from the end of a long, narrow tunnel. I was slipping away.
“Come on,” Aspen said, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Shh, breathe. You’re safe. You’re all right.”
But I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t settle down. I knew I wasn’t all right.
“What’s going on?” a shrill voice demanded.
Leandra walked in with Gloria in tow, the second wife. In my head, I referred to Gloria as “the shadow” because she was constantly in Leandra’s wake. She didn’t say much, but I knew not to cross her. Her loyalty to Leandra and Lehi was paramount to her, even above her own five children.
Aspen glanced up. “Something awful happened today. Brinley was robbed.”
“Robbed? Oh sweet Lord above, are you all right, girl?” Leandra moved to my other side and slipped her arm around my waist to keep me upright.
I hated when she called me “girl.” It was just another assertion of her superiority as the first wife. Aspen and I were both called “girl” on occasion, and I knew it grated on Aspen’s nerves as much as it did on mine.
But that was the least of my worries. I was having a hard enough time focusing on the wallpaper of the kitchen, just trying to breathe, rather than worry about what Leandra had called me.
“She’ll be all right,” Aspen said. “It wasn’t her fault. The man had a gun.”
My heart twisted a little tighter inside my chest. Aspen had lied! She never lied.
And I was the cause of it.
I was affecting so many people—Rebecca, and now Aspen—with my irresponsibility.
Gloria gasped.
“A gun? Oh my word.” Leandra clasped her hand to her mouth, tightening her grip on my arm. “How did you get away?”
Aspen paused. “She ran. I, myself, am amazed at her bravery. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, uh—of course,” Leandra conceded, then turned her focus on me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Mon—mon . . .” I tried to speak, but couldn’t enunciate the word.
“What is she saying?” Leandra turned toward me and pinned me with her eyes, making my heart race even faster.
“She’s afraid,” Aspen said. “That you’ll be upset with her about losing the money.”
“Oh.”
“Even though it wasn’t her fault,” Aspen added.
Her words placed a protective cloak on the top of my scalp, one that slid down to cover my body all the way to my toes. She was protecting me from Leandra’s anger, defending me in a way I’d neve
r expected.
Gradually my pulse slowed and the harsh pain in my chest began to dissipate. The voices of my sister wives became louder and less muffled. The tunnel disappeared and the fuzzy objects in my line of vision sharpened. I could see the concern in Leandra’s narrowed eyes, and feel her compassion as she stroked my shoulder.
“I’m not upset, of course not. The outside world is a dangerous place. That’s what I’ve been telling you all for years. We’re so lucky to be a part of the chosen.”
“I agree,” Aspen said, stroking my hair. “Will you tell Lehi?”
“Well, of course,” Leandra said, taking a step away. “It would be dishonest not to. He deserves to know about the money and that one of his wives was in danger.”
Still not trusting myself to speak, I shook my head back and forth violently, my silent way of begging Leandra to keep this to herself.
“I’m sorry, dear.” She stroked my arm again. “I have to. Now, go lie down. We’ll take care of supper while you rest.”
Nodding through my tears, I reached for Aspen’s hand and walked to my room. Without a word, I threw myself on the bed, knowing that Lehi would forbid me from my weekly errands. And then what would I have to look forward to?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
“I’m sorry, Brinley.” Aspen sat on the bed next to me and stroked my hair. “I tried.”
“I know. Please, just—just give me a moment, all right?” I whimpered through my sobs.
“Of course.”
The door closed with a soft click and my tears soaked the pillow. I dreaded the inevitable conversation I would have with my husband later that evening.
• • •
It didn’t take long. The familiar knock on the door arrived sooner than expected. I’d finally wiped away my tears, changed my pillowcase, and splashed cold water on my face, desperately trying to figure out a plan to get my bag back from Porter.
“Brinley.” Lehi ducked his head inside the room. His voice was flat, his posture rigid.
Wife Number Seven Page 3