“Want to turn around?” I ask her quietly.
She glances at the guys and nods. As we turn back, one of them calls out, “Good evening, ladies. Care to join us?”
“Don’t say anything,” Nanette instructs quietly.
I look down at her and am surprised to see how frightened she looks. Then I glance back at the boys. They look harmless enough, even though I see a flask being passed between two of them, guys who I don’t recognize.
“Why don’t we just go over and say hi?” I suggest, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“No,” she whispers firmly. “Three of those boys are apostates. Don’t go near them.”
Now I get it. An apostate is someone who has been kicked out of the community. They’re considered “tools of the devil,” and Nanette probably figures they’re here to poison the minds of our pure boys. Maybe they are, but what she doesn’t understand is that the life I lived before coming here is probably way more sinful than what any of these boys can even imagine. I don’t miss that life, but sometimes I long to hang out with guys my own age. My opportunity has arrived. I drop Nanette’s hand. “You go on home,” I tell her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You’re not going to talk to them!” she says, horrified.
“Just for a bit,” I tell her. “Don’t worry, Nanette,” I add, tugging her long braid. “I know how to handle guys. I was an old pro at it before I came here.”
Not a good choice of words, I realize. She regards me seriously and glances back at the boys. “I don’t like this,” she says quietly. She gives me a disapproving look, turns and walks away.
I watch her disappear into the darkening night. Then I find myself hiking up my skirt and scrambling over a fence. “How’s it going?” I ask, walking up to the group.
It takes a moment for any of them to answer. I suppose they are as stunned as Nanette that I actually joined them. Then the boy with the lit cigarette speaks. “You must be Taviana,” he says.
“I am. How did you know?”
“Because no girl who was raised in Unity would’ve climbed that fence the way you just did.” He’s regarding me with admiration.
I shrug. “Okay, but how do you know my name?”
“I live in Highrock now. The people on the streets there are still talking about you. You’re like an urban legend or something.”
Highrock is where I used to live, before Jacob rescued me. I quickly change the subject. “So what’s your name?”
“Lucas.”
“And what brings you here, Lucas?”
He takes a long drag on a cigarette. “I’m just back for a visit, to say hi.”
I nod and glance around at the faces of the other boys. The ones from Unity are looking slightly embarrassed by my presence, but one of the other strangers pulls the flask out of his back pocket and takes a swig.
“Is it true what they say about you, Taviana?” he asks while sliding the bottle back into his pocket.
I look directly at him. He looks away. “Probably,” I tell him. “What’s it to you?”
“Just wondering if you still...”
“No,” I tell him. “That’s why I moved here.” I look at the other boys. “So, who are the rest of you?”
A third stranger, who looks a little older than the rest, offers his name first. “I’m Jimmy,” he says. He bows slightly and adds, “Pleased to meet you, Taviana.”
I bow slightly back. “And I’m pleased to meet you, Jimmy.”
A Unity boy, who couldn’t be more than twelve years old, speaks up. “I’m Stephen Nielsson.”
“Hi, Stephen,” I say, smiling at him. He blushes deeply.
“I’m Cameron,” a slightly older boy says. “Stephen’s cousin.”
I nod at Cameron. He’s very cute, in an innocent way. I think of Nanette and wonder how girls here can remain so self-disciplined when it comes to these boys. I turn to the last boy. “And you’re...?”
“Jon,” he says and smiles.
There’s something so sweet, so refreshing, about Jon’s face that I can hardly drag my eyes away. My physical response to him is something I haven’t felt in a couple of years, something I thought I might never feel again. It takes me by surprise.
“So what are you guys doing?” I ask, looking around and hoping I’ve masked my reaction to Jon’s smile.
“Just hanging,” flask-boy says, and I realize I never asked him his name. I also note that he didn’t offer it.
I turn back to Lucas. “How come you left Unity?” I ask him.
He studies my face for a while, and I sense he’s trying to figure out how to answer that question. “I had a...a clash of values with the Prophet, you might say. I wanted more in my life than I could ever get here.”
“More in your life?” I ask. “Like cigarettes and booze?” I gesture toward his friend.
He studies me a little longer and then shakes his head, as if dismissing me. “Have you found in Unity what you came looking for?” he asks.
“I didn’t actually come here looking for anything. I was invited here. And I like what I’ve found. It’s safe.”
Lucas grunts. “Yeah, well, you won’t be here long if you keep jumping fences to talk to guys. Don’t you know they don’t like that kind of thing?”
I just shrug, but his words sting. I nod. “You’re right, Lucas. I just wanted to be friendly, but I guess I should go.” I turn to look for the gate and pull up my dress slightly to make walking easier. “See you guys around,” I call over my shoulder.
It has gotten much darker, and I hope I’m walking toward where the gate is. When I get there, I realize that what I thought was a gate, isn’t. I begin following the fence that runs parallel to the road. If I have to climb over it again, I want to do it where the boys can’t see me.
Suddenly I hear running footsteps approaching me from behind. I whirl around, expecting to find flask-boy following me, looking for a little action, but I come face to face with the guy called Jon.
“Hey,” I say, startled.
“Hi,” he says. “Are you looking for the gate?”
“Yeah, which way is it?”
He points in the direction I’m walking. “Just a little farther.”
“Thanks.” I smile at him and force myself to keep walking. I’m worried that if I talk to him any longer, I might slide back into some old habits, like flirting. That would probably scare this innocent boy off. Yet this guy has clearly rekindled feelings I’ve tucked away.
“Can I walk with you, show you where it is?” he asks.
I hesitate before I answer, and in that moment I see a look of concern cross his face. “I mean you no harm!” he says.
“I know you don’t,” I answer, and I smile at him. “Yeah, c’mon, Jon. Show me to the gate.”
We walk along in silence for a moment, and then I ask, “So why are those guys in Unity tonight?”
It takes him a moment to answer. “They just like to come around and tell us what it’s like to live in different places.”
“How would your parents feel if they knew you were talking with them?”
“They wouldn’t like it much.” He hesitates. “So I hope you don’t mention it to anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Jon.”
I think about my earlier conversation with Celeste, the one about the Pied Piper. Maybe these guys visiting from the outside are a modern-day version of the same guy, only this time he’s only interested in the boy children.
“Here’s the gate,” Jon says a moment later. He unlatches it and holds it open for me. I reach out my hand to shake his. He looks startled but takes my hand in his. “It was nice meeting you,” I say.
“It was nice meeting you too, Taviana,” he answers and smiles.
Reluctantly, I let go of his hand and walk toward the road. I hear him close the gate behind me. I start off down the dirt road.
“Taviana?” he calls out.
I swing around, a stupid girlish hopefulness
springing to life in my chest. “Yes?”
“You live with Celeste, don’t you?”
That wasn’t the question I expected to hear. “I do.”
“Will you say hello to her from me?”
I stare at his earnest face a little too long, and he blushes and looks away. So the teenagers in this town aren’t completely oblivious to each other after all. “Yeah, sure,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as disappointed as I feel.
“Thanks,” he says, his head bobbing up and down.
“And I won’t tell anyone about that either,” I say.
He grins. “I knew I could trust you, Taviana,” he says, and he turns and walks away.
I begin walking in the opposite direction, mulling over the realization that there is more going on in Unity than I was aware of.
Chapter Three
CELESTE
Daddy snatches up the tidy stack of shopping lists that have been delivered to us by various cousins this morning. It’s his job to drive into Springdale each Saturday and purchase supplies for all our relatives in Unity.
I sit in a rocking chair with whimpering twin babies sprawled across my lap and observe Lena, Daddy’s first wife. She’s clearly restless and can’t wait to get going. When she sees him take the lists, she tugs at the sash of her apron and hangs it on a hook by the door. Lena’s the wife who always goes with Daddy to town. There’s no point in his taking one of the others and flaunting the fact he has plural wives. The less we give them to talk about, the better.
But Daddy shocks us all this morning. He glances around the bustling room until he sees me, buried under babies. I meet his gaze, but after a moment I feel my face flush. Does he know about my impure rebellious thoughts? I begin humming to the twins and rock the chair more vigorously to settle them. Then, out of the blue, Daddy says, “Celeste will come with me today.”
It takes me a moment to register the meaning of his words, but as soon as I do, I gather up the babies and hand them over to Nanette and Pam. I make eye contact with Mother, who is large with child again, sitting in an armchair, working her way through the mending basket. She pauses as she threads a needle and looks at me strangely. Is that sadness I read on her face? It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to keep me from spending a morning away from this noisy house. Before Daddy can change his mind, I, too, hang my apron on a hook and slide into a pair of outdoor shoes. I step around the dumbfounded Lena and follow my father out the door, allowing the springs to slam it shut behind me.
Sitting in the cab of Daddy’s pickup truck, I marvel at my sudden good fortune. It’s a fresh, sunny spring day. I have Daddy all to myself for a couple of hours. I’m away from the house, away from the never-ending chores and cranky, overburdened mothers, who are especially miserable on Saturday mornings when Lena gets to go to town with Daddy. Who knows how they’ll feel today when he’s chosen his oldest daughter over them. I refuse to think about the stares and rude remarks that are waiting for us in Springdale. The simple pleasure of getting away from Unity and all my younger siblings for a few hours is worth any amount of verbal abuse.
As we bump down the dirt road, I admire the wildflowers that line the ditch. And the sky! Has it ever been so blue? The mountains tower above us on one side of the road and farmland spreads out across the prairie on the other. We are the chosen people and this is clearly the chosen countryside.
“Celeste.” Daddy’s gravelly voice jolts me out of my dreamlike state. He isn’t big on conversation, but that is what I love most about him. On those rare occasions when we are alone together, I’m free to lose myself in my own thoughts. That never happens at home, where any private thoughts get lost in the confusion of so many conversations all happening at once.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“I chose you to come with me today because there’s something we need to talk about.” He pauses, apparently looking for the right words. In that second, and with a sinking heart, I know exactly what’s coming next.
“You’ll be turning fifteen on your birthday.”
“Yes, Daddy, I know.”
“And as you know too, Celeste, daughters do not belong to their mothers or fathers. A daughter is only in her parents’ keeping until the Elders have determined who she will be assigned to in marriage. Then you will belong to your husband for all eternity.”
I nod but turn to stare out the window.
He continues. “The Prophet has begun asking for the Divine’s guidance in determining who is to have you as a wife. Once you have turned fifteen, you can marry. I thought I’d remind you of that.”
There is so much I want to say, but I don’t say anything and Daddy doesn’t say anything else either. I think he’s just happy to have that off his chest. If he expected an argument from me, he isn’t going to get it. Not today, anyway.
I keep my eyes on the passing scenery. Strangely, what had seemed like the makings of a perfect spring day now seem far less full of possibility. The wildflowers are just ugly weeds, and the glare of the sun is forcing me to squint.
OVER THE YEARS I’ve grown used to being stared at by the people in Springdale, but today I think it’s me doing the most staring. It seems like everyone is out enjoying the first warm weekend of the season. Girls have gathered in groups on street corners, and there is a whole lot of skin showing. Belly button jewels sparkle in the sunlight, and there are all manner of tattoos. Boys and men are walking around without shirts and with shorts pulled down so low their underwear springs out the top. I find I don’t know where to look, so, to cover my embarrassment, I just stare at my feet as I follow Daddy from store to store. He gathers the supplies and I trail after him, my arms laden down with packages and bags.
When we finish and everything is stowed in the cab of the truck, Daddy, who is a mechanic, goes off to talk business with some guys at the garage. He tells me he’ll be back at the truck in an hour.
An hour? Normally I’d be delighted to have an hour all to myself, but what does he expect me to do in Springdale? It’s too hot to wait in the parking lot.
Glancing around, I notice how many curious people there are, watching me. Already I’ve been asked by a nosy clerk if I’m one of Daddy’s wives or his daughter. I decide it’s best to get away from the center of town. The river that runs past Unity also runs right through a park at the south end of this town, and I decide to walk over there. Keeping my eyes down, I hurry away.
Unfortunately, the park is also crowded. Families have blankets spread out on the grassy slope, and picnic baskets lie open, filled with the kind of food you’d never see in Unity. There are empty junk-food wrappers being blown about in the breeze, and soda cans are bursting out of the top of the blue recycling bins. Dogs are romping together, and there are young people stretched out on towels, sunbathing, wearing practically nothing at all. Heat rises to my cheeks. Small children are playing at the water’s edge. Even here, everyone stares at me. I turn upstream, hoping to find somewhere to be alone.
The river is high and loud with the spring runoff. Rounding a bend, I’m surprised to see another tower of rocks piled close to the water’s edge. The beach is deserted here, so I wander over to take a closer look. I’m stunned by what I see. This is not another statue, but a selection of stones that have been balanced, precariously, one on top of the other. It’s extraordinary that it doesn’t topple over. Someone has clearly spent a lot of time setting the stones at just the right angles to make it work. The highest stone is standing with its widest part at the top, and its point is resting on a smaller stone beneath it, which is, in turn, balanced precariously on the tip of yet another stone, and so on. It looks so impossible that I reach out to see if it’s been cemented together. I lift the top stone off and it comes free in my hand. Amazing. I carefully place it back the way I found it, but it falls off, and then, almost in slow motion, the whole tower crumbles. Shocked, I bend over and attempt to reassemble it, but one by one the stones drop back to the beach.
“That will be seven years of bad luc
k for you,” a voice behind me says.
I whirl around and come face to face with a young man, his dark eyes shining. His chest is bare, and he’s only wearing shorts. He crept up on me—I never heard a thing over the sound of the river.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.” I feel tears springing to my eyes. “I only wanted to see if it was cemented together.” I gather up my dress and begin to run back toward the park.
“Hey, it’s okay!” he yells. “I was just kidding! I’ll build another one.”
I glance back and see him standing there beside the fallen pile of stones, hands on his hips. From this distance, I realize that he’s the same person I watched build the little statue near Unity. I turn and run even faster.
PULLING A WET apron from the laundry basket, I snap it hard and pass it to Taviana, who is hanging clothes on the line. My morning excursion into Springdale has left me jittery. “Do you believe in bad luck?” I ask her.
She regards me, a puzzled expression in her deep-set brown eyes. “I might have, before,” she answers and takes the dress I’m passing to her.
“Before?”
“Before I came here,” she says.
“Oh.”
“Now I’ve learned, just like you have, that God determines what will happen to those who are faithful and obedient. It has nothing to do with luck.”
“What about those who aren’t faithful and obedient?”
She studies me again. “What’s up, Celeste?”
I wonder how much to tell her. I can’t get the image of those dark eyes and bare chest out of my head. There were wisps of hair on his chest. Do all men grow hair there? “Today, in Springdale,” I tell her, “I accidentally broke something that belonged to a Gentile boy.”
“You did?” Her eyebrows arch, trying to picture it.
Sister Wife Page 2
