by Fleur Beale
‘Don’t want to live for ever with the parents.’ He clattered the pot into the cupboard. ‘I’ll choose Jewel. She sounds like she’s got a bit of spirit.’
I grabbed his arm. ‘Abraham, what can we do about Zillah? She cried when Father prayed for her today.’
He sent another saucepan after the first. ‘Luke and me — we talk about it all the time. Can’t see any way forward yet. Try not to stress, sis. You’re a good kid.’ He bent and whispered in my ear. ‘Old Stephen might turn up his toes, with a bit of luck. That could change everything.’
I gave a choke of laughter. ‘I told Zillah we’d all pray for that next time Father prayed for her.’
‘Awesome.’With a farewell flick of the tea towel, he headed for the door.
‘Abraham, wait a second. Neriah was really upset today and they didn’t catch the bus either. Their father took them in the van. Have you heard anything?’
‘Not a whisper. I’ll tell you if I do.’
At prayers that evening, I asked Father, ‘Please will you pray for Neriah and her family? Something is weighing on her heart.’
‘Do you know what is troubling her?’
‘No, Father. She could not talk about it.’
‘I will add your friend and her family to my prayers.’
Zillah sighed and I felt a flash of guilt for making the prayer time longer. We four children bowed our heads but kept our eyes open. Once, Abraham had caught a mouse, waiting till evening prayers to release it.
Father was still praying for the salvation of the world when we heard Elder Stephen call, ‘Praise the Lord,’ as he opened the front door.
We stayed on our knees, gaping at him. As far as I knew, he’d never been in our house before. Mother was the first to recover. She began clambering to her feet. Luke sprang up to help her. Father was the last to rise.
Elder Stephen said, ‘I apologise, Brother Caleb, for interrupting your time of worship.’
Mother got all fluttery and busy. ‘Please sit down, Elder Stephen. You do us a great honour. May I make you a cup of tea?’
He took the chair she pulled out for him and ignored the bit about tea. ‘Brother Caleb, I come on a most serious matter.’
‘I will assist in any way I can,’ Father said.
Mother said, ‘Yes, of course. Children, go to your rooms.’
Our leader held up a hand. ‘One moment. Brother Caleb, the matter bringing me to your house concerns your daughter Magdalene.’
Mother clapped her hands to her face. ‘What has she done?’ She whipped round to glare at me. ‘Wicked child! How can you shame us so?’
‘I have not done wrong! I have not transgressed. I have not.’ I spoke to Father — he might believe me, I prayed he would. Zillah pressed herself against me. Luke took my hand. Abraham stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
Father said, ‘With respect, Elder Stephen, how does the serious matter you speak of concern my daughter?’
Our leader gave a deep and melancholy sigh. I didn’t believe in the truth of his sorrow, even though I was terrified about what might be coming. ‘Magdalene Pilgrim, Sister Leah says you talked privately with Neriah virtue today.’
I gulped in a breath. ‘Please, is she all right? She was very distressed.’
He gazed at me for long, silent moments. Mother plonked on to a chair. ‘Have you brought shame upon us, you wicked girl?’
Father placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Wife, we must wait until we understand what has happened before we judge our daughter to have transgressed. Magdalene, explain, if you please.’
It was difficult to speak. The three of them watched me. I tried several times before I could get words out. ‘I do not understand. There is nothing to explain. Neriah was crying. Sister Leah scolded her. She ran outside and Sister Leah told me to go and assist her.’ I looked at Father. ‘I obeyed.’
Elder Stephen paused for another of his long silences. He might as well have shouted to the city that he believed me to be a liar, a transgressor and a rotten sinner. At last he said, ‘But that is not all, is it, Sister Magdalene? You talked to Neriah virtue, did you not? You spoke about why she was distressed. Sister Leah reports that you were gone for quite ten minutes. What did she tell you?’ He snapped the last sentence at me.
Abraham tightened his hold on my shoulders. ‘Courage, little sister,’ he muttered.
I raised my head. ‘We did not speak. I tried to comfort her by just being with her. She cried for a long time, and when she was calm I asked if she could talk about her trouble. She shook her head and we went back to class. I speak the truth. The Lord is my witness. What has happened to her? Please, tell me.’
He didn’t believe me. Please, Lord, help me.
‘Thank you, daughter,’ my father said. ‘You were a true friend to a distressed girl.’
Elder Stephen made a chopping motion with his hand. ‘No, Brother Caleb, she was not. Did you not think, girl, that it was your duty to discover what was causing the distress? You should have reported your failure to Sister Leah, who would have succeeded where you did not. As it is, you have grievously failed that unhappy girl and you have brought damnation upon her family. There will be consequences. It is my heavy duty to warn you that such dereliction of duty cannot go unpunished.’
Mother’s moans rose into a wailing cry, but I couldn’t say a word to defend myself. It didn’t matter. Elder Stephen wouldn’t believe me anyway.
He turned to go, but Abraham, his fingers digging into my shoulders, said, ‘One moment, Elder Stephen. With respect —’ he didn’t sound one scrap respectful — ‘I need to make sure I understand, because it seems to me that the Rule has changed. Is that correct?’
‘No. It is most disrespectful of you to suggest such a thing. The Rule comes from the Lord. Do not question it.’ His voice was full of hate and venom.
Abraham wasn’t bothered. ‘Okay. Good. So the Rule says a man’s deeds are between him and his conscience, does it not?’
‘You know it does. This has nothing to do with the matter in hand.’
I closed my eyes, unable to look at our leader’s accusing face.
Abraham said, ‘So you are going to punish Magdalene for obeying that Rule? You are saying she should have broken the Rule, ferreted out her friend’s secret and then told about it? Told who? Sister Leah? You? How was she meant to get hold of you, by the way? We do not have a telephone.’
Mother sat at the table holding her head, swaying and keening. Father said, ‘That will do, my son. However, you are right to remind us of the teaching of the Rule. Elder Stephen, I ask you to explain my daughter’s transgression in this matter.’
I couldn’t raise my eyes. I didn’t know silence could shout. I didn’t know it could be thick and choking. It was broken by Elder Stephen’s footsteps, by the noise of the door opening and closing behind him. I collapsed on to the floor. Mother was shouting at me, Zillah crouched beside me. ‘Don’t cry, Magdalene. Please don’t cry.’
Father’s voice cut through the racket. ‘Abraham, thank you for reminding us of the Rule. We all need time to pray and reflect. Please go to your rooms, my children.’
‘He didn’t even tell me what’s wrong. He didn’t even tell me if she’s all right.’
Luke said, ‘He spoke about damnation. It must mean Neriah’s father has taken his family out of the Faith.’
‘No!’ I looked up at Father. ‘Please — no. Not left. Not gone and damned?’
Father said heavily, ‘I fear your brother is correct, my daughter. It can be the only explanation.’
‘No. Not that. Please.’ I was five years old again, my world collapsing around me. Miriam gone, then just weeks later Daniel and Esther too. Rebecca gone four years ago. And now Neriah. My friend was damned and dead to me.
Father was speaking. His words didn’t make sense. I stayed crouched on the floor, listening to somebody saying no no no over and over.
The boys pulled me to my feet and half-carried me into our bedroom, where Luke
wrapped blankets around me. He and Zillah sat on either side of me on my bed while Abraham strode around the room, swearing and cursing our leader, but quietly enough that our parents wouldn’t hear.
Zillah’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. His fury helped me believe I’d done nothing wrong. The sick feeling faded. The weight on my heart now was for my friend.
Luke was frowning. ‘Abraham, chill, bro. Our revered leader will be after your blood. You’ll have to watch out.’
Abraham snorted. ‘Like I care. But yeah, you’re right. We’ll all have to watch our step. He’ll be after us any chance he can grab.’
‘I don’t get it though,’ Luke said. ‘It can’t be just about Rebecca ditching him. He’s had four years to get over that.’
Abraham plonked himself down on the rug between our beds. ‘Good thinking, brother. It’s gotta be something else that’s riled him. Could be something about one of the businesses. Or somebody worldly doing a rant against the Faith. I’ll find out. I’ve got a worldly mate I can ask.’
‘Will you tell us, Abraham?’ Zillah asked.
‘Of course I’ll bloody tell you!’
‘Don’t get mad,’ Luke said. ‘She’s a kid. Nobody tells us kids anything.’
Abraham leaned over to tug her foot. ‘Sorry, sis. Magdalene, how’re you doing?’
‘Better. I’ll be all right. It’s good to talk.’
Father knocked on the door. ‘My sons, please leave your sisters. All of us will benefit from prayer and quiet reflection.’
‘Like hell we will,’Abraham whispered, but he and Luke obeyed our father and left us alone.
Four
SATURDAY. NO SCHOOL, BUT a day of housework and grocery shopping. Mother didn’t say anything about Elder Stephen’s visit. She didn’t apologise for doubting me either, but when we went into the supermarket I expected her to tell me to choose a treat. She’d done that when Father had accused Rachel and Rebecca of lying when they’d told him the truth about something.
But there was no treat for me. I wanted to shout at her, tell her she shouldn’t have believed ill of me. I wanted her to be kind and loving again. I wanted Father to protect me if Elder Stephen preached about me at worship the next day. My stomach hurt.
We collected the grocery items for Mother and stood in line with her at the checkout. Father stayed in the car.
On the way home, Zillah asked, ‘Father, will Elder Stephen punish Magdalene? He said he would. He was really angry.’
‘No. He will not,’ our father said. ‘Your brother helped him to understand he could not punish her for obeying the Rule.’
His answer satisfied her, but pain jabbed harder at my stomach. Elder Stephen had many ways of punishing those he didn’t like.
On Sunday morning, Mother woke me as usual at 5.30 to help prepare the food to take for the worship meals. She seemed to have put our leader’s strange behaviour out of her mind. I couldn’t work out why she looked so happy until she asked, ‘Daughter, tell me about the kitchen girls. Your brother needs a godly girl of strong character. She will need to show him the importance of obeying the Rule in all things.’
What to say? While I was dithering, she answered her own question. ‘Of course, they are all godly young women. Bernice would make him an excellent wife. Or Mercy. Either of them would be able to keep his thoughts turned to the Lord.’
‘Yes, Mother. They are both good girls. They live by the Rule. But the other girls are godly and seemly too.’
I made the sandwiches and kept my true thoughts to myself. Mother sang hymns, then stopped in the middle of one to stare into space. After a bit, she said, ‘I will give him a scripture to guide him.’ She swished from the room, reciting, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.’
What was wrong with her? If she stopped to think, she’d realise Abraham wouldn’t relish being woken at 6.15 on a Sunday. But, when she came back a few minutes later, she was singing again. My brother must have been kind to her.
At seven I woke Zillah and helped her get dressed. ‘Why do we have to go to worship?’ she said. ‘I don’t like Elder Stephen.’
‘Remember — we’re going to pray for him to drop down dead.’
That earned me a smile, but she said, ‘You’re not a sinner. I’m not and Luke’s not.’ She paused to think. ‘Abraham might be, but he’s a good sinner if he is.’
No, our brother wasn’t seemly and obedient. He would be breaking the Rule in asking a worldly man to help him find out the reason for Elder Stephen’s rage. It was lucky for my brother that Father so appreciated his work in the business. It was why he got away with disobedience and unseemliness, transgressions we girls would be disciplined for. I couldn’t understand how Mother thought a godly girl would change him. Abraham was a happy person — marriage to a truly obedient Faith girl would be misery for both of them.
Elder Stephen believed happiness must not be our goal in life. He said we must walk the thorny path to salvation. He said our Lord endured much for us, so we must shoulder our burdens and bless Him for giving them to us.
I didn’t want burdens. I wanted to be happy. I wanted the pains in my stomach to vanish for ever. I hated being worried and afraid every second of the day.
Mother called from the kitchen, ‘Hurry, Magdalene! I have asked you twice to put the sandwiches in the car.’
I took my time, stacking the containers in the boot, then reorganising them. As I came back inside, Zillah ran to me to whisper, ‘Obedience.’
It was the game we played during worship. We’d pick a word, and every time Elder Stephen said it we’d squeeze each other’s hand. ‘Obedience is too easy,’ I said. He brought obedience into every sermon, even the ones about death. ‘Pick something harder.’
‘Okay. I’ll think of one before we get to worship.’
I wouldn’t let myself dwell on words such as punishment, transgression, grievous harm, damnation.
Zillah was quiet as Abraham drove us all to the temple, then as we walked in behind our parents she said, ‘Solemn.’
‘That’s a good one.’ I would be especially glad of the game today. I wanted a focus for my thoughts — something to block out the certainty that our leader would find some way to punish me.
Carmel and Jemimah came running to meet me, tugging me away from my family. ‘Neriah’s gone,’ Jemimah said, her voice breaking. ‘They’ve left the Faith.’
So it was true. I couldn’t speak.
Carmel gestured at the people. ‘Look at them. They’re all talking about it while they still can.’
Jemimah said, ‘She should have said something. I wish she’d told me.’
I found my voice. ‘She knew we’d be in trouble if she did. She protected us. She was brave.’ I told them about Elder Stephen’s visit.
‘Why would he accuse you like that?’ Carmel asked. ‘That’s nuts. It’s really stupid, even for …’ Her voice trailed off as she remembered where we were.
There wasn’t time to say more. The music was playing — the signal to stop talking. Usually, I loved the first part of worship days. The people danced together in the big hall, then we all joined together in song. I loved the singing especially — I felt so free, all my worries shut out by the music. Today I was too beset by them to enjoy anything.
When it was time to stop for morning tea, the adults went to the dining room to sit at the tables where the kitchen girls had set out sandwiches, scones, biscuits and slices of cake. The feeling in the room was strange. Everyone seemed on edge. Some of the married men looked grim, but others seemed pleased about something. The women talked in small groups, glancing around to check for who might hear them. Surely Elder Stephen wouldn’t punish me when he had other, real topics to be angry about.
As was the custom, the oldest unmarried girl in each family went to the servery to get cups of tea for her parents. I stood in line behind Zillah’s classmate Joy who was really too young to be carrying two cups of hot tea, but her he
avily pregnant mother was looking weary and uncomfortable.
Bernice poured the tea for her. ‘Can you manage, Joy?’
Before I could offer to help, an unwed girl called Talitha was there, smiling at the child as she said, ‘Let us do it together, Joy.’
Talitha had been a good friend to Rebecca after the trouble about her broken betrothal, but she herself had refused the marriage the Elders had arranged for her. She didn’t appear to regret her decision.
I was jerked back to the task I was supposed to be doing when Bernice said, ‘Magdalene, the tea is ready for you.’ She pushed the two full cups towards me, murmuring as she did so, ‘Will you tell Abraham I wish him well?’
I was puzzled. Why was she was blushing? ‘I will give him your message.’
But when I told Abraham he choked on his drink and said a curse word under his breath.
‘What’s the matter?’
For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he said, ‘That message — she’s telling me she hopes I’ll ask her to be my wife.’
I stared at him, horrified. ‘What will you do?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. You’d better go. Father’s got his stern look on.’
I took his cup, collected Mother’s and Father’s, and carried them back to the servery. Eden took them, and said quietly, ‘You are lucky to have Abraham for a brother.’
I smiled and nodded. Was that a secret message as well?
Apparently it was, for he looked gloomy and said, ‘She’s the giggler, isn’t she?’
‘No. Eden is the one who cried when Sister Leah growled at her.’ She cried at any little thing as well, and being married to Abraham would cause her many tears. I felt bad, knowing the pain my brother’s decision would cause.
Back in the hall, there was more singing until the kitchen girls finished the dishes.
They filed in, eyes lowered as they joined their families. Then our leader walked to the lectern. He always saved the betrothal permission announcement until the very end of his endless sermons.
