“I don’t know if your husband told you, but Joseph John has been sent away and I’m to marry the prophet’s bother, Wade,” I whispered.
Brenda reached out for my hand. “I heard that, but I couldn’t believe it. Is it really true? Can’t you protest?”
“I’ve been trying, but so far they haven’t changed their minds. Now no one in the family talks to me.”
Brenda leaned in close to me. “Alva, this isn’t right. This isn’t religion, it’s something else. Remember what I told you? About the age of consent? It’s against the law!”
“That’s what I told Mama and she got real mad and said that if my parents agree, it’s legal.”
I heard Sister Emily’s voice behind us. “You two ought to come in and join the family; it’s no good sitting outside by yourselves,” she said, eyeing us suspiciously.
I hated her as much as I hated Sister Cora. I walked past her without a word, wishing every ill upon her and not repenting in my heart. I was losing my faith, my desire to please God, as well as everything else, but I didn’t care. Something inside me was changing and I knew it wasn’t good, but I felt powerless to stop it.
Late that evening I sat in silence with my mother in our bedroom, a lone lamp lit. It was late, well past my bedtime, but Mama had not given me permission to go to sleep. She was knitting a sweater for Carlene, her fingers working the needles fast and furious as she stole glances out the window to Sister Marcie’s trailer, where Daddy had been all evening, celebrating his wedding night.
I remembered her same vigilance at the window when my father married Sister Eulalia and Sister Mona. Earlier today, Mama had kept sweet, helping Sister Marcie to hang her dresses and decorate her trailer, but now she was visibly consumed by jealousy.
I sat clipping photos for a scrapbook I planned to give to Leigh Ann, photos of our childhood, of our many adventures and happy times together. With her gone from the house, I had no confidante, no friend I could trust. I knew time was short; my cycle would soon come again. Sister Cora and Mama were checking my undergarments for any sign of it. I had seen them doing it on wash day. As soon as they knew I was bleeding, they would marry me to Brother Wade within a matter of days. I had no idea who to ask for help. It didn’t seem I could count on anyone but myself.
Looking at the photos spread out before me, I wondered if I could live apart, away from my family, my sisters? Without knotting Carlene’s long hair into braids each morning? Away from the happy smiles and laughter of the twins when I chased them and tickled their round little bellies? Could I live in a world beyond the rituals and duties that gave my life meaning? Could I live on the outside? I had never imagined something so risky, so dangerous. I had no idea how to navigate life outside of the FLDS. Somewhere, Joseph John was out there, if he was still alive. My brother Cliff was out there.
Maybe I could do it too. Maybe I could join them. Maybe leaving, escaping, was my only chance to break free from the fate that everyone had decided for me, against my will. I would be an apostate, lost to my family, to God forever. Could I endure the pain of it? Make my parents suffer the shame of having a wayward daughter who left the community?
I knew I had to make a decision fast. The faces of my siblings smiled up at me from the pile of photos in my lap as the click-click of my mother’s knitting needles continued beside me. The house seemed to heave and groan, settling against the dry wind outside. In my heart I knew. It was the only home I had ever known, but I would leave it. I would escape Pineridge in order to save myself, come what may.
In the days that followed, I worked extra hard in the kitchen and around the house. I volunteered to visit Rita Mae, to do whatever errands Sister Cora needed done. I worked and I waited, looking for a chance to escape. But no opportunity presented itself.
How would it? I had no reason to go outside the community. I didn’t attend public school or have a job like Brenda. I had no way of getting beyond the compound walls and even if I did, how long until the Pineridge police found me, walking alone along the highway?
At home, the tensions in the house ran high, but at least Mama found something else to be upset about. As she had feared, Daddy had been out in Sister Marcie’s trailer every night, neglecting his conjugal duties to his other wives, leaving Mama in a vile humor, impatient and short-tempered. She stopped talking about my duty to God and my marriage to Brother Wade. All she could think of was Daddy and Sister Marcie and what they were doing out there every night.
My chance came the next week. Everyone in the community was preparing for the Pioneer Day celebration. In the FLDS we don’t observe Christmas or Easter. The biggest celebration is Pioneer Day. It marks the day in 1847 when Brigham Young first looked out from the mouth of Emigration Canyon and knew that the Great Salt Lake valley was where the saints would make our home.
On July twenty-fourth there would be a grand picnic in Pineridge, with races and games for the children. There would be a choir singing sacred songs and a procession of all the young saints as well as a reenactment of Brigham Young’s historic vision. It was a time of great festivities and relaxation; the whole town looked forward to it.
Sister Cora always makes a trip to Moab beforehand to pick up special supplies for the picnic and the children’s costumes. I usually accompany her to handle the exchange of money at Gentile businesses since I am good with numbers and Sister Cora stopped her schooling at the age of eleven. She always makes me double- and triple-check her change and receipts, since she says all Gentiles are liars and snakes.
When Mama told me I was to go into town the next day with Sister Cora, I knew that my chance had come. It would be perhaps the only one I had to get out of Pineridge.
The night before, I couldn’t sleep, knowing that it would be my last with my family. Mama would see my escape as a final betrayal. But I had no choice. Once outside, I would find help. I could explain to the Gentiles that I was escaping a forced marriage that went against their laws. Maybe I would find Cliff, maybe he even knew where Joseph John was. That idea buoyed my spirits.
I put on both pairs of my sacred undergarments before bed so I could get dressed quickly in the morning. I wouldn’t be able to bring anything else without alerting Sister Cora’s suspicion but I knew my undergarments would be enough. They would protect me from danger and all manner of harm.
The time had come.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, I DID MY KITCHEN DUTIES with extra care, trying to memorize the scents, the sounds of home: my mother’s profile as she pounded the bread dough, the whistling of the teakettle. As Sister Cora and I left for town, I said good-bye to my sisters casually but inside I was dying. Letting them go was harder than I thought. I noticed every detail of the house, the front porch, the lace curtains, things I had taken for granted every day and would surely miss.
Once in the car with Sister Cora, I stared out the window at the landscape, the patches of sego lilies, the pale pink and white yucca flowers amid the scrub brush and wild sage. I would never travel down this road again.
We pulled into Moab off highway 191, and as always Sister Cora parked the car in the lot located at the edge of town, where there were no meters requiring coins. I followed her down the sidewalk to the town center. A large banner hung across Main Street that said RED ROCK MUSIC FESTIVAL. There were more people than usual in town for the event and silently, I thanked God for this blessing. It would be easier to disappear.
On the streets of Moab, we stuck out in our long dresses and traditional hairstyles. Everyone else wore shorts and T-shirts, exposing their bodies in a shameful way. I could barely bring myself to look at them, but I told myself that I would have to get accustomed to it if I were going to live outside. After all, Brenda turned out to be as nice as pie and perhaps many of these people were just the same.
Music played from the cafés and shops; the town was bustling with people on bicycles and renting equipment for outdoor sports. Sister Cora paid the Gentiles no mind and kept her head
held high and her face impassive as we entered the Sewing Time fabric store to pick up bric-a-brac for the Pioneer Day costumes. Is there a way out? A back door opened to an alley but it was behind a large counter for cutting fabric, manned by two salesgirls who were busy with customers. It would be impossible to sneak out past them. I helped Sister Cora with her purchases and promised myself there would be another chance.
Back on the street, I saw how the people, especially the tourists, stared at us and my hopes sank. How did I expect to disappear into the crowd in my long FLDS dress?
We walked by the central park, where stages were set up and drummers formed a circle. Some of them were Seed of Cain, mixed with everyone, and it looked like Brenda said, that people outside accepted them, that out here they were just like everybody else.
Sister Cora went into the Dollar Tree to pick souvenirs for the younger children. I followed obediently. As she wandered the aisles of the store, I hovered near the front door, watching the crowd. Sister Cora glanced at me crossly and I pretended to be interested in the festivities outside. It was not the festivities that caught my attention; it was the growing crowd of people. There were so many of them, all pressed up together. Maybe I could mix in with them?
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sister Cora turned her back to me, the music started, and the people outside began to dance. They formed a human chain, a spontaneous, undulating line that moved down Main Street en mass.
All I had to do was step into that crowd, step into a different world where people danced, women wore slacks, and no one could make you marry against your will. All I had to do was join them and let them carry me along. This was my chance, it would not come again. Fate had given me this opening, placing this sea of anonymous humanity right in front of me. Sister Cora was inspecting ceramic curios, unaware that I had inched out the doorway onto the sidewalk. It was time.
I took a deep breath and stepped off the curb, moving to the middle of the crush of people. I let myself be carried along a few feet and then moved to the other side of the group, bolting to cut across the park. Sister Cora would never see me even if she were looking, there were too many people blocking the way.
I darted down an alleyway behind shops and restaurants. The alley ended at a brick wall, a dead end. I hurried along, peering into each business I passed, looking for a place to hide. I slipped on a wet patch and stumbled, dirtying my dress on the grubby pavement. I saw the kitchen of a small café, the storage room of a bicycle shop, all busy with customers who would see me and notice my strange clothes. Suddenly I heard Sister Cora’s voice, calling my name on the adjacent street. Soon she would give everyone my description and it would be impossible to get away. Desperate, I ducked into the next open doorway.
I found myself in the back room of a store that sold weavings, photographs, and other items I had never seen before: small glass pipes in different bright colors, tall cylindrical glasses that had an odd spout on one side. A curtain with a midnight blue pattern hung separating the back room from the rest of the shop where all manner of fabrics were folded and stacked. Where did these come from? I had never seen such an explosion of color and strange, beautiful designs in embroidery before.
At a glass case displaying the pipes, a man stood dressed in baggy white pants and a rainbow-colored vest. His hair was graying and worn in the same braids as the Seed of Cain drummers I had seen in the park. I had never seen a man dressed in such a way and I was afraid to approach him but I had to. Sister Cora would be coming down the alley looking for me at any moment.
“Excuse me,” I said, and the man jumped and then broke into a laugh.
“Wow, you freaked me out! What’s going on? Little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing to my dress and hair.
“I’m hiding from a lady who’s looking for me, I can’t let her find me, and—”
“Whoa, slow down,” the man said. “You say you’re hiding from someone? What’s that about, is she bad news?”
“No—I mean yes, she is. She wants to take me back to Pineridge and I just escaped from there.… ” I pointed to the back door, panicked that Sister Cora might burst through it at any moment.
The braided man moved toward me with a calming gesture and turned the bolt on the door to the alleyway. “Chill out, take a deep breath. See? You’re safe in here.”
Whoever this strange man was, at least he had kept Sister Cora from marching in the back door to grab me.
“So now, what’s your story?” he asked, rolling a skinny cigarette on his knee.
Cigarettes and tobacco are forbidden in Pineridge; I had never seen someone smoking before. When he lit the cigarette, it gave off a pungent smoke. I wrinkled my nose. He waved the cigarette over his head with a smile. “Little ganja to start the day off right! So, tell me, what’s your name?”
“Alva Jane.”
He extended a hand with several large silver and turquoise rings on it. A man wearing rings? In Pineridge women wore only simple wedding bands and no man would be caught dead with rings on his fingers. But I wasn’t in Pineridge anymore. I took his hand gingerly.
“I’m Jere,” he said. “That’s J - E - R - E. Used to be Jerry like Jerry Lewis, but I changed it to Jere when I moved here, got out of the rat race, you know? So, what’s going on with you?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“I’ve just escaped from Pineridge. We’re FLDS.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s the Fundamentalist Church of the Latter Day Saints. You know, Mormons.”
“Oh. Hell, sure are a lot of them here in Utah. Don’t know how I missed that when I bought this shop. I’m from New York, originally. Used to be a stockbroker, can you imagine that? Me in a suit and tie every day?” He laughed loudly. I had no idea what he was talking about but nodded politely. I moved nearer to the door in case I had to run out and escape from him.
He continued, “Didn’t I read something about that FL-whatever group in the newspaper? Isn’t that the cult where you have to milk the cows and do tons of work and the men have a bunch of wives?” He took a long breath through his cigarette.
“Yes, I guess so,” I said. I had certainly never met anyone like Jere but he was keeping me hidden from Sister Cora and as much as he scared me, Sister Cora scared me more. I couldn’t risk leaving his shop.
“It sounded pretty intense. I can see why you’d want to get away from there. So, this lady who’s looking for you wants to take you back. Is she your mom?”
“No, she’s not. I need somewhere to hide until she leaves town. Can I wait here until I know she’s gone?”
Jere waved me into the main shop and pulled up a chair for me in a little room with its own door. “Sure, you can hang in the dressing room so no one sees you. I’m totally against all that kind of shit, you know? Establishment, rigid rules, structure. That’s why I left Manhattan. You can hang here all day if you want. I have some cool National Geographic s in the back and a whole book of great photos.”
He handed me a fat album filled with images of black-haired children and women wearing the bright-colored weavings he sold.
“Where are these from?” I asked.
“Guatemala. I lived down there for a few years. Now that is a crazy-ass country but they have amazing weavers. Look at this stuff! These women have been weaving these designs for, like, centuries. Each region has its own pattern so the Indians can identify each other. Great people, weird government …” He trailed off, busy unloading a new box of glass pipes.
I settled into the dressing room, looking through the book of photos at people I had never heard of, never seen. I thought of Cliff’s words at school the day of Sister Emily’s book burning. There’s a whole big world out there and they don’t live like we do.
And now I was in that world. I had done it! I had escaped the compound and all I had to do was wait until dark, when there was no chance of Sister Cora being in town to catch me.
It was well past midnig
ht when I ventured out of Jere’s shop. He was having what he called a salon, with a group of people talking about things I had never heard adults discuss: the president, a movie they had seen, a song by someone famous named Sting. I’d stayed hidden in the back room but I had listened to every word they said.
When I left, Jere gave me a small box filled with tiny dolls dressed in brightly colored clothes. “These are Guatemalan worry dolls. When you’ve got a lot on your mind you put them under your pillow and they take your worries away. Good luck, Alva!”
Jere was the oddest man I had ever met and I knew he was the kind of person that the prophet had warned us about. But he had helped me, bought me lunch, and even given me the pretty little worry dolls. Whatever his sins, he was more good than bad and God had to see that.
On the street I saw a young couple walking arm in arm, laughing and talking. I imagined what it would be like to have such freedoms, to walk openly with a sweetheart, to wear modern clothes? Soon I would know.
A police car drove slowly toward me and I realized they might be the people to help. I waved my arms and the car stopped. An officer got out and looked me up and down, taking in my appearance.
Keep Sweet Page 12