Wife Number Seven

by Melissa Brown

  “He thinks my period was due two weeks ago.”

  “Perfect, I can figure it out for you.”

  Her fingers continued to tap and slide from side to side with abrupt movements as she stared at the screen.

  “May first.”

  “Wow. It all feels so real now, even though it isn’t.”

  “I just realized,” she said, looking up from the “pad.”

  “What?”

  “This pregnancy has to end at some point. We’ll have to figure out when that would most likely happen. Are you going to fake a miscarriage?”

  I bit into my lip once again, and cringed at the harsh taste of my own blood. Tears flooded my eyes.

  “Stop,” Tiffany insisted. “There’s no shame here. Not with me.”

  “Do you mean that? I mean, really mean it?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll help you in any way I can. Always. You don’t belong there, Brinley. I feel it in my gut.”

  “I wish I did too. But I’m too afraid.”

  I wanted to run my fingers through my hair, knowing it would calm me, but was hindered by the bulky braid. That braid represented years of repression, years of being stifled by my upbringing, by my beliefs and community.

  “Do you think I wasn’t?” Tiffany’s hands pressed into her hips as she glowered at me. “I was ridiculously afraid, Brinley. But I knew I didn’t belong there. And you don’t either. I promise that when you make the decision to leave—”

  “If,” I said, correcting her.

  “When,” she repeated, “it’ll be hard. I won’t sugarcoat it. It will be the most difficult, grueling thing you’ll ever experience. But you’ll fly, remember? Your wings won’t be clipped anymore. You’ll soar through the air, answering to no one but yourself.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at me and patted my shoulder. “You just have to take a leap of faith. One so giant it’s frightening. But you have to do it or you’ll never be free. You’ll remain chained to Lehi Cluff for years, decades, and eventually, fake pregnancies won’t be an option. You’ll find yourself pregnant with his babies. Again and again you’ll bear his children, and your chains will grow tighter and tighter. You need to jump off that cliff now, Brinley, before you no longer have a choice. Trust me.”

  I found myself tongue-tied, with no response to her plea. Everything she said made sense, everything. So, why was I fighting this? Why was I clinging to a life I resented? To a life that brought me nothing but frustration, secrets, and shame?

  Maybe Tiffany was right. Maybe it was time to go.

  Or at least consider the idea.

  The whisper was not quite a scream yet, but it was growing louder.

  I just had to listen.

  • • •

  “I thought you’d never get here,” Porter murmured into my ear, pressing his hand into the small of my back and pulling me close. So close, I could feel the pounding of his heart through my thick cotton dress.

  “I got here as soon as I could.” I relaxed fully, snuggling closer as I submerged myself in the touch of Porter. I hadn’t seen him in days, not since he’d given me my first orgasm.

  Since then I’d craved more, so much more. I wanted to feel that way again. And this time, I wanted Porter to feel it right along with me.

  With nimble fingers, I unbuttoned the buttons of my dress . . . one by one.

  Porter pulled away and stared at my hands, then cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “But—”

  I pressed my finger to his lips. “We announced my pregnancy this morning. Lehi won’t touch me.”

  “Oh.” His eyes brightened with those words, and the restraint in his expression disappeared. The hunger he’d repressed for months broke free as his hands joined mine in unbuttoning my dress.

  “This body,” I continued, feeling bolder, more feminine and seductive, “is for you . . . and you alone.”

  Porter whipped the dress over my head, then focused on removing the long underwear that covered my skin. Soon that dropped to my ankles along with my dress. I resisted the urge to cover my naked body once he’d removed my bra and panties. The ravenous look in his eyes made adrenaline shoot through my veins, and the throbbing of my private area returned. He gripped the hair at the base of my scalp, inhaling deeply as his eyes met mine. His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened.

  “I’ve waited so long, Brin . . . so long to have you like this. I’m going to savor it, make you scream my name. Make you mine.”

  “Yes.” An intense sigh left my lips as rolled my head back, losing myself in the passion of his kisses against the hot skin of my neck. “Yes, please.”

  “Lay on the bed.”

  “Yes, si—”

  I pressed my hand to my mouth in shock. How could I have said that?

  Porter lifted my chin with his hand and stared deeply into my eyes. “No. Don’t you ever call me that. This is about us. Not me . . . us. I’m not him.”

  “I-I know, I’m so sorry. I just—”

  “Shh.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t apologize. But that’s the last time either of us thinks about that shithead in this room. All right?”

  I nodded, holding back tears, terrified that I had quite possibly spoiled my first time with Porter by falling into old habits I shared with Lehi.

  Crawling onto Porter’s bed, I turned my body to rest on my back, propped up by my elbows, waiting for Porter. He opened his nightstand drawer and retrieved a small square packet.

  “What’s that?” I stared down at the packet as he ripped it open and removed a rubbery-looking sleeve from the packaging.

  “A condom,” he said softly, stripping himself of his jeans and underpants. He slid the condom onto his hard penis. The throbbing of my private area returned as I stared at the length of him.

  “You . . . um . . .”

  “What?” he asked with a laugh.

  “You’re so . . . big.”

  His laughter grew, turning into a hearty chuckle as he shook his head. “I’ll be gentle, I promise. Now come here.”

  He pressed his lips to mine and immediately opened his mouth, inviting me in. Embracing the bold nature within me, I touched my tongue to his, exploring the taste of him. My skin tingled at his touch as his fingertips exploring each curve of my body. He pressed me against the mattress, planting kisses on my naked breasts. My nipples rose to meet his lips and tongue. Within seconds, he’d pulled one nipple completely into this mouth, sucking hard, causing me to gasp at the intensity of his need for me. His teeth grazed against the taut tip, then he teased it gently with his tongue.

  “Mmm,” I murmured.

  “You like that?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Good.” He lightly touched the skin of my private area, and I jumped slightly at the sensation of his touch. “Relax, baby.”

  My nipples ached, missing the teasing of his lips as he moved down my torso, skimming my skin with his tongue. Within seconds, my legs were draped over his shoulders and he was kissing me passionately in my most sensitive spot.

  I arched my back in ecstasy as his movements reminded me of our encounter the other day.

  My first orgasm.

  Oh, how I wanted another.

  Again and again, Porter brought me to the brink. Pleasure mounted and climbed within me, then I’d groan with frustration as he’d pull his mouth away and give me a wicked grin just before I reached a release. With each round of intimate kisses and strokes of his tongue, the pleasure grew stronger, until I felt like I might break apart if he continued, and die if he didn’t.

  “Please, Porter . . . Please.”

  “Tell me what you want.” He growled playfully, then kissed my inner thighs.

  “I want to come. Please, let me come,” I begged, my hands clutching the sheets. He tipped his head back to my private area, and I squealed. “No. Not like that.”

  “What do you want, Brin?” he aske
d again, then licked me again.

  “Inside me,” I cried out. “I want you inside me.”

  Without another word, Porter hoisted himself on his knees and pulled my legs apart, then sank himself deep within me. Unlike my experience with Lehi, my muscles didn’t clench, they didn’t resist—they opened for him, welcomed him. A smile crossed my face at the realization.

  Porter slowly began to pump inside me, and my hips lifted against his in response. Within seconds, I felt the buildup once again and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I arched my back and screamed his name. The orgasm shot through me with an intensity I never could have hoped to experience. It felt as if every cell of my body had broken apart during that moment. Porter continued to thrust as I bucked beneath him, my arms flailing against the mattress.

  “Oh God, Brin . . . I’m so close.”

  Porter’s brow was knitted and sweat dripped from his forehead as he pressed it to mine. He groaned as he found his own release, taking my mouth once again in a passionate kiss as he rocked against me again and again before collapsing on my chest.

  He rolled to his side but draped his arm over my belly, running his fingertips gently against my ribs. It tickled slightly. My entire body hummed in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

  “How was it? I mean . . . it sounded good, but—” Porter’s cheeks were flushed. He shrugged after asking the question that I felt he should already know the answer to.

  “It was the most amazing experience of my life.”

  I stared up at the ceiling, still trying to process the emotions that were filling me from head to toe.

  Elation?

  Satisfaction?

  Joy?

  Love?

  Porter shifted to perch on his open palm, his elbow digging into the mattress. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a smile growing on his handsome face.

  “And you?” I asked, nervous that I might not have given him the pleasure that he’d clearly given me.

  “I’ve had sex,” he admitted. “I can’t lie to you. I mean, it’s physically impossible for me to lie to you.” He chuckled uncomfortably, scratching the five o’clock shadow that was forming on his chin. “But that . . . that was different from anything in my past. It was like . . . I don’t know. Anything I compare it to will make me sound lame.”

  “I don’t care.” I turned to him, reaching out to touch the prickly stubble on his face, urging him to tell me the truth. “You can say anything to me.”

  “I’ve never been in it emotionally, ya know? I mean, it was always just sex. Just physical. But with you, it was so much more. You make me feel alive . . . like anything is possible.” He shook his head. “God. I’m an idiot.”

  Quickly, I raised up on my elbow and my gaze met his. “No, you’re not. You’re saying everything that I feel. It’s scary, right?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes began to glisten with that simple word. “But I don’t care. Bring the fear, bring the pain. You’re worth it.”

  “I agree.”

  “No regrets?” he asked, his eyes concerned.

  I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair. “Never.”

  “Good.” He sighed and brushed at the stray hairs that hung over my forehead. “That makes me happy.”

  “You make me happy,” I whispered.

  Porter scooted himself off the bed, tossed the condom into a garbage pail, and walked to a bookshelf on the wall, retrieving a small notebook.

  “So . . . that thing . . . the condom. What is it, um, for exactly?”

  “It’s protection . . . for you.”

  His words confused me. I tried to remember what Tiffany had said, but my brain felt like mush after our lovemaking.

  “I’ve been with other women, and I know I’ve been fucked up some of the time and skipped using one of these.” He gestured to the packet in his hand. “I can’t risk giving you anything.”

  “Giving me anything? What do you mean?”

  “Look, I think I’m clean. I don’t think I have any STDs, but I won’t gamble with your health. No way.”

  “STD? What is that?”

  His expression softened and he sat next to me on the bed. He rubbed my back slowly, his fingers tickled the skin of my shoulder. “Sexually transmitted diseases.”

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. Porter could have a disease? The pamphlets. I never looked at the pamphlets.

  “Are you . . . sick?”

  “No, no. It’s just something you’re supposed to do to be safe. I promise I’ll get myself tested. I’ll do anything you want.”

  His eyes were sincere and I trusted his intentions. “Thank you.”

  Porter glanced at the notebook in his hands. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers lightly tapping at the plastic of the cover.

  “I want to show you something,” he said. “But I don’t want to scare you away.”

  “You won’t,” I insisted. “I promise.”

  “Sometimes when I can’t see you for a while, my mind wanders, ya know? And I have to get it out. I have to find some way to have you with me, even if you’re only in my imagination.”

  “Oh.”

  He placed the notebook beside me. I sat up, not bothering to cover myself with a sheet, and opened the first page of the notebook. His handwriting was difficult to decipher, but I could see that a short poem was scrawled on the page. I turned the pages again and again, finding poem after poem scrawled there. Some words were scribbled out, others written in such horrible writing, I couldn’t understand them. But they were love letters—about me.

  My heart felt as if it might burst.

  Skipping back to the front page, I read the first poem that Porter had written for me.

  “That Fucking Purse”

  She doesn’t know what she does to me

  the way her hair tickles her forehead,

  the innocence of her eyes.

  She brings me back to darkness,

  yet heals my broken heart.

  She tempts me with her curves,

  yet I’m afraid I’ll break her.

  I’m too brash, too honest, too scarred.

  Could she ever want me?

  The skin of her wrist—

  the softest I’ve ever felt—

  the pleading of her eyes.

  She reminds me of my home,

  my hell,

  my darkest hours.

  And yet I can’t break free.

  “This is beautiful.” My voice shook; I was overwhelmed at the depth of his feelings. That anyone could love me like this, even when I wasn’t yet his? It soothed my soul and satisfied my heart.

  “The title could use some help.” Porter chuckled self-consciously.

  “No,” I said, pressing the notebook to my chest. “It’s honest. And it’s perfect just the way it is.”

  Porter gave me a half smile before pressing his lips to mine. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, his expression so sincere. “You’re just . . . you make everything all right, Brin. Everything.”

  My cheeks grew hot; I’d rarely received compliments. But I didn’t allow myself to clam up, to grow embarrassed, or hide my scarlet cheeks. Instead, I pressed my forehead to his and simply said, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 19

  I’d read the pamphlets from Tiffany at least seven times each. I knew my due date by heart, and the day my period was “due” but according to my lies, never arrived. Each morning I skipped breakfast, instead opting for crackers and water, clutching my belly as I nibbled on the bland, salty excuse for a meal, wishing I were eating with the family. Brenda would cook her famous French toast and my stomach would growl in defiance, demanding the feast the rest of the family was enjoying.

  “You need to keep up your strength, girl,” Leandra would say each morning with a slight roll of her eyes. Rather than argue with her, I kept sweet, nodding and gesturing to the crackers on my plate.

  Brenda and Aspen helped me with my morning chores each weekday before I pretend
ed to muster the energy to walk to Jorjina’s house several blocks from our home. I pushed the guilt down, knowing how horrified my sister wives would be at my betrayal, knowing that this was a means to an end. These lies released me from my obligations to Lehi; they allowed me to lay with Porter, to experience bliss that was unimaginable to me just months earlier.

  I was falling in love. And I’d do almost anything to keep that love intact. If necessary, lying would just be the tip of the iceberg.

  Porter was quickly becoming the most important person in my existence. And the idea of losing him made me physically sick. I couldn’t let that happen.

  As long as he wanted me, I would be his.

  “Take an umbrella today,” Aspen said from across the expanse of the dining room table. “It’s misty this morning.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I will.” I rose to my feet and carried my uneaten crackers to the sink. Joseph, one of Leandra’s older boys, took the plate from my hands and patted me on the shoulder. I thanked him and retreated to my bedroom before leaving for Jorjina’s home.

  Aspen followed me, but I pretended not to notice. She’d been more protective than usual since I’d revealed my pregnancy to the family. And as deceptive and deplorable as it was, I knew what I had to do. Acting as though I was oblivious to the footsteps behind me, I walked to my bedroom, closed the door behind me, then entered my private bathroom and closed that door.

  I leaned over the toilet as tears built in my eyes, knowing what I needed to do. Without thinking, knowing that if I dwelled on my actions, I might avoid them, I forced my index finger to the back of my throat. My paltry breakfast made its way into the toilet as I retched while clutching the plastic seat. When the heaving ceased, tears of humiliation and shame streamed down my cheeks.

  As she always did, Aspen knocked softly on the door. “Can I get you anything? Are you okay?”

  “No.” I cleared my throat and flushed the toilet, moving to the sink to splash cold water on my face. “I’ll be all right. Just need to brush my teeth.”

  I’d hoped that Aspen would be gone by the time I stepped into my bedroom, but she was seated at my vanity, her hands placed neatly in her lap, her auburn braid hanging in front of her chest. “It’s a good sign, you know.”