Keep Sweet

by Michele Dominguez Greene

  She began to cry and I wanted to shake her. What had happened to the woman I met that first day? The one who laughed and smiled, who talked about college and hid cans of Coca-Cola in a kitchen cupboard? She wouldn’t help me. I had to find another way.

  I heard Jack’s voice on the stairway and quickly flipped open the Doctrines and Covenants, section 132, and began reading, “‘David’s wives and concubines were given unto him by me, by the hand of Nathan, my servant, and others of the prophets who had the keys of this power, and in none of these things did he sin against me.… ’”

  The next morning I awoke exhausted, barely able to get out of bed. I wrote it off to having been out to Brenda’s the night before but during my kitchen chores I was overcome with a wave of nausea that sent me running to the bathroom. When I returned, Sister Betsy looked at me with a grin.

  “How do you feel today, Sister Alva?” she asked, barely able to contain a giggle.

  “Not too good. It must be something I ate last night.”

  “When is your cycle due?” Sister Betsy asked, causing the other sister wives to twitter with laughter—except for Ann Marie.

  I felt my insides go cold. My cycle! I hadn’t even thought of it. It had come during the first week of my marriage to Wade and it had not come since. I calculated quickly, hoping I had counted the days incorrectly.

  “I-I can’t be pregnant.… ” I stammered.

  “Oh, yes, you can, if you’re fourteen years old with a husband visiting your room every night,” Sister Irene said with certainty. “This is just what Wade wanted, to get you with child right away, tame your spirit. Thank the Lord that his prayers were answered!”

  Her words made my knees weak. This was what Wade wanted, what they all wanted: to tie me to my husband, to the Brotherhood with a child. I couldn’t be pregnant, not with Wade’s baby. But in my heart I knew it was true. I had been so busy figuring out how to survive, how to get away, that I hadn’t considered that I could be pregnant. My breasts were tender and I was overdue. I had seen my mother and the other sister wives pregnant so many times I could not deny my own symptoms.

  I began to cry. What would become of me? How could I escape now, pregnant and alone? And if by some miracle I ever found Joseph John, how could I face him, carrying Wade’s baby?

  Sister LeNan put a cool washcloth against my head and slid an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t be afraid, Sister Alva. The first one is the hardest, after that it gets easier.”

  I remembered the part I had to play. I knew I couldn’t let them see my despair. “I’m just so thankful that the Lord has blessed me so quickly,” I said.

  Looking around at their faces, my resolve to leave was strengthened. I had to go as soon as possible. I could not let myself be tied to this world by a baby born into the FLDS. But I would not bring my innocent child into it either. If he were a boy, he would not be raised to turn into my father or be expelled like my brother. And if she were a daughter, she would be born free, with a voice to speak her mind and make her life the way she wanted it. For that, I would get out no matter what stood in my way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BY THE EVENING, I HAD COME UP WITH A PLAN. I considered escaping by hiding in one of the construction trucks, but I saw no way to carry Marianne along with me. The only other person I knew who came and went regularly was Brenda Norton. She was unwilling to help me, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t. If I could sneak into the trunk of her car, she could drive us out of the compound without ever knowing it.

  But hiding in her car meant getting into it and not being seen or heard, with a frightened child in tow. It was a crazy, desperate plan and if we got caught, I didn’t want to even imagine what the punishment would be. For me to make another escape attempt and, worse yet, to take the little girl slated to be the prophet’s next wife? I knew the price would be blood atonement: the taking of my life to pay for my trespass against the faith. But I couldn’t wait any longer; I couldn’t take the chance that Marianne could be married to Uncle Kenton any day now. I had my supplies stashed and ready, I had to try to get us out.

  The next day I worked extra hard at my chores so that I would be allowed to visit Brenda before dinner. I collected a pile of the prophet’s writings on plural marriage and made a great show of my zeal to bring Brenda deeper into the fold, for which I was praised by Sister Irene and Wade.

  After supper, I went to the Nortons’ house. The garage door was open and I saw Brenda’s car parked next to Jack’s pickup truck. This was exactly what I had been hoping for. I knocked on the door and found Leigh Ann alone, knitting a baby blanket. She greeted me with a huge, sunny smile, ushering me inside.

  She pointed upstairs and whispered, “It’s Brenda’s night with Jack, but nothing will come of it. She keeps telling him that God will give them a miracle, but soon he’s going to have to stop having relations with her if she’s barren. Poor thing!”

  Leigh Ann settled into the couch and patted the space beside her. “Alva! I’m so happy to see you! I feared you’d be sore at me for telling Jack about your cycle, but I had to, you know.”

  “Of course, Leigh Ann.” She looked so pretty, flush with the glow of pregnancy, content in her life.

  “And Mama tells me that you’ve repented your escape and that now you’re happy in your marriage!”

  “I couldn’t be happier,” I lied. “I just wanted to drop off some of Uncle Kenton’s writings for Brenda since Jack told me she’s struggling with her life here.”

  Leigh Ann sighed. “She just gets so upset with everything. I swear, she’s as high-strung as a wire coil! She can’t get the knack of any home duties, can’t sew a lick, and I do all the cooking, what with her going into town every morning. I just can’t believe that Jack has allowed her to stay on at the bank.”

  I thought about the illegal bank account that Jack asked Brenda to open and I knew that he and Uncle Kenton would keep her working there as long as she could be of use to them.

  “Poor you! What time does Sister Brenda go in to work?” I asked innocently.

  “Oh, quite early since she’s got that long drive. She’s out the door by six or before. Then Jack goes to oversee the construction so I’m here all alone. I can’t wait for the baby to arrive or for Jack to take another wife so I can have some company.”

  She made chitchat with me about her marriage, how Jack had found a matching bedroom set for her room at the Goodwill in Salt Lake and the dresser even had its own mirror. She was satisfied with so little, she had never imagined anything beyond the walls of Pineridge. I had been like her just a few months ago. She was my sister but I now saw nothing of myself in her.

  I had to get into the garage, alone. And I had to do it before Brenda came downstairs and found me there. “Did Brenda ever show you that fancy stitch foot that her sewing machine has?” I asked suddenly, remembering that Brenda’s machine and its parts had been in a box stored in the garage.

  “No, what can it do?”

  “Oh, it does all kinds of fancy buttons and embroidery even! She told me about it when she first moved here.”

  “Really? She never mentioned it to me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s embarrassed that you sew so well and she can’t at all.”

  Leigh Ann smiled, self-satisfied. “I’d sure like to find it. I could make some pretty baby clothes with it.”

  “I’ll go out and see if it’s in the box,” I suggested. “Oh, no, Alva, I’ll just wait for Brenda to get it,” Leigh Ann insisted.

  I leaned in to her and whispered, “She might not want to, Leigh Ann. After all, she isn’t going to want you to show her up even more than you already do.”

  Leigh Ann nodded, “You’re right; Mama told me the same thing. You go get it, Alva, I’ll keep an eye out for them coming downstairs!”

  I hurried out to the garage and fished a thin piece of wire I had taken from Wade’s toolbox out of my pocket. I popped open the trunk of Brenda’s unlocked car. It was roomy enough fo
r me and Marianne to hide in easily and there was even an old blanket folded up in the corner. I secured the trunk door with the wire so that it would stay unlatched and could be opened from the inside, but if no one looked closely, it would appear locked and closed from the outside. I went back to the house.

  “I can’t find it, Leigh Ann. She’s probably got it in her sewing box here in the house. I sure hope she gives it to you; at least you can do something with it!”

  Upstairs I heard the bedroom door open and Jack’s footsteps in the hallway. “I’ve got to run, Leigh Ann. Sister Irene will be starting scripture reading at home and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “I’ll be sure to give Brenda those pamphlets, Alva Jane. And come back to visit me, soon, okay? I sure miss you!”

  I gave her a quick hug and felt a tug in my heart. If all went the way I hoped, she would never see me again.

  On the way home, I stopped by Rita Mae’s with the pretext of bringing a pressed flower to Marianne. Sister Annie opened the door for me and jerked her head toward the backyard.

  “Marianne’s out by the shed. Rita Mae punished her for spilling dirty wash water all over the kitchen floor when it had just been polished.”

  I went out back and found Marianne, who was afraid of the dark, sitting alone behind the toolshed, her big eyes wet with tears. She showed me the red welt on her leg where she had been switched for her clumsiness. I took her little hand in mine and whispered, “How would you like to go to a magic place where there will be no chores and no switches? Do you want to take a magic trip with Auntie Alva?”

  Marianne’s eyes grew big. “A magic trip?”

  “A trip to a faraway place where there’s no ironing and no washing, no babies to have their diapers changed.”

  “No poopy diapers!”

  “That’s right. Would you like that?”

  Marianne nodded.

  “Then you have to keep a secret, because if anyone finds out, the magic place will disappear and we won’t get to go. When everyone goes to bed tonight, you must come out here and wait for me in this spot. I’ll come for you and we’ll go together, just you and me.”

  I knew that coming out here alone would be a lot for her, but it was our only hope.

  “Tonight, when everyone goes to sleep. You must come by yourself and tell no one, okay?” I repeated.

  She nodded at me but I could see she was frightened. As I hurried home, I prayed that God would give us both the strength to see my plan through.

  Before bed, I passed Ann Marie in the hall and tapped my fingers against the back of her hand, our sign that tonight would be the night. I climbed into bed and feigned sleep when Sister Irene closed up the house. Since my repentance, I was no longer locked in my basement room every evening.

  I waited until the dead of night when the house was quiet, then slipped my pillowcase of supplies out from the back of the armoire where I had hidden it. I took off my long dress and slid into the slim jeans that Ann Marie had given me. I buttoned up the boy’s shirt and tucked my long braid into a knot inside the collar.

  I had water and food that I had sneaked out of the pantry, enough to survive a few days in the desert. I had my sewing scissors and knife, the flashlight, and the other items I would need. I was ready. I tiptoed up the stairs of the basement and listened at the doorway. The sounds of the clock ticking in the kitchen carried down the hall. I crept along the main hallway and toward the kitchen where the back door led to the yard and the desert beyond.

  As I passed the stairway, I froze in fear. Someone was waiting at the top. I didn’t move until I heard the faint tap-tap of Ann Marie’s cane. I raised my eyes and saw her silhouette, illuminated only by the thin ribbon of moonlight that spilled across the wood floor. She looked down at me, unable to descend without waking the household. She held her open palm up and I returned the gesture. We were sisters in our suffering and in our shared hopes that I would get out and bring back help.

  In the kitchen I left a note telling Sister Irene that I had gone out early to check on my mother who was not feeling well. I knew that would buy me some time while the sister wives attended to their morning chores. If all went well, it would be past nine by the time Sister Irene sent someone to Mama’s house to find me.

  I glanced up at the thin wooden plaque over the stove that read KEEP SWEET. Not for me, not any longer. I opened the kitchen door and slipped out into the night.

  I hurried along the deserted streets of Pineridge, a slim shadow in my disguise. I arrived at Rita Mae’s and crept along the fence until I reached the toolshed. I was afraid to look, afraid that Marianne would not be there, or worse yet, that she had told someone of my plan. But when I came around the corner, there she was, alone in her flannel nightdress, her feet in thin tennis shoes, shivering against the night chill.

  I bundled her up and quickly changed her into the clothes I had taken from Wade’s younger sons. I took her hand and ran with her, past the Brigham tea bushes and the spiny hop sage, past the temple square and the Zion Academy, toward the Norton house.

  We approached Brenda’s house from the south side, where we could see the windows of the kitchen. The house was dark and mercifully the garage door was still open. We slipped inside and I found the trunk of Brenda’s car just as I had left it: secured with wire. I twisted it open and hoisted Marianne inside, all the while whispering in her ear to keep quiet, praying that she wouldn’t get scared and cry out.

  As I climbed in, a light in the kitchen came on and I gripped the hood of the trunk, holding it almost closed with my fingers. Marianne whimpered and I shushed her. A moment later the garage light came on and Jack Norton came in. I heard him rummaging around in his truck. I prayed that the trunk wouldn’t pop open and expose us. He shut off the light and returned to the house. I breathed a sigh of relief, latched the wire, and waited for daybreak, Marianne tucked protectively under my arm.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I KEPT MARIANNE QUIET UNTIL MORNING WITH whispered tales of how lovely our lives would be in our new home, listening for every sound from the house. I heard activity inside and then Brenda’s footsteps in the garage.

  Please don’t let her find us, I prayed as she walked around the back of the car to climb into the driver’s side. She started the engine and pulled out onto the street, winding through Pineridge toward the main gates and the freedom of the highway. There were so many construction trucks that we had to wait at the guard gate while they checked each one. If they looked too closely at Brenda’s car, it would all be over for us.

  I held my breath, terrified that someone would notice the rigged trunk and discover us. But no one did. Slowly we pulled past the guard gate. I felt the car pick up speed on the open road. We were outside the compound! Silent tears of relief spilled down my cheeks, but I knew we were far from safe. As soon as our absence was discovered they would be looking for us, fanning out into the desert, into town, with cars and trucks, fueled by my father’s fear and the prophet’s fury.

  We drove for almost an hour before Brenda stopped the car and got out. I waited a few seconds, then pushed up on the trunk and peered out through the crack. We were at a gas station. I realized this must be where Brenda stopped to change into her work clothes each day. I watched her disappear into the restroom attached to the small kiosk where a young clerk was busy talking on a phone. It was time for us to go. I pushed open the trunk and lifted Marianne out, jumping after her. I grabbed my bundle and her hand and we ran into the open desert as fast as we could.

  We hid all day and into the night in a cave on the dark side of a red rock formation, more than a mile from the highway. We could not risk traveling by day. It was late when we emerged. The shadows of the desert floor were deep purple, the moon casting a milky white beam illuminating a stand of Utah Juniper and Pinyon Pine trees. I held tight to Marianne’s hand as we walked and walked, each step taking us farther away from the Brotherhood of the Lord. I smiled, imagining the faces of Wade, my father, and the prophet
when they realized I was gone and had taken Marianne with me. But my joy was tinged by fear. I knew they would not let us go easily.

  We ducked beneath a jutting rock ridge just as a summer storm hit. We laughed and held our hands out to catch the falling drops filling up the shallow arroyos with water that would be gone within a day. I cut Marianne’s curls close to her head and then took the scissors to my own long braid, cropping it just below my ears. I applied the gooey hair dye and we went into the rain to wash it out, our fair hair now brunette and unrecognizable. We found a small opening in the rock, a crevice really, but big enough for us to hide in. We waited as the sun came up, blazing across the desert as if it too were searching us out as I knew the brotherhood would be. We waited patiently until night fell and it was safe to venture out.

  It was almost midnight when we approached the lights of Moab. Marianne was exhausted, hardly able to put one foot in front of the other. We stopped at a service station at the edge of town. In the bathroom, we cleaned up and I fished out the makeup that Ann Marie had given me. With the little brush I applied dark shadow to my eyelids. I rubbed it in and stood back to look at my reflection. With my short dark hair, my smudgy eyes, and the boys’ clothes, I looked totally different, both older and tougher than I had imagined. I looked the way I felt inside, having survived and escaped from Pineridge and my life there. The old Alva Jane was gone. This new girl would step out into an alien world and make her own way.

  I dragged Marianne along, half-carrying her. I knew firsthand the dangers of going into town, so we hunkered down beside the highway where I could see the headlights of passing cars. We would hitch a ride out of town, as far as anyone was willing to take us. We had to be on our way before morning when it would be too difficult to hide from the search party that I knew Uncle Kenton would have sent to Moab to look for us. As each car approached, I peered out, letting any one with Utah license plates pass us by. I had learned my lesson. I would take no chances on ending up with Mormons who might be sympathetic to the FLDS like Officer Oberg.