Sister Wife Read online

  He watches me struggle. “Are you having trouble at school, Nanette?” he asks.

  “No, school is fine. But the fact is, Daddy...” I remember what I’ve come to him about and I summon up my courage. “I feel ready to become a wife and mother. I live obediently, I have perfect faith. I want you to ask the Prophet to determine who I’m to spend eternity with.”

  “But, Nanette,” my father says, “you’re only—”

  “Thirteen. I know. But I’m older than my years, Daddy. And I’m pure of thought and spirit. I truly wish to move forward with God’s plan for me.”

  “It is against the laws of our country, Nanette...”

  “Having plural wives is against the law of our country too, Daddy. But we have our own laws here, the laws of our Heavenly Father, and I know that I am ready to be a wife.”

  “I’m waiting to hear who Celeste will marry,” he tells me.

  “I know. But that’s another thing, Daddy.”

  “What’s another thing?”

  “Celeste. She is...she’s not pure of thought.” I immediately feel guilty for tattling on her, but I continue anyway. “Unlike me,” I tell him, “she feels she is not ready to be married. And,” I add, lowering my voice, “she secretly covets boys her own age.”

  “She does?”

  “Yes. And she wishes to choose her own husband. I wonder if this could be Taviana’s influence.”

  Daddy stares at me. “And you, Nanette? Do you wish this too?”

  “Of course not, Daddy!” I say, then add, “Although I think Martin Nielsson may fancy me as a prospective wife.”

  His expression changes abruptly. “Has he done something inappropriate?”

  “Oh no. He just passes pleasantries with me after the church service.”

  Daddy rubs his chin, thinking about this. “The Lord will reveal who you will marry in His own good time, but you must be patient.”

  “I know. I’m not sure why I mentioned it.”

  “And I know Taviana is working hard to fit in here. Your mother needs her right now. But I will talk with her.”

  I nod. A talking-to from Daddy may be all Taviana needs.

  “Thank you for coming to speak to me,” he says. “I will do as you request and speak to the Prophet. I will also speak with your sister.”

  “Thank you.” I walk around the desk and wrap my arms around him in a hug. At first he is stiff, awkward, but after a moment he hugs me back.

  “You’ve been a wonderful daughter, Nanette.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at him. “And you’ve been a wonderful father.”

  Daddy blinks hard and returns to his paperwork. I slip back across the field and into the sprawling house.

  Chapter Five

  CELESTE

  Receiving the message that Jon said hello sent me into spasms of joy on Saturday afternoon. I felt like a small girl again instead of a soon-to-be overburdened sister wife and potential mother. Playing with Rebecca actually became fun, and I didn’t resent cooking and cleaning up after the entire family. Even Deborah, Daddy’s third wife, who loves to boss me about, didn’t annoy me. Nanette came close to it with her lecture about celestial marriages, but I was back to feeling joyful Sunday morning.

  I looked for Jon in church, and when I saw him he smiled quickly, so as not to be noticed by anyone, but it was definitely meant for me. I thought I was going to burst with happiness. I kept looking in his direction, and the next time our eyes met, I smiled right back. An elbow jabbed me in the ribs and I glanced at Taviana, who winked. Thank goodness it was Taviana who’d spotted our smiling exchange, and not Nanette. I elbowed her back.

  I didn’t hear a word the Prophet said, even though I knew he was ranting and raving about something. Instead I marveled at the invisible flow of energy that seemed to pull Jon and me together despite all the resistance around us. I wondered if he felt the same pull.

  When the service ended, I was desperate to stay physically close to Jon. I decided to skip the social hour downstairs and go directly outside. If asked, I’d say it was to enjoy some fresh air, but really I wanted to watch the boys as they kicked a ball around.

  I wandered around the church garden, admiring the cheerful daffodils. The tulips were straining toward the sun, their petals still closed tight, but I noticed they were practically trembling as they prepared to explode into bloom.

  The boys were playing their usual game of soccer in the field, and I knew that Jon would be among them. When I took my eyes off the flowers to glance over at the boys, I saw that Jon had noticed me. He’d lingered behind the pack of boys who were running away from the church in pursuit of the ball. We stared at each other for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. He jogged backwards, still watching me, but then turned to catch up with the pack. I returned to my stroll, allowing my mind to wander. I wondered, what would I say to Jon if I actually had the chance to have a conversation with him? What would he say to me? I doubted that he had perfect faith, like Nanette. If he did, he wouldn’t have smiled at me. I might ask him if he intends to stay in Unity. So many of our boys leave.

  Wham! The ball smacked into the side of the building and rolled to a stop under a bush. I jumped back, surprised, and then found myself face to face with Jon, who was there to retrieve it. I’d never stood that close to him, and I could actually feel the heat radiating from his body. He was panting, hard, and I found that his sweaty male scent excited me.

  “Meet me at the river, near the playground, tomorrow after dinner,” he whispered while digging the ball out of the shrubs with his toe.

  “I don’t know...”

  “Just come when you can,” he urged. “I’ll watch for you.” He kicked the ball back to the waiting players. With a final glance at me, he jogged away. As I watched him run off, I wondered if he’d kicked the ball here on purpose or if it was just a lucky coincidence.

  I returned to my stroll around the garden but I no longer saw the flowers. Instead I marveled at how beautiful Jon’s face was. My heart pounded in a chest churning with anticipation, anxiety, excitement, fear. I felt fully alive.

  The rest of Sunday dragged by. I’d never known one day to last so long. One moment I was determined to meet Jon at the river, and the next I knew that I absolutely couldn’t. I tossed all night, remembering how he smelled and how warm the light in his eyes was.

  On Monday I led the children past the Nielsson farm again. This time, when Jon smiled at me, I knew I’d find a way to meet with him.

  I BEGIN WATCHING for my opportunity to escape as soon as the dinner dishes are done. When the littlest ones have been put to bed, I grab the bucket of scraps we collect for the compost. Just as I step onto the back stoop, I see a movement near the barn. A body slips inside, a body that looks suspiciously like Nanette. Why would she be going into the barn? To talk to Daddy, I suppose, but about what? Not about me, I hope.

  I dump the compost scraps onto the heap, use a pitchfork to turn the pile and then start back toward the house. The evening is warm and fragrant. I walk slowly, enjoying it, and then I realize that this is my opportunity to disappear. Nanette would be the first to notice my absence, but she’s absent herself. Others will have seen me leave with the compost bucket, but it may take a while for anyone to notice that I haven’t returned. I leave the bucket by the back door, turn and walk briskly through the garden and out the gate. I don’t look back.

  My stomach clenches, and I fully expect to hear someone call my name, ordering me back, but no one does. Our neighbors will just think I’ve been sent on an errand. As I walk past the Nielsson farm, I’m tempted to slow down so Jon has a better chance to see me, but I don’t. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest that I’m afraid it will explode. I cut through the playground and turn toward the river. Rounding the first bend, hoping to be out of sight of any people passing by, I find a place near the trees where I can still see the playground, and Jon when he approaches, but where I’ll also be camouflaged by the trees.

  Collapsi
ng to the ground, I take deep breaths, trying to slow my breathing and heart rate. I close my eyes, then open them and scan the riverbanks.

  Is that what I think it is? I scramble to my feet, hike my skirt up and dash across the beach. Sure enough, the first statue is still standing there, as is the one I built, but now there is a third rock man. Once again he looks like the first two but completely different as well. My heart swells at the thought of the boy coming back, seeing my creation and deciding to add to it. We’re building a community.

  I look back to where I’ve come from but don’t see any signs of Jon. Once again I tuck the hem of my skirt into my apron and start scouring the beach for appropriate stones. I’ve put the legs and torso in place when I see him in the distance. He has also seen me and is coming over to where I’m working. I quickly pull my hem back out of my apron and smooth my dress down. What will he think of me, building rock people, my dress hiked up, exposing my legs?

  An attack of shyness hits me as Jon approaches. What am I doing here? What was I thinking? I haven’t been alone with a boy since I was a little girl. My mouth goes dry.

  “Hi, Celeste,” Jon says. He looks right at me. “I’m glad you could get away for a while.”

  I look down at my feet, then back at him. I see a glint of mischief in his eyes, and I have to smile. The shyness begins to evaporate. “I’m glad I could too.” We look directly at each other for a moment, and I now know for sure that I wasn’t imagining the flow of energy that was drawing us together in church. It is encircling us now, and I feel a mad fluttering of little wings deep inside. Can this be normal?

  “What are you making?” he asks, noticing the rock statues.

  I quickly explain how I discovered the first one a few days ago, built another one to keep the first one company and found that a third one had been added since then. I show him the one I’m working on.

  “So now you just need the arms, the neck and a head,” he says.

  I smile again, pleased that he didn’t make fun of me for doing this. “Yeah,” I say. “Want to help?”

  He pauses, considering. Uh-oh. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he does think this is a stupid thing to do.

  “I’d like to make my own,” he says.

  Now I really am going to explode with happiness. “Great idea!”

  We separate, looking for stones that please us. It’s a little harder for me now as I’m back to tripping over my dress, but I finally get mine finished. I stand back, admiring my work. Jon is arranging arms on his. I watch him trying different stones, but, not satisfied, he tosses them aside and searches for better ones. When the arms are done, he adds a couple of flat stones for a neck and then places an almost round stone on top, the head. It’s balanced so perfectly it reminds me of the rock tower I saw in Springdale, the one I destroyed.

  Jon moves over to stand with me and we study the finished products. The five statues are each different heights, their body parts are of various shapes, but they still all manage to look related. And cheery. Jon steps forward and fiddles with the arm on his. When he steps back again, I see what he’s done. One arm on his statue is reaching out to touch an arm on mine, giving the impression that they are holding hands. I pray my knees don’t buckle.

  THE SUN HAS set and it’s getting darker. Jon and I have moved into the shadow of the trees, where we’ve found a patch of moss to sit on.

  “I got your message from Taviana,” I tell him.

  “I figured you had,” he says.

  The silence between us becomes awkward. There’s so much to say, but it’s so hard to know where to start.

  “I’m going to have to think of a good explanation for where I’ve been tonight,” I tell him.

  He nods sympathetically. “Maybe Taviana will cover for you.”

  “Maybe.” Nanette certainly won’t.

  “Celeste,” he says and hesitates. Then he takes a deep breath. “Do you ever question your faith, or the ways of our Movement?”

  I nod. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “That’s what I figured,” he says, almost sadly. “It’s hard, though, isn’t it?”

  “Hard?”

  “Yeah, it would be easier to have perfect faith. My brother, Simon, he’s like that. He accepts everything, and he’s so untroubled. It makes him feel good to fulfill the Prophet’s commands.”

  I hear myself sigh. “My sister, Nanette, she’s like that too.”

  “My brother, he’ll grow old here,” he continues. “He’ll prove his faith to the Prophet, and he’ll be assigned numerous wives.” Now Jon sighs too.

  I look over at him in the dimming light. The mischievous look has gone from his eyes, and now they’re filled with a deep sadness.

  “I’ve talked to some guys who’ve left Unity,” he tells me.

  “You have?” I hope the alarm that I feel doesn’t show in my voice.

  He nods.

  All the exhilaration of the day melts completely away. I know there’s no place for Jon in my future, but I still want him nearby.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Do you ever think of leaving?”

  The question surprises me. Girls don’t leave Unity. Where would we go? We’re too young to get jobs, and by the time we’re old enough, we’re married with babies. A few older women have fled in the night with their children, but often the children find their way home to live with their fathers and other mothers. “No,” I tell him. “Though I wish I could, before I’m assigned to a husband.”

  We sit in silence again. Jon reaches to pick up an odd-shaped stone lying on the beach, and his hand accidentally brushes my arm. A tremor rushes right through me.

  “It’s an arrowhead!” he exclaims.

  “A what?” I ask, trying to settle my heart again.

  “An arrowhead. The First Nations people chiseled them from stone and attached them to the ends of their arrows.”

  “Oh.” I have no comment to make about arrowheads.

  “Maybe it’s up to us to change things,” he says, still examining the stone.

  “Change things?” I ask. “Like what?”

  He regards me. “You can refuse to be assigned to a husband.”

  “If I did that I’d be banished from Unity. I’d be an apostate. Then what would become of me?”

  “You could move to Springdale, finish high school and get work. Maybe even have a career.”

  I study his face, amazed. “Think of the shame I’d bring on my family! And who would I live with?”

  Jon just shrugs. “We have choices, even if they’re not easy ones.”

  “Maybe you do,” I tell him. “But I don’t know anyone who would take me in. And besides, I love my parents, all of them, and my brothers and sisters, even though they drive me crazy. I’d miss them.”

  “So,” he says, “you question your faith, but you’re not prepared to do anything about it.” He pushes the arrowhead into my hands.

  I don’t answer.

  “Then I guess you will have to settle for being a plural wife,” he tells me.

  It’s almost completely dark now, but Jon’s face is close enough to mine that I can see him gazing intently at me. I look away. His words hurt, like he’s criticizing me. Some small part of me knows he’s right, but it’s too hard to think about it. “I better go,” I say, but I don’t move.

  Now I feel his hand on my chin and he turns my face to look at him. “Just think about it, Celeste. You came here tonight. That’s a start.” Then, before I know it, his lips are on mine. For the briefest of seconds I stay put, savoring the wave of heat that surges through me, but then I push him away, jump to my feet and start running down the beach toward the road.

  “Celeste!” I hear Jon call out, but he doesn’t try to catch me. I keep running.

  Chapter Six

  Taviana

  The evening is just beginning to darken. My chores are done and I have nothing else to do, so I decide to take a
walk. I haven’t been able to find Celeste anywhere, and Nanette has been ignoring me ever since I stopped to talk to the boys at the Nielsson farm the other night. As I pull on my shoes, I consider walking in that direction again. It’s not that I’m looking for trouble, but chatting with the boys would make the evening a little less dull.

  It’s at times like this that I miss TV and videos. I never had a computer, but I liked going to the library and mucking about on one of theirs. I had a Hotmail account for a while, but I didn’t have anyone to write to, so I quit checking it. Celeste loves hearing about all the things you can discover with a computer and the Internet. It’s strange to think she’s never used one or watched a TV. It’s even stranger to think that if I stay here, I may never use either of them again.

  The beam of headlights swinging into the long driveway startles me. Peering into the twilight, I recognize the car as a police cruiser, and at that same moment I hear the patter of running footsteps. Spinning about, I catch a glimpse of a small figure flying through the garden and racing toward the house. My old instincts kick in, and I melt back into the doorway, my heart racing. A panicky voice shouts from the back step. “Taviana! Hide, now!”

  Celeste’s dad, Kelvin, materializes from behind a bedroom door, buttoning up his shirt. His eyes are wide, frightened. He’s always so totally in control that it alarms me even more to see him like this. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the stairs that lead to the basement. I stumble down behind him and watch as he unlatches a deadbolt and yanks open the door that leads under the house into a cold storage area where vegetables and jars of preserves are kept over the winter. Goosebumps bubble up on my arms when I’m hit by the cool dank air. I peer in and see that the dirt floor is mostly bare, the food being used up by this time of year. There’s a single unlit lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and the crawl space is about four feet high. I can’t see the back wall, but the tunnel-shaped room appears to go a long way under the house.