I’d been begging for a vacation ever since Dr. Martinez prescribed it. This would be my chance. I desperately needed a few days’ rest. My need was so urgent, I decided to attend my own husband’s wedding to get it met.
Verlan planned to go straight there from San Diego. Harold Tippetts gladly offered to drive me in his big green commercial truck, but he explained, “You’ll have to ride the twenty hours in the back with all the other members who are going to the conference.”
I fought morning sickness as the truck jolted along the dirt roads. With eighteen others all crowded together, I kept to the very back to relieve my claustrophobia and be where I could throw up. I was so glad when that trip was over. I gratefully showered at my mother-in-law’s house once we got to Colonia LeBaron. Then I flopped wearily into bed. Verlan arrived the following morning, as planned. Preparations were made for him to marry Susan two days later, right after the last service of Sunday conference.
In the meantime, I didn’t get to see much of him because he had to attend so many meetings. Though he slept with me, he was up by 6 A.M. And didn’t get back in bed till past midnight. I’d looked forward to spending time with him, but if I wanted to see him, it was either at conference meetings or after he’d fallen asleep. So at night I’d lie quietly and watch him sleep, as I’d done so many other times over the years. It was a sad ritual only a plural wife can really comprehend.
Early Sunday morning, Verlan told me to wash out two changes of his clothes and repack his suitcase. With his briefcase in hand, he came back to where I was still in bed. “I want to leave tonight, immediately after the wedding. Irene, I sure love and appreciate you. I’ll see you tonight.” And out the door he went.
I heard Susan would be wearing a traditional white wedding gown she had borrowed from someone. Verlan had his usual gray suit. I only had one good dress that still fit at all—a red and black checkered cotton sack dress I’d selected from the cast-off clothes Verlan hauled home from Vegas. I was pregnant with my eleventh child, and my tummy bulged at the buttons down the front of my dress, but I would try and remember to hold it in during the ceremony.
I tried not to think selfish thoughts. For months, I’d been begging Verlan for some desperately needed maternity clothes. I knew the money Verlan would spend on his honeymoon with Susan could dress me like a queen. I felt sick and out of place in my cheap, ill-fitting outfit. Imagine, not having a decent thing to wear to my own husband’s wedding! Under the circumstances, such thoughts hardly even made me smile.
Verlan was now president of the Church of the Firstborn. That’s why most of his family and friends at the conference heard about his impending marriage to Susan. Several of them shook my hand, congratulating me on my “sister wife-to-be.” Enviously, an elderly brother, Joseph Parson, said to me, “How lucky you are! Why, she’ll be a beautiful flower in Verlan’s heavenly bouquet.”
I thought a cactus might describe her better. But I had to guard Verlan’s image; it was required of me. I hung an artificial smile on my face and endeavored to set a good example for the other women.
During the closing hymn of conference, I gave myself a good talking to. “Don’t goof things up for him! For heaven’s sake, don’t cry! And no matter what, stay until the reception is over.”
I hadn’t given Verlan a wife for fourteen years, since Lucy. And that was a catastrophe. Since that time, he’d married his two Mexican wives, Beverly and Esther. I wasn’t present for either of them, though I’d given my consent (after a fashion).
Maybe God would forgive me for the terrible way I acted at Lucy’s wedding if I willingly gave Susan to Verlan. Yes, I was sure this would make up for it. Back then, I was devastated and brokenhearted, but I at least had a little comfort knowing Lucy probably wouldn’t get any sex except for procreation purposes. I shook my head regretfully. I was the one who convinced Verlan to fulfill my sexual needs. I looked at fifteen-year-old Susan, a mere child, and I shuddered. Was I ready to give her to my husband so he could fulfill hers?
I thanked God. At least Susan was pretty and smart. Every other man in the group would have given his eyeteeth to have her. I tried warming to Verlan’s new marriage by recognizing that Susan would put him just one wife away from that quorum of seven he’d always wanted.
I needed someone to hold my hand through this trial, so I went to get my good friend Linda, who was the town midwife. We hurried down the gravel road toward the Wakehams’ home, where the wedding was to be held. I was surprised at the large living room. It was about twenty by thirty feet, with an extended area that opened into an even larger kitchen. It would accommodate fifty to seventy guests if we crowded close together.
By this time, it was well known that Colonia LeBaron was a polygamous community, and the LeBarons were openly proclaiming polygamy as a tenet of their religion. No one worried about the law interfering, because the Mexican officials only intervened if a person involved in it made an accusation of wrongdoing. That’s why all of Verlan’s wives after me got to invite guests to their weddings and otherwise do all the same things any other bride and groom did on their wedding day. None of them had to slink around, looking for a secluded park to be married in or hide her marriage from everyone she loved.
Linda sat down on the first wooden chair of many lining the walls for guests. I was far too nervous to sit, so I stood beside her. Verlan came in and started greeting the approving guests. He peered around the room, searching for me or for Linda (because he knew I’d be with her). As soon as he pinpointed her, he hurried over and sat for one brief moment in the chair next to her. Leaning toward me, he whispered, “Susan is around the back of the house. Her father, Vern, will walk her in on his arm, so you get ready.” He held my hand, seeking reassurance. “Please don’t let me down with all these people watching. Be strong. Come through for me.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise!”
I’d already been to the bathroom twice, but I was very nervous, and being pregnant made it worse. I had to go again. When I was finished, I checked my hair in the mirror. I hadn’t worn mascara on purpose, just in case a tear slipped out. I looked at my pretty reflection and then spoke consolingly to myself. “It’s okay, Irene. Be good.” I took a deep breath; then I turned the doorknob and stepped out into the crowd, prepared to do my religious duty. I held my head high and greeted guests as I obediently walked across the crowded room and took my place beside Verlan in front of the fireplace. He smiled at me approvingly as he nervously shuffled his feet and wrung his hands.
About half the crowd had never witnessed a plural marriage before. The curious and inquisitive guests moved to the sides of the living room, making space for the bride to enter. The air was filled with expectancy. The procession began as the piano intoned “Here Comes the Bride.” Susan appeared, holding the arm of her bald, rotund father, who smiled at Verlan with satisfaction, clearly feeling it an honor and privilege to give his daughter to such an important man. Although our church of about a hundred families never grew very large in all the years it limped along dramatically, those who participated thought it was a gift straight from God, and thus their highest priority. As its president, Verlan was highly esteemed.
In unison and in rhythm to the music, Susan and her father took their halting steps toward us. Her two younger sisters held her train while the beautiful virgin glided along. With her short, platinum blonde hair and white dress, she looked every bit an angel.
Joel officiated. “Do you, Sister Irene, take Susan by the right hand and . . .”
I said, “I do.” Then I placed Susan’s right hand in my husband’s and moved to one side so she could take her rightful place beside him. It was my duty to fade into the background now. Here I was, an intruder again. I reminded myself repeatedly that I was no more than an invited guest at my own husband’s wedding.
I’d done it all perfectly. In a few minutes, it was over. Verlan kissed the bride, and I quickly disappeared into the kitchen. The occasion belonged to Susan. I ke
pt busy serving cake and punch so I wouldn’t have time to think. I joked and smiled with other plural wives and wedding guests, hoping the bride and groom would hurry up and leave so I could, too.
“Come quick if you want a ride,” Verlan said, interrupting my internal conversation. “Susan has gone home to change. I need to go to my mother’s to get my suitcase.” Verlan praised me as we drove the three blocks over there. “Things went well. I appreciate it, Irene. I just hope my other wives will love Susan as you do and make her feel just as much at home.”
Verlan checked his suitcase one final time to make sure I’d packed the change of clothes he asked me to wash. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, picking up a white envelope. He knew it was my handwriting, and it clearly annoyed him.
“I just wanted to say good-bye, that’s all. Who knows when I’ll see you again? Besides, there’s no reason for you to be mad.”
“Well, I’m glad I found it here. I wouldn’t want Susan to see this and think that you’re feeling bad. That might have ruined things for her.”
The dam inside me broke. “Ruin things for her?” I screamed. “Some damn fifteen-year-old . . . punk . . . marries my husband, and I’ve ruined things for her?”
He left before he had to hear any more. I couldn’t believe how furious I was. Plural marriage was supposed to refine me, help eliminate my envy and jealousies. But it wasn’t working out that way at all. The price of godhood was simply too high. If this was any sort of preview of the life to come, I wanted out.
A WEEK LATER, Susan and Verlan returned home from their honeymoon. He left her with me at my house in Ensenada until he could decide where she would live. Having grown up with Verlan’s daughters at Colonia LeBaron, she was excited to see Donna, Laura, and Rhea again. They were her friends. I often felt that part of her decision to marry Verlan was the fact that she would get to be around her girlfriends permanently.
Donna, on the other hand, was not so thrilled with the situation. She confided in me that it seemed weird that her daddy married a close friend who was only two years older than her. “It’s almost as if Daddy has married his own daughter,” she said. She didn’t understand the male perspective that younger wives could be more easily trained to a man’s liking.
The first few days Susan spent with us went well enough. But soon I learned that Verlan bought her some new shoes, while my only pair was all worn out. I was more than jealous; I was downright mad. Then I saw them.
Susan was old enough and wise enough to sense my feelings. She almost cried, explaining to me how Verlan insisted she buy the awful, matronly shoes of his choice rather than some like all the other young girls were wearing. She felt much better after we joked about how men like nothing better than keeping their women barefoot and pregnant.
My heart went out to this child bride because I so powerfully felt her disappointment. I knew she’d basically made her last free choice when she chose to marry my husband. Because of her genuine innocence, I felt a protective love for Susan, a motherly bond of concern. I would never again be jealous of her. She not only won Verlan’s heart, becoming his favorite wife, but she also won mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Morning sickness and inflamed varicose veins in my legs made it impossible for me to care for twenty-six kids a single day longer. Not only was I exhausted, at times I thought I was losing my mind. Love or no love, I resigned.
Verlan didn’t appreciate this at all. He reprimanded me for even thinking such things. Crushed at this lack of understanding, I demanded he move me back to Los Molinos, even if it was into the old, run-down trailer house again. I needed peace, quiet, and a place to rest before my impending delivery. Lucy quit work in San Diego and moved back into the Big Brown House with her seven children. Charlotte took her nine children to live with her in Tijuana.
Verlan decided the best thing to do was to build me a house in Los Molinos. A truck loaded with lumber, drywall, and other materials left Ensenada two hours before we did. I had nine of my ten kids with me, plus I was big and pregnant. We took the bedding, clothing, and utensils we ended up with after giving Lucy and Charlotte their shares and jammed into our camper for the two-and-a-half-hour drive to the Baja colony.
My friend Betty invited us to move into her home. She insisted I not fret about any inconvenience to her and her own seven children. Verlan assured us all it would be only a few days before he finished the small, three-bedroom home for me and the kids. The cement floor had been poured the week before, so Verlan, Verlan Jr., and a friend, Rodolfo Gaytan, worked on it from sunup till near midnight. In just six days, I moved in.
The bathroom had no fixtures, the floors had no carpet or tile, and the walls still needed to be taped and painted. They wired the house, hoping we’d have electric power down the line. Because the children were so noisy and I didn’t want to impose on my friend any longer, I camped in the unfinished house for a week until Verlan returned. He brought a load of used furniture for us he bought at garage sales. A month later, my home was taped and painted on the inside. It had been four and a half years since I had left my new home in the mountains.
I could hardly imagine having three bedrooms for just ten of us. But the flies from the neighbor’s goat pens swarmed in through the screenless windows, and the sand fleas kept us all scratching until we had bloody sores. Then there were the chilly ocean breezes that made it so difficult to dry clothes in the damp air. So it ended up feeling like a LeBaron home after all.
Luckily, I was allowed to take another short vacation to San Diego to visit friends. While I was there, they bought me a pair of navy blue maternity pants and a beautiful red and navy blue smock. These were the first store-bought maternity clothes I ever had. It felt so good—like I belonged to the real world.
When I got home, Verlan rebuked me for wearing pants. He proceeded to buy me the usual two pieces of cloth, which I made into the usual two maternity dresses. But I disobeyed him and wore my pants and blouse as my best outfit. One advantage of his being away so much was that he couldn’t keep close tabs on me.
A COUPLE OF MONTHS LATER, I left my entire brood in Donna’s care while I went to Ensenada to have my eleventh baby. I went a week early, thinking I’d have it in a day or two. Instead, I went thirteen days over my due date. Beverly let me stay with her in the one-bedroom apartment Verlan had built for her as an add-on to the Big Brown House. I enjoyed peace while resting there, but I was very worried about leaving my children for so long. I wondered if they were warm enough at night. The cold, foggy April weather concerned me.
At 5 A.M. on April 10, 1969, a hard contraction suddenly gripped me. I waited, watching the clock to try and time my next contraction. To my surprise, none came. This was new.
At 8 A.M., I had my friend Juna drive me to my sister-in-law Jeannine’s place three blocks away. “Jeannine, would you examine me to see if you think I’ll have this baby today?” I said. “I’ve only had one huge contraction.”
After examining me, she warned, “My golly! You better get the doctor here quick. You’re fully dilated.”
On our way back to the Big Brown House, we stopped at the winery, and Juna ran in to make an emergency call to Dr. Cortez. Before she finished the call, my pains started fast and furious. She told him to come immediately. We rushed back to Beverly’s. I gave instructions as Lucy and Beverly helped Juna prepare my bed for the delivery. I’d only been in labor for twenty minutes. Doctor or no doctor, the baby was coming.
Dr. Cortez rushed in just as the head was crowning. He rinsed his hands in a pan of Lysol water Lucy held ready for him and delivered my precious baby girl on the very next pain. I was in labor for exactly twenty-five minutes.
Charlotte had a Verlan Jr., Lucy had a little girl named Verla, and I felt that I should also have the privilege of naming a child after our husband. So I decided to put an “a” on the end of his name and call her Verlana.
Verlan arrived when the baby was a week old and took me back to Los Molinos, where I found my
kids all sick with colds and fevers. LaSalle had an abscessed ear, which broke. I’d just delivered our eleventh baby and I had all these sick children, but I couldn’t have any extra time with Verlan. It wasn’t my turn. He just dropped me off at my house, and then he left to spend the night with Esther, who hadn’t seen him in almost a month.
The kids were overjoyed to see me again, especially Donna, who had shouldered all the responsibility while I was away. I put the new baby in the crib and then let the five youngest ones crawl in the foot and sides of my bed to get some comfort and hugs that were long overdue.
Before long, Verlan decided he needed me to help Lucy care for the Big Brown House in Ensenada and the many guests we constantly had there. So I moved back.
VERLAN’S COUSIN, Theron Leany, was like a brother to us. He gave Verlan work in his Las Vegas painting business for over sixteen years. No other member of our church gave more money to it than he did or was more willing to make whatever sacrifices might be necessary to forward the kingdom of God. His first wife, Helen, and nine of their eleven children lived in Los Molinos. They only saw him on the weekends that he and Verlan could make it down.
On May 10, 1969, I was washing clothes out at the wringer-washer when I saw the car of an old friend, Lane Stubbs, come zooming over the dusty road faster than usual. Fear surged through me. Instinctively, I knew he had bad news, and I started running toward him. I wasn’t quite to the corner of the house when Lane jumped out of his car. “Come with me, quick! Theron’s been in an accident. The ambulance has taken him to the hospital.”
Slipping off my wet clothes, I quickly changed, leaving instructions for Donna to hold down the fort. Lane and I rushed to the hospital.
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