Favorite Wife Read online

  Grandma’s house was one of two oven-baked, red brick homes the colony boasted of. Its bright color stood out among the brown adobe houses everyone else had and seemed to me to show stability and wealth. I knocked on the door, my blood racing.

  Grandma’s delicate, lined face broke into a smile when she swung the door open. Her tiny body was covered in a silky, cornflower-blue dress. As usual, her mousy hair was twisted into a bun and pinned at the nape of her neck, with little escaping tendrils curling softly about her face. The slippers on her feet slid across the tile floor as she gingerly moved on arthritic hips. Grandma always made me feel like a valued guest, as though she especially appreciated the opportunity of giving me piano lessons. I knew she received little, if anything for her efforts, but she enjoyed teaching and considered it her way of serving God. She filled her days by teaching piano to half the kids in the colony.

  As I followed her into the comfortable, spacious living room, I could see that she wasn’t alone. I immediately recognized Ervil’s broad shoulders and massive head. He was seated at the dining room table, just off of the living room.

  “Susan, dear,” Grandma was saying, her voice crystal clear and melodious as a lark’s, “go play ‘Gypsy Rondo’ for Ervil, while I finish putting this bread in the oven.”

  Ervil, the church Patriarch and Second Grand Head of Priesthood glanced at me. His mouth was full of something that looked like peach cobbler. He barely waved and turned back to his dessert.

  In the years I had lived in the colony, I had rarely been around Ervil. Something about him always made me self-conscious, and I sighed. Why did Grandma always want her students to play for everyone? Ervil was a prestigious, busy man, and I knew he couldn’t care less about hearing me play. But I dutifully sat down and ripped off the tune in my best form as Grandma fussed around her giant son. She served him up a second plate of cobbler as he talked steadily to her. I felt as if I were interrupting, so after the tune was over, I stopped.

  Immediately Ervil turned to me. “That was nice,” his voice was soft for such a big man, his deep-set eyes serious, as he looked me up and down. “Very nice. You do Mother proud.”

  “Thank you, Brother LeBaron,” I murmured, my voice drowned out by his chair scraping against the floor. He stood up, such a huge man beside his frail mother.

  Suddenly he coughed and choked and gasped for air as he grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket. He spit in it and wiped his eyes on a clean corner. Grandma had reached up and was patting his back. “Now Ervil,” she reproached him, “see why I insist you wear wool on your chest? Bring me a bunch of your cotton tee shirts and I’ll sew woolen patches on for you. You’re going to have to start taking care of yourself, or you’ll end up back in bed.” She was walking him to the front door and talking to him as if he were only ten.

  As they reached the entryway someone pounded on the door.

  “You ready to go?” a man’s voice said when Grandma swung the screen open. I peered out at Dan Jordan, one of the Twelve Apostles. He owned the other red brick home in the colony. He stood on Grandma’s threshold, a quizzical smile on his round face while he looked at Ervil. Dan was of medium height, with a perpetual beard shadow, black hair and eyes, and a dry, almost sarcastic humor that made the adult Sunday school classes he taught entertaining as well as educational. He was Grandma’s grandson by marriage, and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Everything all set?” Ervil inquired as, without a backward glance, they moved across the gravel drive. I could see them through the window when they climbed into Dan’s waiting pickup.

  “Come back soon,” Grandma called after them. She stood in the doorway a moment, watching them drive off. When she limped back to me, there was a strained expression in her clear hazel eyes.

  “Sometimes, no matter how grown up your kids get, you still feel like they need a good pounding,” she declared. Shaking her head, she settled down beside me at the piano and opened my music book.

  The mental picture of Grandma trying to pound on Ervil made me giggle. “You’re worried about his cold?” I asked.

  “Oh, that. And other things . . .” Her voice drifted off. “No matter. So tell me,” she said, “have you practiced much this week?”

  Impulsively I reached my arm around Grandma’s delicate shoulders and hugged her. She was so sweet and motherly, and it amused me that she was worrying about her grown son. Ervil was a man I subconsciously ranked with the angels, right up there next to Jesus, so perfect and good. And yet his own mother wanted to shake him. It was amazing and almost unbelievable. I considered asking her just what she was talking about, but it was none of my business. “Grandma,” I said instead, lightly fingering the keys, “I need to tell to you about something.”

  “Well, go ahead, dear. What is it?”

  I turned and searched her wrinkled face. “I had this strange dream last night,” I began. Quickly I told her about the scary blackness around me, the snakes and evil spirits and the feeling that I was going to hell. And then I told her about my quickly uttered prayer, and the appearance of a man. “What does it all mean, Grandma?” I asked in conclusion. “If anyone can tell me, you can.”

  She looked at me steadily throughout my account. “Do you know who it was?” she repeated my mother’s question.

  My face reddened, but I managed to look her in the eyes as I squeaked, “Your son, Verlan.”

  Grandma tried, but she couldn’t hide the pleased look that crossed her face. “Are you sure it was him?” The thrill in her voice was unmistakable.

  I smiled at her, and suddenly I felt like crying. She approved of me marrying her son. Verlan was a special man, and Grandma knew it. “What does the dream mean, Grandma?” I reminded her.

  “Why, honey, there’s no doubt in my mind what it means. Our Heavenly Father knows that you’re almost of marriageable age, and He loves you and recognizes you as a Daughter of the True Church. I’ve known there was something special about you since you were a small child, and He knows it, too. He’s guiding your life even though you’re not aware of it, and He has your spiritual welfare in mind. However, if you fail to follow His guidance, you are an open target for Satan’s trap.” Grandma gave me a serious, almost brooding look. “I have a feeling Satan is standing by watching you and has big plans to ruin your life. You must always keep the Lord close to you. He knows your potential, and I’m even surer of it since you told me about Verlan being the one in your dream. Verlan is a powerful influence for good in this world, Susan, and he’s going to need strong wives to back him in his mission.”

  “Grandma,” I said quickly, “you can’t say a word to him about all this. If he’s the one God wants me to marry, he will know, too. I would just die if he thought I was chasing him! I’ll remember what you’ve told me, and I’ll just wait and see what happens. Do you promise?”

  She smiled at me and squeezed my hand with her bent, knobby fingers. “You know I won’t say anything. Let him chase you! It’s good for a man not to be too sure of where he stands with a woman. It makes him appreciate her more. Now,” she concluded briskly, pointing at the thick music book, “where were we?”

  It was late when I left Grandma’s house. The sun had all but dipped behind the blue mountains, causing a rosy orange glow over the colony. A rooster in the distance was crowing as though it was dawn instead of dusk.

  I felt elated as I hurried along the streets of the little Mexican pueblo, my home for eight years. God loved me! He wanted me to be the wife of the president of His church. I didn’t know Verlan at all, really, but the thought didn’t even scare me. In fact, I felt relaxed about my future. I had no doubt that I would fit into his family and learn to love him, just as the brethren had told those other girls would happen to them.

  It was all I could do to keep from skipping down the road while I thought about him. I thought about his wives, too. I knew his
first three wives, but only slightly. Charlotte, his first wife, was tall, olive-complexioned and serious. Irene, his blond, plump second wife, was Charlotte’s half-sister, and was always full of jokes and laughter. Lucy, his third wife, was a cousin to the other two and was quiet and unobtrusive. He had married two Mexican girls since his family had moved to Baja. I didn’t know either of them. But I wasn’t worried about anything; God had plans for my life! I didn’t need to fret about Lane anymore either, and that was a tremendous relief.

  Mom, Jay, and the little girls were out in the garden, making use of the last minutes of daylight when I walked by the fence. Fara looked up at me from where she was dropping seeds into the furrow Jay was digging. “Well, Sister Sue. How nice of you to come home,” she scowled. “Mom made Mona and me do your dishes, and Jay finally milked your cows because they were about to burst. Any chance you could spare a little of your time to help us out here?”

  I glanced at Mom but she didn’t say anything; she just kept hoeing. Fara handed me the sack of seed and stalked to the house. Not even her bad temper could touch the elation I felt. The evil of the dream had vanished at Grandma’s words, leaving only the wonderful peace of having a place on earth all picked out for me by God Himself. I wasn’t worried about the Devil. I had been warned, and I was on the lookout.

  I knelt and began dropping seed peas into the furrows Jay was making. I was so lost in my daydream about Verlan that I failed at first to notice Jay’s agitation.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jay and I worked in the garden planting peas until it was almost too dark to see. As we reached the end of the last row, Jay straightened up and, leaning on his hoe, said in a low voice, “Sis, I need to talk to you.”

  I peered up at him, surprised at the seriousness of his tone. “Well, go ahead. Talk.” Standing up, I massaged my lower back.

  He glanced pointedly over at Mother and whispered, “Not here. Come on over to my room. I’m just going to put these tools away.”

  It must be about Carmela, I thought, as I followed him across the street to the little adobe house he had built. Jay had been working in New Mexico with Dad off and on for the past year and had put every dime he earned into the tiny house that sat across the road from our place. He had laid the adobes himself and had pounded every nail and set every window. I knew he had built the house with Carmela in mind. Although he had made a show of accepting Alma’s wishes that Carmela marry someone other than him, he didn’t fool me. He loved her, and he wasn’t the sort of person to give up easily.

  The house was filled with shadows, and Jay struck a match and lit the lamp. His boyish face beneath his shock of dark brown hair looked pale and serious in the dim light. I could sense his nervousness. “Sit down,” he said, motioning toward the unmade bed in the corner.

  I settled down on a rumpled mound of covers and leaned my back against the wall. “What’s going on?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets, pursed his lips, and rocked on the balls of his feet. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Sis, I need your help. I need to see Carmela.”

  I nodded, “I figured that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

  His wiry body moved back and forth in front of me, his words coming out in angry bursts. “She sent me a note saying that Alma is having her watched, and she doesn’t dare try to meet me anymore. Get this; her own brothers are spying on her for him, watching her every move!” He scowled and shook his head. “It makes me sick. Now Alma’s decided that she will marry Hector Spencer. Being as how Hector’s over fifty and only has one wife, Alma’s afraid he’ll lose out on the Celestial Kingdom and godhood. So Carmela’s supposed to go to Hector’s rescue.”

  “Okay, and how does Hector feel about all this?” I asked angrily. “Does he want to marry Carmela?”

  Jay grimaced. “Oh, I guess he’s agreed, though he’s dragging his heels a bit.”

  “Well, what about what Carmela wants?” I snapped. I could feel the blood pounding in my head, and I had lost control of my voice. “And what about you? I suppose your feelings in the matter don’t count!”

  “Alma reminded me again that the young girls in the church were being raised to be plural wives to the older men. I’m supposed to go out into the world and convert me a wife.” Jay’s laugh was a tight, unnatural sound. He leaned against the door and looked ready to cry.

  “Well!” I yelled suddenly at Jay’s bowed head. “What are you gonna do about it? Just sit back and watch both your lives be ruined? Go after her, dammit! Tell that mean old Alma to kiss your you-know-what!”

  Jay tried to give me a look of big brotherly reproach for being so disrespectful about a leader, but he couldn’t pull it off. A flash of humor momentarily lit up his eyes. “Here’s what I want you to do,” he said abruptly. “Go to Carmela’s and sneak her over here so I can talk to her. I’ve got to convince her to elope with me.” His blue gaze fastened on mine. “Will you do it?”

  “Elope!” I breathed, my eyes widening. “Elope?” No one I knew had ever done such a thing. Alma’s face flashed before my eyes, that thin, hard face that was so unlike his brother Verlan’s kind and handsome one. “Jay,” I said, my voice rising in panic, “Alma would kill you!”

  Jay soberly regarded me, “Now, let’s not be melodramatic. Sure, he’s gonna be mad. I’m counting on that. But at this point I don’t have any other choice.” He ripped at his fingernail, glanced at it, tore at it with his teeth, then sighed. “I just wish Brother Joel were here. He wouldn’t back Alma in this, and he would tell me how best to handle the situation. But he’s not, and things with Hector are happening fast. Now, I want you to sneak her over here tonight. Her family won’t think anything about you going to see her because they know the two of you are friends. Just act like you’ve invited her to go for a walk or something, and try to get away without anyone knowing.”

  “But where will you go? What will you do? Jay, the brethren will ban you from the colony, or cut you off from the church, or something. Alma won’t take this lying down. He’ll consider it a slap in the face of his authority.”

  “Suze, just trust me. I’ve got it all planned out. I’ll tell you about it later, after I’ve talked to Carmela. Just go get her, okay?”

  The spirit of adventure grabbed me, and I slowly nodded, my eyes shining. Nothing would make me happier than to have a hand in beating Alma LeBaron at his own underhanded schemes. “Right. I’ll leave right now!” I bounded off the bed.

  Jay grinned at my enthusiasm and gave me a hug. “I’ll cover for you with Mom. Get back as soon as you can.”

  It was dark enough for me to jog through the streets without anyone noticing. I stayed close to the trees as I ran, so if someone drove by I could duck out of sight. I followed the same route I had taken earlier that day, toward Grandma LeBaron’s, then past the dim lights of her house and on toward the big ponds the LeBaron men had dug to store irrigation water.

  Surrounded by old willow trees, Carmela’s house looked dark and scary. As I scampered up the hedge-lined path at the rear of the house, two big dogs started to bark. They dashed around the corner of the house and leaped toward me, snarling and yapping.

  “Here boy, here boy. Down!” I tried to sound commanding and unafraid, but the dogs continued to howl and circle me. Susan, you idiot, I told myself, they’re Mexican dogs. I crooned to them in Spanish, my voice shaking.

  The screen door at the back of the house slammed. “Perro! Ven a ca.” Carmela’s older brother Ernesto ambled toward me, peering at me through the blackness. The dogs trotted to his side, their tails wagging.

  “Why, Susana!” He laughed as he recognized me. “What’re you doing here this time of night?”

  “Hi,” I giggled shakily. “Oh, my goodness, am I glad to see you! I forgot about the dogs or I wouldn’t have come.” I eyed them and moved closer to Ernesto. “I was at Grandma Le
Baron’s, and I decided since I was so close I’d come and see Carmela. Is she home?”

  My voice sounded phony, but Ernesto didn’t seem to notice. His smile flashed in the darkness, and in perfect English he answered, “She’s doing the dishes. Come on in.”

  Ernesto was about five foot four, with teasing black eyes, a perfect set of white, even teeth and deep dimples. His smile would melt almost any girl’s insides. But I remembered what Jay had told me about Carmela’s brothers spying on her, and I was privately seething. Tonight Ernesto’s charms annoyed me.

  As we entered the dimly-lit kitchen, Carmela looked up in surprise.

  “What’s going on?” she asked when Ernesto was out of earshot.

  In a hurried whisper, I explained. Her lovely face turned grave as she rinsed a glass over and over. “How in the world does he expect me to leave here?” she whispered dejectedly. “Alma’s ordered Ernesto and the twin to follow me wherever I go. I can hardly go to the outhouse in peace! It’s just not possible.” She threw her hands up in the air, splattering dishwater all over the counter.

  “Carmela!” I threw a cautious look at the curtained doorway through which Ernesto had disappeared. “Are you going to let Alma force you around? Nobody, but nobody would make me give up my true love and marry some old man I couldn’t stand. Don’t let him do this to you! If you do, you’ll pay for it the rest of your life. You love Jay, don’t you? Then be willing to take some chances.”

  She scrubbed a huge pan in silence, her face pale in the poor light. Finally she cast a glance at the doorway behind her and whispered, “What have you got in mind?”

  As I hurriedly helped her finish the dishes, we talked and laughed loudly about colony gossip for Ernesto’s benefit. When we were through we traipsed past a reading Ernesto and on to Carmela’s tiny room. We closed the door, and Carmela leaned against it. “What if they catch us?” she moaned.

  “Have you heard about Francisca and Alma D.?” I asked loud enough for Ernesto to hear. I motioned fiercely for Carmela to hurry. “They’re going out together at least twice a week . . .”