by Fleur Beale
But she sat where she was, her hands over her face and her shoulders heaving from the effort of staying silent. ‘Get Rachel,’ I said. ‘Hurry, Zillah.’
Before she could move, though, Sister Priscilla and Brother Ebenezer arrived. I slid out of my seat to give them room. ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!’
Sister Priscilla pressed my shoulder. ‘You are such good girls, both of you.’
Between them, they helped Mother to stand. She hardly seemed to know where she was. Brother Ebenezer said, ‘Peace, Sister Naomi. The Lord is good. Our children will be safe. They walk in the light of the Lord. Let your heart be at ease.’
The words calmed her enough so she was able to walk. Once we were outside, Sister Priscilla said, ‘Girls, we will take our sister home. I do not like to leave you here by yourselves, but your father will worry if he gets back to find nobody around.’
‘We’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘Thank you for helping us.’
We watched them shepherd Mother to their car. ‘Where’s Rachel?’ Zillah asked. ‘She should be here. She should be helping.’
We couldn’t see her or Saul among the departing throng. I caught sight of Carmel — she gave me a small wave and pulled a face. I got the message — her parents didn’t want her talking to me.
‘Their car’s still here,’ Zillah said.
We went to go back inside the temple, but hadn’t gone two steps before Rachel and Saul came out. He had his arm around her and he was talking to her, soothing her the way Brother Ebenezer had done for Mother.
‘Rachel? Are you all right?’ Zillah and I rushed to her, stopping dead when we saw the tears streaming down her face.
Saul said, ‘Magdalene, can you help me to get her into the car, please?’
Zillah darted forward to open the car door, and between the three of us we eased our sobbing sister into her seat.
As Saul closed the door, Zillah seized the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Saul, she’s crying because Elder Stephen said Abraham would be damned. That’s why she’s upset, isn’t it?’
He briefly put his hand over hers. ‘Yes, that is why. I will take her home. We will discuss Elder Stephen’s words. There is much to think about.’
‘Don’t forget to collect Hope,’ I said.
A look of horror crossed his face. ‘I did not give her a thought. What father forgets his own child? Thank you, Magdalene.’
‘I’ll get her.’ Zillah ran off towards the nursery.
Saul opened Rachel’s door again and squatted down to speak to her. ‘My dearest wife, our daughter will be here in a minute. Can you be calm for her sake?’ He took out his handkerchief, pressing it into her hand and removing her sodden one.
She blew her nose, nodding at the same time. ‘Yes. Of course. Thank you, Saul. I am sorry for …’
He put his arm around her bent shoulders. ‘Hush, now. We have nothing to be sorry for. We will talk about this, I promise you.’
She gave him a wobbly smile and leaned her head against his.
Zillah came running back with Hope. We watched as both of them stopped to hop over the cracks in the surface of the empty car park. They were laughing.
Saul picked up his daughter, swinging her high to make her chortle before he strapped her into her car seat. We waved as we watched them drive away.
Zillah said, ‘Do you think Father ever did that with us?’
I shook my head. ‘No. He never played with you. I’d have remembered. I don’t think he played with me or the others either.’
Zillah ran off to the nursery playground. I moved to where I could watch her and keep an eye out for Father’s return. He would want to know exactly what Elder Stephen had said. I rehearsed it all in my mind — our leader glaring at us, the scriptures he chose, the way he warned the people against letting Abraham and Talitha come back.
I shivered in the sunshine.
I was right. Father wanted to know every word our leader had spoken. Between us, Zillah and I had to tell the story three times. Father didn’t say we’d discuss it. He didn’t say anything.
Luke kept silent, but turned sideways in his seat to watch him. Zillah and I held hands, expecting him to tell us we’d pray for our brother the moment we got home. Instead Father said, ‘Your mother — she is unwell?’
Zillah said, ‘She was sad. She cried and cried. Rachel did too but Saul said they’d talk about it. Will we talk about it, Father? Why did Elder Stephen say all that?’
‘We will pray,’ Father said.
I slumped back against the seat. Zillah sniffed back tears. The prayers would last the rest of the day.
But Luke said, ‘Father, with your permission and blessing I would like to read a different scripture when we get home. I believe our hearts need comfort and strength at this time. After that, with your permission, I will take my sisters for a walk and we will discuss the meaning of the words of the Lord.’
Father didn’t answer. I truly believe I held my breath all the way home. When he stopped the car, he said, ‘Very well, my son. It shall be as you suggest.’
We had to wait while he spoke to Brother Ebenezer — who told him exactly the same as we had. Sister Priscilla came from Mother’s bedside, saying, ‘Our dear Sister Naomi is sleeping. It is the best thing for her right now.’
Father walked with them to their car. He looked like a man who had been shaken to his very soul.
As we watched, Zillah asked, ‘Will it be a long scripture, Luke? I don’t want to listen to the word of the Lord. I don’t like the Lord.’
He gave her braid a tug. ‘It’s not very long, so you’d better pray Father doesn’t ask for ten more. It’ll help if you say Praise the Lord when you hear a part you like. Okay?’
‘All right. That’s better than praying and praying. Isn’t it, Magdalene?’
A million, countless times better.
Father came back as if he was still walking in a daze. Luke took his arm and led him to a chair. ‘Sit, Father. Would you like tea before we begin?’
‘No. I thank you, my son. Please give us the scripture.’
Luke had chosen Psalm 28. He didn’t read it — he recited it by heart. When had he learned it? I couldn’t remember him ever being sent to the discipline room. Zillah was all frowning concentration, listening for a line she liked, but the verses seemed to have nothing to make her want to praise the Lord. But the boldness of my brother’s choice took my breath away.
Draw me not away with the wicked, and with the workers of iniquity, which speak peace to their neighbours, but mischief is in their hearts.
Would Father believe Elder Stephen was a worker of iniquity with mischief in his heart? I didn’t dare look at him.
The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.
‘Praise the Lord,’ Zillah and I said together.
Father said nothing until Luke had recited the final words: ‘… and lift them up for ever.’ He didn’t even say Praise the Lord, and we always said that at the end of any scripture. We waited, not knowing what else to do, not daring to move.
At last he sighed, then said, ‘Those are timely words indeed. You are a good son, Luke. You have given me much to pray about. Leave me now.’
We crept out of the house, hardly able to believe we’d escaped the long hours Father would normally have made us spend on our knees in prayer.
When we were far enough away, Zillah threw her arms around Luke. ‘You saved us, Luke! Let’s go to the park. I want to swing and swing, right up into the sky.’
As we watched Zillah fly into the air, I said to Luke, ‘You want Father to think about the mischief, don’t you?’
‘Well spotted, sis.’
‘Do you think Elder Stephen’s like that? That he’s got mischief in his heart?’ It was so wicked to say that about our leader. A sinful, wicked thing even to think. I’d surely go to hell for saying it out loud.
Lu
ke didn’t seem bothered by thoughts of hell. ‘I think he got worried because several of the men supported Brother Jedidiah when he challenged him about education. He must be absolutely steaming mad that Abraham has found a way of doing that course. He’s still furious too about Rebecca running away. It was a pretty strong message when you think about it — she’d rather go to hell for ever than marry him. She made a fool of him, and he can’t punish her. Then that newspaper article appeared — he probably wants to murder the lot of us.’
‘Father won’t believe he’s being mean to us because of all that though,’ I said.
‘He might,’ Luke said. ‘He’s not stupid. This has rattled him. We’ll see. But come on — race you to the slide.’
Eighteen
FATHER DIDN’T MENTION ELDER Stephen’s warning to the people about Abraham and Talitha. Mother stayed in bed. Zillah and I did our own chores and tried our best to keep the household running the way she would want.
School started again. Zillah got dressed without fuss. She didn’t talk and she moved as if chains of lead weighed her down. Watching her and knowing I was powerless to help weighed my own soul down.
I was dreading school too. I feared my friends would have been ordered to shun me. But when break came they grabbed my hands and together we hurried to our tree. I asked, ‘Are you allowed to talk to me?’
Carmel grinned. ‘The parents said I must make up my own mind after searching my soul and praying.’
‘Mine are really worried,’ Jemimah said. ‘They told me to be careful. Ever since Uncle Jedidiah took his family out they’ve been jumpy. It’s like they’re not so certain about the Rule and they look worried all the time.’
‘I’m certain about it.’ I shouldn’t have said that. Too late now.
‘What sort of certain?’ Carmel asked — then, when I didn’t answer, she gave me a shove. ‘Say it. We won’t tell.’
I knew that, but I knew too how Elder Stephen could twist things and somehow get the answers he wanted. ‘I don’t believe in it either.’
Jemimah sighed. ‘I don’t want to believe it. I hope it’s not true. I wish I could talk to Neriah. I don’t want her to be stuck for ever in hell.’
On Wednesday, Mother was still in bed so Zillah and I stayed home from the Circle of Fellowship. I was glad. The women would talk about what Elder Stephen had said. They’d keep glancing at us and there would be pity in their eyes.
Thursday was Zillah’s eighth birthday. Luke and I made the day as special for her as we could. He didn’t go with Father to the hire centre in the afternoon and instead took her to the playground. I made her favourite meal for dinner — schnitzel, mashed potatoes and peas. Even though it was summer and hot, I made her favourite dessert. It was a roly-poly pudding dripping with syrup.
The day was special too because Mother was well enough to get out of bed and eat at the table with us. She looked worn and ill, and she didn’t say a word for the entire meal, but she ate a little food and actually smiled twice. We were heartened.
That night, when we were in bed, Zillah said, ‘Do you think Elder Stephen has made Rachel ill too?’
I sat hugging my knees. ‘No. Saul said they’d talk about it. I think that will help her. She will try hard to be well because of Hope and the baby.’
‘When will the doctor cut her open?’ Zillah asked. ‘Will it hurt? I don’t want her to be hurt.’
The Rule said pain cleansed the soul of sin. Elder Stephen preached about when babies got born. It is written that women shall bring forth their children in pain. Seek not to go against the word of the Lord. I answered my sister. ‘Saul won’t let her be hurt. He will look after her.’ I knew my words were true. Saul would never let Rachel suffer if there were ways of preventing it.
School again in the morning. Zillah sat up in bed but didn’t make any move to get dressed. I went to her, put my arms around her and just held her. Gradually, the tension left her body, she sighed and said, ‘I’ll never go to a real school, will I, Magdalene?’
‘Not unless things change.’ But they wouldn’t change that much.
‘Or I run away.’ She pulled back to look at me, her head on one side in a question.
I winced. I hadn’t been able to think about it properly. I wouldn’t let myself imagine us running away and leaving Luke, and never seeing him, Abraham, Rachel or Hope again. Our parents too. But I could imagine only too clearly Zillah all alone and trying to find her way among worldly people. It terrified me. ‘Zillah darling, every day I pray for the strength to go with you if it should come to that.’
We got dressed and went to the kitchen. Mother wasn’t there, and Luke and Father were eating toast. Neither of them had a clue how to cook bacon or scramble an egg. Zillah did the eggs and I cooked the bacon.
Father said grace, probably for the second time that morning. He would never begin eating anything without first thanking the Lord for providing the food.
Luke said, ‘And thank you, sisters.’
We went to school. We came home to find Mother still in bed. We made a lunch of cold meat and salad, and I wished we could spend the afternoon at the hire centre with Father and Luke, but wishes were as useless as prayers.
As we were finishing the meal, Zillah asked, ‘Luke, do you fix things in the workshop? How do you keep your fingernails clean? Abraham’s are always —’
‘That will do, Zillah,’ our father said. ‘Your brother’s activities need not concern you.’
Luke shot a quick look at her. ‘With your permission, Father, I will answer my sister’s question.’ But he didn’t wait for Father to give his permission. ‘I look things up on the computer for the men when they need parts to fix the machines and then I order them. I buy the milk from the dairy for afternoon tea. I am now very good at making tea for ten thirsty men — and I wash and dry the cups afterwards!’
Zillah clapped her hands. ‘Is it fun using the computer, Luke?’
‘That is enough,’ Father said. ‘Come, my son.’ He walked from the room.
Zillah and I did the chores — dishes, washing, ironing, cleaning. We picked the ripe tomatoes from the garden. We prepared the evening meal. We took Mother drinks and thin slices of fruit. She ate one piece of apple and nibbled a sliver of peach but that was all.
‘Will she die?’ Zillah asked. ‘Really die, not pretend die? Will she be damned? I don’t want her to go to hell, Magdalene.’
I sat down at the table and pulled out a chair for her. I wanted her to know she could ask me things and I’d answer as well as I could. I wanted her to know I loved her better than the Rule. ‘I’m worried about her too. But I think she’s sick like I was when I hurt my hands. I think she’ll get better. Father won’t let her die.’
That earned me a fixed stare before she said, ‘But he lets her stay in bed. That doctor said you had to stay in bed but Father made you go to school and Mother hasn’t even been to the doctor.’ She jumped up from the table and stomped outside. ‘Let’s go to the park, Magdalene. Nobody’s going to say we can’t.’
So we went to the park and we played on every single thing. We slid and swung and climbed and turned in dizzy circles. Then we ran all the way home.
Mother hadn’t missed us. We cooked the dinner so that when Father came home we were once again his obedient, godly, modest daughters.
Mother didn’t get up for dinner. She ate half of the meal we took her.
‘She is getting better,’ Father said when he saw the tray I brought back from the bedroom.
He prayed for her recovery at evening prayers. ‘Lord, we beg you in your infinite mercy to send health and strength to your daughter Naomi.’
‘Praise the Lord.’
He would do better to talk to her about Abraham and about Elder Stephen but he wouldn’t do it. He was a godly man of the Faith and it was his duty to trust and obey.
Before he shut himself away in his study for the rest of the evening he said, ‘Daughters, your brother flies to Auckland in the morning.
Abraham requires his assistance.’
I grabbed Zillah’s hand, squeezing it to warn her not to ask to go too. ‘What time? Father, may we go to the airport to say goodbye?’
‘You will stay with your mother.’ He left the room.
Zillah threw herself at Luke. ‘Promise you’ll come back! You have to promise.’
He patted her back. ‘You and your promises! Yes, I promise I’ll come back.’
‘But why are you going, Luke?’ I asked. ‘What does Abraham want you to do?’
He checked to make sure the door was closed, then pulled a letter from his pocket. ‘Abraham sent this to the dairy so Father wouldn’t read it. They gave it to me when I picked up the milk. It’s a bit different from the one our brother sent to him.’
I smoothed the paper so Zillah and I could read it together. Our brother’s impatient handwriting scrawled its way across the page.
Yo bro. Yo sisters.
Luke, Father should get a letter today too — please send Luke to help. Flat I found is worldly blah blah so need to find a more suitable one. Actually the flat is great. Talitha is great. Auckland is great. The course is brilliant. Learning heaps. Thought you’d like a week or two away from the twelve old tyrants. Told Father I’m too busy studying to look for new flat. Don’t want Talitha to have to go about by herself in the worldly city blah blah. Actually she’d be glad of the company — Auck a bit daunting. Huge library here bro.
Love to sisters. Tell them to watch out for old Elder S — he’ll be madder than ever because I’ve got away. They’d better be careful.
Abraham.
Zillah didn’t even notice his warning. All she noticed was library. She asked, ‘Will you go, Luke? To the library?’
That would be breaking the Rule — smashing it to fragments.
