Shattered Dreams

by Irene Spencer

  Lucy and five of her children had preceded us to the jungle. We crowded right in to her tin-roofed, dirt-floored wooden shack, which was the only structure on the plantation. This made a total of seventeen of us piled into one three-room jungle hut. Our only drinking water came from a bubbling creek running along at the bottom of the high hill on which the shack was built. The water had to be boiled before we drank it because the creek was used for bathing and washing clothes by neighbors on the plantations upstream from ours.

  I almost ruined my hands trying to wash our clothes by scrubbing them on the huge rocks in the middle of the creek. But I soon learned the native way of washing in the creek—by beating the soapy clothes on the rocks. Then when they were clean and rinsed, I hung them on the bushes to dry between rainstorms. I welcomed the rains at first because the rainwater was cleaner than the water we drank from the creek. We had two fifty-gallon barrels to catch the raindrops as they showered down the tin roof. We often watched the clouds rapidly crossing close above us like floating herds of sheep.

  As quickly as he could, Verlan built two more small lumber houses, one for Charlotte and one for Susan. They also moved to Central America, and we all settled in to make the best of what we had. Verlan of course was seldom there. He would often drive back to the States or to check on our Mexican colonies and on other properties our people purchased in Nicaragua.

  Our boys soon learned how to plant gardens and pick the wild fruits. Fourteen-year-old Steven bought a team of oxen. He often dragged big logs to our wooden shack to cut up for firewood. Most of the thousands of fruit and nut trees Verlan brought from the States and planted there died in the foreign climate. The ones that survived were eventually choked out by the tall weeds we couldn’t pull fast enough. We had to buy most of our fruits and vegetables, especially green onions to replace the Mexican chilies that were such a staple of our diet but were unavailable there. Once a week, I would walk three miles with a couple of my children to catch a bus into Jinotega to buy supplies.

  We soon discovered that the rainy season lasted for nine months of the year. The miserable dampness was an ideal breeding ground for mosquitoes, insects, snakes, and the sickness that assailed us constantly. It began with diarrhea and continued with everything else. Then the fleas in the dirt floors drove us wild, biting our arms and legs until they got swollen and the bites turned into open sores. I bought Merthiolate by the quart, doctoring everyone’s sores each night at bedtime. But as fast as some dried up, new ones took their place.

  Once, Kaylen cried with stomach pains all through the night. By the way he was doubled over, I thought his appendix was about to burst. While I waited for the bus to take him into Jinotega to the doctor the next day, I changed my baby Lothair’s diaper. I noticed a flat, spaghettilike thing hanging out of Lothair’s bottom about an inch. I gently pulled it, and to my horror, it stretched into an almost endless worm. When I examined the diaper stool by probing it with a small stick, I counted up to forty-five worms before I quit. At least Kaylen didn’t have appendicitis.

  I was mortified to tell the doctor what I discovered. I could hardly admit it, let alone tell him the details. But he nonchalantly stated, “Oh, that. Every Christian gets worms here.” I wondered what Christianity had to do with it. I soon learned that was their way of referring to white foreigners in general.

  The doctor wrote a prescription for all seventeen of us. “Take a tablespoon of Padrax once a day for three days. Then wait three days and repeat the process again.”

  I left the doctor’s office almost blind with anger. The money we needed for food I had to use instead to buy medicine to deworm the whole family. I marched right over to the telegraph office and sent Verlan this message: “Come immediately—kids sick—marriage over!”

  I simmered down some on the thirty-three-mile trip back to our plantation. But after the medical purge, I about died counting sixty-five worms measuring from one to twelve inches long in just one kid’s bowel movement.

  ALTHOUGH I DESPERATELY WANTED VERLAN to come and take us away from here, I also remember the good times we’d experienced in Nicaragua. Ironically, it was a kids’ paradise. They got to go swimming, hiking, and exploring in the jungle for relics and pets. One little monkey they brought home soon developed a unique method of self-defense. Whenever he was threatened or he just wanted to be naughty, he would crap in his hand and then throw the stinky stuff on his victim. The kids thought it was rather funny, but when it happened to Verlan, good-bye monkey!

  Our greatest satisfaction came from the friendships we formed among the native people there. In spite of our poverty, we shared what little we had with them. Verlan bought two milking cows that provided enough milk to share among the four wives and our collective school of children. We occasionally made cheese and cottage cheese, which added flavor to our meals. We used the male calves for meat. When we butchered an animal, our families would use the meat we needed, and the remainder went to our friends. Not a particle of anything was ever wasted, including hide, blood, entrails, head, and so forth. There was no electricity or refrigeration, and we didn’t want our food to spoil in the heat. At these times, a festive spirit always prevailed.

  After one such celebration, a neighbor from about three miles away sent word with one of her children for me to walk over for dinner. Rice was a luxury seldom enjoyed, but on this occasion, she served rice soup. While stirring the soup in my bowl, I discovered a small boiled egg in it, so I commented, “I’ve never seen whole eggs in soups before.”

  “Oh no,” she said, “that’s not an egg. That’s the cow’s eye. We serve them to our guests because the eyes are all-seeing. They give wisdom to those who eat them.”

  Good gracious! How was I going to get out of this one? Luckily, her hungry ten-year-old son was standing next to me, looking on. When she turned her back, I quickly spooned the boiled eye into his mouth, and he gobbled it down as I signaled for secrecy.

  A SHORT TIME after receiving my telegram, Verlan returned to Nicaragua to find me fed up with his most recent utopian delusion. I didn’t want to live with any more false hopes, so I informed him I was leaving him. That way, I wouldn’t set myself up with any further expectations of him that he could proceed to dash.

  He said I needed a trip. That was all. He promised that if I went back with him to Colonia LeBaron in Mexico, we could be together for a whole month. He spoke of the good times we’d enjoy. He could expedite church business and spend a little time with Lillie, Beverly, and Esther. “But,” he said, “you’ll be my priority.”

  So I agreed.

  The seven-day trip through Central America and Mexico was long and tiring, but it was the most time I’d spent alone with Verlan in years. The back of the truck was loaded with some of the personal belongings of three of the other wives. Verlan was taking the load back to Mexico because the moisture of the Nicaraguan rains was ruining treasured photos and other valuables. The camper was so tightly packed, we couldn’t sleep in it. So we stopped at night and slept on a blanket under the trees. Knowing I couldn’t conceive but hoping to pacify me so I wouldn’t divorce him, Verlan guiltily gave in to my seductive advances.

  We were approximately a hundred miles from Colonia LeBaron when Verlan asked if he could share his thoughts with me. I got that sick sensation that often warned me of what was coming.

  “I feel terrible that I’ve avoided Elizabeth like I have,” he said. “She asked me six months ago if I’d marry her. Since then, I’ve just kept putting her off because I haven’t had the money or the time. But you know how sad it is to be alone. Imagine her, a widow and no hope at all.”

  It amazed me how compassionate he could be about other women’s desperation. For the past two years, I’d recovered only fragments of hope. I would relinquish Verlan once more, if necessary. But I would not trust him again.

  He glanced in the mirror of the truck, and then looked at me. “Come on. She won’t bother you, Irene! After all, you’ve been close friends for most of you
r life.”

  I silently watched the road.

  “Hey,” he said, slapping my knee. “If you don’t want to let me do it this time, just say so. I’ll tell her she’ll have to wait, because you don’t want her to.”

  I remained quiet.

  “Come on,” he probed. “What do you say? It’s going to happen sometime, so why don’t you just get it over with? Why not now?”

  If I cried, he would just condemn me more. “Let’s do it then!” I snapped.

  “Don’t be angry. She has so many talents. She can teach our children. She types. She’s calm and humble. Why, honey, she’ll be a big asset to our family.”

  I looked at him sarcastically. “Yeah, that’s what worries me—where she’ll sit her ass!”

  We arrived in Colonia LeBaron after dark. He dropped me off at Linda’s house while he went to see his future wife, Elizabeth. It was almost midnight when he returned with a smile on his face. “I’ve made arrangements to be married at noon tomorrow in Elizabeth’s home. Just a private wedding—her four children, you, and me . . . and you’re invited, too, Linda.” He smiled, hugging me good-bye as he left to go sleep with Lillie.

  It was February 22, 1976. Verlan sent me over early to help Elizabeth. She’d made a small cake, which I frosted. I made a pitcher of lemonade, putting it in the fridge to keep cold. I thought about how lucky they were to finally have electricity in the colony.

  This was to be Elizabeth’s third marriage. I couldn’t believe she was so nervous as she primped her short gray hair. She removed her glasses to wipe the lenses clean. Couldn’t she see what she was getting herself into? I wondered if she worried about her marriage affecting our friendship. It had endured longer than either of her previous marriages.

  I watched as she slipped into a pink dress she had bought secondhand six months before. She had saved it just in case Verlan honored her request for marriage. She fastened her belt. “Do I look okay?” she asked me. I nodded with approval.

  Alma arrived to perform the ceremony. He shook hands with us and said, “I’m sure proud of both of you. This is a step in the right direction.”

  Then Linda walked in with Verlan. He apologized for being late again. He’d taken the liberty of going to visit his two Mexican wives, who lived in the colony and hadn’t seen him for over a month. Immediately, he motioned for me to follow him into a small bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. He enveloped me in his strong arms, holding me so tight, I could hardly breathe. He smooched me as I fought to keep him from forcing my gold wedding band off my hand. I tried to speak, but his kisses muffled my complaints. He got my ring off and hid it in his pocket. “I’ll give it back to you later. Please don’t say anything.”

  Quietly, Verlan opened the door, joining the few guests who awaited our presence in the living room. He said to Alma, “Let’s get things started.”

  Again, I could feel the volcano welling up inside me. I breathed deeply, forcing the air from my lungs. Don’t cry; it’s just a ring! I told myself. But I couldn’t help thinking how that was the only piece of jewelry he’d ever given me. Not only was I giving Elizabeth my husband but I had to share the sacred token of my marriage also. After many a deep breath, I finally regained my composure and entered the living room, where they were all waiting.

  Alma offered a prayer thanking God for the wonderful occasion as I begged God not to let me cry. Immediately after the prayer, Verlan, Elizabeth, and I took our places, standing before the fireplace. I heard Alma clear his throat. Then, for the fourth time, I was asked the dreaded question. “Do you, Sister Irene, take Sister Elizabeth by the right hand and give her unto your husband to be his lawful and wedded wife?”

  Obediently, I placed her sweaty hand in his and tuned out the rest of the ceremony. It seemed that all my trips with Verlan quickly evolved into his going on a honeymoon with one of my best friends. Now I wanted to run far away, where I could cry about it without being criticized.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” Alma said. As with Helen, we’d only have Elizabeth in our family for this life. After her death, she’d belong to her deceased husband, Earl. In light of that, I wondered what the advantage was to our taking her in.

  Verlan surprised everyone except me by pulling out my ring and placing it on Elizabeth’s finger. Elizabeth was elated. Verlan kissed his fifty-year-old bride as the congratulations began.

  Elizabeth showed Linda and me her beautiful gold band. “Isn’t it lovely? Can you believe he’s so thoughtful?” Verlan stared at me, tacitly warning me not to deflate her.

  Linda and I cut the cake, serving Elizabeth and her four children. Alma and Verlan talked over business while they ate.

  “Are you ready to go, Elizabeth?” Verlan asked after a while.

  “I will be in twenty minutes or so. I just need to find a babysitter for my kids.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. Irene can do it for you. We’re family now. Besides, she’s here on vacation, with nothing to do.” He walked over and pulled me to him, giving me a hug. “There’s no one quite like Irene. She enjoys serving everyone.”

  Elizabeth hugged me good-bye, suitcase in hand, as Verlan gave me a peck of gratitude. And the honeymoon was on.

  Two days later, Elizabeth threw open her kitchen door and dropped her small suitcase, making a grand entrance. “Tah-rah! Oh, Irene, he is simply wonderful!”

  My heart fell to the floor. I thought so myself in that particular respect, but I didn’t need another woman to tell me about it.

  I smiled and hugged her as I welcomed her home, knowing our friendship could never be the same. I hated to shatter her dreams, but since I was leaving, now would be as good a time as any. “Liz,” I said, trying to sound light and breezy, “it’s bad enough to have to give my husband to you, but could I have my wedding ring back?”

  She was shocked. “You mean”—she looked at the indentation on my naked finger—“he actually used your ring?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I wonder about men sometimes,” she said, and gave the ring back to me. Then she thanked me for caring for her four kids as I hugged her good-bye.

  Walking down the street, I hoped to run into Verlan. He’d left in such a hurry after his wedding, I’d failed to congratulate him. Any man whose ego was big enough to try and keep nine women happy certainly deserved to be praised.

  IN ADDITION TO our miserable living conditions in Nicaragua, a raging revolution broke out in many parts of the country. Verlan’s four wives agreed on one thing: we all wanted out of there. Even Verlan realized it was futile to remain. He also realized he’d lose me if he didn’t make other arrangements.

  Because Elizabeth’s wedding had occurred during what began as my trip, Verlan decided to make up for it by taking me with him to Dallas, Texas, where he planned to arrange things so some of his wives could live and work and become self-supporting. I had flown in a small plane once before, but this was my first commercial airline flight. I almost died of fright. At thirty thousand feet in the air, I felt I was halfway to Heaven and would probably get all the way there very shortly. Before we landed, I promised God I’d be good if he’d see me through this one. When we landed safely, I wondered if I could keep my part of the bargain.

  Our friend Erv Lowther agreed to let three of us sell jewelry for him in Dallas, so Verlan and I returned to Nicaragua just long enough to wind up our affairs. It was a good thing we did, considering the revolution soon infiltrated that area. We left the properties and lost a few head of cattle. We left with very little to show for our efforts except the experience we’d gained. We could at least say we’d once lived in Nicaragua.

  Before long, Susan, Lillie, and I ended up in Dallas, where we rented a couple of apartments that we crammed full of our children. My older boys were off working in other places, and my faithful Donna was married and living in California. She’d seen enough tears and heartache. She wanted to be as far as possible from poverty, polygamy, and her uncle Ervil, who was terrorizing the fundamentalist groups. My tw
elve-year-old daughter, Barbara, cared for all the kids while Susan, Lillie, and I went to work selling jewelry. It was summer vacation, so we didn’t have to worry about babysitters until school started for the older kids in the fall.

  Erv arranged to set up some tables of jewelry in various hotel lobbies. This was my first experience at selling, and I enjoyed it. I discovered I had a talent for sales. In order to keep this job, I had to get up early and come home late. I also had many things to do for the children as I made preparations to ease Barbara’s load during the day.

  Verlan, as usual, was seldom around. He had so many other responsibilities to take care of besides us. He was also constantly on the move to keep clear of Ervil’s henchmen. On one of his trips, he took Susan with him for a short vacation. Before leaving, she asked me to take care of her mail. She requested I keep only her personal letters and throw away all the junk mail. She warned me several times to beware of con artists, “because,” she said, “the big cities are full of crooks. They’ll take advantage of you if you don’t watch out.”

  Just after Susan left, our apartment manager asked me to evacuate the apartment for twelve hours so pest control could spray for cockroaches. I asked him to also fix the wooden doors below the kitchen sink, because the whole frame was loose. He hired a nice carpenter who did the job in just a few minutes. Shortly thereafter, a letter came addressed to Susan that I figured was junk mail, but out of curiosity I opened it. I found an astonishing bill: “Beatles—$6.95, Carpenters—$13.90, Bread—$13.90, Total—$34.75.” It was accompanied by a letter: “Dear Miss Ray, Your account is long overdue. Remit the total amount immediately or we will have to turn the account over to a collection agency.”

  I couldn’t believe it. The exterminator and the carpenter were trying to rip her off. This was urgent, and she wouldn’t be back in time to handle it, so I figured I’d fix these villains myself. Pretending to be Susan, I wrote: