“My cell phone,” he says, pulling it out. He hands it to me.
I hold it away from me, afraid of what it might do.
He laughs and takes it back. “It doesn’t bite,” he says. “Look.” He flips open the top, and I can see tiny keys and some kind of screen. “It’s also a clock,” he says. “I can set the alarm to go off. Sometimes my dad tells me what time to meet him, and sometimes he just calls.”
“Taviana told me about cell phones, but I’ve never seen one.”
“Now you have,” he says, smiling kindly.
The cell phone suddenly starts playing a tune. I jump away.
“That will be my Dad,” he says. He puts the phone to his ear and listens. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He closes it and puts it back into his pocket. “I’ve gotta run,” he says. “The bus is leaving.”
“The bus?”
“Just an expression.” He looks at me. “Will I see you here again soon?” he asks.
I nod. “I hope so.”
We gaze at each other for another moment, and then he turns and disappears down the river.
TWO MONTHS HAVE passed since I became a Nielsson. Today my mother arrives for a visit. She has Liam with her.
I pour us each a glass of lemonade and join her at the kitchen table, where she sits nursing the baby. My sister wives have discreetly taken their children and moved to other parts of the rambling house.
“How are you doing, Celeste?” Mother asks.
“I’m okay. What about you? Last time I saw you...”
“Was when I was in the hospital.”
“No, I came and saw you the day you came home.”
“You did?”
I nod.
“I don’t remember.” She looks puzzled. “Those first couple of weeks home are just a blur.” She frowns, thinking about it.
“I would have come back again, but Daddy ordered me to leave.”
She nods. “I know. And I haven’t been to church services since Liam was born. I’m waiting to hear what the Prophet has to say about my disobedience.”
We sit in silence for a moment. There is so much I want to talk to her about, but I can’t find a point of entry into any of the topics.
“Is Martin treating you well?” she whispers.
I nod.
She smiles. “I knew he would.”
“Is Daddy treating you well?” I ask her.
The question startles her. She puts Liam to her shoulder and burps him. “He’s still angry.”
“What is wrong with him, Mother?”
“Nothing is wrong with him, Celeste,” she answers crossly. “I was wrong to disobey him, but I was frightened.”
“No, Mother,” I respond, just as crossly. “He was wrong to deny you the medical attention you needed.”
“Your father has perfect faith. He has more trust in God than in medicine and doctors. I crossed the line by agreeing to the surgery.”
I don’t answer. I think Daddy just likes to throw his weight around, but I decide it’s best not to say anything.
Liam is sleeping in Mother’s lap. She clears her throat, and I see she’s blushing. “How are your...your husband-wife relations?” she asks.It takes me a moment to figure out what she’s referring to, but when I do, my cheeks grow hot too. I shrug. “Shouldn’t Martin be spending equal time with each of his wives?” I ask.
She stares at me, trying to puzzle out my question. “It’s entirely up to him, but of course you have to tell him when it’s your time of month.”
I nod, and then her words register. My time of month.
I haven’t had it since I got married.
The realization slowly sinks in. I feel the blood drain from my face.
“What is it, Celeste?” she asks.
I can only stare at her. Liam begins to squirm, and she offers him her other breast.
“Celeste?” she asks again.
I run to the bathroom and throw up.
I HAVEN’T BEEN out of bed for a week except to use the bathroom. Norah brings me food and tells me that the sickness will pass soon enough. I don’t tell her that there is no nausea, only despair. And fear. I clutch the arrowhead like a drowning person would clutch a life preserver.
Eventually I can’t stand my self-imposed confinement any longer. I get up and wander down to the river, just to get out of the house. I find Craig there, building an inuksuk. I sit on a large rock and watch him. Eventually he joins me, sitting on his own rock. Neither of us says anything for a few minutes, but the silence is comfortable.
“Do you practice a religion?” I ask him, as if no time had passed since our last conversation on the beach.
“Not formally,” he tells me. “Though I identify with some of the nature-based ones that have an earth-centered spirituality.”
I just stare at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Who are you anyway?” I ask.
He throws his head back and laughs. “Just me. Directionless Craig.”
“Directionless?”
He shrugs. “I haven’t decided what to do with my life. Too many decisions. It makes me crazy. So here I am, balancing rocks.”
“Does that make you sad?”
He tilts his head. “Not sad, no. Just a little frustrated sometimes. My parents are on my case.”
“On your case?”
“They’re pressuring me to make a decision.”
I think about that. “In The Movement, we don’t have to make decisions. We accept the ones that have already been made for us. We submit to a higher power. Our life is easier in that way.”
I can feel Craig studying me. “You say that with such enthusiasm.”
“Huh?”
He smiles at me. “I’m sorry, I was being sarcastic, but if your life is so much easier, why do you seem so unhappy?”
I have to look away. “I’m different for some reason, but my sister, Nanette, she’s happy.” I think about that. “Well, she was, anyway, until...until just lately. But in general, I think people are happy here because they know exactly what they have to do to get to the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I told you, I’m different. Something’s wrong with me.”
“I think something’s right with you.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I think there are some things more important than just being happy.”
“Like what?”
He reaches for a rock and begins a new balance. “Like being free to think for yourself.”
MY DOOR CREAKS open. Martin hasn’t been to visit me since the day my mother was here and word got out that I was pregnant.
“Celeste?”
“Yes?”
“May I speak with you?”
I turn on the lamp by my bedside.
He comes in and sits on the end of my bed. He reaches over and picks up my hand with both of his. “I heard the good news,” he says.
I nod and resist the temptation to roll my eyes.
“It happened so quickly,” he says. “We are truly blessed.”
I just nod again and focus on a stain on the wall behind him.
“You know, don’t you, that this means I can no longer lie with you.”
“I know.” I hope my relief doesn’t show on my face.
“But we can still cuddle or go for walks together. There is nothing wrong with that. I want us to become closer.”
I have to admire this man, my husband, for his perseverance. Anyone else would have given up on me.
“Are you happy here, Celeste?”
“Everyone is very kind.” I nod. “You have a lovely home.”
“We have a lovely home, Celeste. And I want you to know how delighted I am that you are already carrying our first child. This will be just the first of many, many children for us.”
I try to smile, but suddenly I really am feeling nauseous.
“Let me know if you need anything. And I can be available for you most evenings.
Sarah is also expecting a child, so I am truly a fortunate man.”
He stands up, prepared to leave. “Have you heard anything from Jon?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“His mother, Gail, and I miss him terribly. I hope he knows that.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Take good care of yourself, Celeste. And of our child. If you need anything, let me know.” He drops my hand and I lean over to turn off the lamp. This is the only good thing about being pregnant. Martin won’t be lying with me again until the baby is weaned. That alone deserves a special prayer of thanks.
THE SUMMER DAYS blend into one another. I still don’t have many responsibilities at Martin’s, so I spend every afternoon at the river, keeping cool. I stay out of the sun as much as I can, but I do enjoy sitting in the shade, watching Craig create his art. I wonder why he keeps coming back to Unity, but I don’t ask.
One day he brings me a book. “I think you might like it.”
I turn it over in my hands and read the description on the back. I’m quite sure this book would be forbidden in Unity, but my boredom is acute and my curiosity has always been a problem for me. I begin to read. When I look up again, I see that the sun has moved halfway across the sky. Craig is standing in front of me. “Enjoying it?” he asks.
I don’t know how to answer him. I feel like I’ve been transported from my own world into an altogether different one for the afternoon. The ideas in the book shock me but fascinate me at the same time. “Could I borrow this for a few days?” I ask.
“Won’t you get in trouble for reading it?”
“I’ll hide it in my room. No one pays much attention to me.”
He nods. “I’ll bring some others too, if you like.”
I feel something happening inside me, something I haven’t felt for weeks. I try to identify it and realize that I’m simply feeling lighter. The thought of reading books, even if they are forbidden, excites me.
“By the way,” Craig says, “I have a message for you from Taviana.”
“You do?” My heart stutters.
He nods. “I met her building inuksuk on the beach in Springdale with her friend Jon.”
I can only stare at him.
“Her friend, Jon, he’s quite obsessed with them. Even more than me.”
Numbness washes over me.
“Anyway, Taviana wants me to tell you that she and Jon are both enrolled in school for the fall, and that she has a job working at the library. She gets to tell stories to little kids as well as shelve books. She wants you to know that she’s doing really well.”
“Oh.” I’m still thinking of Jon, obsessed with building inuksuk.
“Celeste? Are you okay?”
I look at him but barely see him. I can only see Jon, on the beach, stacking rocks.
“Do you have a message for Taviana?”
I think about that. I could tell her that I’m pregnant. And that my father shuns me. And that I’m still heartsick for Jon. “No.” I shake my head. “Just say hi.”
“Okay.” Craig nods, studying me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
I do my best to smile. “Yeah. I’m just a little hot. Thank you for the book. Will I see you tomorrow?”
He smiles back. “I hope so. My dad thinks I come to the river to ponder my life. That’s why he’s willing to drop me off near Unity.”
I slide the book into my apron pocket with the arrowhead and walk home.
WHEN CRAIG’S DAD gets fed up with dropping him off near Unity, Craig begins to hitch rides up the road. For some reason he seems to enjoy being with me, just like I enjoy being with him. He begins bringing me books that he’s read, and I take them home and secretly devour them late at night. We spend our afternoons discussing the ideas in them.
“So if a person doesn’t believe in God,” I ask him, “what makes them behave?”
He considers that. “Their conscience. Do you only behave when you think someone is judging you?”
“God is always judging me,” I tell him, though I have to admit, I haven’t always behaved.
“But just for the sake of argument, Celeste, imagine that He isn’t. Would you start doing unkind or bad things?”
“I don’t know.” The concept is just too strange for me. God has always been part of my life.
“Celeste, I don’t believe you would. You’re a good, kind loving person, whether God is watching you or not.”
Our conversations bounce back and forth. I’m especially interested in the lack of religion in the books. The characters don’t have God in their lives, and they are consumed with impure thoughts. Craig and I laugh a lot, and sometimes I argue points that I don’t really believe just for the sake of argument. I’ve tried to convince Craig that I haven’t changed my mind about anything since reading the books, but truthfully, I know the books and the conversations with Craig are altering the way I think. When I sit in church on Sunday mornings, I often find myself questioning the things that the Prophet tells us, even more than before. I continue to read late into the night and then lie awake, thinking of questions for Craig. Our conversations give me a reason to get out of bed each morning.
THE LEAVES ARE changing color and the air is noticeably cooler. Craig rarely builds anything anymore. My stomach is beginning to bulge, but if Craig has noticed, he hasn’t said anything. We just sit under the trees and discuss the books.
Today we haven’t even talked but just sit quietly, reading.
“Celeste,” Craig says, closing his book and turning to me. He’s smiling and his eyes are shining. “I am so grateful to you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me find my direction.”
“Your direction? How did I do that?”
“All these discussions we’ve had about the books and religion, they’ve really got me thinking...and I want to learn more. I’ve decided to go back to school to study theology.”
“Theology?”
“It’s the study of religion.”
“Oh.” I’m happy for him, but the “going back to school” part makes my stomach flip.
“I applied to a few colleges, and one has accepted me even though it’s so late in the summer.”
“That’s good!” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I don’t like where this conversation is going. “Your parents must be happy.”
“I’ll say.”
“When do you start?”
“In a couple of weeks.” His expression changes. The light leaves his dark eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“The college I’m going to is in Seattle.”
“Oh.” I look down at my book, trying to hide my shock.
“But I’ll be back next summer,” he says, trying to be positive.
I nod. “I’ll have a baby by then.” I guess he’d figured it out because he smiles, sadly.
“I’m really going to miss you,” I tell him.
“I’m really going to miss you too,” he says.
I gaze out at the beach that we’ve completely transformed this summer. We’ve built a whole community of inuksuk, all shapes and sizes. I take comfort in the fact that when I come back to the beach in the fall, I won’t be completely alone.
“I don’t think it was me that helped you find your direction,” I tell him.
“No?”
I shake my head. “No. It was the inuksuk.”
WHEN I ARRIVE at the beach on Craig’s last day before he leaves the valley to go to school, I find him building an inuksuk in the clearing under the trees where I first sat with Jon, and where Craig and I have been having our discussions. It’s by far the tallest inuksuk on the beach. On each of the outstretched arms there is a small rock balanced. I laugh when I see it.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“This is my farewell gift to you,” he says. “And something to help you remember me.”
“As if I could forget you!” I tell him.
“We’re going to
have a little pagan ceremony too,” he tells me.
“We are?” I was ready to read and talk about pagan ceremonies, but I’m not so sure about participating in one.
Craig balances small candles on various points of the inuksuk’s body. He strikes a match and lights them. Then he motions for me to step closer. He takes one of my hands and then rests his other hand on the arm of the inuksuk. He nods at the inuksuk’s other hand, indicating that I should do the same.
I do and then smile at Craig, feeling silly. He smiles back. “Are you ready?” he asks.
“I guess so.”
“Okay, then.” He clears his throat. “We have created a circle,” he says, his voice full of authority, “that includes Celeste, myself and this inuksuk. It’s a circle rich in symbolism.”
The words sound rehearsed.
“First,” he continues, “this circle represents our strong bond of friendship. It was the inuksuk that brought us together, and we give thanks to it for that gift.”
He pauses, and I find myself silently thanking the inuksuk for Craig. Then I wonder if that makes me a pagan.
“Secondly,” he says, “the inuksuk represents strength, and this strength will keep our friendship strong until we meet again.” He squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back.
“Thirdly,” Craig says, “the inuksuk represents respect, and I built this one to show my respect to our friendship.” He smiles down on me, and I find I have to blink back tears.
“Finally, this inuksuk represents the ancient inukuk, the one that pointed people in the right direction, and I give thanks to it, and to Celeste, for helping me find my own direction.
“The balanced rocks that sit on the inuksuk,” he continues, “represent the balance we strive to find in our lives. Life is fragile, just like the balanced rocks, but they help us remember that anything is possible.”
Craig squeezes my hand again and smiles at me. I smile back.
“Is that it?” I ask quietly.
He nods but doesn’t let go of my hand. We stand quietly for a moment, thinking about the inuksuk. I also think about all the new ideas Craig has offered me, and I give a silent prayer of thanks for that.
Finally Craig steps back and lets go of my hand. My first pagan ceremony wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be.
Sister Wife Page 19
