by Brenda Novak
Her sister’s face brightened at the mention of such familiar work. She’d probably been wondering what, exactly, she was going to do now that there wasn’t an army of children to care for. In a polygamist household, it wasn’t uncommon for the wives of one man to share responsibility for all his children, regardless of who belonged to whom. The camaraderie the women enjoyed sometimes offset the lack of attention they received from their husband—not that every household was able to achieve this type of peaceful cooperation. Catfights broke out all the time. Some of the wives banded together against others or treated certain children with marked prejudice. But in Hope’s little house, the silence alone was probably enough to make Faith feel as though she’d lost contact with the real world.
“I—I thought I’d read the scriptures,” Faith said, her voice a little tentative. “But of course I wasn’t able to bring mine, and…and I notice you don’t have any lying around.”
Scriptures. Hope barely refrained from wrinkling her nose. Before bringing Faith home, she’d purposely avoided any reminder of her past. There were times she wished she could be like the rest of the Christian world, or most of it, anyway, and think kindly on religion, but it had been eleven years since she’d sat through a sermon. The prospect of entering a church, any church, made her feel as though she couldn’t breathe. If she ever got married, it would be in Vegas.
“I’m sure I have some here somewhere. I’ll dig them up and you can keep them in your room and read them whenever you’d like,” she said, knowing it would be useless to explain her aversion to all things religious. Faith would only fear that she was the devil, as her father claimed. Even Hope didn’t understand the overwhelming anxiety she felt when faced with the Bible, a church, a clergyman or even an overzealous missionary type. Not all her memories of gospel-related things were bad. Once, when she was a child, her mother had taken her and her sisters to Salt Lake, where she encountered a vagrant for the first time. He was mostly blind, slightly deformed, definitely filthy and almost skeletal in appearance. A woman in a conservative black suit and high heels hurrying past them on the sidewalk clucked her tongue and muttered something under her breath about how pathetic he was. But her mother stopped and gave him the last of their money. When Hope asked why, she said, “Jesus loves him, and so must we.”
“But he’s so pathetic,” she’d replied, feeling old beyond her years as she mimicked the other, more sophisticated woman. Her mother had smiled gently and lifted her chin. “That’s only on the outside, little Hope. Jesus doesn’t care about that.”
Hope had felt humbled and loved then. If Jesus could love a beggar, surely He could love a little girl with flyaway brown hair and scabby knees, who often had her mouth washed out with soap for losing her temper and saying things she wasn’t supposed to say to her father’s second wife. But even the warmth of that memory wasn’t enough to send her back into a church. The Brethren and her father had poisoned that part of her during her teen years, when they’d grown more and more controlling. Or maybe she’d lost her faith when she’d given up her baby. After all, that was when she’d felt as though whatever light she’d been trying to shelter inside her had finally winked out.
“What would you like for breakfast?” she asked, getting out of bed and heading to her closet for a robe. She’d hoped to sleep in after the emotionally exhausting day and night they’d spent. Especially because she had to work later on. But she couldn’t leave Faith on her own.
“I need a favor,” Faith said.
“Anything. What?”
“Don’t treat me like a guest, okay?”
Hope blinked at her in surprise. “I wasn’t. I was just…”
“I know, and I appreciate it,” Faith replied. “But I won’t be able to make it if I don’t feel as though I’m carrying my own weight, or at least contributing in some way that’s valuable to you.”
“Are you kidding? You’re going to work your…” Hope had been about to say, “butt off.” She’d been living around Gentiles long enough to have incorporated their more popular expressions and speech patterns. But her sister had not and would be shocked, even by such mild vulgarity. So she finished, “…fingers to the bone in that garden I mentioned.”
“That’s fine,” Faith said, still perfectly serious. “That’s what I need. That’s what I want.”
“Great.” Hope’s smile was brighter than her mood warranted. This was going to be even more difficult than she’d thought. Until she and Faith became acquainted again and learned how to be comfortable around each other, things were going to be awkward. “Why don’t you make breakfast while I shower, then?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll have two fried eggs and toast. Everything’s in the kitchen. Just rummage around to find what you need, and if you get really stumped, holler.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Hope kept the smile on her face until her sister disappeared down the hall, then let her shoulders sag as she sank back onto the bed. What were they in for? Her life and Faith’s had taken completely opposite paths. Now they were so different that Hope wasn’t sure they’d ever be able to find common ground. What if taking Faith away from Superior had been a mistake they’d both live to regret?
She’d never know whether she could help Faith if she didn’t try, she decided. She just needed to take things one day at a time. And this day, they were going to buy clothes.
With a deep, bolstering breath, Hope got up and headed for the shower.
* * *
“FIND ANYTHING you like?” Hope asked, getting to her feet to take the stack of clothes Faith had carried into the dressing room several minutes earlier.
Faith bit her lip as she regarded the maternity jeans, T-shirts and jumpers Hope had selected for her to try on. “No, not really.”
“Why not?” Hope asked. “Nothing fit?”
The voices of people passing the store in the mall outside droned in the background. By the time Hope had shown Faith around the garden and the house, then taught her how to use the microwave, dishwasher, washing machine and dryer, it was nearly noon. Activity at the mall was just beginning to peak.
“Everything fit,” Faith said. “It’s just that…well, I thought maybe I’d rather sew a few items for myself.”
Hope nearly groaned. Not more of the dowdy dresses that would instantly mark her as belonging to a polygamist community. “Faith, what’s wrong with these clothes? They’re comfortable and practical and—”
“They’re too…stylish,” Faith replied. “I don’t want to be vain, Hope. It’s not right.” She spoke in a whisper because the saleswoman hovered close by—but not because she wanted to help them. The moment they’d entered the store, the woman had watched them with contempt and the kind of curiosity one typically felt when viewing something fascinating yet distasteful, like maggots on meat. No doubt Faith’s appearance had given them away. Colorado City and Hillsdale, a large polygamist community straddling the Arizona-Utah border, was less than an hour’s drive away. The people of St. George saw more than their share of polygamists, some of whom lived right in town. The women were especially easy to spot because they typically wore pants beneath the voluminous skirts of their dated dresses, along with a pair of old tennis shoes.
But familiarity didn’t necessarily breed acceptance.
“A little style never hurt anyone,” Hope insisted, and turned to challenge the saleswoman’s stare.
The saleswoman crossed her arms, as though she had a right to gawk at them.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Faith said.
Protectiveness, and pride, wouldn’t allow Hope to leave just yet. She’d been away from Superior long enough to understand, to a degree, the woman’s fascination, but such rudeness was inexcusable. “No, we have as much right to be here as anyone. Pick out a few things.”
“I don’t want anything. I just need some fabric and—”
“We’ll get you some fabric and you can sew as many dresses as you like. Just pic
k out something you’d want if you weren’t worried about everything the church taught you.”
With a frown, Faith delved into the stack and came up with a plain pair of maternity jeans. Then she grabbed a top off the rack that resembled something an eighty-year-old woman would wear—an eighty-year-old woman with no taste.
“I said pick what you’d want if you weren’t worried about the church,” Hope said in exasperation, and selected a denim jumper and a cap-sleeve periwinkle blouse. “This okay?”
Faith shrugged.
“Good enough.” Hope piled the rest of the clothes on the chair in which she’d sat and carried the ones she planned to purchase to the cash register.
The saleswoman took her time sauntering over. “This everything?” she asked, her voice flat.
“For now,” Hope replied.
The woman started scanning the merchandise, but paused to glance over at Faith. “Disgusting,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?” Enough was enough. “Did you say something? Or were you simply proving that you’re as small-minded as I suspected from the start?”
“It’s okay, Hope,” Faith murmured at her elbow, obviously embarrassed.
“It’s not okay with me,” Hope replied.
The woman’s jaw dropped. Usually polygamists visited the mall in groups, stuck close together and ignored the whispers and derision they encountered. Hope had seen them scurrying about, sometimes pausing to gaze longingly in a store window that sold merchandise they’d never permit themselves to buy. In the past she’d always tried to ignore them because she didn’t want to acknowledge her roots. But being with Faith revealed her as surely as a sign hanging overhead.
Something mean and ugly flashed in the other woman’s eyes. But a second salesperson, who must have been away at lunch or on break, walked into the store, and the woman ringing up Faith’s clothing immediately changed her attitude. “I didn’t say anything,” she said, her attention now strictly on what she was doing.
Hope paid for the clothes, grabbed the sack and, with Faith scurrying to keep up, stalked out of the store. She had half a mind to complain to the manager. Except she knew that causing a fuss wouldn’t do anything to help her sister. Faith had been taught to turn the other cheek, even when confronted with ridicule. Hope, on the other hand, believed that valuing herself as an individual and setting boundaries for others who didn’t set boundaries for themselves went farther toward fostering respect.
She’d become a master at setting boundaries, especially with men.
“Is everything okay, Hope?” Faith asked. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Hope realized she was striding through the mall as if her life depended on it. Slowing, she forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. I just figured that woman should be told her behavior wasn’t appreciated, that’s all.”
Faith nodded uncertainly, so Hope took her arm, anxious to get out of the mall quickly because the stares they drew grated on her nerves.
“Is this going to be too hard for you, Hope?” Faith asked. “I don’t want to be a thorn in your side. Is having me around worse than you expected?”
Hope wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She’d returned to Superior out of love and a sense of duty. She’d gone back as soon as she’d felt emotionally capable of making the trip. Now she feared she wasn’t as prepared as she’d hoped.
“You’re not a thorn. I want you around, no matter what,” she said, which was true for the most part.
“I hope so. Because I can’t let go of everything I’ve been taught. I’d lose…I’d lose too much of me. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I understand that the world is a very different place from Superior,” she said.
“The world is Satan, trying to bring you down,” Faith said.
Hope thought of Lydia Kane and Parker Reynolds and what they’d done for her ten years ago, and the people she worked with at the hospital now, who often went above and beyond the call of duty. She thought of 9/11 and the firefighters, and those people on the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, and the smaller acts of generosity and courage she witnessed on an almost daily basis. “I’m afraid that’s too simple an answer, Faith.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
Because she hadn’t lived in the real world. Yet. “In many ways, it’s easier to live the Brethrens’ teachings than not live them,” Hope said. “Then you always know what’s right and wrong—or at least you think you do. Because they’ve made all your decisions for you. And now…you have to start thinking for yourself.”
* * *
THAT NIGHT Hope’s shift at the hospital seemed to drag on forever. They had two mothers in labor, several newborns in the nursery and an ob/gyn who wasn’t responding to his page. But despite concerns that she or Sandra Cleary, her supervisor, would have to deliver the baby if the doctor didn’t arrive soon, Hope couldn’t keep herself from reflecting on Faith. Soon her sister would be doing exactly what the two women in rooms 14 and 15 were doing—giving birth. Then she’d have a newborn in the house, as well as a sister with whom she’d had no contact for almost eleven years—
“Hope, can you visit Mrs. Walker’s room?” Sandra asked. She had her head down and was busy finishing up some paperwork at the nurses’ station. “She’s signaling for us.”
“Of course.” Hope visited Room 14, where she’d already spent much of her time since coming on duty at ten. Mrs. Walker asked if they’d heard from her doctor yet. Hope had to tell her no.
“What happens if he doesn’t get here?” Mr. Walker asked, worry creasing his forehead.
“Everything will be fine,” Hope assured him. “I’ve been a nurse for five years and Sandra’s been here longer than I have. Between us, we’ve seen hundreds of births and even delivered a few babies. And there’s always the emergency physician on duty downstairs.” She didn’t add that he’d only be able to help if there wasn’t someone with a more pressing condition—like a heart attack—in the emergency room. She figured that was a little too much information at this point.
They seemed to accept her words, probably because they had no choice, and Hope fetched Mrs. Walker another blanket to keep her legs warm.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and went to the nurses’ station to see if Sandra had heard anything from their missing doctor.
“Not yet,” she responded, tucking several strands of shoulder-length brown hair behind one ear. “I swear, if we have to deliver this baby…”
If they delivered the baby, the stress would probably take a year off their lives, yet they’d make their normal salaries, nothing more. The doctor, who’d most likely turned off his pager, would still receive his full fee. Considering all the things that could go wrong…
Hope didn’t even want to think about all the things that could go wrong. “He’ll get here,” she said as confidently as possible, and glanced at the clock. Was it too late to call Faith? Hope hated leaving her alone so soon. She’d dug a Bible out of her attic for Faith to read before bed, hoping that might help her sister acclimate. But Hope’s world was so foreign to Faith, she could be feeling pretty lost. She could even be weakening and thinking about going back….
Unfortunately, it was past midnight. Too late to call. And Mrs. Walker was signaling for a nurse again.
Heading back to room 14, Hope told herself to quit worrying. Somehow, everything would work out for the best.
* * *
HOPE’S EYES were gritty with fatigue as she drove home from the hospital the following morning. She’d had to stay a couple of hours beyond her usual shift because Regina Parks, one of the morning nurses, had called in sick right in the middle of a surprise, preterm delivery.
At least Mrs. Walker’s doctor had shown up in time to actually earn his fee. After that, everything had gone smoothly—until the emergency that had kept her late. A teenage girl had arrived at 6 a.m., already in advanced labor. Fortunately, the emergency doctor had been available to help, and the baby, a boy,
took his first breath just minutes before Hope left. The baby was tiny, barely four pounds, and had respiratory problems, but the doctor thought he was going to live.
Hope remembered the young mother’s excitement over her infant and wondered how Lydia had ever inspired her to become an obstetrics nurse. When faced with the normal scenario of appropriately aged mothers, attending fathers and supportive families, she could usually do her job without letting things get to her. But every once in a while someone like this young teenager came in—someone who invariably pulled her back to the day she herself had given birth. Then such a powerful longing gripped her, she could barely function. She’d told Faith she felt confident that her daughter was living a princesslike life. But there was no way to know for sure. Hope could only assume the best, and pray. As far as she’d drifted from organized religion, she still prayed about that. And she still dreamed of meeting her child, of touching the little girl she’d secretly named Autumn, if only just once.
Forcing her attention away from the empty ache she felt whenever she thought of Autumn, Hope stretched her neck to ease the tension knotting her muscles and pulled into the garage. With any luck, she’d find Faith in good spirits and be able to get some rest. She felt as though she could sleep for a week if—
The sound of voices reached her ears as she got out of the car and approached the house. Was it the television? She wanted to believe it was, but a flash of movement inside the front windows told her she and Faith had company.
CHAPTER FIVE
AFTER RUSHING to get inside before whoever had come could drag Faith away, Hope stood in her doorway as though transfixed. It was Bonner. After so many years, she’d begun to think she’d never see him again. She’d certainly never expected him to show up on her doorstep.
He’d changed. Of course, he was only eighteen when she’d seen him last; she should have anticipated some differences. But Bonner had done more than grow a couple of inches and put on a few pounds. Unlike most of the other men in the church, his thick dark hair was neatly trimmed and his face cleanly shaven. His clothes were modern and his teeth straight, despite the fact that few polygamists ever bothered with braces. And his eyes…
