Wife Number Seven

by Melissa Brown

  “We’ll be careful, I promise. But I won’t take no for an answer, Brin. You shouldn’t be out on your own this late. Something could happen to you.”

  “Oh,” I muttered under my breath. “Thank you.”

  And then it hit me. The list in my pocket. Leandra would have my head.

  “Oh no.” The happiness I’d felt just moments before was instantly replaced with dread. I slid down to the floor. “She’ll know. Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

  “Whoa, slow down. What are you talking about?”

  Withdrawing the paper from my pocket, I placed the list beside me with shaking hands. I’d been gone for hours. If I returned with absolutely nothing on Leandra’s list, she would know I’d been dishonest. She’d be certain that her misgivings about me were correct—that I couldn’t be trusted.

  “This is a list . . . of stuff.”

  “I was supposed to buy all of those things. Hours ago.”

  Porter crouched down and lifted my chin with his fingertips. “Listen to me, okay? We’ve got this. C’mon, I go shopping all the time. I’ll help you.”

  “You do?”

  The idea of a man shopping seemed so silly to me, but then I remembered that Porter lived here in the outside world, where no one was going to take care of him but himself.

  He nodded and reached for my hands, pulling me from the floor.

  “C’mon. I told you, we got this.”

  • • •

  Our shopping trip was brief, but somehow Porter made it fun by cracking jokes about the different products lining the shelves. For just a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that we were a married couple running a simple errand together on a Wednesday evening.

  That thought warmed me. It warmed me like no other thought had before it.

  “What’s that for?” Porter asked when, without even thinking about it, I reached for Lehi’s favorite shade of crimson lipstick and placed it into our basket. “You can’t wear that.”

  I didn’t reply but simply scratched it from the list, moving on to the mascara and eyeliner.

  “What the fuck, Brin?”

  Porter’s voice was low but intense. He didn’t understand, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him what Lehi required in the bedroom. When I turned to face him, I begged him with my eyes. Begged him not to push me.

  “Oh wow.” Porter raised both his arms above his head, locking them behind his neck as he walked several paces away from me. I could hear him inhale and exhale loudly as he walked. He turned and stormed back to stand just inches from me, his teeth clenched. He grabbed the lipstick and held it in front of him like it was somehow toxic. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  I shook my head and stared at the floor. He gripped my chin and raised it so I was forced to look at him.

  “Do you like wearing this stuff? For him?”

  “No!” I yelled, then covered my mouth in shame. Several customers glanced our way and Porter took a few steps back, his hands held up in front of him in that universal gesture that said I’m not a threat.

  An older woman with flaming red hair and brown tortoise-shell glasses narrowed her eyes at Porter, then focused her attention on me. “Are you okay, honey?”

  I knew what she was thinking. Occasionally women of our faith were taunted by men when we came into town, which was why I’d avoided ever being out this late.

  “I’m fine, yes. He’s my friend.”

  “Are you sure?” She took a few steps toward me, eyeing Porter with suspicion.

  “Y-yes, thank you.” I turned my attention to Porter and grabbed his hand. “We should be going.”

  Porter was silent at the register until the cashier gave me the total, then he retrieved his wallet and paid the bill. When I opened my mouth to protest, he simply said, “Keep it. Don’t tell them. Just keep it. Besides, I owe you, don’t I?” He winked, referring to the twenty-five dollars that had been in my purse the day it was stolen.

  I thanked him and nodded, appreciating the gesture. I’d never had my own money before. And now I had twenty-eight dollars. Money of my own opened up thoughts that had never occurred to me, ultimately leading to independence and a life outside the compound. With that simple gesture, Porter had shown me that it was, indeed possible. My stomach filled with excitement and butterflies.

  Oh yes. Resistance was becoming much easier.

  • • •

  As promised, Porter and I parted ways a block from the compound. He pulled me behind a massive tree to say our good-byes, and apologized for assuming that I enjoyed wearing makeup for Lehi.

  “It kills me, Brin. I can’t stand the thought of him dressing you up like some sort of doll.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “I would never do that to you. Ever.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean it. When you’re with me, I want you—no one else. Just you.”

  “You barely know me,” I whispered without thinking it through.

  I was finding my voice. Instead of questioning every little statement to leave my lips the way I was forced to in the Cluff household, Porter made me comfortable enough to speak from the heart. With him, I didn’t feel the need to wrap my words in pretense or correctness. I was just . . . me.

  “But I want to. I want to know everything there is to know about you, the real you. Not the fake mold they’ve placed you in. The real Brinley. The one who matters.”

  He pressed his forehead to mine and wrapped his hands around the back of my neck, pulling me as close as possible. My lips curled into the most satisfied smile of my life as I replayed his words in my head again and again.

  Unable to deny my own desire, I allowed him in, loving the feel of him, realizing how much I’d missed and craved his touch. I ran my fingers through Porter’s sandy-colored hair as he ran his hands down my back, then squeezed my bottom, making me gasp.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he said between kisses.

  “Me too,” I whispered, knowing I could no longer deny the attraction I felt for this complicated man. A man who scared me and excited me. A man who could render me speechless one moment and cause me to yell the next.

  “Stop fighting this. Stop hurting yourself. Promise me.” He kissed my chin, my cheeks, my neck.

  “I want to, but I don’t know how,” I whispered, soothed by the feel of his lips against my skin. “I don’t know how.”

  “Let me teach you,” he murmured between kisses. “Please, please let me.”

  When the sun had set completely, I forced myself to pull my lips from Porter’s. With gentle fingers, he smoothed down my disheveled hair, tucking unruly strands back into my braid. When he finished, his face softened and he reached down to touch my wrist with his fingertips. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my injured wrist.

  Since his eyes were no longer crazed, his lips gentle and compassionate, I knew the drugs were leaving his system. The real Porter was showing through the harsh exterior I’d encountered earlier.

  The scary thing was, I was drawn to both sides of this man.

  When he was gentle, I was overwhelmed with amazement and wonder. He soothed me, and when I was with him, hope expanded within me. But his forceful nature, his passionate exasperation aroused something inside me, something intoxicating. Something that drew out the resistance in me. And I craved the fire that he created between us, the fire he lit inside me.

  I closed my eyes and nodded. I couldn’t lie to him, and didn’t want to avoid him any longer.

  With one last kiss and promises to see each other again, I was on my way back home. Feeling hopeful rather than afraid. Feeling resistant rather than complacent. Feeling empowered rather than imprisoned.

  • • •

  When I got home, the family was gathering in the kitchen and dining areas for dinner. My sister wives were fussing over their children, spoon-feeding their babies and doling out responsibilities to the older children. Lehi was, as usual, reading the church bulletin rather than paying attention to his f
amily.

  The only eyes that focused on me when I entered the room and dropped the plastic bags on the counter were Rebecca’s. They were narrowed and angry. I had to look away; her stare made me uncomfortable. Quickly, I scurried to my bedroom.

  I was placing my purse in the shoebox in my closet when my door opened.

  “Where have you been?” Rebecca asked. Her voice was loud and I cringed, not wanting her to draw attention from Lehi or the other wives.

  I stood to face her and squared my shoulders. “I was running errands. Leandra gave me a rather long list. Everything’s in the kitchen.”

  “You went to see him, didn’t you?”

  Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

  Rebecca’s lips pressed together in a tight line as she awaited my answer.

  “I . . . we . . . he . . .” My voice trailed off.

  Deep down, I knew I couldn’t trust Rebecca to keep my secret if she knew I’d gone to see Porter. She studied my face with narrowed eyes as if she were holding an invisible magnifying glass. Would she notice my lips, still swollen from stolen kisses? Would she see the redness in my eyes?

  “Why can’t you just leave it alone? What’s done is done.” Rebecca’s voice was demanding, but her words confused me.

  What is she talking about?

  She stepped toward me, her jaw tight, her eyes flashing with anger.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”

  “Enough,” she shrieked, throwing her arms into the air. “Do you think I’m stupid? I saw you two together with my own two eyes, Brinley!”

  Of course she did. She was with me when I first visited Porter’s apartment. She wasn’t making any sense at all.

  “Yes . . .” I said slowly, hoping she’d explain herself further.

  “Oh, I see.” She let out a little huff and crossed her arms. “Leandra was right about you.”

  My heart squeezed at those words. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a bad seed. I didn’t want to believe her, but it’s true.”

  I shook my head violently. “No, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

  “I don’t think so.” Rebecca walked to the door and wrapped her fingers around the knob. “Stop seeing him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie left my lips so easily.

  “I’m smarter than you think I am.” And with that parting shot she left my room, closing the door behind her.

  Devastated, I collapsed onto the bed and wept into my pillow, muffling my howls by cramming the fabric into my mouth. But despite the sadness I felt at the loss of Rebecca’s friendship, anger and resentment brewed within me.

  I was changing.

  My thoughts, my desires, my ideals—all were altered by each contact I had with Porter. I was tired of resisting the effect he was having on me. I was tired of resisting feeling like an actual person, rather than just a cog in a wheel.

  Rebecca was satisfied with being a cog.

  But I wasn’t. Not anymore.

  Chapter 14

  “Brinley.” Aspen popped her head into my room. “Family meeting in ten minutes. Get yourself together.”

  “All right.”

  Forcing myself out of my warm bed, I wiped the sleep from my eyes, dreading our weekly Saturday morning check-in with Lehi and all the sister wives. Leandra didn’t hesitate to monopolize each meeting with complaints, demands disguised as requests, and demonstrations of her control over the household. The rest of us spent the hour keeping sweet, nodding along and accepting any requests made of us.

  All seven of the other wives were seated at the table with Lehi when I joined them. Leandra scowled at me, her arms crossed in front of her. Rebecca’s words from a few nights ago echoed through my mind.

  Leandra was right about you. You’re a bad seed.

  Deliberately I averted my gaze, unable to look Leandra in the eye knowing she thought so little of me. I’d never done anything to intentionally cause problems for her or any of my sister wives, and I resented her animosity toward me.

  “Now that we’re all here,” she began, shooting a nasty look in my direction, “Brenda has some unfortunate news.”

  Brenda was Lehi’s third wife, and the most private of the wives. She didn’t socialize with many of us, preferring to keep her interaction to a minimum. She was, however, an extraordinary mother who treated her four daughters with love and kindness.

  “My mother passed away last night,” Brenda said softly. “My daughters and I will be with my family for the remainder of the weekend. If someone would please—” She choked on her words as her emotions overcame her, then sat up a little straighter. “I’d appreciate it if someone would complete my daily tasks today.”

  I spoke up. “I’ll help you, Brenda. What can I do?”

  Relief eased the wrinkles on her pained face. “Thank you. I, um, I have a list.” She reached across the table and slid a small tablet of paper my way. When I read the list, my stomach dropped in disappointment. With her chores on top of mine, there was no way I’d be able to sneak away to see Porter.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said. The other wives nodded, but none of them expressed their condolences to Brenda. A chill ran down my spine. She was our sister wife; weren’t we supposed to support her in times like this? And what about her husband? Shouldn’t Lehi join her this weekend, to support her through this difficult time?

  My thoughts focused on Brenda as the meeting continued. Leandra recited a list of complaints she’d compiled throughout the week. Gloria’s children had been too loud. Aspen’s sons had broken a vase that belonged to her mother. The carpet in the common area was in need of deep cleaning, etc.

  Finally Leandra was ready to wrap things up. “Lehi would like to conclude our meeting this week. Dear?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. There are a few things I need to cover and then I’ll let you go about your day. First, a great honor has been bestowed upon our family. Brinley?”

  I lifted my gaze quickly to meet his. An honor? What was he talking about?

  “The prophet’s mother is ill, and she’s in need of a caregiver. The prophet has asked for you, specifically, to care for his mother.”

  Caregiver? For the prophet’s mother? What did I know about caregiving?

  My mind raced as I stammered, “Well, I—um—”

  Lehi cut me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “She is aging rapidly and is becoming quite senile. She’ll need you to assist her with basic tasks. She sleeps quite a bit, so you can spend time cleaning or running errands for her.”

  “Errands?” I asked, seeing the possible silver lining of the situation.

  “Yes. The prophet keeps her home well stocked, of course. But occasionally she may run out of toiletries or milk, and you can make a quick trip. Do you feel you can accept this honor?”

  “I’m sorry to interject,” Ida interrupted. “But may I ask why Brinley has been chosen for this honor? She has no children, or any background in caregiving—”

  Ida was the fourth wife of Lehi. She was in her early thirties and had given up a job in caring for elderly adults in the community when she gave birth to her third child, and Leandra informed her that she was needed at home. The other wives were not willing to care for her children while she worked outside the home. According to Aspen, she’d been bitter ever since.

  Ida and Aspen were not at all fond of each other. Their personalities were similar: strong, opinionated, and devout. Ida, like Gloria, was devoted to her quest to please Leandra and Lehi at all times, which Aspen despised. Aspen was devoted to Heavenly Father, but she would not compromise herself for anyone. She refused to brownnose anyone in our household.

  “We are not to question the prophet’s will,” Lehi snapped, his eyes boring into Ida’s. “He knows best. He specifically requested Brinley.”

  Ida quickly dropped her gaze as her cheeks reddened. Aspen snickered quietly under her breath, and both Ida and Gloria whipped their he
ads up, glowering at Aspen.

  “Besides,” Lehi said, “Brinley does not have children . . . yet. So this makes the most sense for our family.”

  “It would be an honor, Lehi,” I said, attempting to calm the energy at the table.

  Although I wanted to snicker right along with Aspen, it wouldn’t be smart to ruffle any feathers. Rebecca was already angry with me, and I couldn’t afford to earn any more enemies in the household. Ida and I had always managed to stay friendly despite our separate allegiances in the house.

  “Very good,” Lehi said. “The prophet expects you to begin on Wednesday. I’ll have the address for you and will walk you there that morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, and I knew he was relieved that the tension was abating. “Next order of business. Rebecca, dear?”

  Rebecca responded with a soft smile aimed at our husband. My stomach climbed into my throat. Would she tell my secrets? Embarrass me in front of Lehi and the sister wives?

  “Would you like to tell them, or should I?” Lehi continued. Rebecca shook her head, her smile transforming into a look of discomfort.

  What on earth?

  “Very well, then.” Lehi sat up straight in his seat. “Rebecca is expecting. We’re having our first child together.”

  All of my sister wives, Leandra included, proceeded to celebrate this news. Congratulations were given. Her due date was discussed, and offers of assistance with chores and her children were offered by several of the sister wives.

  But me? I cried.

  My tears were silent as they slid down my cheeks. As the rest of the family marveled at this news, I was crushed. And I knew Burt would be too. Rebecca had officially moved on, given up on the love she’d shared with her first husband. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and watched her as she gracefully accepted the well wishes and hugs from our sister wives. I wanted to stand up, pound my fist on the table, and shout, “No!” But I couldn’t. Instead, I remained silent, watching . . . just watching.

  Aspen glanced my way, giving me a look of pity. She must have assumed my tears were for myself, for my supposed infertility. I glanced away quickly, playing the part, feeling terrible for lying without saying anything at all.