Wife Number Seven

by Melissa Brown

  “Oh, of course.”

  My mother was lucky enough to have her own small home in the compound, which she shared with the rest of my brothers and sisters. Jessa and Winnie were both married and lived with their husbands, but five children remained in the home.

  “Come on, Mother, into bed with you.”

  Aspen and I supported my mother’s frail body and eased her under the covers of her bed.

  My mother winced, trying not to cough, then gave Aspen a wan smile. “Hello, Aspen dear.”

  “Hello.” Aspen slid her hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Tell us what we can do to make you more comfortable.”

  “A cup of tea would be nice.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Aspen said, smiling down at my mother and leaving the room.

  Mother turned her worried gaze to me. “You shouldn’t be here, Brinley. You could catch this.”

  “I had no idea you were so sick.” I placed the back of my hand on her blazing forehead. “I would’ve come here sooner. When does Father get back?”

  “A few more days. The worst part is Jessa needs me. She needs me and I can’t be with her.”

  An alarm bell went off in my mind. When Jessa and I had spoken last, she was elated to be pregnant with her first child. It was new, but she was excited to start her journey into motherhood.

  “What’s the matter with Jessa? Why would she need you?”

  “Oh.” Mother bit her bottom lip. “She hasn’t told anyone yet, no one except me, that is.”

  I grasped Mother’s hand and squeezed. “What is it?”

  “She lost the baby.”

  “Oh no.” My heart sank.

  My mother nodded. Miscarriage happened often in our community, along with stillbirths and life-threatening birth defects. Family trees inevitably crossed and became muddled through marriage, and the babies we lost were reminders of that.

  “She’s devastated. Feels she’s being punished.”

  “For what?”

  Like Aspen, Jessa was a devout follower of the prophet and our faith. She’d been married for six months to a kind man named Curtis. She was the fourth of his wives and had been happy since committing her life to him and his family. When we were younger, Jessa was always rocking the little ones to sleep or volunteering to give them their bottles. She was a natural caregiver and mother. No one deserved to be a mother more than my sister Jessa.

  “I’m not sure,” Mother said. “Missing prayer sessions, raising her voice to Curtis, something minor. I told her to pray on it. She needs to find a way to move on.”

  “Maybe she’s not ready. Losing someone can be difficult.”

  Mother narrowed her eyes. “Who have you lost?”

  She knew the correct answer.

  No one.

  But she didn’t know the real answer. The man I was forcing myself to lose.

  I walked to the end of her bed and smoothed out the bedcovers, avoiding her eyes. “No one, of course. I just—I can imagine is all.”

  “Ah,” she said, but I knew she wasn’t convinced. Despite having eight children, my mother knew me all too well. Which was why I needed to leave her house as soon as I could.

  “Here you are.” Aspen rounded the corner and placed a bed tray over my mother’s lap. Tea, butter cookies, and an apple sliced into wedges had been artfully arranged on it.

  “Thank you, dear.” Mother reached for the ancient teacup adorned with painted roses. “But I insist you two leave. You have responsibilities back at home. I’ll be fine.”

  “Mother, I don’t—”

  “I insist.”

  Her tone was sharp and I dared not question her further. Disrespecting your parents was completely unacceptable, and that included questioning their judgment in any given situation.

  As I stared down at my mother, so frail and small, her graying brown hair arranged into a loose bun, I realized the irony of the situation. No matter how tiny she was, no matter how weak, I had been taught that there was a line, a line that could not be crossed. And my tiny mother was, in all ways that mattered, ten feet tall rather than the five foot one she truly was. If she gave me an order, I was to follow it without question.

  “All right,” I said reluctantly. “But I’ll return in a couple of days. How does that sound?”

  “That will be fine.” Satisfaction crossed her face as she sat back, sipping her tea.

  I kissed the top of her head and walked to the door.

  “Oh, and Brinley, dear.”

  “Yes?”

  “Please don’t say anything to Jessa. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.

  Aspen glanced at me curiously, but said nothing. I waited until we left my mother’s home before telling her about Jessa, and she let out a sad sigh.

  “Poor thing.”

  “Have you ever . . . lost a baby?” I picked at the pocket of my dress, unsure how Aspen would respond. With anger? Embarrassment? Disgust? We weren’t encouraged to discuss such things. It was hard to keep sweet when you were wallowing in past disappointments.

  “Yes,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Just before you married Lehi.”

  “Oh no.” I froze, my hand raised to my mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was sad, yes. But it happens.” Her voice had softened, and I felt safe asking my next question.

  “What was it like?”

  She cleared her throat before answering. I knew I was making her ridiculously uncomfortable. But my heart was breaking for Jessa and I needed to know what she was going through.

  “Scary, mostly. And painful.”

  “Did you—did you bleed?” I asked, feeling intensely uncomfortable with the conversation, but pushing ahead anyway.

  “Yes, a lot.”

  “Did Lehi take care of you?”

  Aspen pulled me to an abrupt stop and turned to me. “Brinley, you can’t be serious?” Her words were sharp, cutting.

  “What?”

  Aspen crossed her arms in front of her and her nostrils flared. “Do you honestly think he would do that?”

  I searched my heart for the answer. And it didn’t take long.

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did anyone help you?” The thought of Aspen doubled over in pain, clutching her abdomen, broke my heart. The idea of her going through it alone brought tears to my eyes.

  “Ruthie helped me.”

  Aspen’s firstborn daughter, Ruthie, was only eight years old now. So at that point, she would have been only . . .

  “But . . . she was barely five!”

  Aspen shrugged, her eyes welling with tears. “She’s all I had.”

  I bit my lip, willing my tears to stop, but they wouldn’t. Several slid down my cheeks.

  “Stop,” Aspen said, closing her eyes and waving her hands wildly in the air. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

  Despite Aspen’s insistence, I knew my questions had caused her grief to resurface. Without thinking it through, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened at my embrace, but slowly she wrapped her arms around my lower back, allowing me to comfort her.

  I pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, “I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I rubbed my hands up and down Aspen’s back, and soon felt her muscles relax at my touch. I couldn’t make the past go away, but I could do my best to assure her that I would be there for her in the future.

  “Now stop,” Aspen said, pulling away and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Let’s not make a spectacle of ourselves.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, and turned to resume our walk home.

  “May I ask something else?”

  “Oh goodness, Brinley. You are determined to have me sob, aren’t you?”

  “No, nothing sad. I promise.”

  “All right, then,” she said with a reluctant chuckle.

  “When you, when you have intercourse . . . do
you enjoy it?”

  Aspen kept her eyes focused on the dirt road ahead of us. We were still several blocks from home. She knew it was safe to answer, but that didn’t convince me that she would.

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Lehi. Does it . . . Do you . . . I mean, do you have an org—”

  “Brinley!” Aspen said, her eyes wide, her cheeks as red as plum tomatoes. “You’ve been talking to Rebecca, haven’t you?”

  “I just—”

  “I lay with Lehi for procreation.” Her voice raised. “I lay with him to make babies for Heavenly Father’s celestial kingdom. That is all.”

  “But Lehi has them,” I argued.

  “Listen to me. Men have to have them. It won’t work if they don’t. Everyone knows that.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, stop it.”

  “I just—”

  “No! Ever since Rebecca came into our family, you’ve been odd and I don’t like it, Brinley. I don’t like it one bit.”

  “But I—”

  “She loved her husband, and look where that got her. Don’t let her lead you into false fantasies.”

  Her eyes were flinty in a way I’d never seen from her, fierce yet protective. Much like she’d look at her own children.

  “Be smart,” she told me. “Our duty is to produce children for our husband, for Heavenly Father. It is not to fornicate or indulge our desires.” Aspen turned on her heel and quickened her pace, heading directly for our home.

  “Yes, Aspen,” I muttered, following several paces behind. And wishing I’d never opened my mouth.

  I’d lost Rebecca. I couldn’t be foolish enough to lose Aspen.

  I had to be smart.

  When we reached our block, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Samuel. He was waving at me, swinging his arms in a subtle attempt to grab my attention, and he succeeded. But acknowledging his gesture would be the most foolish thing I could possibly do. There was only one reason Samuel would want to speak with me.

  Porter.

  I couldn’t handle that. Not at that moment. Possibly not ever.

  So I ignored him and obediently followed my sister wife to our home, all the while pinching the skin of my wrist until it bled.

  Chapter 12

  I couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was time to go to town.

  Luckily, Leandra was more than pleased to give me a rather long list of errands. None of the other sister wives had volunteered when I’d declined the week before to visit my mother. Leandra had asked Lehi, but conveniently he’d forgotten. When she pressed him about it, he reminded of her of the giant responsibilities on his shoulders.

  “There are eight of you,” he’d told her. “You cannot expect me to run errands. Get it done.”

  As much as I disliked Leandra, I knew it was time for me to volunteer. Time to face my fears. So I offered to run Leandra’s errands, and she shoved the envelope with the money and the list with a grateful sigh.

  It didn’t rain often in our little corner of Utah, but on this day the skies were overcast, the clouds ominous. When a cool breeze brushed past me, goose bumps ran up my arms, stinging the open wound on my wrist. I pulled my sleeve down to cover it, but wished I’d remembered to cover it with a bandage.

  When I approached Samuel’s post, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and hardened his expression. I wanted to run back to my house and hide, but I couldn’t. It was time to face my first obstacle of the day.

  “Well, look who it is.”

  “Hello, Samuel.” He’d always been kind to me, but not today. Today, he was hostile, angry. I glanced briefly in his direction before looking down at my shoes.

  “Stay right there,” he said, then walked to rummage inside a backpack behind the fence. When he returned, he placed a folded piece of paper in my hand. “I told you to keep me out of it.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb.” He gestured to the paper in my hand. “He told me to give that to you. Threatened to kick the snot out of me if I didn’t.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  Samuel grimaced. “Well, those aren’t the words he used, but yes.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I clutched my stomach as it churned, upset that Samuel was angry with me. The list of those who were currently displeased with me seemed to be ever growing.

  “That’s fine. But tell him to keep me out of it. You hear me?” Samuel’s eyes grew wide, and a large vein in his neck pulsed as he spoke.

  “Y-yes, I understand.” I nodded quickly, then cleared my throat and walked away as quickly as possible. When I reached the corner of the next block, I opened the note. My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper.

  Where ARE you?

  Those simple words were scribbled in the center of the paper. I flipped it over once, and then again, looking for more but there was nothing. Despite its brevity, his message was clear. He’d asked to see me again and I’d gone against my promise to try. Instead, I’d hidden from him, from us.

  It seemed that no matter what I did, I’d be haunted by guilt. I could abandon my family, my belief system, and my God, or I could walk away from Porter, the one man who had ever stirred my heart. But the guilt would follow me nevertheless. I wouldn’t escape it, I couldn’t.

  No matter what.

  • • •

  When I reached the door of the clinic, I told myself to stand up straight, to walk tall, to be strong. But I felt my body betray me as my shoulders dropped and drew in from shame.

  Tiffany stood behind the front desk, speaking to a mother who was cradling her screeching child. Tiffany’s compassion was generous, evident in her expression, her soft eyes, her sympathetic nod as she listened to the woman list her child’s maladies.

  When the woman and her daughter retreated to the waiting area, Tiffany stiffened, then inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as she exhaled, pulling herself back together as she filed their registration forms. When she closed their manila folder, our eyes met and she flinched.

  Her reaction made me tremble. My cruelty, my feelings of superiority had hurt her, that was obvious. Slowly, I managed to walk to the counter, trying to ignore the burning behind my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I-I came to apologize.”

  “You’re out of pills, huh?” She crossed her arms and frowned at me.

  I hung my head in shame. “Yes. Almost.”

  “I figured.” She shook her head with a sigh, then began to reorganize stacks of paper behind the counter.

  “Please, Tiffany, I don’t know what to do, where to turn. You’re the only one who knows.”

  “About what?” She slammed her hands down on the counter. “The pills? Porter Hammond?” She glared at me. “It feels like all I do is carry around your dirty secrets.”

  “I know, but I—”

  “If you’re so unhappy, just leave. I did it, Porter did it. You can do it too, Brinley.”

  I pressed my lips together, fighting tears. “It’s not that easy.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s hard, really hard. But it’s worth it.” She looked up at the ceiling, a small smile peeking through her anger. “Geez, Brinley, you have no idea what freedom really is, what it feels like. There’s nothing better. Nothing.”

  I had no reply. She was right; I had no idea what freedom was. Not one single, solitary clue.

  “Can you tell me?” I asked through my tears.

  She paused and took a deep breath before saying, “It’s like flying. So scary, so unsettling, but when you get your bearings, you just . . .” She shrugged. “You glide. And you forget what it was like to walk instead of using your wings.”

  “Wow.” I stared at the beige counter, letting her words wash over me again and again. I wanted to fly, wanted to be free, but my fear wouldn’t let me leave the ground.

  “I’ll keep hope for you.”

  She placed a box of tissues in front of me. I nodded, closing my eyes and wiping the fresh
tears from my skin. When I opened my eyes, she was gone. I looked around the waiting area, wondering where Tiffany had disappeared to.

  Seconds later she returned through the door to the back room, holding the familiar bag containing my birth control pills. “Until then, here you go.”

  A sigh of relief left my lungs. “Thank you,” I said, tears spilling anew. “And I’m sorry, so very sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s not your fault. It’s all you know, and it’s been drilled into your head for twenty-two years. But there’s more to this world than life in a compound, Brinley. I swear to you, there’s so much more. More than you ever imagined.”

  I picked up the bag and tucked it inside my purse. Unable to look up, I whispered, “I want to be brave, but I’m not. I’m just not.”

  “I didn’t think I was either.” Tiffany reached across the counter of the desk and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s in you, you just have to find it.”

  Not sure what else to say, I simply said, “Thank you.” I didn’t believe her. I knew I wasn’t brave or strong. I knew my feet would never allow me to grow wings. They’d never allow me to fly.

  “I have to get back to work,” she said kindly. “Take care of yourself now.”

  I nodded, turning to walk to the door, and as I did, Tiffany said, “He misses you.”

  “What?”

  “You know who I’m talking about. Go see him, Brinley. He cares about you.”

  Her words stopped me in my tracks.

  “Why do you say that? How can you tell?”

  First a note given to Samuel, and now I knew he had visited Tiffany again. My desire for Porter was creeping back into my subconscious. As if under a trance, I reached for my wrist and pinched the skin, wincing from the pain of the open flesh.

  “Yesterday he sat over there,” she gestured to the chairs to my left, “for three hours straight. He’d just come from work and was sweaty and gross. I told him to go home and take a shower, that you weren’t coming and that I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

  “And?” I asked, my heart racing.

  “He just shrugged his shoulders again and again and said, ‘I’m fine here, thanks.’ It was sweet in a weird, stalkerish way.”