That day, Jorjina knew the time had come for her to learn the secrets of the Jameson household. And so she pushed for Rebecca to confide in her. She made no promises of keeping said secrets; she couldn’t handle telling outright lies. But she attempted to make Rebecca as comfortable as possible as they walked through the park, the sun shining brightly above them as they made their way along a winding path.
“You know you can talk to me, dear,” Jorjina had said. Rebecca bit down on her lower lip and Jorjina knew she wanted to talk, to release her pent-up frustrations and emotions.
“It’s just, well, my sister wives dislike me.”
“How could they dislike you? You’re such a sweet girl,” Jorjina said sweetly.
Rebecca shook her head abruptly. “They do, and it’s my fault. It’s completely my fault. I ruined their family the moment the prophet pronounced us man and wife.”
Jorjina had taken Rebecca’s hand in hers and stopped walking. “Talk to me, dear. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
It wasn’t a lie, not technically, anyway, but it felt like one. A wave of guilt rolled through Jorjina. She didn’t want to do this anymore. Destroying lives was not her chosen path in life.
“Burt and I . . . we have this . . . connection. It’s magical, when we’re together. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous, but—”
“No, not at all. Walter and I had the same thing. He was taken with me, and I enjoyed that. I cherished it.”
“I do too. But my sister wives, they won’t talk to me, they won’t look at me. I’ve been married to Burt for twelve years, and I feel like I’ll never truly be part of the family.”
“Is it that bad?”
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. “The worst part is . . .” She hesitated before wiping her misty eyes. “That I feel like his mistress.”
“Bite your tongue, girl,” Jorjina had said with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected anything as serious as this.
“It’s true, I do. Yes, we’re married. Yes, I was revealed to the prophet as the third wife, but what he feels for me, he doesn’t feel for them.”
“Has he told you this?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And how do you know he doesn’t say this to all of you, as a way of making you feel special?”
Jorjina knew of men in their community who told little white lies to their wives, “secretly” revealing them to be his favorite in order to keep them all content within the confines of their plural marriage.
“I know because . . . because, the other wives have accused me of stealing his time, stealing him away from them, from their hearts.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He doesn’t want to sleep with them anymore. He makes excuses, tells them he’s tired or not feeling well.”
“Oh, that does sound serious.”
“They’re angry, they both want more children. They feel cheated out of their life’s purpose.”
“Does Burt understand that what he’s doing is wrong?” Jorjina pressed, needing to get all the pertinent information before reporting back to Clarence.
“He doesn’t care. He says I’m the only one who matters to him. He’s even mentioned leaving the compound . . . just us and our boys.”
“Oh my.” Jorjina’s jaw dropped. Clarence had suspected favoritism, but defection? No. Even Clarence would be surprised when Jorjina divulged the secrets of the Jameson household.
Rebecca pressed her hand to her mouth. Jorjina changed tactics, suspecting that Rebecca knew she’d told her too many of their secrets.
“It’s all right, dear,” she’d whispered to Rebecca. “Let’s go back to my house. I’ll let you sit in my armchair. You can rest your head, rest your thoughts.”
“Oh, okay,” Rebecca muttered, hanging her head.
Within days, Rebecca had been reassigned to the Cluff household. Since then, Jorjina had been plagued with guilt and remorse. She wished that she had misdirected Clarence’s suspicions. But she felt it would have been only a matter of time before one or both of Rebecca’s sister wives reported Burt to the prophet.
Jorjina had enjoyed a few peaceful months with no helper to speak of. She’d been able to lounge on her back patio, listening to the birds sing from the wall of the compound. She’d hoped that Clarence’s conniving ways would catch up to him, that no more helpers would be assigned to her home.
But on a day when she least expected it, Clarence informed her of a new helper. And in a moment of irony, that new helper was one of the very sister wives she’d assumed would be aware of her underhanded behavior. A wife of Lehi Cluff.
But Brinley knew nothing of Rebecca’s earlier position as her helper. And not only that, the two women had bonded . . . truly bonded. Jorjina genuinely liked the seventh wife of Lehi Cluff, despite the fact that she despised Brinley’s husband.
Lehi reminded Jorjina of her son, Clarence. Both were selfish, narrow minded, and expected their wives to be completely subservient to them in every possible way.
Walter hadn’t been like that. Despite being the most powerful man in their compound, Walter was interested in the opinions of his wives. Each week, they’d have extensive family meetings where he not only welcomed his wives to offer him feedback on the household, but he demanded that if they were too intimidated to share during the meetings, that they made time to tell him one-on-one. He knew he couldn’t make them all happy at once, but he did his very best to maintain harmony in his household. The happiness of his wives, his children, his family meant something to him.
Once he had passed away, she realized just how lucky she had been to have such a considerate husband. Now she was surrounded by men like Clarence, like Lehi, who had no appreciation for their wives or children.
Men who did not deserve sweet and gracious young women like Brinley.
Jorjina saw something in Brinley—something she wanted to encourage, to nurture. She wanted to give Brinley every opportunity to explore the world on her own terms. Never before had Jorjina offered to allow a helper to have a daily break. That was specifically something she had offered to her newest helper. She could only imagine how unappreciated Brinley was by Lehi Cluff. And although it was against the doctrine she held so dear, she was tempted to encourage Brinley to leave the compound, to leave the religion, the faith.
Jorjina was old. She’d lived her life, but when she spent time with Brinley she was reminded of just how many young women were sacrificing theirs. And she cared too much for Brinley to lose decades of her life to a man who didn’t appreciate her.
She wanted to help her. But after her slipup in the kitchen, she wasn’t sure that could ever happen.
Brinley no longer trusted her. And she had no idea how to regain that trust.
But she was determined to do her very best to do just that . . . Clarence be damned.
Chapter 22
The plan was set into motion. In just a matter of hours, I’d have an entire night away with Porter. More than twenty-four hours away from the compound, the Cluff household, and my role as the seventh wife of Lehi. For one night only, it would just be Brinley and Porter. That was all.
I was so excited that my thoughts were bouncing around inside my head. Calming myself enough to talk with Lehi had been challenging. For just a moment, I thought that maybe he’d express concern regarding my supposed pregnancy, that perhaps he wouldn’t want me exerting myself by traveling to Jessa’s home across the compound, or assisting her with too many things in her home. I had a speech prepared in case it was necessary.
It wasn’t.
“How long will you be gone?” he asked, feigning interest. It was a Saturday morning, and the children surrounded my husband in the common area of the home. The boys played a rowdy game of tag while two of the girls assisted Brenda with her knitting project. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Just one evening,” I said. “Her husband is away on a job, and she needs support.”
“And your mother? She can�
�t help Jessa for one night?”
“She’s still not well and there’s no one else. I’m sorry, but she nee—”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. But check with Leandra regarding your chores.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “And thank you.”
“Mm-hmm.” He grunted, turning his attention back to the children running freely around the common area.
Quickly, I went to speak to the first wife regarding my responsibilities. As my feet crossed the threshold into the kitchen area, I could hear Lehi scolding two of the boys for being too aggressive with each other. I shook my head at the irony.
• • •
“Overnight?” Leandra screeched.
“Yes.” I remained stone-faced, determined not to let Leandra get to me. I had permission from Lehi and that was all I needed. “Lehi has given me his blessing. I just need to know if there are any chores you’ll need me to complete before I leave.”
Leandra’s hands pressed into her hips as she glowered at me. I raised my chin in defiance, showing her I would not back down to her. Not anymore.
Instead of protesting, however, she simply offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “No. The other wives will pitch in.”
“Thank you.”
“Be home by lunch tomorrow.”
“All right,” I answered, turning to walk away from my scowling sister wife.
“That’s not a request,” she snapped. “I expect you to be here when lunch is served.”
Keep sweet. She’s not worth it. Keep sweet. She’s not worth it.
“Yes, Leandra.”
Smoke filled the kitchen and Leandra shouted, “Rebecca, your eggs are burning! Honestly, girl, they are the easiest things to cook! How do you manage to constantly burn the eggs?”
I walked to my room to retrieve the one suitcase I owned. It was old and blue, given to me by my mother the day of my wedding to Lehi. I’d used it on my honeymoon for our evening at the seedy motel, but hadn’t touched it since. Dust had collected on it after three years on the top shelf of my closet.
I was going to make new memories with this suitcase. New memories with Porter.
And I couldn’t wait.
• • •
A look of confusion crossed Tiffany’s face when I entered the free clinic. She had been hunched over the desk, handling never-ending paperwork, and when she saw me, I noticed her lower her gaze to check the calendar, knowing I wasn’t due for another batch of pills for at least two weeks. The goofy grin on my face revealed that I was up to something. Her lips lifted into a smile as I approached.
“You look different,” she said, looking me up and down.
I had no real response; I knew she was right. I brushed at the warm skin of my cheeks, knowing that they were glowing in anticipation. All I could do was widen my grin.
“Things are good, I guess.” Tiffany smirked and placed her hands on her hips.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But I need your help.”
Tiffany shook her head, looking slightly annoyed, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why does that not surprise me?”
Right then and there, I realized that the only time I visited my cousin was when I needed something from her. Shame washed over me, making me feel small and petty.
“I-I’m sorry, Tiffany. I should come by more, just to see you.”
“Whatever, it’s fine.” She flipped her short hair behind her ear before glancing down at the suitcase at my feet. “Oh my gosh, are you . . . are you leaving? Like, for good?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Her brightened expression dimmed to one of conflicted concern. “Then, um, what do you need?”
“I-I want to surprise Porter. We’re spending the night together, and I don’t want to look like . . .” I pinched at the fabric of my dress. “Well, I don’t want to look like this.”
“Are you serious?” Her smile widened into a toothy grin as she clenched her teeth. “That’s awesome!”
“I was hoping you could loan me some clothes. I’d return them, of course.”
“Of course.” She glanced back to the other employees at the desk before taking a quick look at her wristwatch. “I’ll take a quick lunch break. We can go to my apartment and I’ll send you on your way.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Are you kidding? I’m so proud of you right now, I can hardly stand it. Just give me a sec.”
Tiffany walked back to speak to another employee, gestured to me, and then reached under the counter to retrieve her purse.
“Follow me,” she said with a smile. There was a bounce to her step that I’d never seen before.
We walked two blocks to her apartment, which was situated above the drugstore. We climbed the three flights up to her small residence.
“It’s a studio, so it’s tiny,” she admitted as we walked into the one-room apartment. “But it’s all mine.”
I took in the deep red and white curtains that hung from the windows, feeling drawn to their bold color, a color not allowed on the compound. Tiffany was embracing her freedom and expressing her personality through her decor. Her couch was a deep plum color and several posters hung from the walls. I wasn’t sure what they represented—movies? Bands? I didn’t know, but was curious.
“I love it.” And I did. I was taken with her tiny home, and for the first time wasn’t afraid of what it represented. Instead, I was fascinated.
“So . . .” Tiffany walked to a small white dresser and removed several tops of assorted colors, placing them on her bed. “You can borrow whatever you want. Depends on what you’re most comfortable in.”
I reached out to touch the soft fabric of a pale yellow tunic. It was modest, but delicate and pretty.
“May I?” I asked, holding it up to my chest.
“Of course.”
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“Don’t be silly, just change here.” When I bit my bottom lip, Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking at you or anything.”
“All right.”
Removing the dress that felt like it was stitched together with twenty pounds of fabric, I stared at the other items she placed on the bed. A pink sweatshirt, jeans, skirts, and a tiny black sweater. When I’d finally removed my dress and long underwear, I tried on each piece, finally opting for the tunic and jeans.
“You look awesome.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning my body as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I was taken aback at how pants felt on my body. The jeans hugged my thighs and flared slightly at my ankles. I’d always felt that we were required to wear our bulky dresses to reinforce our femininity, but I was wrong. I felt more feminine in that pair of jeans than I had in my twenty-two years wearing nothing but dresses.
“What about your hair?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled, exhaling softly through my mouth. It was time.
“Will you change it for me?”
“Do you mean style it?”
“Yes, please.”
Tiffany crossed to me and removed the rubber band holding my hair in the thick braid. Her fingers sifted through the thick layers, allowing the strands to loosen. My scalp tingled as the hair was released.
“Do you want me to cut it?”
I gasped.
“Never mind,” Tiffany said with a laugh.
“Not yet,” I said, grasping a handful of hair and holding it close. “I’m not ready.”
“I get it,” Tiffany conceded, stroking my hair gently with her fingertips. “I chopped mine off immediately and I kinda wish I hadn’t.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “I guess it felt like an act of rebellion, not freedom. Now when I cut it, it’s freedom. I’m making a choice for myself, not against the prophet or my parents or whatever.”
“That makes sense.”
“Wait as long as you like. I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
�
�Let’s see here,” she said, pulling my thick locks into her hands. “What if I curl it? I can give you some loose waves. It’ll be gorgeous.”
“I trust you.”
• • •
An hour later, I found myself in front of Porter’s door, feeling unsure of myself and of my appearance. I had no idea if he would approve of the changes I made.
When I’d taken one final glance in Tiffany’s full-length mirror, I was astounded at the look Tiffany had created. The tunic was loose enough that I didn’t feel too on display for the men who passed me on the sidewalk, yet the jeans hugged my thighs in a way that made me feel sexy—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I needed to see Porter’s reaction to feel validated.
I needed to know if I belonged in his world. Because we both knew he’d outgrown mine.
The door opened and Porter stared at me in silence. Pressure filled my chest as I waited for a reaction, then I immediately began mentally chastising myself. He must have been less than impressed with the changes I’d made to my body, my hair, my clothing.
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll . . . I’ll go back . . . I’ll change.” Humiliated, I clenched my fists, hating that I was showing so much vulnerability, first with my appearance and then my stutter.
“What?” Porter grabbed my elbow. “No, no, Brin. You shocked me, but I love this. You look so natural, so . . . different. It’s like I’m seeing you with new eyes.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “I was worried. I thought you hated how I looked.”
He pulled me close, running his fingers through my newly wavy hair from root to tip. “First of all, no way. That’s impossible.” He chuckled. “Secondly, have you looked in a mirror? You’re freaking hot.”
I glanced down shyly, my shoulders rising in modest happiness. “Thank you.”
“Did you do this for me?”
“No. Well, yes.” I hesitated. “I did it for both of us.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m so glad you did.” He wrapped his hands around my waist.
I peered into the long hallway, feeling bashful. “Should I come in?”
“Well, actually, I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
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