She gasped and pinched her eyes shut as the realization slammed into her. Tomorrow morning, Porter wouldn’t be present at the breakfast table. He wouldn’t join his father at the construction site in town. He’d be gone, and she’d be forced to remove his pictures from their home. Group photos would be altered, ink scribbled across his face to erase his presence in the family.
It was required of her, and she knew it.
She had to be brave and listen to the prophet, and to her husband to whom she had devoted her life.
“May I go with you?”
Ron nodded. “The prophet revealed that you should be the one.”
“I don’t understand.” Alice shook her head as tears pricked at her eyes.
“Porter and I have a history of arguments; he won’t listen to me. But you, he is loyal to you and will go with you. It’s easier this way, my dear.”
Of everything her husband had shared with her on this cold winter’s evening, the realization that she was to be the one to send her firstborn child into exile was almost more than she could handle. But handle it she would. It was her obligation, her duty, her role in securing her husband’s place in the celestial kingdom.
This moment would define her—the moment she was tested by the Heavenly Father. And the day she succeeded by doing exactly what was expected of her.
When Ron dismissed her from the conversation, placing a hundred dollar bill and a folded piece of notebook paper in the palm of her hand, she made her way to the hallway closet. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for a simple suitcase Ron had used for the occasional business trip for his construction business. Without a word, she entered Porter’s bedroom and gathered several outfits from his closet, two pairs of shoes, and his toiletries, enough to last him through the end of the week.
It was then that she summoned him from the common area where he was cleaning the tables with his younger brothers. Her eyes welled up with tears when she saw him, knowing that this would be the last time he saw his siblings.
“Porter.”
He placed the sponge on the table in front of him and stood tall. “Yes, Mother.”
“I need your assistance with something. Please drive me to town.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Your father has requested that I visit the pharmacy. But I need you to drive me. It’s too cold to walk this evening.”
She knew he’d be more than pleased to drive her into town. It beat washing tables splashed with applesauce and milk from his twenty-two siblings, many of them under the age of five. Besides, he hadn’t driven his father’s truck at all that week, and she knew he welcomed any chance he had to leave the compound.
Porter had always been curious about the outside world. Perhaps, Alice thought, that was the reason for his troublesome personality. When his cousin Charlie had left the compound two years prior, Porter had asked about him incessantly. Alice had repeatedly tried to explain that Charlie was dead to the church and to his family. He would burn in hell for choosing to join the outside world filled with demons, temptations, and countless people devoured by sin.
Alice told herself that Porter would want this, that she was delivering him to where he was meant to be. But her heart warred with her brain.
Despite his persistence regarding the fate of his cousin, and the trouble he caused his father, perhaps he would be eager to repent if given the chance. But that was not to be, and she needed to accept the will of the prophet and Heavenly Father. They knew best. She was just a woman overcome with her emotions, emotions she needed to learn to control.
“Turn here,” Alice said, two blocks before the pharmacy. “Stop at this coffee shop.”
“Mother, you don’t drink—”
“Do as you’re told,” she snapped, clenching her teeth.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Porter placed the gearshift into park and sat back in his seat, looking to Alice for direction. The coffee shop was still open, but Alice imagined it would be closing soon. When her fingers gripped the door handle, Porter’s expression changed and he swallowed hard. She knew he’d figured it out. He knew that she had no intention of buying anything from the shop.
“Mother?” he whispered, and his voice cracked.
She turned her gaze to meet his, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands trembling, she placed two items in the palm of his hand. His chest heaved as he opened the envelope filled with cash. Alice knew it was more money than Porter had ever seen in his life. She only hoped he’d find a way to make it last.
“Your cousin lives above this shop. Your father is certain he will allow you to stay with him until you find a place of your own. You’ll be seventeen next month—it’s time for you to be an adult.”
“Father never said good-bye,” Porter croaked. “And I’m not going to see him again, am I?”
She shook her head, again closing her eyes.
“And this?” he asked, opening the notebook paper.
“The address of a construction company just outside of Colorado City. You can apply for a job. Your father said they’ll be expecting you.”
“So this is it?” Porter asked, turning to stare out the front windshield of the truck.
Alice knew it was time for him to go, to leave the only life he’d ever known. To say good-bye to her for the last time. And it broke her heart.
Pulling herself together, she steeled her spine and said calmly, “I placed a suitcase in the bed of the truck. It has everything you need for the next few weeks, until you’re able to begin working and earning money of your own.”
“I see,” Porter said, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
For a moment, Alice worried that he might strike her in anger, take the truck, and leave her by the side of the road. But she pushed her nerves aside and delivered the words of the prophet.
“This is how it must be. It was a revelation from the Lord himself. Our way is not meant for you, Porter. You’re meant to be . . . well, you’re meant to be here.”
“I’m meant to be damned?” Porter asked, glaring at her.
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. Porter’s nostrils flared as he ripped off his seat belt and flung open the driver’s side door.
In her side mirror, Alice watched as Porter reached for the suitcase, pulling it from the bed of the truck. She followed his movements as he walked to the sidewalk, looking back at the truck with such a helpless expression that her heart lurched painfully.
Alice couldn’t take the emotions building inside her. She had to leave before she changed her mind. She slid across from the passenger side to the driver’s side, then buckled her seat belt and adjusted the mirror. Without a glance in her son’s direction, she put the truck into gear and drove away.
She prayed as she drove back to her home, knowing that she had secured her husband’s place in heaven.
Chapter 18
Seven pairs of eyes fixed on me as Lehi delivered the news. Despite the storm developing inside me—the guilt that threatened to demolish any hope or happiness I had for a future with Porter—I did my very best to appear happy to my sister wives. If I didn’t seem elated about the blessing that was to be my first child with our husband, the other wives would know it was all a lie, the most foul form of deception.
And so my lips curled up, and with every ounce of strength within me, I forced “happy” tears to build in my eyes.
“This is new,” Lehi boomed, his voice bursting with pride at his ability to impregnate the one wife who had always been a challenge in that regard. “So we must be cautious. But it is also worthy of much celebration. Please join me in prayer.”
The wives joined hands, Aspen’s squeezing mine tightly, and we bowed our heads as Lehi led our prayer.
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the continued blessings of this household. We are especially grateful for the new life inside Brinley. May you keep her well so that she may produce a healthy child for our family.”
Whe
n I heard the words “new life,” my gut clenched in disgust. At myself.
Lies.
So many lies were mounting. Higher and higher they climbed.
How would I ever keep up with all them?
• • •
When our meeting came to a close, Aspen followed me to my bedroom. It was a Saturday morning, and I was hoping to sneak away to the free clinic and to Porter’s apartment. He’d greeted me this morning with an invitation.
P: Please come by. I’ll wait all day. But hurry. I miss you.
Despite the anger I felt toward myself for my lies, my feelings had not changed for Porter. I understood his reasons—he couldn’t share me, wouldn’t share me because of the intensity of his feelings. It was flattering and wonderful and scary. I knew that I was falling in love with Porter, stolen moment by stolen moment, text message by text message. I knew that if I were brave enough to leave Lehi’s home, Porter would welcome and support me, no questions asked, no hesitation whatsoever.
I was the problem . . . the roadblock . . . the bump in the road.
Because I wasn’t brave enough to go.
And so the lie I told my husband was mine alone. I owned it, claimed it as my own deception. Porter might have thought of the lie, but I was the sole reason it had to be announced.
So his text messages gave me just as many butterflies in my belly as they did before I informed Lehi of my pretend pregnancy. And I hoped that Aspen wouldn’t prevent me from seeing him that day.
“I’m so happy for you, Brinley,” Aspen said, picking up pieces of laundry from the wicker basket on my floor, and laying them flat on my bed. “I’ll do your ironing today.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s so nice.”
“You’ll need to rest as much as possible. Have you had any morning sickness yet? Lehi said it’s early . . . how early?”
My pulse quickened. I took a breath before continuing my lie, making sure that my story remained consistent.
“Just a few weeks. My period was due two weeks ago.”
“Did you take a test?”
I nodded.
“I always keep mine, you know, as a memento or something,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Did you?”
“Um, no,” I replied, avoiding her curious eyes. “I didn’t think of it.”
“Oh well.” Aspen shrugged, forcing a smile. She was keeping sweet, which was odd for Aspen. When we were separated from the rest of the household, she usually ignored that mantra, instead sharing her honest thoughts and opinions. She’d always been what Leandra called an “open book” when it was just the two of us.
So, what was different now?
“You rest, I’ll take care of this.” Aspen scooped the basket into her arms and walked to the door. “If you need anything, just let me know, all right? Pregnancy can be scary.”
“Scary?”
She nodded. “It’s a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement, curiosity, with a lot of fear mixed in.”
“Why fear?”
“Remember Jessa? What she went through?”
“Yes.”
“And what I told you about myself?” Her voice cracked, and the memory of her little daughter Ruthie playing nursemaid as Aspen lost her baby came rushing back to me.
This time, the tears that left my eyes weren’t forced. They poured freely, filled with guilt and sadness for the only sister wife who seemed to actually care about me. The rest of them just looked through me.
“I’m so sorry, I—”
“Brinley, I have four healthy children. I’m not reminding you of this to make you feel bad. You asked why there’s fear, and so I answered. That’s all.”
I used my sleeve as I attempted to brush the tears, and guilt, from my face as Aspen walked out my door. But when the door clicked shut, I couldn’t contain the remorse that consumed me. I slid to the floor, leaning my back against the side of my mattress, and hung my head in my hands, tears dripping past my palms and landing on my dress.
How could I ever look Aspen in the eye again? Or Jessa?
I was taking their pain, taking their horrific experiences and, what? Trivializing them? Using them to my own advantage? Using them to indulge in my own need to lay with a man who was not my husband.
I was the type of person the prophet preached about. The kind that could “infect” an entire family.
And if Lehi or Leandra discovered the truth about this fictitious pregnancy, my existence would be altered forever.
• • •
Tiffany was slumped over the counter at the free clinic, filling out paperwork for a patient with an injured arm. When I approached, we exchanged our usual verbal volley, a conversational dance that had become familiar. She always pleaded with me to ask for help, but this time I shocked her by taking her up on her offer.
“Actually, I-I could use some help.”
Her eyes snapped open wide. “Brinley! Are you leaving? Do you need a place to stay? A job?”
“No . . . no. I, uh, I need to know some things . . . about pregnancy and stuff.”
Her expectant smile fell into a frown. “I don’t understand. Those pills are keeping you from getting pregnant. What exactly do you want to know?”
“What is it like? When do women start to show? What is morning sickness like? Stuff like that. It’s no big deal, I can ask someone else.”
“No.” She raised her hand to stop my dismissive response. “We’re slow today. I’ll get you an examination room and we’ll talk. I’ve never been pregnant, but I can certainly do a Google search.”
“A what?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I’ll show you.” She leaned down and retrieved several pamphlets, then placed them in my hand.
Your Pregnancy: How to Plan
So, You’re Going to be a Parent
And:
Morning Sickness, the First Trimester
“This is a good start. But I’ll answer everything I can. Come on back.” She grabbed a small device from the edge of the counter and led me to a cramped exam room.
I perched atop the paper-covered table, my heart going a mile a minute. I knew I could trust Tiffany, but that didn’t stop the dread from building. What would she think of this decision I’d made? What would she think of me and my desire to have a sexual relationship with Porter?
Should I tell her?
Could I?
“Okay,” she began. “Start from the beginning. Why do you need to know anything about pregnancy? Clearly, you have no intention of having Lehi’s babies anytime soon. So, fill me in. Because I’m kinda confused.”
“I’m not sure how to say this.” I rubbed at the crispy paper beneath me again and again until the sweat from my hands ripped it to soggy shreds. I was tentative in my words, my movements, afraid of losing an ally that I so desperately needed.
“Brinley, you don’t have to hesitate with me. Seriously. I’m not one of them. I’m on my own, remember?” Her sincerity soothed me, creating a cocoon of safety in the room.
Taking a chance, I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, embraced the security of her promised trust.
“Lehi thinks I’m pregnant.”
“Okaaay,” Tiffany replied. My eyes still shut, I had no idea if hers were filled with judgment, confusion, or even empathy. “Why does he think that?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Brinley, c’mon. Just tell me.”
“Because I lied. I made it up. I made up a pregnancy so I wouldn’t have to sleep with him.”
I brought up my hands to cover my face, and hung my head in my hands. I expected Tiffany’s disapproval, her scorn.
But instead, she laughed.
“Are you kidding me? That may be the smartest thing you’ve ever done!” I could hear her rise from her seat and walk to me. Her hand rubbed my back in a soothing motion.
Stunned, I lifted my face and my eyes met hers.
“What?” I couldn’t even begin to co
mprehend her reaction to my twisted, deplorable behavior.
“I mean it, cousin. That dirty old man doesn’t deserve to touch you, to have his hands on you. I’m proud of you for making this decision. Now you won’t need your pills.”
“Well . . .” Averting my eyes, I bit on my bottom lip and flinched from the pain.
“Oh my God. Are you . . .”
As her voice trailed off, I focused my attention on the wall, too ashamed to meet her eyes. But I nodded my head.
“Porter?” she pressed.
I nodded again.
“Holy shit.”
“Tiffany!”
“Sorry, sorry.” She shook her head. “But this is a big freaking deal. I mean, you’re sleeping with him? How long has this been going on?”
“It hasn’t yet, but I want to. So badly, I can think of almost nothing else.”
“Wow.” Tiffany returned to her seat, then picked up the small gadget and slid her finger on the screen. “Make sure he wears a condom, okay?”
“Why? What is that?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Please don’t do that,” I begged her. “I feel silly enough as it is.”
I surprised myself with my demand. It wasn’t like me to stick up for myself in any given situation—let alone one like this where I felt so vulnerable, so foolish for not understanding the outside world, and things with such silly names as “con-dum.”
“It’s important,” Tiffany said absently as she focused on the tiny screen. “You need it to keep yourself safe from diseases. I can give you some pamphlets on that too.”
I was confused, but I trusted Tiffany and didn’t want to stray too far from the topic at hand . . . my fake baby.
“What’s that?” I gestured to the small device in her hand.
“It’s an iPad.”
“What does it do?” I peered at the flat device, wondering how this could possibly help me in any way.
“It’s like a mini computer. I’m going to do a Google search for you, and I’ll print off a bunch of information.”
I nodded, watching her tap her fingers on the small machine.
“Do you know your due date?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“All right, let’s calculate one for you. What did you tell him? About how far along you are.”
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