The Prophet Calls

by Melanie Sumrow

  “I’m sorry,” I say and then hesitate for a second. If anyone would know something, it would be Kate. “Did you know about it?” I ask under my breath.

  She takes a step backward. The wind kicks up, and she wraps her coat tight around her.

  But I press onward anyway. “Did you know he was going to run away?”

  Kate turns toward the sunset. By now, the color of the sky has deepened to a soft, hazy rose. The mountains look black against the fading light. “I guess I suspected. He’s been questioning a lot of things lately,” she admits and then shakes her head. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think killing that deer was the breaking point.”

  “He killed a deer?” Suddenly, Amy’s look of sympathy is replaced by a look of horror. “Why would he do that?”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” I say, disgusted with Dirk all over again. “Dirk made him do it yesterday in survival class.”

  A tear rolls down Amy’s cheek. “Poor deer.”

  I rub circles on her back, trying to comfort her. “We won’t say anything,” I tell Kate.

  Amy wipes her nose with her sleeve. “I won’t, either.”

  “Thanks,” Kate says and suddenly seems to remember something, jumping to attention. “Oh, I forgot. It’s Meryl.”

  Goose bumps rush my arms. “What about her?”

  She looks away again, like she’s second-guessing herself.

  “Tell me,” I say. “Please?”

  Kate sighs. “After all this stuff with Kel, Uncle Max moved the wedding to tonight.”

  “What?” I screech.

  Amy shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s forbidden any of us from attending,” Kate says, sounding annoyed.

  “But we’re her family,” I say, desperate. “What about the preparations?”

  “Her dress isn’t finished yet,” Amy adds.

  “They’re over,” Kate says. “Father and Mother Hannah are heading to the meetinghouse with her now.”

  Before I can think, my feet take off. The cold wind stings my eyes as I run downhill, my shoes slip-sliding on the pebbles.

  This can’t be happening. It feels as if my family’s being ripped apart. Layer by layer, they’re being torn away from me. I can’t lose my half brother and my sister all in the same day. I just can’t.

  Darkness now inks the sky. My sleeve snags on a mesquite tree, stopping me for a second. A coyote howls in the distance. As I struggle to jerk free, clouds slither across the stars.

  I consider leaving my jacket, but then manage to rip free of the branch, leaving a scrap of powder-blue cloth behind.

  Cold air rushes through my sleeve, making it flutter, as I reach the bottom of the hill and dart to the right.

  My shoes pound against the hard ground until I come to the dark stucco building with the flat roof. I yank open the heavy wooden door and, without stopping, run straight through the replica of the Prophet’s prison cell.

  Inside the large prayer room, the smell of disinfectant burns my nose. My eyes water. The Prophet’s portrait is illuminated up front. The table with the phone we use to call the Prophet is beneath his portrait.

  Uncle Max stands on the stage, facing the looming picture of the Prophet. Meryl is to Uncle Max’s right in her light pink dress with the scalloped collar and white sash around her waist. His other wives stand on his left in accordance with the Law of Sarah, which gives them the privilege to accept Meryl into their home.

  I pray I’m not too late. “Wait!” I yell, rushing up the aisle to the front of the room.

  Meryl turns at the sound of my voice, hope flashing across her pale features. “Gentry?”

  “What is she doing here?” Uncle Max crows.

  Father jumps from his seat and turns, his face red with anger. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  The Vulture’s eyes narrow. “I specifically said none of your children could attend, Conway, and this is why. No respect.”

  As I approach the front, I can see the veins throbbing along the sides of Father’s neck.

  My feet stop a few inches from him. My heart’s still running.

  Mother rises from her seat and takes hold of Father’s arm, as if to hold him back. Her eyes dart from my sweaty face to the hole in my sleeve. “What happened to your jacket?”

  I almost laugh at how ridiculous her question is, but there’s no time. Uncle Max has pushed the button on the table, calling in the God Squad. “I think I can fix this,” I say.

  Mrs. Whittier, our home economics teacher and the Vulture’s first wife, scoffs. “Impertinent girl.”

  Uncle Max leaves center stage and flaps his arms with impatience. “Fix what exactly?”

  I face his scowl. “I’ve just lost my brothers. Please. I can’t lose my sister tonight, too.”

  “Give me one second, please,” Meryl says as she moves away from Uncle Max, toward the stairs. She gives me a soft smile, speaking under her breath, “Gentry, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

  Uncle Max follows her. “Who are you to barge in here like this and—”

  “I’ll give you my violin,” I announce before I can change my mind. Meryl stops mid-step. “I-I know it’s wrong to have it now,” I admit. “I understand it’s worldly. Please, if you’ll just give us more time?”

  “You’re not thinking straight,” Father scolds, a trace of hurt in his eyes. “I thought you wanted to keep your violin.”

  Mother releases his arm.

  “I do, but not if it means Meryl has to get married now.” I turn to Uncle Max. “Can you take it and just wait a little longer?”

  Meryl descends the last steps. When she gets close, I can see Mother has woven her golden hair into an intricately braided crown upon her head. Meryl’s fingers fiddle with the delicate sash around her waist. “You’d give up your violin for me?”

  I nod.

  Her eyes glisten with tears as she smiles.

  “Sounds like someone has forgotten her place,” a familiar voice booms through the speakers. My breath stutters as my eyes flash to the table again. The phone is in the docking station. “Have you not heard my revelation?” the voice says, growing louder.

  My hands tremble. It’s the living embodiment of God on earth: the Prophet.

  Uncle Max’s thin lips curl into a smile. “Indeed.”

  Meryl quickly wipes the tears from her cheeks.

  I should have known. Uncle Max performs weddings in our community of Watchful. But who can perform the ceremony for him? Only the Prophet.

  All of a sudden, the God Squad barges into the prayer room. Meryl takes hold of my elbow and swings me behind her. My heart races as Buckley leads the charge, his face redder than ever. Five goons follow, their straw hats covering their eyes.

  “The Prophet speaks,” the Vulture caws and holds out his long hand to stop them, mid-aisle.

  The God Squad comes to an abrupt halt. “Thanks be to God,” everyone in the room mutters. Everyone, but me.

  “Who is it that defies me?” the Prophet asks.

  I knead my hands in the tense silence until Uncle Max answers, “Gentry. Forrester.”

  My knees go slack, but Meryl manages to keep me upright.

  “Ahh, I see,” the Prophet continues.

  Mother fans her face with her hand.

  “Gentry, you must live faithfully,” the Prophet says.

  My cheeks flush hot. Father’s shoulders sink. I wish I could shrivel and hide under one of the chairs.

  “For marriage is God’s will, spoken through the Prophet. In marriage, men become gods and women heavenly mothers. The husband holds the keys to a woman’s blessings, and the Prophet holds the keys to the husband’s.” I nod along, knowing all this already, but the Prophet continues, “Without a husband, a woman is nothing. You should know by now that your sister’s eternal salvation depends upon marriage to a priesthood man. As does yours. You do know that, right?”

  Everyone turns, awaiting my answer. Even Meryl.

  Ye
s, I know all this. But what if I want more for Meryl? For me? What if, deep down, I dare to want to be a wife and a mother, but with a future I choose?

  “If your sister does not fulfill my revelation,” the Prophet adds, “she will be stuck between worlds, alone forever. Is that what you want for her?”

  Meryl nudges me, her eyes willing me to get out of my head and answer the Prophet.

  Of course I don’t want my sister to be alone forever. But I feel so torn. I know what’s right, so why doesn’t it feel right? Why does forever have to start right now for her?

  The longer I stall, the more I can sense everyone’s judgment spinning around me and trapping me like a spider’s web. Even the Prophet’s portrait is looking down on me. “N-no,” I say, trying to talk past the tightness in my throat.

  “Speak up,” the Vulture squawks.

  I open my mouth, but the Prophet interrupts, “If you turn away from my revelations, you will certainly be destroyed.”

  Meryl snatches my hand, her eyes filled with a new urgency. “It’s time for you to go home now.”

  “But—”

  She squeezes harder. “Thank you for your kindness,” she says, sounding like a pre-programmed robot. “I will fulfill my duty. It is the only way. This marriage is what the Prophet has revealed for my life.”

  I shake my head. What’s she doing?

  “Go on home,” she says resolutely, giving me a stiff hug before returning to the stage.

  “Finally,” Uncle Max says, pointing at the door. “Show her out.”

  Two of the God Squad approach. One of them takes me by the arm, but I twist free. “I’m going,” I say, embarrassed and confused. I march to the rear of the prayer room.

  “Wait,” the Prophet’s voice booms through the speakers. “Gentry should hear this.”

  “Stop her,” the Vulture demands, but I’ve already stopped at the back of the room. I shiver as I turn toward the Prophet’s portrait.

  “Sometimes, an apple is beautiful,” the Prophet says, his voice calm. “It can seem flawless even until you turn it around and see a scar—an imperfection, if you will.”

  My knees quiver.

  “As God’s chosen, we must throw out the bad apple before it rots the rest of the barrel.”

  My whole body’s shaking. He’s going to kick me out. He’s going to kick me out with nowhere to go. No money. No shelter. No food. Nothing. Why didn’t I pay more attention in survival class?

  The Prophet clears his throat. “Your father has lost control over his family.”

  Meryl suddenly looks worried.

  “I’ve lost confidence in him,” the Prophet declares.

  Father drops into the seat next to Mother. Like he’s been pushed.

  “Conway, are you still there?”

  Father wipes his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’m here,” he says after a second, his voice low.

  There’s a pop through the speakers. “Then rise,” the Prophet says with conviction.

  With a hand on the back of his chair, Father slowly gets to his feet. He shoves his handkerchief inside his pocket and looks at the portrait of the Prophet.

  “He’s standing,” Uncle Max confirms.

  “Very well,” the Prophet says. “This wedding will move forward as planned.”

  The Vulture gives a smug nod.

  “But first, I have received a holy revelation.”

  “Thanks be to God,” the Vulture and some of his wives mutter in unison.

  A lump lands in my throat. Father hunches forward, as if he’s getting ready for a blow.

  “Conway Forrester, you are no longer worthy to hold the priesthood.”

  Meryl covers her mouth. My throat tightens around the growing lump.

  Father staggers, not ready. “But why?” he asks. “What have I done?”

  I reach for the nearest chair, trying my best to keep from falling over.

  “Do you question the will of the Prophet?”

  “No,” Father says immediately. “I’m loyal. I have always been loyal to you.”

  I nod. It’s true. He’s always been loyal.

  The God Squad approaches him anyway.

  The Prophet’s breath flows through the speakers. “Your failure to reach perfection prevents the rest of our community from being lifted into heaven. For years, you have allowed an evil to seep into the foundation of your home.”

  Father’s jaw trembles.

  “You do not discipline your children as they should be disciplined. You have allowed worldly music.”

  Mother bites her knuckle.

  “You have raised sons of perdition. And now, this daughter of yours thinks she’s worthy of addressing the bishop of Watchful.”

  I swallow the lump.

  The speakers pop again. “A darkness has settled over your household, Conway, and I intend to vanquish it once and for all,” the Prophet says. “You must leave Watchful immediately and repent from afar.”

  My heart’s racing. Mother clutches her chest. Meryl does the same.

  “You will continue to tithe to the church and write a letter of confession. In time, if I deem it appropriate, I might allow you to return.”

  “And my family?” Father asks, his voice shaking as the God Squad takes hold of both of his arms.

  I hold my breath and glance at the Prophet’s portrait, awaiting his answer.

  “They are no longer your family.”

  11.

  I’m still staring at the Prophet’s portrait at the front of the prayer room when I gasp. Father can’t lose the priesthood.

  Flanked by a pair of God Squad goons, Father wordlessly stumbles in place.

  A sadness creases Mother’s forehead, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move.

  Uncle Max flaps at the God Squad. “Get him out of this holy place, so we may proceed with the wedding.”

  My heart thuds against my ribs. This isn’t happening. Why would the Prophet take the priesthood away from my father?

  “Father?” I ask, looking for some kind of explanation. But he stares straight ahead at the Prophet’s portrait.

  “It is done,” the Prophet pronounces.

  Meryl bites her lip. The Vulture’s wives look stunned.

  Then, footsteps sound through the speakers. “Time’s up. Off the phone,” a man orders. It’s the voice of an outsider.

  “Await my call in the mor—” the Prophet says quickly and there’s a click. Like he’s hung up the phone. Or someone’s hung it up for him.

  Meryl hurries off the stage to join Mother. They embrace. There will be no wedding tonight.

  The Vulture’s face puckers in annoyance. “You heard the Prophet,” he snaps. “Get him out of here.”

  The God Squad drags Father through the prayer room door and into the fake prison cell. He shouts over his shoulder, “Hannah, there’s been some kind of mistake! I’ll fix this.”

  Mother buries her face in her hands.

  “Gentry!” Father shouts as the God Squad pulls him outside.

  “Wait,” I call after them, pushing through the meetinghouse door, but they don’t stop. I hurry to catch them.

  “We’ll work this all out,” Father says to me as the men hustle him toward the concrete wall. “You’ll see. Everything will turn out fine.”

  When we reach the entrance to Watchful, the gears hum. The gate swings outward as one of the God Squad pushes Father outside the compound. Both of them aim their rifles at him.

  My pulse races.

  “You shall repent from afar,” one of the goons orders.

  Before I can think, I run past the gate and throw my arms around Father’s waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. This is all my fault.”

  To my surprise, Father wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. I can’t remember him ever holding me like this. It feels so good; I start crying.

  “Keep your violin,” he says under his breath. “Okay? Do it for me.”

  My tears wet his shirt. “Father
, it doesn’t matter now. You can’t leave us.”

  He strokes the hair on top of my head and whispers, “You played beautifully at the festival. I knew you would, and you did. Keep your violin and think of me, okay?”

  I nod against his chest.

  “Promise?” he asks.

  I nod again.

  A hand grasps my jacket and yanks me backward. Before I can break free, the gate closes with a clang, separating me from Father and widening the gap between us.

  ***

  By the following morning, our entire family has heard the horrible news, and we’re all wondering what’s going to happen next. Buckley has ordered us to gather in the living room, where everyone is strangely quiet.

  My mothers sit in their usual places on the sofas. Baby Bill coos in Mother’s arms; Meryl places a pacifier in his mouth. Gwen sleeps in the sling around Mother Dee, and Mother Lenora holds two of her sons in her lap. The rest of my brothers and sisters take their places on the carpet in front of the portrait of the Prophet.

  Instead of sitting with Mother Lenora’s children, Kate nestles in on one side of me. The bruise across her cheek has darkened from green to purple. Amy sits on my other side.

  When we are all in place, Buckley escorts Uncle Max to Father’s chair. I shift uncomfortably as the Vulture places a white cloth on the seat before lowering himself to the edge with his polished shoes flat on the floor.

  He clears his long, bumpy throat. “I deliver a message from the Prophet.”

  “Thanks be to God,” we all chime softly.

  The Vulture’s beady eyes narrow. “Conway Forrester has been deemed unworthy of the priesthood.”

  Amy sniffles. I put my arm around her. Uncle Max won’t be happy if she starts crying. We must keep sweet.

  “But why?” Kate asks, surprising me, asking the question we all want to ask, but are too afraid. Some of my brothers and sisters nod. “Yes, why?”

  Uncle Max gives my half sister a cutting look. “Rebellious children are proof your father lost the spirit of God.”

  From out of nowhere, Mother Lenora rips Kate up by the wrist. She cries in pain.

  The Vulture’s lips twist into a smile.

  Mother Lenora drags Kate through the seated children and into the kitchen, out of sight. We all sit in shock as we listen. “You.” Slap. “Will.” Slap. “Keep sweet.” Slap. Slap.