by Fleur Beale
That would create such a scandal, and probably give the Elders good reason to throw Abraham out this very day. I set out to find Talitha.
It was easy enough to get her by herself because she always moved from group to group. For the first time, I realised she must be lonely — she was older than Rachel, so around twenty-one, maybe even twenty-two. All the girls she’d grown up with were married with children, and she had no friends who were unmarried like she was.
‘Talitha, can I speak to you?’ I caught her as she left Sister Leah and Sister Grace moaning about the wickedness of the children of today.
She smiled at me. ‘Of course, Magdalene. It is good to see you well again. Shall we go where it is a little quieter?’
I followed her out to the entry hall. ‘Talitha, I have a message for you. From Abraham. My brother. He says to tell you he sends you his good wishes. His very good wishes.’
There! I’d said it.
She didn’t seem to quite believe what she was hearing. She tipped her head to the side as she asked, ‘Tell me, am I right that he’s saying he wishes to marry me?’
I would tell her the truth — even though she looked so gentle and obedient, she’d had the courage to refuse to marry a man the Elders chose for her when she was younger. She wouldn’t be shocked by my brother’s ideas the way any of the kitchen girls would be. ‘He wants a wife so he can go to Auckland to study electronics. He said you could go too. If you wanted to. But there’s more.’ I checked again to make sure there were no listening ears. ‘Talitha, he doesn’t believe in the Rule and he doesn’t obey it.’ I dropped my eyes from her steady gaze. I knew I could trust her. ‘I’m sorry. But you need to know.’
She touched my arm. ‘Don’t be upset, Magdalene. I’m glad you’ve told me. Can you wait for a minute? I want to think how to answer him.’
‘Of course.’ I wondered what her thoughts were. How to reject my brother graciously, perhaps? Would she tell him she was flattered, but refuse him anyway? Abraham was so much younger than she was.
After only about half a minute, she said, ‘Please tell your brother how flattered I am to receive his message.’
I nodded. It was as I’d imagined. A refusal — and he would leave tonight. My eyes stung.
Talitha touched my face this time. ‘Don’t look sad, Magdalene. But tell me — he’s going to leave if I say no, isn’t he?’
Again, all I could manage was a nod.
‘Yes, I’ve seen it coming. But I need time to consider, to think about it properly.’ She took my hands. ‘I’m not saying yes or no right now. Tell him I’ll give him my answer next Sunday if he can wait that long. Come, we’d better go back.’
Abraham was watching for me. I pushed through the people to get to him. ‘She’ll tell you next Sunday. If you can wait that long.’
He rubbed his hands. ‘I’ll wait, but I’m going to apply for that course. I’m going to do it, married or not.’
It was a long week and bearable only because it was the final one of the term. Zillah didn’t complain in the mornings, but each day she trudged down the hill to wait for the bus.
Sunday came. Abraham drove us to the temple carefully, as if this might be the last time he got to do it. Then we had to endure the dancing and singing before I got the chance to speak to Talitha while taking cups back to the servery during the morning tea break.
‘I wish you well, Talitha.’
‘And I you.’ She gave me the kindest smile. ‘Tell your brother I am happy to receive his good wishes.’
The cups in my hands wobbled on their saucers and one of them crashed to the floor. Talitha said, ‘Do not worry. Wait here. I will get a brush and pan.’ I noticed how she spoke seemly, and looked up to see Sister Judith frowning at me.
‘You Pilgrim children are always drawing attention to yourselves. It is most unseemly, and it is against the Rule.’ Her mouth snapped shut.
‘I will pray for forgiveness, Sister Judith.’
Talitha came back. ‘Excuse me, Sister Judith. Could you move a little? There are pieces around your feet. You know, we really do need trays. It is difficult for young hands to carry more than one cup and saucer.’
‘Rubbish. They simply need to take more care.’ Sister Judith huffed away.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
Talitha said, ‘Don’t let her upset you. She’s always grumpy.’
I felt shy suddenly. ‘Talitha, does your reply mean … will Abraham know if you …’
She smiled. ‘He will know. It’s all right, Magdalene. What you told me about him — that’s the reason I’m happy to receive his good wishes.’
Her response took my breath away. It was such a huge step to live in Auckland with Abraham, who didn’t believe in the Rule. Was she happy to marry him because of that? Or did she want the chance to go to Auckland for a year? I couldn’t ask.
She took the unbroken crockery from me and gave me a gentle push. ‘He will be wanting to hear from you.’
I walked in a daze to Abraham.
‘Well?’ my brother demanded.
‘She’s happy to receive your good wishes.’
He gave me a narrow look. ‘You sure? You don’t sound certain.’
‘Yes. She was very clear. I’m certain.’
‘Didn’t you tell her about … you know?’
There were too many people around. ‘Yes, of course I did. Tell you later.’
After we’d got home from worship, Abraham told Father he was going for a long walk.
‘My son, I beg you, think of your immortal soul. Do not stray from the path to salvation.’ His voice was so earnest, so troubled.
Abraham actually grinned at him. ‘It’s okay, Father. I’ll take the brats with me.’
It looked to me as if Father was struggling between the urge to tell him to speak seemly and relief that Abraham didn’t appear to be leaving us. In the end, all he said was, ‘very well. You have my permission.’
Abraham picked up the car keys. ‘We’ll be home in time for dinner.’ He turned to Mother. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t take them near a beach.’
She didn’t look pleased to be left to prepare the meal by herself, but Father had given his permission — she would not break the Rule by arguing with him.
Zillah waited until we were in the car before she asked, ‘Where are we going, Abraham?’
‘To find a playground.’ He sounded happy — carefree.
‘But, Abraham, shouldn’t you tell Father? About getting married? He has to agree, doesn’t he? He might say no because Talitha’s older than you.’
Zillah bounced in her seat. ‘Are you going to marry Talitha, Abraham? Will she go to Auckland with you? Can I come too? Talitha’s nice — she wouldn’t mind. I could go to a real school. Please!’
‘Father would never let you do that, and if you ask him he’ll send you to the discipline room.’ He glanced at her in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Sorry, kid, but best you know the truth.’
She kicked the back of the seat. ‘It’s not fair! You’re so lucky, Abraham.’
‘But what if Father says you can’t marry her?’ I asked.
Luke turned around to speak to me. ‘Don’t worry, Magdalene. Talitha’s a good and seemly girl. If Abraham marries her, his soul will be safe. There’s no way Father will refuse.’Then he spoilt it by saying, ‘Talitha’s father might, though.’
Abraham shook his head. ‘It’s more likely to be the Elders. They’ll be on their knees praying like crazy to find a way to stop me marrying her.’ He didn’t sound worried and I knew it was because he was settled in his mind about what to do — he’d stay in the Faith if they let him study in Auckland and he’d leave if they refused.
Zillah said, ‘Shall we pray that you can marry her, Abraham?’
‘No,’ our brother said. ‘It’ll happen or it won’t. Magdalene, tell me exactly what Talitha said.’
He gave a shout of laughter when I repeated her words. ‘She said she was happy to receive your good wi
shes because you don’t value the Rule and because you’ll let her go to Auckland with you.’
He was still laughing when he stopped the car at a playground.
I wondered again which reason was more important to her.
Twelve
THE PLAYGROUND WAS BUSY with families. Adults smiled as the boys pushed Zillah and me high on the swings. So free — I loved it. Nobody even frowned when we all zoomed down the slide, one after the other, with Zillah screaming and laughing.
Neriah and her brothers and sisters could have fun like this now, and they wouldn’t have to worry about somebody seeing them and telling the Elders how unseemly they were being.
As we were leaving, Zillah said, ‘I think the Lord likes it when we’re happy.’
But Elder Stephen wouldn’t.
Back at home, Zillah and I hurried to help Mother. Zillah set the table while I made gravy for the roast lamb. Luke sat in the window seat reading his Bible, except that he didn’t turn the pages.
‘Where is your brother?’ Mother asked.
I waited for Luke to answer her but, when he didn’t, I said, ‘I think he is talking to Father.’
A look of alarm crossed her face. ‘Why? Magdalene, what have you done this time?’
I stared at her. ‘Nothing!’ Why would she think I’d transgressed? And, even if I had, Abraham wouldn’t tell on me. It came to me that she didn’t know the true selves of her children. Not of me, Abraham, Luke and Zillah, anyway.
She shut her mouth in a tight line. Zillah glanced at me and I shook my head. It wasn’t our place to speak of Abraham’s plans. We’d just get growled at if we did.
When Father and our brother came to the table, Mother searched both their faces, relaxing only when Father gave the twitch of his mouth that was his way of smiling. Abraham winked at us.
Nobody spoke much as we ate and I thought how strange it was for Mother to be the only one of us unaware of Abraham’s plans. Was this how it would be in a worldly family? Who would our banished brother and sisters ask for permission to marry? A bold thought flashed into my mind — they mightn’t ask anybody except the person they wanted to marry.
Would that be a good thing or a bad one? I worried about it for the entire meal. Elder Stephen told us worldly marriages were full of strife and discontent. Such people, he preached, only had one or two children. That made my thoughts skitter to another question. How did children decide not to be born to such parents?
Mother’s voice jerked me back to the present. ‘Magdalene, if you do not intend to eat your food you had best leave the table at once.’
I bowed my head. ‘I am sorry, Mother. Please may I finish? It is delicious.’ I put a forkful in my mouth in case she sent me away. But all she did was sigh. I was sorry to be such a burden to her. She was a good and godly woman, just like Rachel was.
After prayers that evening, Zillah said, ‘Father, it is holidays tomorrow. Please may I go to bed later?’
He didn’t even think about it. ‘No, Zillah. You will go to bed at your normal hour.’
She opened her mouth to argue but shut it again when Abraham, Luke and I all shook our heads at her. She left the room, dragging her feet.
If she was allowed books to read she’d be happy to stay in bed all day.
As I sat with Mother doing the mending that evening, she recited scripture and the Rule at me. I shut her out and turned my thoughts to Miriam, Daniel and Rebecca. They might be married by now. If they had children, they would give them books, I was sure of it. Miriam would buy books with glorious pictures. Daniel would choose ones with long, made-up stories and books that explained things. I couldn’t think what Rebecca would choose. She was too much the same as Rachel in my mind, and I knew Rachel would never give Hope or the new baby a worldly book. But Rebecca would have lots of books by now, I just knew it.
Mother was singing a hymn when Zillah and I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast next morning. She came over to us to touch our foreheads. ‘Bless you, my daughters.’
Her good mood had to be because she now knew about Abraham’s plans. She would be relieved, thankful and ecstatic at the thought of more grandchildren. Did Talitha look forward to becoming a mother, I wondered. Was that another reason for her to marry Abraham?
Mother gave us our chores for the day. ‘Girls, you are to clean your bedroom — floor, ceiling and walls. Take down the curtains and wash them. Change the lining paper in the drawers. Tomorrow you can do the same for the boys’ room.’
I said, ‘Yes, Mother.’
But Zillah said, ‘Mother, when we finish all that, may I help Abraham in the workshop? Please?’
Mother’s good mood vanished. ‘Zillah Pilgrim, you are a girl, not a boy. Your place is in the home. It is your duty to learn how to be a good wife and a good mother. Go to your room and pray for forgiveness.’
Zillah stared at the floor as she left the room. I touched her hand as she passed me. ‘I’m — I am sorry,’ she said, and I knew the apology was for me because now I would have to do the breakfast dishes by myself.
Luke and Abraham gave me sympathetic looks as they went off to the workshop at the hire centre.
Zillah wasn’t on her knees praying when I went to our bedroom. She was standing at the window, watching the clouds. ‘I wish you could catch a cloud. We could float away. Would you like to float away on a cloud, Magdalene?’
I pulled a chair to the window so I could reach the curtains to unhook them. ‘Do you mean go away for ever and ever? Or just for today?’
She didn’t answer for ages. I watched her draw lines on the pane with her finger. I didn’t stop her. Mother hadn’t told us to clean the windows but she’d notice if we didn’t.
‘For ever and ever. If you and Luke and Abraham come too.’
I was shaken. Did she realise what she was saying? Her next words showed she did. ‘I’m going to ask Luke if the nice Lord says girls can’t go to the workshop and learn about real stuff and then I’m going to tell Father and he’ll growl, and that’s why I want to go away for ever and ever.’
I climbed down from the chair very carefully, leaving the curtain hanging by a single hook. I hugged my sister, holding her tight. ‘Promise me something, Zillah? Promise me you won’t go away unless you tell me first. Will you promise?’
She thought about that for ages too. I just held her — there was nothing I could do to ease the pain in her heart. I hadn’t been able to do it for myself either.
Eventually she said, ‘Okay. You’d be sad if I ran away and you didn’t know, wouldn’t you, Magdalene?’
‘I’d be worse than sad,’ I told her, sickened to think of her out in a world she knew nothing about.
She laid her hand against my cheek. ‘I promise. You can come too. Would you like that, Magdalene?’
She pulled out of my arms and I took my time climbing back on to the chair. I wanted to answer her honestly, but how? What to say? I looked down to speak to her, leaving the curtain still swinging by its hook. She watched me, her head on one side and her face a mix of trouble and hope.
‘Zillah darling, I’ve thought so much I get all mixed up. I get worried about sin and Elder Stephen and salvation. And I don’t know what’s right and true. Luke prays to the nice Lord, but how do we know which Lord is true?’ I stopped, gulping to choke back tears. I was so weary of crying.
She clung to me again. ‘I’m sorry! Don’t be sad, Magdalene. Please don’t cry.’
‘It’s okay. I’m not really sad. Come on, we’d better get on with the work or we’ll be in trouble. Here, you take the hooks out.’
She worked quietly and I couldn’t bear it. ‘Zillah, I’ll think about it, I promise you I’ll think about it. But will you promise you won’t run away without telling me? Please?’
She bent her head over the curtain and I knew I’d disappointed her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
She patted my knee. ‘It’s all right, my sister. I won’t go away without telling you.’
S
he seemed older than me in that moment. I wished I had her courage.
Thirteen
THAT EVENING, ABRAHAM TOLD us Talitha’s father had given him permission to marry his daughter.
Father said, ‘She is a godly and seemly young woman, my son. You have chosen wisely. Let us pray the Elders agree to this marriage.’
We slipped to our knees and, as usual, none of us children closed our eyes. We pulled faces at each other while Father begged and entreated the Lord to guide the Elders to look with favour on Abraham’s marriage.
If the Lord wished it, Abraham would become a father himself. I wondered if he would change like Rachel had. She’d turned herself into a copy of Mother as she used to be before Rebecca ran away. I prayed he wouldn’t turn himself into Father.
Later, when Zillah and I were both in bed, our brothers came into our room to tell us more. We had to smother our giggles at the sight of Abraham trying to walk quietly. His big feet weren’t designed for tip-toeing. He sat cross-legged on the rug between our beds while Luke took the chair.
‘A question,’ Abraham said, glancing from Zillah to me. ‘Was Talitha’s old man happy because she’s getting a husband, or unhappy because I’m such a miserable sinner?’
‘You’re not!’ Zillah said, remembering to keep her voice down. ‘You’re nice and you’re good and you’re kind.’
‘Sure, kid,’ he said. ‘But Brother Ebenezer doesn’t know that. He just knows I don’t speak seemly and look a bit too cheerful. Magdalene? What do you reckon?’
Rachel and Rebecca had often talked about how Talitha’s father had protected her from having to marry a man she didn’t like when she was sixteen. I said, ‘I think he loves her. If she wants to marry you, I think that’s what matters to him.’
Abraham picked a thread out of the rug and flicked it in my direction. ‘Dead right, sis. He’s not even bothered about her coming to Auckland with me.’
