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Shattered Dreams

Page 18

by Irene Spencer


  I was perplexed. Why were Verlan’s dreams from God, but mine were not? I’d dreamt hundreds of times that we were making love, and Verlan had never once thought those dreams were inspired. Still, I was overjoyed about his change of heart.

  WE KNEW NOTHING ABOUT ovulation. My periods were supremely reliable; I had one every twenty-six days.

  After the night Verlan had his glorious dream and we’d finally made love again, my very next period went missing in action. I couldn’t believe it. Why, I would even repent and be willing to wash out my dirty rags if God would just let me have fun and try a few more times before I actually conceived the “beautiful, dark-haired baby” Verlan saw in his dream. I wondered if God loved me at all, since he never let me do a thing I wanted.

  This is how it went for me throughout my childbearing years. During many of them, Verlan worked in the States and wrote me between visits home. I was so fertile, I once warned him not to write me anymore because I thought I might just be able to get pregnant through the mail.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Verlan’s cheese-making business at Terrenates was short-lived. In case I had any problems with my second pregnancy, he decided to move his family back to the LeBaron ranch, where I would be closer to Dr. Hatch. So Charlotte and I moved back into our three-room house.

  We resumed our Sunday visits to Spencerville. I just knew Verlan was trying to kill two birds with one stone by taking us over there. Yes, one bird was Sunday worship, but the other bird was Lucy Spencer—now eighteen, attractive, and getting very serious about Verlan. I was five months pregnant, unfulfilled, and overwhelmed with loneliness. And I could see the inevitable unfolding before my eyes.

  The thought of sharing Verlan with Lucy sexually tore me to pieces. Her testimony of the gospel and her sweet attitude didn’t change my feelings one bit. Nor did the horrible fate that had befallen jealous Lucinda have an impact on me anymore. I was coming unglued.

  Lucy bragged that she had loved Verlan since she was twelve, and I feared this might give him reason to love her more than he loved me. Such thoughts were driving me mad. I cried to God that it wasn’t fair. She’d get the sex I was starving for. I even tried to change Verlan’s mind. “Can’t we settle on just two wives?” I’d ask. “Isn’t that living the Principle?”

  “Heavens, no!” he said. “The LDS apostle Heber C. Kimball had forty-five wives! Think of the glory he’s going to have!”

  I tried to count my blessings. Maybe three wives wouldn’t be all that bad, especially considering we had an eternal kingdom to build. I supposed I would have to give in on that score alone. Besides, I couldn’t let Lucy be counted worthier than me. I would obey.

  Still, I felt insulted by the whole affair. In addition to inspiring such animal jealousy in me, Verlan’s desire to marry Lucy hurt my pride. I hoped, and dared to assume, I’d be the one to fully satisfy him, the woman he would not be able to live without. Why did he need anyone else with me around? But Verlan never even seemed to consider that possibility. He was always aimed at glory, and glory required lots of wives.

  I felt like I had love to give, but no one to give it to. So I set my sights on my baby. It would love me unconditionally. I’d be able to hug, caress, and lavish kisses on it. I couldn’t wait to have it.

  At around this time, by the way, I began to see Charlotte in a very different light. How had she been able to let me marry her husband? Was she more converted than I? As difficult as Charlotte was at times, I knew I’d never felt the same kind and intensity of jealousy toward her I now felt toward Lucy. It didn’t seem I had a right to. Now I began to compare the way Charlotte treated me with the way I would treat my rival. Though I’d felt her vibes of resentment many times, Charlotte never said a mean word to me. In fact, she’d often been supportive of me. As I looked back on it, I especially marveled at her ability to make me that new nightgown and send it off with Verlan for my wedding night. If I knew anything at all, I knew I’d never make Lucy a nightgown in which to sleep with my husband.

  On the other hand, maybe I should. Then I could put a ten-pound padlock on the bottom of it.

  IT WAS MY WEEK to do the cooking. Verlan put his arm lovingly around me while he watched me at the woodstove. I was frying up some beans with a little onion and oil in them to give them a better flavor. “Mash them good before you add the cheese,” he said. “I’m starved.”

  A warm May sun shone through our ragged screen door. He held me close, kissing my neck and face. We would have a few more stolen minutes alone before Charlotte would be back from Delfina’s to eat lunch.

  “Knock, knock.” At the sound of Lucy’s voice, Verlan spun around like he’d been caught doing something naughty. I could tell Lucy had something up her sleeve by the way she approached us. She looked uneasily at me; then she said directly to Verlan, “Can I speak to you in private?”

  “Yes,” he said, waving her toward Charlotte’s bedroom.

  My foot was in the door before he could close it. “Oh, no you don’t,” I said, boiling with anger. I looked Lucy straight in the eyes. “If you have something to say to my husband, say it right here in front of me.”

  Verlan laughed, embarrassed by my uncomely reaction. He glared at me, hoping to prevent a scene. “Please, Irene, she only wants to talk to me for a minute.” He pushed the door against my foot, hoping I would leave them alone.

  But I shoved the door almost open, looking defiantly at Lucy. “Whatever it is, say it!” I commanded her. Lucy looked helplessly at Verlan. “Go ahead,” I said. “If it’s that important, let’s hear it.”

  “Well . . .” She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “If you want it this way . . . twenty-eight of our fundamentalist friends from Utah arrived at our home early this morning.” She paused and glanced over at me, seeming to question whether I really wanted to hear the rest. When I didn’t stop her, she turned back to Verlan and continued. “There are six carloads of them. They’re all on their way to a conference in Ozumba. Mother and I talked to Uncle Rulon. He consented to perform our marriage at 3 o’clock this afternoon. I just wanted to make sure you’d be there.”

  This bombshell rendered me speechless. Tears blinded my eyes. Wanting it not to be true, wanting to step out of this scene and forget it happened, I went back to the stove and took my rage out on the beans. I mashed them like I’d never mashed beans before, crying all the while.

  I knew Verlan was as surprised as I, but he still managed to walk her back to the door and promise, “We’ll be there.” Lucy hesitated and then wisely chose not to tell me good-bye.

  Not caring if Lucy overheard me, I screamed at Verlan the moment she walked away. “You may be there, but I’ll never go to your damn wedding!” I threw the masher on the cement floor, splattering beans in all directions, and then ran into my room. I slammed the door behind me and fell facedown onto the bed. Verlan followed, trying to pull me close, to comfort me, but I fought him off. “Don’t you touch me!” I ordered. “If you marry your true love, you’ll never see me again!”

  “Please don’t be upset with me!” he pleaded. “I didn’t know this was going to happen today.”

  “I won’t go, Verlan. I won’t ever give you another wife! God will have to send me to Hell. I won’t do it! I promise.” I sobbed hysterically.

  “Irene, this is a part of the gospel. God requires it. It’s securing your salvation. Please, if you won’t do it for that reason, then do it for me. Please, Irene. You should be glad she wants to be a part of our family. It’s a sacrifice for Lucy, too.”

  “Oh, yes!” I blurted out. “It’ll be a big sacrifice for her to make love to my husband!”

  “Shh-shh,” he whispered, trying to quiet me down. We could now hear Charlotte moving around out in the kitchen.

  “Get out of my room,” I ordered.

  Verlan was distraught. He grabbed me tighter. I stopped fighting him when I realized he was crying, too. We clung together, sobbing in each other’s arms. Finally he spoke. “Irene, thi
s is hard on me, too. Don’t think it doesn’t tear me up to see you unhappy. I’d never do it if God hadn’t commanded it.” He sighed. “I can’t even keep two wives content, let alone three.” He looked at his watch. He’d have to be at Lucy’s in less than two hours, and he still had to break the news to Charlotte.

  I heard a car stop near the house, and I suspected it was probably someone I knew from Utah. I was mortified. I couldn’t let one of those faithful saints see me crying, not for the reason I was crying. I had to be strong. If any of them saw how upset I was, they might think I wasn’t celestial material. Aunt Athlene knocked on the outside door to my bedroom. “Irene, can I talk to you?” she called in through the screen.

  Aunt Athlene was one of Uncle Rulon’s wives. Maybe she would understand how I felt. I begged her to forgive me for the condition she’d found me in. She put her arms around my pregnant body, holding me like a child while I wept unashamedly.

  Eventually Aunt Athlene said to me, “The Bible says that obedience is better than sacrifice. Go, Irene. Be brave. Minister unto your husband. He’ll love you more if you willingly give Lucy to him. Sure, it’s hard, but be strong. By doing it, you’ll receive a celestial glory.” She kissed me lovingly, moving my rumpled golden hair out of my face. “He can’t help but love you more,” she promised. “Don’t let him down!” She hugged me again. “I’m depending on you being ready to go in an hour, okay?”

  I politely heard her out; then I watched her drive off. I respected her too much to let her know I was filled with the Devil. As soon as I was certain she’d gone, I threw myself back onto my bed and rolled back and forth, weeping uncontrollably. Out loud, I said, “I won’t go . . . I won’t go . . . I won’t go! If I do, then the hosts of Heaven will have to drag me there!” By now I was trembling and weak from all the crying.

  When Aunt Athlene returned to take us to Lucy’s wedding, Charlotte obediently got in the car. Verlan rushed into my bedroom one final time and begged me, “Please, Irene, let’s go! Do it for me.”

  I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. “I won’t be a part of it. You can’t pay me to go,” I said. Verlan knew I meant it. He walked out, subdued.

  I listened to make sure they’d driven away. Then I screamed and beat the bed. I could imagine what people would say about me. “Irene doesn’t have it in her.” “She’s too jealous, no spirit of the Lord in her.” I would be condemned all around. Uncle Rulon might even think I’d reneged on my promise. These thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. A man’s voice asked, “May I come in?”

  “If you want to,” I said, humiliated that a stranger overheard my tantrum.

  The man came in and sat on the bed next to my heaving body. He patted my back and said, “Irene, you don’t know me. I’m Wayne, a friend of the Spencers’ from Utah. I was on my way to your ranch when I ran into Verlan. He sent me back to get you. Please come. You’ll always regret it if you don’t.”

  This was surely my last chance to obey God. If I refused now, I might as well forget about godhood. At best, I’d end up an angel. The thought of serving Verlan, Charlotte, and Lucy for eternity disgraced me more than showing up at the wedding red-faced and swollen-eyed.

  I grabbed a washcloth, wetting it in cold water from the pump. Then I climbed into Wayne’s car and leaned back in the front seat beside him, covering my swollen eyes. I would attend my husband’s wedding, but when it was over, he would still have only two wives, because he could count me out. At least this is the thought that got me to the Spencers’ without further tears.

  As soon as we drove up, Verlan snatched open the car door and practically sang to me in his relief, “Irene, I love you so much for this. I knew you’d come through for me.” He rushed me over a wooden bridge and past a grape arbor as he prompted, “Hurry, they’re waiting for us.”

  We ducked to avoid hitting our heads on a door frame as we entered a cubical where a small group impatiently awaited us. Uncle Rulon nodded, and then he folded his hands in front of him. Looking very dignified, he spoke with caution. “We are keeping this marriage a secret. Only Wayne and these few people here in this room know that such a sacred covenant is taking place.” He nodded toward Athlene. “I’ve allowed my wife and Lucy’s mother to be here.” He looked at Verlan for approval. “So, with the consent of you four (meaning Verlan, Charlotte, Lucy, and me), we’ll proceed.”

  Uncle Rulon told Verlan to step forward. He placed Charlotte on Verlan’s left, me on Charlotte’s left, and Lucy next to me. I kept my face pointed toward the floor. Everyone there knew how upset I was. Uncle Rulon began, looking right at me: “Sister LeBaron, do you take Lucy by the right hand and give her unto your husband?”

  Screaming inside, I blocked out the words. The silence grew embarrassing. Charlotte nudged me softly with her elbow. Unwilling to answer, I nudged her back.

  Uncle Rulon cleared his throat and asked firmly a second time, “Sister LeBaron, do you take Lucy by the right hand and give her unto your husband?”

  Nothing came out of my mouth. If I placed her hand in his, I knew, I’d be giving them permission to . . .

  Annoyed, Verlan whispered, “Irene, it’s you he’s talking to.”

  Uncle Rulon was perturbed. He tried again, and this time he got personal. “Sister Irene, do you take Lucy by the right hand . . .”

  I reached over, grabbed her hand, and threw it in his. Everyone but me relaxed then, and the ceremony proceeded. I couldn’t hear anything being said. An avalanche of tears fell again as my mind went wild.

  “Before God, angels, and these witnesses . . .” said Uncle Rulon. I caught that word “angels.” Like all Mormon weddings, this one was taking place before a captive host of enslaved, eternally lonely angels. That prospect certainly got my attention. “. . . I pronounce you legally and lawfully husband and wife.” He paused and flashed Verlan a satisfied smile. “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Verlan kissed Lucy (it’s a good thing I didn’t have a baseball bat). Then he kissed Charlotte. I flew out the door before he could even think of kissing me. I ran to the small orchard south of the house, tears blinding my way. I sat in the low branches of a small pear tree and wept as never before. I didn’t have my family. I was only eighteen. I’d lost my baby. Verlan was all I had, and now Lucy was taking him away from me, too. Hoping to find some comfort, I lay back in the branches of the tree. When the fetus moved within me, I wondered if it was feeling my sorrow.

  I watched as Verlan hunted for me in the goat pen. Next he checked the chicken coop. Then he opened the door to the adobe room where Aunt Sylvia kept her canning jars filled with treasured fruits and vegetables. I could tell he was getting concerned. But he finally glanced toward the orchard and saw my sobbing body prostrate in the branches of the pear tree. Without a word, he lifted me out and walked me to the car. I didn’t speak to him or to Charlotte the whole five miles home. I wasn’t speaking to God, either. I was mad at him, too.

  Verlan tried in vain to console me. “I left Lucy at her mother’s. I’m not even going to sleep with her tonight.” He said it like it was a great sacrifice he was making just for me. “And tomorrow we’ll be traveling in separate cars. We’ll meet in Chihuahua so no one will suspect our marriage.”

  I was too angry to answer. Whether he slept with her tonight or tomorrow night wasn’t the point. I didn’t want him sleeping with her ever. Period.

  “Irene, Lucy has to sacrifice, too. She feels bad. Try to understand. This is her wedding day, and she can’t even share it with me.”

  I was glad it was Charlotte’s night to have Verlan. I was too full of rage not to take it out on him. He tried kissing me good night before he retired to her room, but I flipped my face around. “Your lips will never touch mine again. Ever!” I informed him.

  He shook his head and sighed. “I can’t figure you out. Why are you so upset? I’m just building up my kingdom. Women born under the Principle shouldn’t act like this.” He left, bewildered.

  A short time l
ater, I felt him slip into bed beside me. “Charlotte figured you needed me worse, so I’m here to spend the night with you,” he said. “See, when you do what’s right, you get a little extra.”

  That did it. I tried to get out of the bed, but Verlan grabbed me and forced me to lie back down. “Please, Irene, listen to me.”

  “I mean it, Verlan,” I raved between sobs. “If you sleep with Lucy, I promise, I’ll leave you! You’ll never see me again.” I knew I wasn’t playing the game right, and Verlan didn’t know how to handle a hysterical wife. Furthermore, he felt guilty for not sleeping with Lucy on her wedding night. Would she ever forgive him? Would she cause him even more problems than he already had? He took me in his arms, and we spent Lucy’s wedding night crying ourselves to sleep.

  Across the way, by the light of a dim lamp, Charlotte quietly packed several changes of her own clothing so that Lucy would look appropriate for her honeymoon. The Spencers had lived in dire poverty since their arrival in Mexico. Verlan couldn’t tell Lucy her navy satin dress with the bustle was outdated and ugly.

  The next morning, I watched with bitterness as Verlan packed his suitcase. He folded two shirts and then tucked clean underwear beneath them. He had to go to Charlotte’s room for his blue slacks and clean socks. He brought these back and silently placed each article into his bag.

  At one point he paused and looked at me questioningly. Then he reached under my pillow for his pajamas. “Oh, no you don’t!” I snapped, jerking them out of his hands. “These are my pajamas!”

  “Loan them to me,” he implored. “They’re really mine anyway. I just let you keep them in your room.”

  “You’ll never sleep with another woman with these on,” I said, clutching them to my breast.

  Looking just as spitefully at me as I looked at him, he said, “Then I’ll just sleep without them!”

  AT AROUND NOON three days later, I was busy hanging clothes on the outside line to dry when I spied Verlan cutting through the mesquites, his suitcase in hand, returning from his honeymoon. I quickly took the enamel pan of wet clothes back into the house. Without saying a word to Charlotte, I locked myself in my bedroom. I heard Verlan greet Charlotte when he came in. “How did Irene take things?” he asked her.

 

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