I knew that obedience and devotion mattered most to my parents and the prophet. I would use their belief against them. I would become the perfect, penitent sister wife, regain the trust that they needed so badly to reaffirm in these troubled times. I would be the prodigal daughter come home. And when they least suspected it, I would run.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE NEXT AFTERNOON AS I PASSED ANN MARIE IN the hallway, she handed me a basket of clean sheets to fold. “There are some extra buttons for the boys’ shirts in the sewing box in your room, Sister Alva, and I’ll need them to finish up the mending.”
She gave me a pointed look and an insistent push.
I turned to Sister Irene, who was wiping down the walls with a wet sponge. “May I go downstairs to retrieve the buttons, Sister Irene?” I had to ask permission for everything, even the smallest tasks.
“Yes. The boys need those clothes mended before they go out to the fields to work.”
“I’ll get right to it.” I went downstairs, taking the basket of linens with me. I rifled through the sheets to find a pair of boy’s pants and a faded work shirt. I held them up; they looked as if they would fit. I hid them beneath my dresses and returned upstairs to work with a nod to Ann Marie. Together we would sneak and pilfer what was necessary. It felt good to have an ally in that quiet, menacing house.
That evening at dinner we ate in silence, the way we did everything in the Barton house. Once everyone had been served, I placed my hand lightly on Wade’s arm and asked, “May I speak to the family, Wade?”
I could see he was puzzled but he agreed and I stood, looking around the table at my five sister wives, and the children seated at a long folding table nearby.
“I know that all of you know of my attempted escape from Pineridge and how our husband generously forgave me and accepted me as his sixth wife.… ”
Sister Irene exchanged a look with Wade, who held his fork in midair as he listened. Ann Marie stared at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I met her stare evenly as I continued, “I know that I have broken the trust of the community and of my family and I ask your forgiveness. I realize now that my highest calling is to serve and obey my husband in all things, to accept his dominion over me, and to keep sweet at all times. I know it will take time and work to regain your trust, but I hope you will find it in your hearts to give me a chance. Thank you for letting me speak, Wade.”
I squeezed Wade’s arm and took Sister Irene’s hand as I sat down.
“Those are fine words of repentance, Alva Jane. I’m very happy to see this change in you, as we all are,” Sister Irene said tersely, and Wade nodded in agreement. I resumed eating my dinner, my eyes humbly downcast. I stole a sideways glance at Ann Marie, who bit her lip to hold back a faint smile.
The next day I had a visitor; my mother showed up after breakfast bearing the gift of a new knitted shawl. Her eyes were brimming with joy as we sat in the kitchen, Mama’s hand lovingly placed over mine.
“Sister Irene told me last night of your repentance, Alva. Your father and I could not be happier. We knew that once you were living within the bonds of celestial marriage you would recover yourself and become the obedient girl we have always loved.”
I smiled. “You’re right, Mama, like always.” I knew exactly what to say and how to say it. I had spent a lifetime learning this role and now my life depended on playing it well.
“I just count myself lucky that my husband forgave my wickedness and independence,” I added.
Mama reached out and smoothed my hair. “You look good, Alva. Marriage agrees with you.”
My mother was a bad liar. I had seen my reflection in the mirror, I looked terrible. The strain of my life with Wade had drained all the color from me. The sleepless nights had etched deep circles under my eyes. But I also knew that Mama would believe what she wanted to believe; that was how she had survived all these years, and I would use that belief to my advantage. I took her hand.
“Mama, do you think Daddy could do me a favor? Could he help arrange a meeting for me with Uncle Kenton? I want to make it right with him. To tell him firsthand that I have repented in my heart.”
“I’m sure Daddy can do that for you, Alva. It would please him to no end. Things have been … difficult for your father and for all of us. But I take this change in you as a sign of a new day. My little girl has put her heart in the right place where God intended it to be and perhaps your father’s heart will be moved to bring us back to the main house again.
“I have to get back to start the washing,” Mama said, rising to go. At the door she leaned in close and whispered, “And there is big news! Rita Mae’s daughter Marianne has been chosen to be the prophet’s next wife! You know she’s special, she always has been. It is such an honor for the family.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Marianne would be eleven years old next month; Uncle Kenton was old enough to be her grandfather. Of course she was special—she was mentally slow and timid, afraid of her own shadow. How could beautiful, sweet Marianne be expected to understand what marriage meant or what would be required of her? My stomach turned at the thought of a child facing what I was living through with Wade. I searched my mother’s face for some recognition that this was an abomination, but there was none. Mama wore an expectant smile, waiting for my reply.
“That’s wonderful, Mama. I hope that Daddy is pleased by it,” I said, feeling the words thick in my throat.
“Well, you know Rita Mae was against it at first, her being so young and all. But your Daddy convinced her. After all, Marianne isn’t quite right; what if she doesn’t get chosen for marriage by someone else? This way she is sure to be exalted, being married to the prophet.”
I watched my mother walk away, knowing that she was untroubled by doubt. She was at peace with her unwavering devotion to The Principle no matter how twisted it became under Uncle Kenton’s unstable hand. And I knew that I could not let Marianne be married off to the sixty-seven-year-old prophet. The family was in favor of it, there was no one else willing or ready to defend a helpless little girl. My escape plan had just become more complicated. It would now include a ten-year-old girl. I would take Marianne with me when I left.
In the weeks that followed, I rose early every day and helped Sister Irene above and beyond my assigned chores. I was tired and achy but kept going, determined to prove my new commitment to my husband and family. I baked extra bread, I scrubbed the canning jars, I took on extra sewing from Sister LeNan, who had finally given birth to her baby.
I did my best to appear willing toward Wade’s advances but it still made my skin crawl when he touched me. I closed my eyes and imagined a life outside of Pineridge, living in a new place, with different people who knew nothing of my past. A clean slate, a new beginning, a new identity. That was the one thought that kept me alive every day.
Finally, Sister Irene asked me to accompany her to the Pineridge store to help her with purchases. Walking outside in the open air, I felt restored. The town looked the same except that new construction was underway at the temple with trucks coming and going steadily.
“Why so many trucks, Sister Irene?”
“The prophet is building two new turrets at the main gate, to keep us safe.”
“Are the drivers Pineridge men? I don’t recognize all of them.”
“Most are, but there are some outsiders who come in and out with no dillydallying. We can’t allow any of them to corrupt our community by mixing with the people here. The overseers are in charge of that.”
I saw Jack Norton directing a group of men to unload a large flatbed filled with rebar. I took note of the trucks, the coming and going of deliveries. Perhaps there would be a way to use all that hustle and bustle to my benefit.
At the Pineridge store, Mr. Battle greeted me warmly, taking my hand in his.
“I guess you’ve been so busy with married life you’ve had no time to come by and visit old Mr. Battle,” he said with a smile, and I felt a pang of remorse for what I knew
I had to do.
Sister Irene gave me a list of items to find while she looked at fabrics. I moved through the familiar aisles, picking out Sister Irene’s items and sneaking a few things for myself into the deep pockets of my dress. I knew stealing from Mr. Battle was wrong, but I had to get what I would need to survive on the outside: small scissors, a pocketknife, a flashlight.
After dinner, my parents came by to give me the good news that the prophet had granted me an audience before the Priesthood Council. He would receive me that very evening. I changed into my best dress. I arranged my hair neatly and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like a perfect FLDS wife. I knew that convincing Uncle Kenton that I had repented was the key to everything. With his support I would be restored to the community and regain some measure of my freedom.
As we walked to the prophet’s house, I rested my hand in the crook of Wade’s arm, fighting the revulsion that his presence provoked in me. Just the scent of him made me ill, but I masked it beneath a submissive smile.
My father chattered as we walked. “I’m so happy you’ve had this change of heart, Alva. I was really worried about your soul that night we went to pick you up in Moab. You could have gone down a dangerous path, but a righteous husband and marriage have made you whole again!”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I watched his broad back in front of me as he walked ahead. I looked at his head with its short haircut, like a black brush sitting stiff and upright, the back of his leathery neck burned a faint pink by the sun. My heart that had once been so filled with pride at the sight of him felt cold and hard inside as I watched him now. Like flashes of lightning I saw him raising his belt over me in the livestock barn, ordering Mama to give her children to Sister Cora, standing mutely by while I was married to a man he had seen beat a young wife senseless. I remembered his absence when we abandoned Cliff by the side of the road; he was not man enough to say good-bye to his own son or defend him. My father was no longer the priesthood head who would lead his family to exaltation but a coward, a blind follower, ready to sacrifice his children. I hated him now and the depth of the rancor in my heart surprised me.
At the prophet’s home we were led to one of the conference rooms where the council met. I saw Tom Pruitt, Leroy Jaynes, and Eddie Raynard among them; they were councilmen come to weigh in on my fate. My father and Wade took their seats beside the prophet and I stepped forward. My blood pounded loudly, a steady drumbeat in my ears. I would give the performance of my life; I had to. I waited obediently for Uncle Kenton to grant me permission to speak.
“You’ve asked for an audience, Sister Alva, after some grievous trespasses against my authority and the community. My brother tells me that you have repented, is that true?”
I took a deep breath and prayed for strength. “Yes, Uncle Kenton. I have repented for my wickedness and disobedience. I now see that you and my parents know what is best for me and being married to a righteous man like Brother Wade is exactly what the Lord intended for me.”
Uncle Kenton squinted his eyes at me warily. I knew it would be harder to convince him than it had been my parents. “And what brought on this sudden change of heart, after such a brazen escape attempt?”
“I don’t know exactly.… ” I said, suddenly fighting tears.
It was as if all the pain and hurt I had bottled up came rising to the surface now that I faced the very people who were to blame for it. I began to panic, unable to contain my emotions. I wanted to shout at them, to curse them, to send them to the fate they deserved. But I could not lose control now. I swallowed hard and found my voice. “I just felt my heart moved by the spirit one night, after a visit from my husband,” I lied. “The sense of safety and belonging overpowered me and I felt all the fear that had burdened me, relieved.”
My tears flowed freely and I knelt before Uncle Kenton, laying my forehead against the floor in a show of complete submission. “I beg your forgiveness, Uncle Kenton, for my betrayal of you and the Brotherhood. I come from five generations of living The Principle, I am a good wife, and I accept my husband’s dominion over me in all things. I will defend the faith in word and deed until the day I die!” I sobbed.
The words were a calculated lie to get back into the prophet’s good graces. But the pain and the tears were my own.
The room was silent for a moment and I kept my head down, afraid of what might come next. Then I felt Uncle Kenton’s hand on my arm, gently leading me to my feet.
“There now, Alva Jane. I know from your tears that your heart is in the right place, that you are truly repentant. Don’t cry, little girl. Everything will be fine now,” he said, patting my arm and settling me into a chair.
“Get the girl some juice, Sister Maureen,” he ordered, and my mother left the room with tears in her eyes.
Uncle Kenton laid a hand on my shoulder and said, “Alva Jane, there is no greater teacher than one who has been to the abyss and come back to the light, no more powerful messenger than one who was lost and now is found. I want you to be the one to talk to other young women in the community who struggle with the requirements of plural marriage. Now and then there are those weak souls who doubt their ability to do what the Lord requires of them. When such a wife is brought to my attention, I want you to speak to her and tell your story.”
“Thank you for entrusting me with such a charge, Uncle Kenton.”
I was roundly praised by the Priesthood Council, again a member in good standing of the Brotherhood of the Lord. Afterward, I stepped out into the cool night air with my parents and Wade for the walk home.
For the first time in weeks, I felt lightness in my heart. They believed me. They trusted me again. I was one step closer to the moment I would break their trust into a million sharp and bitter pieces.
In the days that followed, word of my repentance spread. Uncle Kenton even spoke of me in the temple, holding me up as an example to all the young women in the community. I was received with open arms and fervent hopes that the prophet was right, that I was a living sign of good fortune again smiling upon the Brotherhood.
But my example alone could not calm the anxiety and paranoia. Construction at the compound gates went into full gear with men working on it around the clock, as if thicker walls and taller turrets could keep out what was threatening us. A few months earlier I would have been like everyone else, hoping and praying for God’s favor to smile upon us through the divine prophet. But I knew now that the danger was on the inside. It was in Uncle Kenton’s stranglehold of absolute power, and in the blind willingness of the people to be led like sheep to the slaughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I WAS HANGING WASH OUT TO DRY ONE CRISP, SUNNY August morning when Jack Norton approached me, coming across the yard with Sister Irene.
“Mr. Norton wants to have a word with you, Alva Jane,” Sister Irene said.
“Good morning, Alva. I was hoping you might be able to come over and talk to Brenda? She is struggling with our life here and now that Leigh Ann is pregnant, she has gotten worse. Uncle Kenton suggested that you have a word with her.”
Leigh Ann is pregnant?
I knew poor Brenda must be beside herself. I welcomed the chance to talk to her, to see if she might be willing to help me.
“Of course, Brother Jack. I can come tonight if my husband allows it.”
He thanked me and left. Sister Irene stood with her arms folded.
“You be careful with that Brenda Norton. She’s still working in town, she’s got no children. I just don’t trust her,” she said.
I patted her arm. “As the prophet said, Sister Irene, there is no better messenger than one who has been lost and now is found. I know I can help Brenda to put her heart in the right place.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Sister Irene grumbled, going back to the house.
I returned to the basket of damp sheets. Brenda drove through the gates of Pineridge every morning. She could come and go as she pleased. If I could just convince her to help me,
it would be so easy. I took a frayed pillowcase from the wash line. I would add it to my mending basket, as it would come in handy for carrying the items I would take with me when I escaped.
Everything was falling into place, even this fortuitous invitation to meet with Brenda. I would be leaving soon. I could feel it.
I arrived at Brenda’s house early that evening with my scripture books in hand, ready to play the role of the repentant wife preaching the word of salvation. Brenda opened the door and I almost didn’t recognize her. She had lost weight and her eyes were listless. Her nails that had once been so pretty and polished were bitten down to the quick. She invited me in and explained that Jack and Leigh Ann were decorating the baby’s room upstairs.
“How does it feel having a baby join the family? Is it like you hoped it would be?” I asked.
“Not at all,” she whispered. “I just feel so useless and inadequate with Jack doting on her now that the baby’s coming. I didn’t realize that I would feel this way.… ”
I knew I didn’t have much time to play at this charade. I had to take my chances. “Then why don’t you leave? Go back to your parents, go back to your life outside?” I asked.
She looked at me, stunned. “What are you saying?”
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I have to get out, Brenda. My marriage is a nightmare and I can’t take it any longer. I need your help!”
“But what can I do?”
Now I was the one who was stunned. What could she do? Didn’t she realize how blessed she was to be able to leave the compound each day, to drive in and out of her own will? “You can leave, Brenda. You have transportation and a life outside. You can take me with you!”
“Oh, no. I can’t risk that, Alva. What would happen if they found out?”
I heard Leigh Ann’s voice in the hallway. Soon they would be coming down.
Brenda continued, “And I’ve done something I shouldn’t have, Alva. Jack pressured me to open an account for the Brotherhood at the bank, using a phony name so the prophet can run funds through it. It’s illegal and if I get caught, I can go to jail. I’m in no position to help anyone, I can’t even help myself !”
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