“Next is Elder Johnson. That would be my choice. He’s old enough to be my own father, it’s true, but he’s a good man. His daughter Dorothea is sixteen and bright. Rather homely, it’s true, but you know what they say about first wives. You’ll have others. You can look for pretty down the road.”
Jacob had no comment. “And finally, Stephen Paul Young.”
“Yes. He’s from the William Young family. He’s thirty-five and my half first cousin, once removed. I’m not crazy about the genetics of the matter. There’s too much cousin marriage in the church as it is. You can’t ignore the dysgenic effects of too much intra-familial marriage.”
Jacob tried to picture Stephen Paul Young and could only come up with tall. “Don’t know the guy.”
“Good family. Loyal to the church. On the Quorum, his father and I share certain…understandings. Stephen Paul is a rancher with a side business of fresh vegetables. Shares a co-op with Taylor Kimball’s family.”
Jacob knew the business. It moved a lot of vegetables and beef and made more than enough to support Elder Kimball’s family comfortably. But being in business with the Kimballs wasn’t an endorsement as far as Jacob was concerned.
“How many wives did you say?” Jacob asked, trying to remember their conversation in Harmony. “Two?”
“Yes, Eliza would make three. Both William and his brother Jameson are pushing Stephen Paul for a spot on the Quorum of the Twelve. You might end up serving together on the Quorum some day. A brother-in-law would be a nice ally.”
“That doesn’t enter into the equation.”
“Absolutely, it does,” Father said. “Someday you’ll be the leader of the family. You’d better start thinking about how to advance it.”
“Yes, but what’s he like? A good man?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t heard any complaints, but our paths haven’t crossed very often. Stephen Paul has two unmarried sisters, but I don’t know much about them, either. Go, meet the man. Meet his sisters.”
Jacob considered. “Okay, I’ll look. In fact, I’ll take Liz,” Jacob said. “I assume that’s fine.”
“Of course. But don’t get her all riled up. You want to avoid emotions in these matters. And it’s not Eliza’s choice, ultimately.”
And somehow Jacob was expected to make a better decision, knowing he could choose whichever girl most suited him as his prize?
“Can I go now?”
“Yes, Jacob. Get some sleep. Find the murderers. But don’t procrastinate this other matter. I’ll call you in a day or two and I want your decision. I’ve got business in Salt Lake early next week. It would be a good time to come to Blister Creek for a wedding if you decide against Elder Johnson. Come to think of it, we’d have two weddings, wouldn’t we? Today is what? Tuesday? That gives you a week.”
And with that Abraham Christianson hung up. Jacob dropped the phone on the nightstand, rubbed his eyes and fell back on the bed with a groan. A week? Both he and his sister would be married next week?
#
Eliza stood on the porch of the trailer, her hand frozen in knocking position. The knock still hung in the air and she wished desperately to take it back. Movement behind the door, the lock turning, then the knob.
Eduardo stood, blinking at her in surprise. He had changed out of his wet clothes already and she was conscious of her own bedraggled appearance. Worse, her dress clung to her skin and without looking down she knew that it revealed far more of her body than she’d intended.
“Well, hello,” he said at last. “I didn’t expect you. Come in.”
“I can’t come inside,” was what she meant to say, but it came out as, “I can’t…stay very long.”
“Of course, not.”
The inside of the trailer was spartan, but clean. A few pieces of furniture, a kitchen on the left and a hallway to bedrooms on the other side of the living room. Eduardo indicated that she take a seat on the couch, then turned off the television. He went to the bathroom to get her a couple of towels.
It was long enough to reflect on what the hell she was doing. She had to get out of here. At once. And yet she still sat on the couch when he returned. Eliza used the first towel to dry her hair, then wrapped it around her shoulders. It provided cover to her breasts. She sat on the second towel.
Eduardo sat next to her. “I’m sorry about lying to you earlier.”
“You mean about the English? Why? I mean, what’s the harm in speaking English?”
“Maybe nothing.” He shook his head. “I’ve had bad experiences with gringos. English just complicates things. Better to stay quiet and stupid.”
It didn’t ring true. Surely there was more to it than that.
“Anyway,” he said. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” she lied. “You?”
“Twenty-two. What was up with that jerk? That was Elder Kimball’s son, wasn’t it?”
“Taylor Junior, yeah. He thinks he’s going to marry me. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Eduardo said, “So we were hanging drywall for this guy and his wife was only sixteen. Pregnant already. Manuel said they all marry young around here. You’re lucky, I guess.”
“I don’t feel lucky.” She sighed. “Feels like my time is running out. My father’s putting a lot of pressure on me. It might only be a few weeks, in fact.”
“Really? Some man in Blister Creek?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. There’s this old guy in Alberta, too. The other two are here. One of them is Taylor Junior, but like I said, I’m not interested. My brother is going to choose from the other two.”
“And that’s how women get married in your church? Someone chooses for you? How bizarre.”
“No more bizarre,” she said, “than choosing a husband based on lust, like gentiles do. I mean, people outside the church. Half the people don’t even get married anymore. Children are born without even knowing who the father is. How is that a better system?”
He held up his hands. “You don’t have to lecture me. My family is Catholic. Very traditional. My mother would kill me if I got some girl pregnant.”
“Is your family in the United States?”
“My dad is. He’s been in Atlanta for about twenty years. Only sees my mother for a few weeks a year, but always sends money. My mother and the rest of my family live in Tepíc, Nayarit. North of Guadalajara. It’s a long trip from the border. I’ve done it about twenty times.”
None of that meant anything to her. “And that’s how you learned English? Working with your father?”
“Yes, I spent summers up here from the time I was about six.”
“It must be great to speak two languages fluently.”
He shrugged. “Not so great that I’m not still working with illegals for eight or ten bucks an hour. If there was any work in Mexico, I’d go home.”
“You don’t like the U.S?”
He hesitated. “It’s not my country,” he said at last. “I’m a foreigner. People say things. Store owners check the stock when I leave.” He shook his head. “And the worst thing? I’m a foreigner in Mexico, too. Even though everybody has a cousin or a brother in the north, they don’t like us. I can’t blame them, sometimes. Guys come back from the States with flashy trucks, and waving big wads of dollars. They speak English to each other just to show off.”
“Then they can hardly be surprised if people find them annoying.”
“Sure, but most people aren’t like that. I prefer a low profile. But it doesn’t matter. The upshot is that I’m a Mexican in the United States and a gringo oscuro—a dark gringo—in Mexico. And I feel that way sometimes. Torn between two countries. Two cultures. Two languages. Maybe that’s why I choose to speak Spanish.”
“I’m a foreigner too. Canadian.”
“That’s different, though. Canada and the U.S. are pretty much the same thing.”
“First of all, they’re not. Second, I’m a lot more foreign than just coming from Canada. Look at me. Look at this pl
ace. It’s not Atlanta.”
“No, I guess not.”
“People drive through town sometimes to gawk. They found us on a map after having seen some television program about those crazy polygamists. And they come through and take pictures of the women or the temple. Look at all those wives. And a million kids each. As if we’re animals at the zoo.”
He laughed. “I have to admit I found this place pretty strange when I first came. But I haven’t seen any tourists.”
“We do a pretty good job of scaring them off. You know, the gentiles can’t get gas or buy groceries in town. We won’t sell to them. People won’t even talk to them. They say we’re standoffish. A cult. But we just want to be left alone to live our faith. Is that so bad?”
“I guess not, when you put it like that. But Eliza, what do you want? Do you want to be wife number five to one of these old guys?”
Eliza could feel his leg pressing against hers and thought, not for the first time, that he was very cute. And that she shouldn’t be here.
“It’s not what I want that matters. It’s what God wants. And yes, if He wants me to be a plural wife, then I will obey His will.”
And here she was, talking about eternal marriage and suddenly Eduardo’s hand was on her leg. She froze. “Are you, uhm, are you sure that your friends aren’t coming back tonight?”
He must have felt her tense up. He pulled his hand back. “Not till tomorrow. Are you okay? You’re shivering. Can I get you a blanket or some dry clothes maybe?”
She wasn’t shivering because of the cold. It was plenty warm in here. She was trembling with nervous excitement. It was lust, she realized with equal parts horror and fascination. That’s what this was. And she didn’t want it to go away. Not yet. Soon, yes, soon she would get up and walk away from this temptation, but not yet.
“No, I’m okay. Maybe just a little cold.”
He leaned in close and took her arm. “You feel cold.” He put his other hand on her left cheek. She froze in place. Her breath was shallow and rapid in her ears.
“It’s not like women don’t have value, you know,” she continued. “We’re not property.” What did she come here to ask? Oh yeah, why was he following Taylor Junior?
“No, of course not. But what do you want to do?”
It was the sort of question that she didn’t ask herself. She had a role; she had to play it. Her own very small part in the great work that was God’s plan. Press too hard against herself and she’d find herself…well, in situations just like this one.
“I want to choose.” She nodded. “I want to map my own life. Even if it means I make mistakes. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
Eduardo made no move to replace his hand on her leg. On impulse, Eliza ran her fingers along his arm. The muscles tightened under her touch. She had never touched such dark skin before and—yes, it was foolish—had been half expecting it to feel different. As if skin texture changed with color. What a sheltered, naïve girl she was. Already seventeen, but she might as well be a child.
His face was close now and he leaned even closer. She closed her eyes, still breathing hard and waiting for him to move.
“This is such a bad idea,” Eduardo said. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel his breath, but they didn’t close those last two inches. “On so many levels.”
“Yes, I know.” He was giving her the chance to back out now, before things went too far. “But what’s stopping you?”
And then he did kiss her. His lips entangled with hers and she didn’t know what she was doing, but let him lead and then she was lying on her back and his fingers dug into her back and she had her fingers in his hair, her breath coming faster and faster. Warmth spread through her body. She felt his body pressing against her down there and she was warm there, too. Burning.
He pulled his mouth away. She groped for more, but he was kissing her earlobe now, and then her neck. His hand untied her dress and his fingers brushed the bare, raw flesh of her shoulder. She drew her breath sharply at the touch. Her throat lay exposed now and his fingers moved down and brushed the top part of her breast. She lay back, vulnerable, motionless under his touch but for her breathing and a tremble, neither of which she could control.
Eduardo slid a hand down her dress and brushed one nipple with his fingers. She gasped in shock and pleasure.
Eduardo stopped at once. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t want this. It’s wrong.”
“It’s wrong,” she agreed, “but don’t stop. Not yet.”
He was breathing hard, but he pulled away and his expression changed. “No, I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Eliza had heard a million stories about gentiles and their insatiable lust. She was surprised that he had pulled back. And she was flushed, unable to think straight.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. There was a firm set to his mouth. “You should go.”
She was confused by how cold he’d become suddenly. “Are you angry?”
He looked surprised by the question. “Angry? Of course not. I like you, I really do, but this is just…I don’t know, not very smart.” He nodded. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Eliza said, feeling guilty. Because he was right. She’d put him in danger just by coming here. “You don’t have to worry. You’re safe. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“And I won’t either. Nobody will know, right?”
And there was nothing to do but straighten her dress and make for the door. He put a hand on her back at the door, but she could see him tense as he looked into the shadows outside the trailer, looking to see if someone was watching.
“Take care, Eliza.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just be careful.”
Eliza turned to walk away. She could feel him watching, but she didn’t turn around. When she reached the sidewalk, she heard the door of the trailer shut behind her. She stopped for a moment, closing her eyes tightly. A complex stew of emotions simmered within her.
There were no others on the streets. Dawn threatened from the east and all too soon the town would shake itself to life again. It took about fifteen minutes to reach the Kimball house. She used the back entrance and let herself in with her key and crept up the stairs to her bedroom.
She opened the door, ready to slip out of her dress and change into pajamas before crawling into bed. A movement from the far side of her bedroom drew her short. There was someone waiting for her.
“And where have you been, Eliza Christianson?”
It was Taylor Junior.
Chapter Eleven:
Eliza tried to back her way out of the door, but Taylor Junior blocked her way with one arm. She should have screamed, but she was too caught up in shock and everything that had happened. Instead, she stood frozen. The room was dark save for the reading light by the bed.
“What were you doing?” he demanded. “Why do you look like that?”
She found her voice. “I was working. There was a flood, if you didn’t notice. Rain, mud, and all that.”
“Yes, and everyone else came back an hour ago. They’ve cleaned up and gone back to sleep and here you’re just coming in. So what were you doing?” There was an unpleasant insinuation in his voice and she felt a twinge of panic. Had he seen her go into Eduardo’s trailer?
No, he couldn’t know. “None of your business. Get out of my room.”
He seized her arm with a painful grip and leaned in close. “It, by God, is my business. You’re going to be my wife and that makes it my concern. What, they haven’t told you yet?” he sneered. “That’s right, you’re going to be my wife. What do you think your brother is doing here? He could easily be staying with his cousins out by the bluff. He’s checking out my sisters, that’s what. And you, you will honor and obey and submit to my will as the Lord commands.”
In her fear, she found herself half-be
lieving him. “You’re lying. Jacob wouldn’t…”
He chuckled. “It’s just a question of whether he wants Jessie Lyn or Annabelle. Once he decides, we’ll be married, you and me. It might even happen by this weekend. Since it’s already done in all but name, maybe we should get an early start.”
“Don’t do this.”
He threw her down on the bed. She struggled, but still couldn’t find her voice. He put his mouth on hers and grabbed her breast with one hand.
“Get off me you son of a bitch.”
He laughed. He yanked out her breast and squeezed painfully. The other hand he shoved between her legs.
And all she could think was, It’s my fault. Oh, Heavenly Father, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sin with Eduardo. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t punish me like this.
She found her voice and screamed. Once it came, it would not stop. She only paused to draw in a ragged breath, then screamed again. Once Taylor Junior recovered his initial shock, he tried to clamp his hand over her mouth, but she bit down hard and he drew back, cursing.
And then the door burst open and several women were there and Taylor Junior was pulling away, his hand shoving her away disdainfully as the lights came on and they blinked and Eliza stopped screaming. His sisters and Elder Kimball’s wives stood in the threshold of the room.
“Let go of her, you bastard.” Her sister, Fernie.
“What are you doing?” Charity, her voice equally scathing.
And then Jacob arrived. Eliza didn’t know if someone had called him or if he had heard the screams. She didn’t care. She scrambled off the bed and rushed to her brother, throwing himself in his arms and crying.
Taylor Junior started to sputter. “It was her fault. She came on to me. I told her no, but she wouldn’t stop tempting me.”
Jacob’s voice was hard. “ ‘Woe unto the liar,’ sayeth the Lord, ‘for he shall be thrust down to hell.’ ” He released Eliza very slowly. As she stepped aside, she could feel the violence in his body.
But Taylor Junior didn’t comprehend. “She did,” he insisted. “She tried to seduce me.” He gave Eliza a look of disgust. “Slut. Whore.”
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