“Where have you been? There’s a heap of trouble about you, Cliff.”
“I was over visiting the Paine boys,” he said, settling into a chair.
“Sister Emily went to the prophet and complained about your behavior.”
“Sister Emily complains about everything,” Cliff replied.
“And Uncle Kenton called Daddy in for a meeting to discuss it.”
Now Cliff sat up. “A meeting? When was it?”
“Earlier this evening. Daddy was nervous. He called a gathering of all the sister wives first and I heard him tell Sister Emily that she did not know what kind of trouble she was bringing down upon the family.”
“Did he say what happened?”
Now Cliff’s defiance had disappeared; he looked as frightened as I was.
“He didn’t. He came in and went straight to Sister Cora’s room, didn’t even come down for evening scripture reading.”
Cliff stared straight through me. After a long silence, he asked, “What do you think will happen, Alva?”
“Daddy said he was thinking of sending you to the reform retreat at Short Creek.”
Cliff grimaced. Short Creek is another FLDS community in Arizona, at the southern border with Utah. The reform retreat entails hours of hard manual labor and living with a devout FLDS family, reciting scripture, and reading and studying the Doctrines and Covenants, until the offender is brought to heel and his rebellion subdued. I knew several boys in Pineridge who had been sent there. Otis Ewell was one and he had been forced to sleep in the car of his host family and had only been given one meal a day. Otis had eventually run off and was never seen again. I hoped Cliff would fare better with the Crickers.
I looked at the worn cotton tablecloth with the faded sunflower design, the chipped sugar bowl, and a slab of fresh butter on a blue china plate, ready for tomorrow’s breakfast. These were the familiar things that I saw every day, that were part of my daily life. My brother’s presence was like that, passing each other on the stairway, sitting across the dinner table. I would miss him terribly if he were sent to the Crickers but maybe it would be best for him.
“If you do get sent to Short Creek, you’re going to have to stay on the straight and narrow path, Cliff. You can’t be sneaking off to town or any of the other stuff you’ve been doing.”
“I’m not going to Short Creek, Alva. Daddy was bluffing, he wouldn’t send me there.”
“It’s not up to Daddy anymore.”
“We’ve never had any trouble with Uncle Kenton,” Cliff said. His words were optimistic but his voice came out thin and reedy. I could tell he was scared. “Heck, Cora and Emily are his sisters. Short Creek? Never going to happen, Alva. Trust me.”
I just stared at him in the yellow light of the milk glass lamp on the kitchen counter. I hoped he was right.
I awoke early, eager to find out about Cliff’s fate. My menstrual cramps had subsided but the blood continued to flow. I would need to get a steady supply of pads before the day was out. Which meant I really needed to tell Mama soon, even if she did have other things on her mind. After bathing, I went down to help in the kitchen.
The moment I saw my mother’s face, I knew something bad had happened. I could not remember the last time I had seen Mama cry but today her eyes were red and swollen. There was a palpable tension in the air and Sister Cora and Sister Emily kept busy preparing breakfast. I took up my work next to Mama, kneading and pounding the dough.
“What’s going on, Mama?” I whispered.
Mama wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but she spoke in a clear, steady voice. “Your brother Cliff is leaving the community today. We’ll be driving him out to the highway after we finish up with breakfast.”
My brother is leaving the community?
“When will he be back? Where’s he going?”
“He won’t be back, Alva Jane. The prophet has expelled him from Pineridge and the Brotherhood of the Lord,” Mama said, turning back to her work.
Expelled? Never coming back?
It couldn’t be true! Cliff had never lived anywhere but Pineridge; he had no idea how to get by in the outside world. I knew I should hold my tongue in front of Sister Cora and Sister Emily but I couldn’t.
“Can’t Daddy convince Uncle Kenton not to do it?”
“No one convinces the prophet of anything, Alva, you know that. His decisions are based on revelation from God. And this is what God told him to do with Cliff.”
Mama moved to get more flour from the pantry, making it clear to me that the discussion was over. Cliff was leaving. It couldn’t be true, but it was. I tried to concentrate on the bread making but I could feel tears rising behind my eyes.
I knew several boys who had been expelled; it seemed that every year there were one or two who caught Uncle Kenton’s attention and were labeled a threat to the community. Some of the lesser families had seen their sons go, but this was the first time I had heard of a council member’s family being punished this way.
I could not imagine my brother gone from our lives. He had been asleep in the next room every night since I was born. He had been out in the yard chopping up wood or pulling mustard greens, his full-throated laugh had filled the living room on countless nights as he teased the girls or wrestled the younger boys.
He was Mama’s firstborn and I knew his departure was going to be a hard and bitter pill for her to swallow. But I also knew that Mama would not protest. Her faith was as deep as the earth below the Hill Cumorah where the angel Moroni revealed the secret golden plates to Joseph Smith. Mama accepted the prophet’s word as God’s will. There would be no remedy. Cliff would leave Pineridge.
I heard my father’s footsteps on the stairway. He paused in the doorway. “Uncle Kenton has called me to drive him to a meeting with some real estate people in town. I’ll be heading over to his compound in a moment,” he said.
This was his way of letting us know that he would not be there to take Cliff out to the highway and say good-bye. I suddenly felt angry.
How can he let this happen? And how can he not say good-bye to his own son?
He was our father, the ruler and rock of our family. But it would be Mama and the rest of us who had to face the hard task of letting Cliff go. My stomach felt all topsy-turvy, like a mixing blender gone awry. I never got angry with my parents, least of all Daddy. I was not keeping sweet and I knew that God would be disappointed in me but I didn’t know how else to feel. Things like this just didn’t happen in our family. I kept hoping Daddy would tell us it had been a mistake, that he would make things right. But he didn’t. He ate his breakfast in silence and left.
An hour later, I sat behind my mother, who was at the wheel of the old Chevy Impala that Daddy had given to his primary wives. My younger siblings and I were piled into the backseat, a jumble of arms and legs, our dusty shoes scuffing up against one another’s shins. Ten-year-old Liza held the baby, Rowena, on her lap and Olive bounced three-year-old Marcus on her knees to keep him quiet. He was unsettled, like all of us, especially the eight-year-old twins, Lucas and Leon, who looked up to Cliff like a second father.
In the passenger seat, Cliff sat stiffly, a small duffel bag on his lap, his eyes glued to the road. No one spoke. It had all happened so quickly, we were in a state of shock. I had been forbidden to talk to Cliff since Mama had told me of the prophet’s decree. I had been unable to help him pack his clothes, to decide what keepsakes to take, to give him the shiny piece of rose quartz he had helped me dig up years before, out by the red rock ridge. He had been left alone in his room to prepare for his new life.
Mama maneuvered the car through the streets of Pineridge until we reached the main guard gate and towers where we pulled onto the highway. Daddy had instructed Mama to leave Cliff several miles from town, so as not to elicit any inquiries from strangers passing by. Boys who had been expelled were called Lost Boys. Some had gained attention from local press and others who took pity on them. Last year a reporter from Salt Lake had c
ome to the guard gates trying to get into Pineridge to talk to people about the Lost Boys, but he hadn’t been allowed inside. But we all knew to be careful. Leaving Cliff too close to Pineridge might alert some passerby and Daddy didn’t want anyone asking any questions about a boy alone out on the highway so close to the compound.
The car rumbled, dragging our heavy load of human sorrow down the empty highway, the desert spreading out endlessly all around us. A few miles from town, Mama pulled over and kept the engine running.
“You take care, son. Remember what you’ve learned, stay to the straight and narrow path.” Mama pressed a small wad of bills into his hand, adding, “I’ve been saving this for a rainy day and I think this qualifies.”
When Cliff spoke, his voice was thick. “I’ll be okay, Mama. Don’t you worry about me.” He turned to face us and I saw panic in his eyes underneath his mask of bravado. “You all be good and mind Mama, do as she says and don’t give her any trouble, you hear?”
Olive broke into sobs and reached for him. “Where are you going to go, Cliff ? Where are you going to live?”
“I’ll find my way. Don’t you girls worry.”
He reached out and mussed up Leon’s curly hair. “And you two be big boys now. Don’t be crying like your sisters.”
I could see that Cliff was about to cry himself and I leaned forward to embrace him. When I put my arms around his slender shoulders, my tears broke free, wetting his faded denim shirt that I had mended countless times. I wanted to say something but no words came. I wanted to scream that this was wrong, this could not be happening to us, but I knew it was pointless. There was no turning back from this moment.
Cliff pushed the door open and stepped out, the morning sun lighting up his handsome face. He had inherited Mama’s fine features, and our father’s height and physical grace. I wondered for a moment if it might be true, what some of the rowdy boys whispered, that the prophet always managed to expel the handsomest boys, the ones who caught the attention of the young girls and became rivals to the older men in the community. Could that be why Uncle Kenton had taken such a hard stance against Cliff, why a trip to the Short Creek reform retreat was not enough to satisfy him?
I knew that the prophet was not motivated by such petty concerns, and that it was not my place to question revelations from God, but somewhere inside me, the question lingered. My faith was being tested, and it was up to me to prove it strong and true. It was easy to believe when everything was good. But when bad things happened, doubt sowed its seed in fertile soil and burrowed deep. It was my duty to root it out.
We watched Cliff walk down the highway, his pack slung over his shoulder. He looked so small and defenseless against the landscape. Lucas and Leon ignored his words and cried inconsolably. Mama turned the car around for the trip home and I could see that her cheeks were wet with silent tears. All of us pressed our faces against the back window, waving, trying to keep Cliff in our sights as long as we could until he was just a little speck on the highway.
On the way back, I vowed to do everything I could to keep sweet and follow my mother’s example. Surely if I worked extra hard and demonstrated my obedience, then the nagging questions inside me would disappear and everything would return to normal. Ann Marie Barton would recover and be happy in her home life. I would be married to Joseph John and perhaps someday Cliff would even be allowed to come back. I repeated those words over and over in my head, willing them to come true.
As we neared Pineridge, Mama pulled over and turned to us, her tears now dry. “I don’t want any of you to mention this to anyone or to talk of it at home, you understand? You are not to mention Cliff. Your brother is dead to you and to this family now. Once someone is expelled from the Brotherhood, he does not exist in the eyes of God; he has become an apostate. You must all be strong. Do not let the other sister wives see you crying or showing them any other sign of weakness. You are God’s chosen children and your father’s favorites, and that is all that matters.”
We stared back at her in obedient silence; not one of us dared to speak a word. I felt the sinking certainty that nothing would return to normal ever again. Mama shifted the car into gear and guided it down the remaining highway, turning to pass the guard gates and towers, leading us back to the safety and security of home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT DAY, I WAS PREPARING MY BOOKS TO GO to school when Sister Cora stopped me.
“My brother Wade is so pleased with your help, Alva Jane, that he wants you to continue to come by every day to help with Ann Marie. He thinks you are a good influence on her.”
“But I have to go back to school and I’m due to work with Mr. Battle at the store,” I protested.
What I didn’t say was that if I was kept out of school any longer, I’d have little chance to see Joseph John, let alone speak to him. My cycle had ended now and I still hadn’t been able to let him know I was ready for marriage. I looked over at Mama, hoping she might intervene in my defense, but she busied herself with polishing the breakfront, removing the candlesticks for dusting. She did not speak up to support me. I knew she was unwilling to cause any more trouble since Cliff’s expulsion.
“Your father has already called Mr. Battle to ask you to be dismissed from your duties while helping my brother. And Sister Emily says you are far ahead of the other girls in your schoolwork. Missing a few weeks won’t set you back.” Sister Cora’s face was smug. She clearly savored my mother’s silence.
“But I …” I had to say something but I didn’t know what.
“But what, Alva Jane? Don’t you realize what an honor it is to be asked to attend to the family of Uncle Kenton’s brother? Wade is next in line to the prophet. Don’t you think that this will be a boon to our family, especially after your brother’s disgrace?” She couldn’t resist turning the knife when the wound of Cliff’s absence was still fresh.
“Of course, Sister Cora. I’m more than happy to go help with Sister Ann Marie.”
“That’s a good girl. When you return, I’ll need you to gather some mustard greens out beyond the back fence for dinner.”
These days she had no end of tasks for me, it seemed.
At Wade Barton’s house I found Sister Ann Marie in much the same condition as the previous day. The air in the room was stale and smelled of sweat, salve, and bloody bandages discarded in the wastebasket. The broken blood vessel in her open eye had cleared a bit and I saw a flicker of recognition in it as I settled down next to her.
“How are you today?” I asked, knowing full well she could not really reply.
Sister Ann Marie nodded weakly and tried to speak but her words were unintelligible with her jaw wired shut.
“Don’t you wear yourself out trying to talk. I can sit here and keep you company or tend to your bandages, whatever you need.”
I read from the Doctrines and Covenants until she turned her face away from me, closing her unbandaged eye. I waited, unable to tell if she was asleep or just resting. The water pitcher was almost empty and the bandages were running low so I went upstairs to ask Sister Irene for more. In the hallway outside the kitchen, I saw Sister Cora’s familiar brown purse on the breakfront. Why was Sister Cora here? I paused before the door to the kitchen and heard her voice, in discussion with Sister Irene. I couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“Alva Jane is a wonderful girl, so smart and industrious. I hate to say it but she’s better than my Leigh Ann at her sewing and she’s an excellent cook as well.”
“She seems to have a calming influence on Ann Marie,” Sister Irene said.
“She’s a good girl and quite pretty, too.”
I couldn’t imagine what had come over Sister Cora to say such nice things about me when she was always finding fault with me at home. Maybe she was getting past her jealousies of my mother? Maybe my coming here every day to take care of her brother’s wife made her feel more kindly toward me? Whatever it was, I was glad that she was being nice for a change. Maybe she could ask Bro
ther Wade to let me return to school soon. I knew better than to interrupt their conversation, so I filled the water pitcher from the bathroom tap and slipped back downstairs.
Sister Ann Marie fell into a deep sleep in the early afternoon and Sister Irene let me leave to take the sewing patterns to Brenda Norton, so I could finally show her how to sew up a proper dress. I felt good being out of the Barton house and under the vast expanse of blue, cloudless sky.
When I arrived at Brenda’s house, I saw her through the window before I reached the doorstep. She looked upset, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. I was about to leave when she spotted me and waved. The front door opened and she called out to me, “Alva Jane! Come on in, it’s so nice to see you!”
I walked up the front porch and past her into the house. Right away I noticed the changes. Brenda had put a fresh coat of pale peach paint on the walls and hung pretty sheers in the front windows.
Brenda was dressed in the strangest outfit, a long skirt made of rough muslin and a high-necked blouse that was too big for her. I resolved to help her set up her sewing machine that very day and get started on some more attractive dresses.
“Can I get you some lemonade?” Brenda offered. Her voice was cheery, but the red in her eyes confirmed she’d been crying.
“Yes, thank you. I thought you might be needing them so I brought you these sewing patterns,” I said.
“Oh, thank you! As you can see, I’ve borrowed some clothes from one of the neighbors and they don’t fit too well.”
I raised my eyebrows in agreement and something in that made Brenda laugh as she poured two glasses of lemonade.
“I guess I look pretty awful, huh? Jack insisted that I stop dressing in my work clothes when I am at home.”
I figured that meant she still had her job at the bank. “How long do you think you’ll stay on there?”
“As long as they’ll have me. Jack is donating all of his time to help the prophet with the plans for the new community out in Arizona, so there’s no money coming in except my salary.”
Keep Sweet Page 7