We waited a long time and finally the prophet, Uncle Kenton, emerged and took his place before the crowd. Everyone fell silent, and I leaned forward, waiting to hear what he would say. He may be rather pudgy and pale, but Uncle Kenton has a powerful speaking voice that reaches right inside and you know he is talking directly to you. He can peer straight into our souls and read our hidden thoughts. He stared at us for a moment, taking in the hush that had fallen over the group, and then he began.
“You all know that the greatest duty a woman has is to her husband, to submit to his will, to his desire, and to his dominance. It is only through pleasing her husband that a woman may know God’s grace. It is through the sacrament of plural marriage that she helps him attain his place in the celestial kingdom.”
Beside me, my mother was nodding at the prophet’s words. I thought of Joseph John and how our union would allow me to know God’s grace.
“Without a husband-priesthood head to guide her in the path of righteousness, a woman is a wanton, dangerous, and wayward vessel. We have all learned from the examples of women in this community who have stepped off the path, narrow and straight, that leads to salvation. And I often think that we have weeded out this stain of evil that threatens the very foundation of our lives. But I am sorely proven wrong when I learn that the devil is alive and well within our community, working his sorcery against God’s chosen people!”
A shudder went through the crowd. Satan was at work in Pineridge? Who had fallen into sin? Who had invited the destroyer inside the walls?
The prophet continued, his voice rising. “Just this morning, during the holy ritual of baptism of the dead, one of my brother’s wives, Ann Marie Barton, a woman sanctified before the Lord in celestial marriage, tried to abandon our paradise here in Pineridge. She took advantage of the piety of this community to try and flee to a life of perdition and sin in the world of the Gentiles. She abandoned her duty to her husband, her children, and to God!” He spat these last words out like a poison, his eyes flashing at us.
Then Ann Marie Barton was led out by one of her sons and presented to the crowd. Sister Ann Marie was Brother Wade’s fourth wife; I remember when they were married because Daddy gave them a fancy knitted blanket of good wool that Mama made. Sister Ann Marie kept her eyes on the floor. She had to be twenty-five now. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun at her neck and her pale eyes were red-rimmed when she finally looked up at us. It was in those eyes that I saw that this was no regular community gathering, it was something different.
I looked at Leigh Ann and she saw it too. I tried to pull back in my chair but I felt Sister Cora’s assertive hand on my back.
The heat began to rise on my neck as the prophet continued. “I cannot tell you the pain and humiliation it causes me to see one of my own family fall into the devil’s grasp. To see the shock and despair in my brother’s eyes that one of his beloved wives, one of the tender souls he has taken into his heart and home, should betray him in this shameful way. I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance and I received a revelation. Ann Marie Barton, fourth wife of my brother Wade, is to be disciplined and punished before the families of our council, for her transgression. It is the Lord’s will and desire that the community be witness to this evil being driven from her spirit at my brother’s hand.”
Sister Ann Marie broke into a loud wail and threw herself at the feet of the prophet, pleading for mercy. Uncle Kenton looked at her with no expression as he signaled for Brother Wade to come forward. My stomach tightened up into a knot when Sister Ann Marie stood to face her husband. The difference in size was terrifying. Wade Barton hulked and loomed over her as she stood motionless, her eyes closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. He raised a thick hand and brought the back of it against her cheek in a solid, swift blow. I flinched, wanting to look away, but I couldn’t.
Sister Ann Marie was knocked off balance and stumbled, catching herself before falling, only to take a brutal kick from her husband. His eyes were blazing with uncontrolled fury. He grabbed her by the collar of her dress and held her up while he struck her repeatedly with his open hand. I was rooted to my chair in fear, unable to move. As each blow landed, Brother Wade grunted and groaned in rage. Sister Ann Marie’s cheek split open and a spurt of blood shot out, but Brother Wade kept going, his hand slipping against the stickiness on her face. When she fell a second time, he pinned her face down with his knee in her back and delivered sharp swift blows to her rib cage. The crowd shifted uneasily but stayed in place, witnessing the prophet’s revelation made flesh. I looked to my mother, who watched the terrifying spectacle with a look of grim satisfaction. I took Leigh Ann’s arm and tried to turn away, but Sister Cora leaned in to block our way and hissed, “This is the price you pay for disobedience! Let it be a lesson to both of you!”
I wanted to cry but I was afraid that I would get in trouble so I stayed quiet, praying it would end soon.
Brother Wade pulled his wife onto her feet again. Her eyes were now swollen shut and her mouth was bleeding as he continued to strike and shake her. Her knees buckled underneath her and I saw a dark stain of urine pooling on the carpet beneath her. Then she fell in a heap on the ground, past the point of crying or making any sound at all. Brother Wade panted heavily, his shirt stained with his wife’s blood and his own sweat. I sat on my hands to keep them from shaking, but I could feel my whole body trembling despite my efforts to stay calm.
Why doesn’t anyone say something? Why doesn’t someone do something? Why don’t I?
I searched my father’s face for any sign that would help me make sense of what had just happened but I saw his gaze fixed on Brother Wade’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Marcie, strikingly pretty in her pink cotton dress. Marcie’s eyes drifted over Sister Ann Marie’s limp body and caught Daddy’s gaze. She smiled modestly and looked down.
My heart felt as if it would jump out of my chest for pounding so hard. The prophet stepped forward. His voice was calm, quiet. He smiled gently at us.
“We have witnessed the hand of righteousness defeat the scourge of the devil. My brother has driven the devil from Ann Marie, who is now before us as a new and humbled spirit, ready to accept the joys of serving God’s will through celestial marriage. You may all go home now and think on this lesson.”
We stood and left. There was little talk as we walked to our homes, such was the impact of bearing witness to the prophet’s revelation carried out. I looked back to see Brother Wade carrying Sister Ann Marie away, her body like a rag doll in his powerful arms.
That evening I was unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Ann Marie Barton flailing and falling under Wade’s fists, the blood spraying across the beige carpeting.
How could God have sanctioned such a savage beating? I knew it was a sin to question God’s will or the divinity of the prophet, but I couldn’t help feeling uneasy about what I had just witnessed. Was God to be found in Wade Barton’s fury as he beat his wife senseless?
I could not calm my mind. I was troubled by questions that I could not answer, that I knew could be my damnation. I tossed fitfully in my bed and finally drifted into sleep. I awoke several hours later with a stab of pain in my lower abdomen. A cramp seized me and I made my way through the silent house to the bathroom.
Then I saw the dark red bloodstain on my sacred garments. The moment I had been waiting for had arrived, but I did not feel any of the joy I had anticipated. A cold dread rose from someplace deep inside me and settled over my heart. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My cycle had begun. I was now a woman. I was ready to do God’s work.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SUN WAS SHINING, BRIGHT AND RELENTLESS, when I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall; it was only seven o’clock in the morning and already the air was burning hot. I felt sick and exhausted with the arrival of my first menstrual cycle. My insides were wracked with a constant, dull ache that made me feel heavy and slow. I knew that the onset of bleeding was to be celebrated as it marked a young wom
an as ready to serve God, to be a jewel in her husband’s heavenly crown, but I felt miserable and fidgety, with my stomach all out of sorts. I kept my head down as I turned out another half dozen loaves of bread from the oven, not wanting to attract any attention from my mother or the other sister wives.
I had been waiting for this day for so long but now that it was here, I felt uneasy. I had slept poorly to boot. The images of Ann Marie Barton’s discipline had crept into my dreams. As much as I tried to push it away, the scene kept popping into my head, forcing its way into my consciousness. I focused on the activity in the busy kitchen: the sounds of the children running back and forth, Sister Cora cooking up breakfast. But Sister Ann Marie’s face kept coming back and I could feel the defensive hunch of her slim shoulders as she prepared for each burst of her husband’s fury.
Of course Sister Ann Marie had committed a grave sin by attempting to flee, but I wished Uncle Kenton in his infinite power had been able to cleanse her spirit without such violence. Shouldn’t there have been another, gentler way? Thoughts like these had plagued me all night, and like Sister Ann Marie’s face, they would not go away. I knew they were akin to blasphemy; no one questioned the prophet’s revelations. I was all out of sorts; I couldn’t even name what was bothering me so. And that made me as uncomfortable as the throbbing pain in my lower back.
“Alva Jane! Those loaves are getting too brown!” my mother admonished. “Where is your head today, girl?”
I reached in to retrieve the remaining loaves from the oven, burning my forearm on the hot oven door. “Sorry, Mama. I just didn’t sleep too well.”
“Well, I can see that. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes like a raccoon! Give me that arm.” Mama took it and rubbed a cold slab of butter on the burn.
“I would think that you and Leigh Ann should have slept as soundly as two bugs in a rug, after being invited to the prophet’s house last night. It’s not often that young girls are allowed to attend such an important meeting,” Sister Cora said, frying up a batch of scrambled eggs.
I exchanged a glance with Leigh Ann, who looked like she hadn’t slept much either.
“What you two girls saw last night marked your entrance into the community as grown women,” Mama agreed. “The prophet granted you the privilege of being in attendance so that you could see the seriousness of breaking the bonds of celestial marriage. We can only hope and pray that Ann Marie will now take up the cloak of righteousness and submission to her husband as her path to exaltation.”
“Yes, Mama.” I fought a wave of nausea that came over me.
Mama grabbed my chin and looked into my eyes. “Are you sick, Alva Jane? Do you have a fever?” She laid the back of her hand across my forehead.
“You’re not bleeding are you?” Sister Cora asked.
“No, ma’am, not yet,” I lied.
“You’d better be starting soon or you might have a condition.”
“She has no condition, Sister Cora,” Mama said sharply. “She’s fourteen. Your Leigh Ann is a year older and she just started a few months ago.”
“And wasn’t I worried that her cycle came so late? You girls need to know that if you have something wrong with your cycle, you have no chance of fulfilling God’s mission for you. Why do you think that Brenda Norton and her husband have no children? He’s a fine-looking man and she’s old enough to have several by now.”
“Well, if she does have something wrong with her, then she’s taking the right steps in joining the Brotherhood, giving her husband the opportunity to enter to the celestial kingdom through The Principle,” Mama said.
I knew that once my mother and Sister Cora started like this they could go on forever, each one needing to have the last word, to be right. “I’m going to get ready for school,” I said. I was anxious to leave the heat of the kitchen.
“Well, I don’t want you lazing around here today, Alva Jane,” Sister Cora said. “When you’re done with school, I’m going to need your help with a special project.”
“Yes, Sister Cora.” I escaped up the stairs to fetch my books.
I walked to school with my usual group of sisters and cousins but I didn’t take part in their talk and laughter. My mind kept going in circles over the same question again and again.
Why did I lie about my cycle?
I had never kept anything from my mother or my sisters. I looked at Liza, Laura Jean, Carlene, and Olive, and felt the urge to blurt out my good news, but something inside held me back. It seemed that today nothing was as it should be. I had sneaked an extra pad from Leigh Ann’s box and hidden it in my book bag, along with some sewing patterns for Brenda Norton. I would tell my sister about the pad after dinner. I would tell them all and then I would feel better.
Outside the Zion Academy I saw Joseph John arriving for the morning class with his younger brother, Abel. I may have kept my cycle a secret from my family but I knew that today I would find the right time to tell him. The arrival of my cycle meant that we could be married and that thought pushed back all the discomfort I had felt since waking up. He smiled at me and I wondered if he could see anything different about me today.
Inside, the hymns that usually were piped in over the PA system had been replaced. Instead, we heard the voice of the prophet, recorded from a sermon on the laws of celestial marriage.
“The only true freedom of women is in the following the Celestial law of plural marriage and submitting herself to her husband’s dominion and living his law. There is no force in this. The prophet doesn’t force you to heaven; it is your own pure and willing spirit. And when you enter into marriage, you do not have the right to think that you have been forced. You know it will be your choice when you speak the vows. Because the judgments are coming very soon and the only way to survive is to keep sweet and follow God’s law.…
Sometimes the prophet would insist that his sermons be played at school and in other gathering places in Pineridge. It was usually when there was a weakness among us, a faltering of faith as Mama called it, and his words were a boon and a balm, to help to keep us strong. In the recreation area outside, Sister Emily was directing a group of younger children who carried books and dumped them onto a pile. I saw my brother Cliff watching, his long frame leaning against the doorway.
If Cliff had been my age, we could be twins. We have the same hair and eyes, the same long arms and legs that get in the way of everything. He wore a heavy denim shirt a half size too small; it made him look younger than his seventeen years. I saw that look in his eyes and knew that he would not hold his tongue but before I could caution him, he blurted out, “What are they doing with the books, Sister Emily?”
“The prophet has ordered all writings here at school other than his own to be destroyed.”
“Why? All we read are FLDS books anyway. We don’t even get to read made-up stories.”
I knew he was pushing to see how far he could go. Why did he have to be like that? Sister Emily looked about ready to give him a wallop but she just said, “The prophet knows what is best and his judgment is not to be questioned. We are only going to have the prophet’s own writings here in the academy. My brother Kenton received it in a revelation from God last night.”
Sister Emily stressed the words “my brother” to remind us that she was the sister of the prophet and not to be crossed. My heart pounded in fear for Cliff. Everyone knew that you did not question a revelation or decree from the prophet. Cliff’s eyes had a hard, rebellious set to them as he faced off with Sister Emily and I had to do something to stop this from going any further. I walked to him and took his arm, leading him away.
“Don’t provoke her, Cliff. What does it matter to you if they have a silly old book or not? What if she tells the prophet what you said?”
“And what did I say? That we don’t get to read anything but FLDS stuff anyway? Not everyone is this way, Alva. There’s a whole big world out there and they don’t live like we do.”
“I know that, but we don’t want to liv
e that way, do we, Cliff ? Those people are lost, their souls will never get to the celestial kingdom. We’re God’s chosen people, don’t forget that.”
“Other kids read made-up stories, just for fun.… ” Cliff’s voice trailed off. I could see that he was angry and confused all at the same time.
Then he walked away from me, without another word, to join the Paine brothers. I watched him go; he had clearly been spending too much time with the wrong group of people lately. Since he had started hanging out with Jimmy and Elias Paine, Cliff had started to go bad. There was even talk that he had been seen in town with Tara, the younger sister of those Paine boys. How she had the nerve to go into town at all, let alone be seen with a boy, amazed me. Their mama had died in a car wreck out in Nevada two years ago while doing missionary work and the other sister wives didn’t take much care of them anymore.
They were straying and now Cliff had become part of their group and he was starting to quarrel over all kinds of things, asking questions, disagreeing even with Daddy. Just last week I’d overheard my father and Cliff arguing about his upcoming mission, something that all the boys are required to do when they are old enough. Mama had ordered all the children out of the house so we wouldn’t hear, but I was still on the front porch when Cliff raised his voice to Daddy and said, “I know how it works. You’ll send me off for two years and when I come back from some godforsaken place, Tara will be married off to an old man who will set her on the straight and narrow path!”
For that insolence, Cliff had received a sharp slap across the face and I’d seen the red welt on his cheek when he’d run from the house, wiping his eyes. But he hadn’t learned his lesson. He was starting more trouble now with Sister Emily and it was leading him down a dangerous road.
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