Shattered Dreams

by Irene Spencer

  “Better than expected,” she replied.

  I was furious. Charlotte and I never discussed the matter the whole time Verlan was gone. Now, here they both were trying to figure me out. If Verlan wanted to know how I was doing, he should just ask me. Of course, he’d have to be prepared to catch hell if he did.

  I could see a butter knife moving under the wire latch on the door. Verlan was trying to get into my room. For several minutes, I kept him from it. It was only for fear of driving him back into Lucy’s arms that I relented in the end. As I flipped the latch open, he took me in his arms and said, “I love you. You’re so beautiful. Nobody could ever take your place.”

  “How could you say that? You just got off your honeymoon!”

  “I left Lucy at her mother’s,” he said sheepishly, “just for you. She wanted to come home with me and move right in to be a part of the family, but I decided to wait until you feel good about it first.”

  He’d thrown open the door to my indignation. “I’ll never feel good about it, Verlan.” I said. “Don’t you dare bring her here. Ever! You hear? Never!”

  Verlan cringed. “Oh, no. You’ll never make it to Heaven with that attitude.”

  “Good. I don’t want her around now, let alone throughout eternity! Don’t you ever mention her name to me again. She may be your wife, but she certainly isn’t mine!”

  I watched him closely for the next three days, following him everywhere—to see his brothers, to the fields. I was determined not to give him a chance to sneak off to the Spencers’ to see Lucy again. I lived in dread of that fateful moment.

  On the third day, I came upon him shaving at the washstand in the kitchen. I watched as he held his mouth open, cutting his whiskers away. He saw me watching, but he didn’t want any trouble, so he shaved on in silence. I was sick inside. I knew what he was up to, but I asked the question anyway. “Who are you getting all cleaned up for?”

  “I’m going to catch a ride to go see Lucy,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I couldn’t hold in the tears. “You didn’t see me for a week after we got married. It’s only been three days since you married Lucy! Can’t you live without her?” I stomped my feet in a rage.

  Then he had the nerve to say, “You don’t want me to treat her like I did you, do you? Besides, the circumstances are different. I feel she needs me.”

  “I need you, too!” I screamed out. “I’m four months pregnant. It’s not fair! Please don’t go!”

  He changed his shirt, ignoring my pleas. Then he darted through the mesquites to the main road, where he could thumb a ride to Spencerville.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Three or four weeks after Verlan married Lucy, he announced that he and Charlotte were going to the States for two weeks to visit Aunt Rhea. He wanted me to tend her kids, Verlan Jr. And fifteen-month-old Rhea. I agreed willingly until he told me he wanted Lucy to come and stay with me so I wouldn’t be alone. I flatly refused to let her into my house.

  “Please, do it for me. I’ll love you! She feels bad ’cause you don’t like her anymore. It’s even worse now that you’ve quit going up to her mother’s for Sunday meetings. I worry about you being here all alone. Please, Irene, do it for me.”

  I tried to fight my jealousy, but it was no use. “No! That woman will never live one day with me,” I said.

  Still, after Verlan told me how he needed and depended on me, I just couldn’t let him down. “Please, do it for me,” he said again and again. He knew just how to get to me. I finally gave in, but I made sure he knew I wasn’t accepting her. She was his, not mine. I still hated her.

  By the time Lucy showed up, Verlan had thoroughly warned her about my temper and coached her on exactly what she shouldn’t say to me. He’d told her not to mention their marriage, their honey-moon, and for heaven’s sake, she should never admit to being pregnant. He had a hard enough time getting this far with me. He accomplished it only because I loved him. Since I had no love at all for her, he thought that if I knew she was having his baby, I just might give in to the Devil’s tempting and beat her up.

  Lucy spent the first day with me in silence—cleaning beans and doing other household chores, but mostly just staying out of my way. As I observed her walking around my house, my anger boiled. Still, I had to admit that she was a nice girl. I also concluded that I stacked up well against her. Even if she had loved Verlan since she was twelve, I was eleven months her junior. That made me Verlan’s youngest wife.

  I was plenty nervous about sleeping alone, with no man in the house to protect us, but I wasn’t about to let Lucy into my bed. That was the only private thing I had. I’d been forced to share my husband and even his pajamas, but I’d be damned before I’d ever let another wife into my bed. So Lucy slept in Charlotte’s bedroom and tended her two young children.

  On the second morning, I decided to be up front with Lucy. She knew I was mad, so why not tell her exactly how I felt? Maybe if she knew how bad I really hurt, she’d forget any ideas she might have about moving in with me. I started in on her, but before I could get very far, I broke down and cried. Oddly, this freed us to talk about almost everything I was struggling with regarding her—everything except sex. I couldn’t deal with that. I would never accept her and Verlan having sex, and I certainly didn’t want to hear about it. I just wanted to know one thing: was she keeping the rules?

  During the two weeks she spent with me, Lucy taught me to sew. We tore apart pants once belonging to our late father-in-law, whom I’d never met. She helped me cut out and sew overalls for little Verlan Jr. I made him five pair, improving on each one. We cut all the cloth scraps into small pieces for the outhouse, since toilet paper was a luxury we’d never been able to afford. Before long, I realized we’d developed a bit of a friendship. And once she went back to her mother’s house, I was certain we would become better friends.

  VERLAN AND CHARLOTTE ARRIVED unexpectedly at four in the morning, so Charlotte crawled into her bed with Lucy. Verlan slipped into my bed beside me. He was too excited to sleep, so we talked for the two hours till sunup. He couldn’t have been nicer and more understanding. He let me know I was his main concern, that my happiness came first. But he was going to have to ask a big favor of me: “Just say yes, and I’ll love you forever,” he said.

  “Okay, as long as it doesn’t concern Lucy.”

  There was dead silence. Then he tried again. “Irene, please let Lucy stay here and live with us. I’m her husband, too, and she needs to feel accepted.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “You’re just getting her in here little by little, thinking that I’ll go along with it. I will not live with her! And if you can’t live without her, then find me one room by itself somewhere, and I’ll gladly move out!”

  He shook his head. “Our family needs to become united. Can’t you just start by liking her? You don’t need to love her. Will you let her stay if she promises never to come into your bedroom?”

  “Hell! Where are you going to put her? Damn it! It’s not fair!”

  “Don’t you swear at me, young lady!” he warned.

  I continued. “We only have three rooms. Charlotte has her bedroom; I have mine. Do you want to put her in the kitchen? Verlan, you know that we use that room to sew, make quilts, shuck corn, and clean beans. On cold days, we scrub our dirty clothes in there.”

  “Please, Irene, I’ll love you forever.” He lavished kisses on me, as usual, hoping his affection would change my feelings. It didn’t, but I gave in anyway. The polygamous gospel demanded my strict obedience. Still, I made it clear I was only doing this for him. He was never to bring her into my room, or they would both be sorry.

  Verlan knew he’d have hell to pay if he called those two hours he’d spent with me “my night.” So early that morning he announced that he’d spend that night with me, the next night with Lucy, and the third night with Charlotte. After that, each of us would have every third night. He’d be fair, show no favoritism. Of course, favoritism was exactly wha
t each of us wanted, but we went along for the sake of “unity” and so Verlan would love us better and we might win some favoritism from him after all. As angry as they’d made me, I remembered his recent words to me: “See, when you do what’s right, you get a little extra.”

  IGNORING OUR DEAL, VERLAN tried to persuade me to sleep with Charlotte so he and Lucy could use my bed on her night with him. I couldn’t believe it. I broke into tears at such a contemptible idea. “You won’t desecrate my bed with that woman in it,” I yelled.

  “Shh-shh,” he said. He knew he’d pushed me too far. “Then will you let Charlotte sleep with you?” he asked.

  We had no sofa, and we used the kitchen as our main living quarters. Just as I’d said, there was nowhere else for them to go. I truly wanted to be a good wife, so after I told Verlan exactly how I felt about it, I gave in as I always did. It was certainly the lesser of the two evils Verlan gave me to choose between. It was settled. Charlotte would sleep with me on Lucy’s night, and Lucy would sleep with me on Charlotte’s.

  A WEEK BEFORE LEAH’S first birthday, Verlan surprised me with a sack of cement. He took an oblong wooden soapbox, lined it with heavy paper, and placed two empty, quart-sized juice cans in the upper corners to create a sculptured design. Then he poured in the wet cement and wrote LEAH LEBARON—BORN AUGUST 7, 1954 AND DIED AUGUST 7, 1954. When it dried solid, he removed the box and the cans. We now had a headstone for her grave.

  On the anniversary of her birth, Verlan took me to the grave I’d never seen. We carefully measured the distance from each wall to make sure we marked the right one, but we felt pretty confident, since all those nearby already had Catholic crosses on them.

  While Verlan dug into the mound and planted the marker halfway into the dirt, I recalled the surprise and horror of losing our first child, our precious baby girl. Grief surged through me as the tears streaked my cheeks. Verlan pulled me to him. “Irene, I know how bad you feel. I’d have given anything to be able to raise her, too.” He patted my big, seven-months pregnant stomach. “Cheer up, honey. Maybe God will give us another little girl.”

  Over the years, whenever he was away from us on Leah’s birthday, Verlan always sent me a sweet note expressing his regrets. She was the first of five babies he lost, and I don’t believe he ever completely recovered from the trauma of her death.

  ON OCTOBER 6, 1955, I awoke with such violent pain, Verlan had to help me out of bed. I felt like bearing down, but I was frantic to get some medical attention first. Because of the potholes in the dirt roads, it would take at least two hours for someone to go get the doctor from El Valle and bring him back to the ranch. Verlan told Lucy, who was three months pregnant by this point, to hurry but not run for help. She rushed a half-mile through the mesquites and across the gravel highway to Homer Babbitt’s house. Since Alma was away in his truck at the time, Homer had the only available transportation in the vicinity. He drove Lucy into town to fetch the doctor.

  I stood crying at Charlotte’s bedroom door. “Help me, Charlotte. I can’t take this for twelve hours again!” The memories of my first delivery still frightened me terribly.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Don’t worry. It will soon be over.” Taking one look at me, she added, “My goodness, you look like you’re in the last stages.” She quickly threw a plastic cover over the mattress and tucked clean sheets into place to prepare the bed for delivery.

  But Charlotte was also pregnant; she was due in just three weeks. Verlan was worried that she might start premature labor if she helped me with my birth, so he sent her to wait it out at a neighbor’s house.

  We asked Verlan’s Aunt Annie to be the midwife in case I delivered before the doctor arrived, and she just happened to be at the ranch that night, visiting. Aunt Annie had never actually delivered a baby before. When she got there, she went around wringing her hands and wiping them on her apron, looking more upset than I was as I lay there on the bed, bearing down every few minutes. Aunt Annie kept me covered with the sheet. Each time I bore down, she cried out and moaned as if she felt the pains herself. I grabbed her hand with one of mine and Verlan’s with the other. I bore down again and again. Each time, she’d turn her head to one side and grimace.

  Verlan asked her, “How’re we doing?” She could hardly bear to look but forced herself to peek under the sheet. He was getting exasperated. “Here, let me do it,” he said. He took one look, exclaimed, “My golly, it’s here!” and jerked the sheet to one side.

  Looking as if she was about to faint, Aunt Annie freed herself from my grasp. She pushed her glasses back onto her nose, then mopped up her sweating brow with her apron. “Irene, don’t have it yet. Wait for the doctor. Please . . . oh, heavens, it’s coming out!” she sputtered.

  Verlan took both my hands, and I pushed again. My water broke. Covering her face now, Aunt Annie peered out through her fingers and saw the baby’s head beginning to crown. She screamed out, “Wait, Irene, wait! The baby is too big! Oh, please God, do something, quick!” she wailed, flopping down on the bed next to me.

  Verlan could see she was too upset to be of any help. And he knew the doctor would never make it, either. Since he had been present at both of Charlotte’s deliveries, he figured he could handle things himself in a pinch. He ordered Aunt Annie to get up and get down to the foot of the bed. Then he handed her an open bottle of olive oil. He shoved two pillows under my shoulders so that I was almost sitting up. I bore down again, and the head really did begin to crown this time. Verlan yelled at Aunt Annie to pour the oil freely on the bulging head so I wouldn’t tear.

  I panted, and Aunt Annie shrieked, “Stop it! Stop it!”

  Verlan took me in his arms. “Don’t listen to her,” he whispered. “You push, and I’ll push, okay?” He quickly shoved his folded hankie between my teeth. “Bite this, and give one big push!”

  Well, I went wild. I spit out the hankie and bit Verlan on the shoulder. He screamed, and out popped the baby’s head! One more push, and it was all over. I now had a beautiful baby girl.

  When Verlan saw her dark hair, he teased, “I guess I’ll have to fire Pancho [the young Mexican who chopped our wood].”

  Aunt Annie’s nerves were shot. She sat in the rocking chair and cried, “You take over, Verlan. I can’t cut the cord. Oh my.” She held her head in her hands. “Stop that little thing from crying!” She slumped down in the chair with her head on the back of the rocker. “Irene, you had no right to do this to me,” she whimpered.

  I looked at the precious baby on my tummy. I asked Verlan to show me his watch. I delivered her fifty minutes after my very first pain. Maybe having babies wasn’t too horrible after all.

  Verlan looked at the time. “Too bad you didn’t wait five more minutes. She’d have been born on your sister Donna’s birthday.”

  “I’m naming her Donna anyway,” I said. “She’ll be glad to have a namesake.”

  Verlan left me with Auntie Annie just long enough to run next door to get Charlotte. He needed her help now. The two of them cleaned and dressed the baby.

  Lucy came in about that time with the town doctor. They’d missed the delivery by twenty minutes. I still couldn’t understand much Spanish, but I caught the gist of what was being said. Doctor Ramirez was amazed to see Verlan with three wives living in the same house. Why, his wife would not only kill him, she’d kill the other women as well. She had almost gone out of her mind when she recently surmised he had a mistress. Before he left, Verlan paid him ten dollars for checking the afterbirth and seeing that I was okay.

  After the doctor left, Verlan offered to pay Aunt Annie as well. But she gestured no with her hands. “However, I do think you should pay Irene. Anyone that brave deserves twenty dollars.”

  I had to agree, except I thought my bravery was worth lots more than twenty bucks.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Verlan’s mother, Maud, gave him her three small adobe houses at the LeBaron ranch for an early inheritance. She was thrilled Verlan was so courage
ous and diligent in his pursuit of polygamy, and she was willing to rankle older brothers Alma and Ervil in order to demonstrate her approval. She also figured that since Verlan’s family was growing so fast, we needed all the help we could get.

  Since the cold winter months were almost upon us, Verlan insisted on moving us immediately. Donna was only two weeks old. He had to get all three wives settled into the first house fast. We could keep warmer together, using Charlotte’s wood cooking stove for heat. The house only had two bedrooms, so I agreed with great reluctance that Lucy could share my bedroom, but only because I had Verlan’s promise that I could live alone in the second house as soon as he could afford to fix it up.

  On one of our first days there, the wind blew so steadily and strong, the stovepipes flew off the house and out across the yard. After it happened the second time, Verlan tied them to the corner of the roof with bailing wire. The storm raged on. During the night, I was huddled next to Lucy with little Donna tucked in between us. I had no crib, so I had to sleep lightly, on constant guard so I didn’t roll over on her.

  The wind moaned for hours, making sleep almost impossible. Earlier in the evening I secured gunnysacks as tightly as I could over the window frames. We had no glass in the windows at all. The wind blew so violently, the bailing wire could not keep the metal stovepipes from coming loose and flying off the roof again. The gusts also loosened the sacks covering the window frames. The room was unbearably cold. I could hear the sacks flapping as they beat time in the wind. I got up and tried to light the coal oil lamp, but the matches blew out faster than I could strike them.

  The chill went throughout my whole body, causing my teeth to chatter uncontrollably. I slipped on my shoes and felt my way down the dark hall, gliding my hand along the cold adobe wall until I felt Charlotte’s bedroom door. “Verlan!” I called, sorry I had to interrupt Charlotte’s night. “Please come and help me. I need you! Hurry!”