Out of Heaven's Grasp

by V. J. Chambers

  I laughed. “No. Not so much. They, uh, want to keep all the young girls for themselves, so they find reasons to kick out us younger guys. We’re competition, you know.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. So, you’re saying you didn’t leave willingly?”

  “No. They threw me out.”

  “No shit. And what are you doing now? You don’t have a job?”

  “Well, I was staying with some other guys who’d been thrown out, but the guy who owned the house got pretty bent out of shape because he thought I was strung out on drugs, so I’ve been sleeping in my truck. I’m just…” Man, I sounded pathetic, didn’t I? I sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I thought you said you had a bed.”

  “I did,” I said. “But not anymore.”

  He stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “So, back in Maranatha, did you work on a farm?”

  “Yeah, everyone does.”

  “And you’re looking for work?”

  “Yeah,” I said, unsure of where he was going with this.

  He scrutinized me. “You want to come live with a bunch of actual hippies on my ranch?”

  “What?” I said, stunned.

  He grinned. “It’s not really my ranch. Well, it’s not only my ranch. It’s a collective. I live there. I’m a sort of part owner. The bonfire you came to was on our property. And we can always use extra hands this time of year. We usually hire out to get some workers. It’s not great pay, but you can live rent free and the company’s good. What do you say?”

  I was speechless.

  “Jesse?”

  “You don’t… you don’t even really know me.”

  “Sure I do,” said River. “We’re all part of the same universe. We’re all part of each other. Besides, you seem like you need help.”

  I was overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing.” River shrugged it off.

  “No, you don’t understand how much I appreciate this.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see how much you appreciate it when I’m getting you up at dawn to get to work, huh?”

  “I don’t mind getting up early.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re going to work out fine.” He offered me his hand.

  I gripped it, and warmth and relief washed over me.

  * * *

  Abby

  As time passed, I began to find ways to avoid having to be with Bob. He was supposed to sleep with me every four nights, but I didn’t like it, and so I became very good at volunteering for things that would keep me away from the home. I went to see Sheila, who was the midwife that delivered most of the babies in the community, and told her that I was feeling strongly led by God to learn how to help deliver babies. I wanted it on record that I felt it was a spiritual leading, just in case Bob ever decided to question it.

  Truthfully, I didn’t have a desire to help with delivery one way or the other, but I did know that a lot of women went into labor at night, and that it would get me away from the house during the times when Bob was supposed to sleep with me.

  Sure enough, I was soon quite busy. I didn’t miss every night with Bob, but I missed enough to feel triumphant.

  When I did have to spend the night with him, I allowed him to do whatever he wanted to my body, but I refused to do anything to him anymore. If he wanted me to stroke him, I refused. Bob didn’t like that, but I didn’t care. I was doing my duty, and he would have to be satisfied with that.

  By now, our relations weren’t painful, and I wasn’t even too upset about the fluids and general grossness of it all. It still felt invasive, though, and it was something that I endured, and only when I absolutely had to.

  Delivering babies all the time meant that I didn’t get much sleep. That was fine with me, because it made everything seem a little dim and unreal. I walked through my days without noticing much, going through the motions and doing what was expected of me. I went to teach at the school, and I did my best to help the children. Then I went home and did whatever Bob and his wives had for me to do. Whenever there was a baby being born, I dropped everything to leave. Sheila would come by the house in her van and beep at me, and I’d shrug apologetically and say, “Sorry, I have to go.”

  Bob wasn’t pleased with the fact that I was often away from the home.

  One night, a night when I had to spend it with him because there were no babies to be delivered, he confronted me about it.

  “I don’t want you away from this house all the time, Abigail. You’re my wife, and you should be here when I come to you,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said sweetly. “But I really feel that the Lord wants to use me in this way.”

  “I am your husband,” he said. “The Lord speaks to you through me.”

  “Well,” I said, “perhaps you should speak to the Lord and ask him why he told me and not you.”

  That made him angry.

  He bent me over his knee and spanked me, which I hadn’t been expecting. I knew that men were allowed to discipline their wives that way, but it was something that my father had never done. He didn’t think that women should be treated like children.

  His hands still stung through the fabric of my dress, but it didn’t hurt that bad. It was more humiliating than painful. I let him do it, though. What was I supposed to say?

  When he let me get up afterward, I was red faced and ashamed.

  He grinned at me, seeming satisfied.

  Spanking me really got Bob revved up, and he was twice as forceful and excited when he had relations with me that night.

  I lay under him, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling, and I wished I could be anywhere except there.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Abby

  I rarely slept, and so I was always tired, but as the weeks wore on, it seemed to get to me more and more. I never quite felt like I was getting enough rest, and I took frequent naps and slept late. One morning, Holly came to my room to inform me that I was late for the wives’ meeting. She was nasty about it as usual. Sally’s children had not warmed up to me in the slightest, but May’s weren’t giving me any trouble. That might have been because Jasper seemed to have a little bit of a crush on me and Cora was pleased with my ability to French braid her hair. Things were civil between me, May, and Fern, but it was an all-out war between Sally and me.

  Of course¸ it seemed as if Sally made war with everyone. She was never satisfied, always angry about one thing or another, and always blaming someone besides herself.

  The maddening thing was that Bob seemed to side with her whenever she complained to him. Bob liked the fact that I was young and pretty, but Sally was his favorite wife. Anyway, he liked me less since I’d been dodging him and not following his directives. Despite what he’d said, I hadn’t stopped delivering babies. I’d do anything that I could to be away from him. I wondered if Sally got her status as favorite wife because she was willing to do disgusting things like put his penis in her mouth.

  I’d never know, because wives never discussed those kinds of things with each other. Even though we were all married to the same man, it wasn’t considered proper for us to have discussions about it. Anyway, I suppose it might have caused friction if Bob was doing something with one wife that he wasn’t doing with another.

  Not that I cared. I wanted Bob to stay away from me, and that was all there was to it.

  I dragged myself to the wives’ meeting.

  Sally looked at me with disdain as I sat down. “You’re not even showered, are you?”

  I glared at her. “Sorry. I slept too long. I feel like I can’t get enough sleep. It’s like my whole body’s bone tired all the time.”

  Fern gave me a funny look. “Abigail, when was your last monthly?”

  I turned to her. “What?” How was that any of her business?

  “Was it recent?”

  “I… I don’t know. Why does that matter, anyway?”

  “Well,” said May, smiling gently, “if you�
��re tired, and you’ve missed your period, then you might be pregnant.”

  My stomach turned over. No.

  All of the wives suddenly smiled at me.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” said Sally, beaming at me. I’d never seen her look so happy.

  I couldn’t breathe. Pregnant? That was the last thing I wanted. Having a baby with Bob would make it all too real. I’d be trapped with him forever. I already knew that I was, but without a baby, I still felt a little bit free. If I was pregnant, I’d be stuck taking care of the baby, and I couldn’t run off with Sheila whenever she beeped. I’d never be able to go anywhere ever again.

  * * *

  Every day, I prayed for my period, and it never came. I did feel extraordinarily tired all the time, but I refused to allow myself to believe that I was pregnant. If I pretended that it wasn’t real, maybe it would go away, or at least that’s how I felt about it. I knew that I was being ridiculous. If there was a baby there, then there was nothing I could do about it. It was going to be born, no matter what.

  But I really didn’t want to be pregnant.

  And I knew that was the wrong thing to feel. Women’s main purpose on earth was to have children. God wanted us to be fruitful and multiply, and we believed that women should have lots and lots of babies. This one would be the first of many.

  Still, I refused to confront all these things, because I didn’t want any of it to be true.

  I would stand in the schoolhouse, staring out the window, remembering the way I’d felt when Jesse’s truck had come down the road, kicking up dust. Back then, that was the last time that I’d even felt like myself. Now, I didn’t know who I was. Every day, I was ground down more and more, molded into a perfect wife for Bob. Soon, there wouldn’t be anything left but obedience.

  But obedience was seeming more and more like death.

  I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. I’d been taught that if I accepted my lot in life, it would lead to transcendence, a peace that passed all understanding, as I began to live the life that God had chosen for me. I knew that my dissatisfaction was a sign that I wasn’t submitting properly, and that I would continue to feel miserable until I found some way to wholeheartedly obey.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that so many things about my life were… wrong somehow.

  One day, I was in the school, staring out the window, feeling listless. A car pulled up in the driveway, kicking up the same dust that Jesse’s vehicle used to do. But, of course, the car didn’t belong to Jesse, who was long gone. I wasn’t even supposed to think about him. When the car door opened, I saw Gideon get out.

  That was strange. I turned away from the window. “Gideon’s here,” I told Doris. Since Susannah’s marriage, we were the only teachers. They hadn’t bothered to find a replacement.

  Doris, who’d been sitting at her desk looking over student work, stood up. “Gideon?”

  I nodded.

  She looked around the classroom nervously, and then hurried over to the door.

  I joined her. We stood there, together, waiting. Why would Gideon come to the school?

  Gideon didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door and came face-to-face with us. “Hello, sisters.”

  We smiled, but we were both confused.

  Gideon pushed past us and went to the front of the classroom.

  All the children were already staring at him. They’d lost all interest in their assignment the minute that I’d announced his arrival.

  “Get your things together and go home to your parents,” said Gideon.

  The kids turned to look at Doris and me.

  “Don’t look to them,” said Gideon. “As the leader of the elders, I’ve given you an order. Now, you must obey me, as is proper in the eyes of the Lord. No dawdling now. Off with you.”

  Immediately, the students began to shove their belongings into their book bags and get up from the desks.

  Doris rushed to the front of the room. “Has something happened?”

  “I’m closing the school,” said Gideon.

  By now, there was a rush of children going for the door.

  I waded through them to join Gideon and Doris. Certainly, I’d heard him wrong. “Closing the school?”

  “That’s right.” Gideon lifted his chin, daring me to contradict him.

  “For how long?” said Doris.

  “Permanently,” said Gideon.

  Doris’s jaw dropped open. But then she slowly closed it and nodded, casting her gaze towards the floor in submission.

  I should do that too, but I couldn’t. “How will the children learn without a school?”

  “Their parents can teach them at home,” he said. “This is meant to be a homeschooling collective, is it not? It should happen at home.”

  “But the parents are too busy,” I said. “If they don’t have schools, the children won’t be able to do basic arithmetic. They won’t be able to read the bible—”

  “‘I tell you truly, my people, it would be better for each of us if we did not read at all, for reading is the gateway to doubt and disbelief.’” Gideon was quoting from Robert Morris’s “Edict Against Technology,” the sermon he’d preached that had told the Life to cut ourselves off from the outside world.

  “But if we can’t read the bible—”

  “Are you expressing doubt?” Gideon said.

  I hung my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have much to be sorry for, assuredly,” said Gideon. “And I’ll be seeing you later, Abigail, as your husband will tell you when you get home. The three of us have much to discuss.”

  Gideon wanted to discuss things with me and Bob? What could he want to talk about? I looked up at Gideon, panic rising in my throat.

  * * *

  Jesse

  There was something comfortingly familiar about doing farm work again. I felt at home doing hard work, rising early and getting busy.

  Of course, there were far more differences between life on the ranch and life at the community than there were similarities. For one thing, the ranch mostly worked with herds of animals, not with crops. In the community, we didn’t have many animals, considering that we neither ate them nor animal products like milk and eggs. For another thing, the ranch was peopled with individuals, rather than drones all following the word of God. The owners of the collective were ten people about River’s age. While they all agreed about working on the ranch together, and they all seemed to embody a bohemian life outlook, they had very different ideas about everything else.

  There were lively debates on issues ranging from the death penalty to the legalization of drugs to the nature of the universe nearly every evening. We’d all sit in an open great room in the ranch. As the evenings grew colder, there was usually a fire burning. The members of the collective all lived around the ranch in smaller houses. Hired hands like me lived in rooms in the main house. But we all gathered together in the evenings to drink and talk.

  Some of them smoked a lot of marijuana, others said they didn’t want to touch the stuff. In the collective, there were three couples, but the women in the couples didn’t always agree with their men, and the men didn’t seem to mind at all when they expressed differing opinions. There was only one other woman in the collective, and she seemed to be sleeping with everyone, including River occasionally.

  Eventually, I found out that one of the couples—Jack and Renee—were in an “open” relationship, which meant that, even though they were committed to each other, they would still have sex with other people if they felt like it.

  I found it out during one of the many conversations that the others in the collective had with me about my life in the community. They were especially interested in the polygamous aspect, as a lot of people were. Interestingly, though, Jack and Renee didn’t have a problem with the multiple wives, but only with the inequality.

  “Like, if the women could have a few husbands too, then it would be all right,” said Renee.

  I thought abou
t it. “That would make the families really complicated.”

  Jack nodded. “He’s right, sweetheart. You remember when we tried to make that quintet work when we were in Oregon?”

  “That wasn’t a problem with the concept of a quintet,” said Renee. “That was a problem with Martina.”

  He laughed. “Okay, she was difficult.”

  “She had great tits, though,” Renee said wistfully.

  “True,” said Jack. To me, “The thing that’s hard about polyamory, I think, is that I think people have a tendency to pair-bond. It’s really difficult to maintain the same level of love and affection for more than one person.”

  Renee picked up a pillow from one of the couches and whacked him over the head. “You are such a fucking monogamist.”

  He snatched the pillow away from her. “I am not. I like having sex with lots of people.”

  “Yeah, but for you it’s about the sex.” She rolled her eyes. “For guys, it’s always about the sex. For women, it’s about more than that. And that’s what I want, Jack. I want to have relationships with other people besides you, but I don’t think you’re actually cool with that.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever, guys think of relationships as work, okay? So, you tell me I’ve got to have like three relationships, and that just doesn’t sound fun.” He turned back to me. “There’s always a favorite wife, am I right?”

  I considered. “Well, not always, but sometimes.”

  “Did your dad have a favorite wife?”

  “Not really. He kind of beat us up all equally,” I said.

  Renee leaned forward. “Oh! They’re like abusive there?”

  I looked into the fire. “Never mind.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I think it sounds awful. I don’t even know if that place should be allowed to exist.”

  “Oh come on, Renee, they have a right to freedom of religion,” said Jack.

  “Not if their religion is hurting people,” she said. “Look, your right to practice religion shouldn’t impede on anyone else’s right to life, liberty, and property, and from the sounds of it, they have no liberty whatsoever there.”