Favorite Wife (19 page)

Lucy tore around, organizing the children. When they were finally off and trudging through the early morning fog to the bus stop, we both sighed with relief. Four preschoolers remained at home—three little girls and the little boy, Byron, who had told me I was pretty. As Lucy hurried toward her bedroom to dress, I looked around, wondering what I should do next.

Lucy's flaxen-haired toddler was wandering about, dragging an empty baby bottle. A wet diaper sagged between her legs. Her little bare feet were blue with cold. “Come here, little one,” I crooned. She raised her arms; I lifted her, found a diaper, and proceeded to make her more comfortable.

I was changing the baby when Verlan breezed into the living room. “Looks like you've found something to keep you busy,” he said, grinning. Reaching down, he tweaked the little girl's bare foot. I smiled at his handsome face and puckered my lips for a kiss. But he turned away and sauntered into the kitchen. “Charlotte, Charlotte, where are you?” he called.

After a moment, they strolled past me and entered Charlotte's bedroom. Before the door closed I saw Verlan's arm slide around Charlotte's waist. He pulled her close, nuzzled his face against her neck, and closed the door tight. I heard the lock snap into place.

Suddenly I was annoyed. I felt an unpleasant stirring inside that made me want to throw things and stomp my feet. What did Verlan want with Charlotte? What were they doing in the bedroom? I sat stiffly, holding his little girl, my throat constricted, making swallowing difficult. The minutes ticked as I stared at the locked door, and I wanted to go kick it.

He's married to her, you little ninny, I reminded myself. He was married to her long before you came along. It doesn't matter what they're doing—it's none of your business. I stared at the door for a while longer, then I stood and placed Lucy's little girl down on her thin legs. She toddled into the kitchen, and I followed her, allowing myself one last, agonizing look at Charlotte's bedroom door.

I dashed blindly past the baby, through the dining room, and out into the sunlight, my heart pounding so loud I almost missed Lucy's call to me. Her voice sounded maddeningly normal. “Susan, do you have anything you want to put in the wash?” She was standing at the old Maytag, filling the tubs with the hose. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and climbed into the trailer for my dirty clothes. It took a few minutes of fishing around to find what I wanted. I fought to control my anger. I had never felt so unnerved, so uncontrollably angry. I had been raised in the church, prepared all my life for polygamy. Yet here I was, crying. Jealous! So jealous my hands were shaking, and I wanted to physically tear into Charlotte. I wanted to slap Verlan for touching her. His hands belonged to me . . .

I closed my eyes as I tried to erase the scene, burying my face in the armload of laundry I held. I dried my eyes on a sock and swallowed the rest of my tears. I was being so silly! He wasn't just mine and I'd have to get used to it, just as Charlotte had to get used to all the other wives—just as she was getting used to me. Plural marriage wasn't easy, but that's the way the Lord planned it. He had given us the opportunity to overcome our petty, childish jealousies, an opportunity that other people in the world didn't have. We would grow in selflessness and love for our fellow man—or woman, as the case was here. We would be the conquerors. We would get the prize, the Celestial Kingdom!

I retrieved the clothes I had dropped on the bed, threw my shoulders back, and left my trailer. “Can I help you do the wash, Lucy?” I spoke evenly. There wasn't a hint of tears. I had overcome my first trial as the wife of a polygamist, and I held my head high. I had won out over the devil.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

T
he wind blew dust swirls around my feet as I surveyed the mountain of dirty clothes piled on the cement slab. Denims were mixed with towels and sheets, socks and dresses—enough clothes for an army, and Lucy expected me to sort this into compatible batches.

“Oh, hell!” I groaned under my breath. “I don't even know where to start.” Why hadn't Mom made me do this? Why hadn't she insisted I learn something useful besides how to milk a cow? One thing was for sure. I refused to let the other wives discover that I knew little about housework. After the way Verlan had bragged about me, the humiliation would be too great. I could just picture the disdainful glances from Charlotte. And I could imagine Verlan's disappointment, knowing his new wife was untrained in the art of homemaking. He would probably instruct one of his daughters to teach me, and I would never live it down. Taking a determined breath, I knelt by the mountain of dirty clothes.

Common sense, Susan, just use your head. Darks with darks, whites with whites. Put all the towels together. By elimination, I made piles, leaving the two-tone colors and nicer clothing for last. I stared at the remaining heap of clothes and prayed for a means of escape.

Lucy picked up a batch of sheets and put them into the washer. She poured in powdered soap, then returned to the dirty diapers she was rinsing. Relief flooded over me. At least the sheets were okay. I was on the right track.

“Susan,” Verlan's loud voice rang out behind me. “Got a minute?”

I dropped the red and white blouse I was debating about and thankfully ran for the house. Lucy wouldn't discover my secret! I'd have to be more cautious about offers of help in the future. And I would have to learn fast.

Verlan wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me toward my trailer. “I'm going to spend a few minutes with Lucy, then I'm leaving for Los Molinos. I've decided to take Beverly with me. You'll be okay, won't you? You'll find enough to keep you busy?” As we walked past Lucy, I threw a guilty glance at her. She was kneeling by the pile of clothes I had left, busily sorting away. She didn't even look up.

Verlan helped me up the high step into my little trailer, and after the door was closed, he kissed me hungrily. His cheeks were smooth and soft, and they smelled faintly of Old Spice. I held on to him and squeezed my eyes hard, blocking the thought that he would be spending the day with Beverly, the wife who didn't even want to meet me.

The feeling that I was a stranger in Verlan's home swept over me again. I was being deserted—left in the midst of people I barely knew! Panic gripped me, and I had to bite my words to keep from begging Verlan not to go. I buried my face on his chest and blinked back tears.

Susan, you're a grown woman now, I reminded myself. You're living God's Holy Commandment, and you are married to an apostle in His church. Stop acting like a baby. Verlan's not just yours, remember? I looked at him and forced a smile.

“That's my girl!” he said proudly. Planting a quick kiss on my lips, he left for Lucy's, and I sat forlornly on my bed. Loneliness and homesickness washed over me in harsh, drowning waves. I pulled the faded blue curtain from the window and stared out at Charlotte, who was hanging clothes on the line. The wind whipped her full skirt up around her hips. Strands of hair had escaped her bun and were flying about her head. As the wind flapped the wet sheets into her face, she raised her apron and wiped her eyes. I wondered if it was just water from the sheets, or, if like me, she was also feeling abandoned and alone.

Why wasn't I happy? I had a wonderful new family. I was living as the Lord wanted me to. I needed to make myself useful and serve Verlan's family as Lucy did. Lucy seemed to be content with our way of life. She acted cheerful and selfless, even though she had spent little time with Verlan since our arrival.

Through the window, I saw the door of Beverly's house fly open. A short Mexican lady, with raven hair to her hips, preceded Verlan outside. She carried an overnight bag and her purse. Verlan held a blanket-wrapped baby tightly against his chest. They hurried past my trailer and on to the car. I had to change windows to see Verlan open the car door for Beverly. He handed the baby to her, then moved to his side of the gold Chevelle and backed from the driveway. Clouds of dust spiraled behind as the car sped down the dirt road and turned the corner. I stared at the empty road until tears blinded me. Dropping onto the bed and burying my face in the pillow, I sobbed until I could scarcely breathe.

Why, oh why had I gotten myself into this situation? I wanted my mother! Never had I felt so homesick. I wasn't ready to be dumped in with my husband's other wives and left to fend for myself! How could he do it to me?

Sometime later I snuggled under the blankets. The wind caused the trailer to shake, and it whistled through the little hole in the window. I could hear the clothes on the line whipping and flapping, and the sky looked ominous. Verlan and Beverly would be driving through this storm.

I closed my eyes and shivered under the heavy blankets. As I drifted to sleep, images of a beautiful girl with coal-black hair filled my dream—her long tresses blew softly into Verlan's face as he chased her, caught her, passionately kissed her . . .

In the furthermost recesses of my subconscious, I heard a soft, repetitious sound. It became louder and louder, and I suddenly awoke. Someone was knocking. “Who is it?” I called through a sleep-drugged haze.

“Susan, it's Rhea, can I come in?” The door opened to reveal a cloudless blue sky behind Rhea's head. I had slept through the storm, and the children were home from school. Suddenly things didn't seem so bad.

I climbed from the covers and slipped on my new shoes. As I rubbed my eyes, Rhea started to laugh. “Your face is all swollen!” she exclaimed. She moved closer and inspected me, dismay replacing her mirth. “Oh, Susan! You've been crying, haven't you?”

I glanced into the mirror on the closet door. My eyes were buried inside swollen puffs of flesh, and I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. I couldn't let Rhea know how unhappy and lonely I felt! She'd think I was a big baby.

Suddenly a soft arm found its way around my neck. She pulled my head onto her shoulder and patted my back. “It must be tough marrying a man who takes off practically the minute he gets you home,” she said quietly. “I'll bet you feel pretty bad, huh? Well, I think you're brave marrying someone with so many wives.”

I sat straight and stared into her brown eyes. “You think I'm brave?” Could there be someone in Verlan's family that understood the turmoil?

“I really do,” Rhea was saying. “I think you're really brave. I know I couldn't stand to leave my mama and brothers and sisters, and go off across the country to live like you have. I don't blame you for crying.”

I looked into my new friend's eyes and smiled. She was sensitive, and mature, almost motherly in her attitude toward me. She straightened and briskly announced, “I'm going to go get you a cold rag for your eyes, then you're coming out and playing marbles with me and Laura. I'll be back in a minute.” She threw me a smile and ran out the door.

It had been ages since I'd played marbles, and it sounded like fun. I brushed my hair, washed my face, and followed Rhea outside to the back of the storage shed where Laura was waiting for us. She dug into her pockets and picked out marbles by the handful.

“Okay, here are your marbles,” she said importantly. “How we play, see, is the starter throws one against the shed wall and it bounces off like this. Then the next person tries to bounce theirs up close to it. If you can get within a palm's width away, you win the marble. Got it?”

“Sounds easy,” I grinned, throwing a marble. It bounced into the dirt, and Laura promptly won it with one of her marbles. Soon there were crowds of Verlan's children around us, cheering us on.

“That's the way, Aunt Susan, you got it!” one of the big boys yelled as I won one of my marbles back from Rhea. Laura concentrated hard and won my nicest cat-eye, snickering as I groaned. I threw a steely and danced with excitement as it landed an inch away from a beauty of Rhea's. “I got it,” I crowed. I admired the red cat-eye and dropped it into my pile being held by one of the little girls in her skirt.

The late afternoon passed swiftly as the kids argued and yelled, fighting over whose turn it was. It was my turn, and I bent to retrieve a badly thrown marble. As I straightened up, I noticed movement at the corner of the shed.

Charlotte stood watching us, her hands at her hips. She glared directly at me, her face filled with disdain. Abruptly she turned and stalked toward the house, shaking her head as she walked, and I just knew she was muttering, “Oh, Lord, what will he drag home next?”

I stared after her. Then, glancing down, I realized I was covered with dust. Powdery dirt coated my arms, and my new shoes, and my pants were streaked black where I had wiped my hands. My face felt flushed, and I could tell that my hair was matted. Groaning, I closed my eyes. How long had she been watching me?

“Aunt Susan, come on. It's your turn, Aunt Susan. Aunt Susan!” The children were shouting at me, but somehow the game had lost its charm. The real world of wives and responsibility had crashed in on me with Charlotte's icy stare. I handed my marbles to one of the little girls. “I'm tired. You kids play,” I muttered.

Amid cries of disappointment, I walked to the house. Rhea and Laura stared after me, and I knew they wondered as to my lost interest in the game.

I heated water for a bath, then poured the huge kettle into the tub and went to the kitchen sink for a bucket of cold water. Although the sewer pipes in Verlan's house were connected, there was no running water in the bathroom. I removed my clothing and slipped into the big porcelain tub.

Having a real bathtub to bathe in instead of a tin washtub was a definite step up in the world. Of course, this really wasn't my house—it was my husband's house. But wasn't what was his also mine? I relaxed as I leisurely soaked, and felt like a rich woman. My mother had never had it this good, at least, not since joining the church. I ran my fingers along the sides of the tub and wiggled my bottom against the smooth porcelain. I could stretch my legs, the tub was so lengthy. There was no doubt about it—married life wasn't going to be the exciting, romantic adventure I had expected as the wife of a leader. There were drawbacks, especially in the sister-wife department. I was going to have to learn about household chores. Oh, I could wash dishes and sweep the floor, as long as no one expected an outstanding job of it. Why hadn't my mother taught and prepared me before allowing the marriage?

Yes, there would be drawbacks, but there were also definite advantages, like this tub, and my own little bedroom, and someday a home of my own. I wouldn't have to answer to anyone, not even Verlan, because he would be gone. Las Vegas was far away, and he had told me he could only return every two weeks. I would miss him dreadfully, but I would learn to manage.

Outside the bathroom door, the family called to each other as they readied for supper. Lucy's baby, Norine, was wailing while another child pounded on the piano. The commotion was nerve-racking, and I reluctantly left the tub and dressed. I was anticipating my quiet trailer and a good book.

Lucy visited with me throughout supper, asking me questions about church members in Colonia LeBaron. “I miss the good ol' colony so much at times,” she said wistfully. “There's no one to associate with or hold Sunday meetings with here. Everyone lives too far away. I even envy Irene down in Los Molinos. She and her kids might be living in a tent at the moment, but at least she's got friends around her.”

“A tent? Lucy, you're joking,” I scoffed.

“It's true. Verlan has men in the process of building her a house, but for the last two months she and the kids have camped out in a tent. Some of Joel's families are doing the same thing. It won't be long, though, until they have some houses ready. It's good for them, makes them tough.”

I thought about that awhile as I ate my vegetable soup and the ever-popular unbuttered wheat bread. I would rather not be tough, I decided. I was glad Verlan hadn't moved me to Los Molinos. I wasn't the pioneer type. I wanted to serve the Lord and earn my blessings, but not in a tent.

Charlotte completely ignored me. She sat primly at the end of the table in her somber-colored dress, her hair pulled tightly against her scalp in a demure little bun. Toward the end of the meal, she turned to Lucy and asked, “Do you know anything about Ervil moving Lorna here to Ensenada? Some of the members in San Diego were talking about it. Is it true?”

“Lorna!” I broke in. “Charlotte, that's my cousin! Is she really moving here?”

Charlotte glared at me, then pointedly turned to Lucy again. “Lucy, is it true?” she said evenly.

It was a blatant snub. I frowned, pushed my chair back, and stood. She wouldn't even speak to me! What had I done that was so bad?

I felt Lucy's eyes on me as I walked into the kitchen. “I haven't heard anything,” she answered Charlotte. “I hope it's true. It will be nice to have someone else from the church living so close.”

The rest of the conversation was lost in the whirl of my thoughts. Lorna, Aunt Thelma's daughter, was moving to Ensenada. The thought thrilled me!

I helped the girls with the dishes when supper was finished, hoping to prove to Charlotte that I did have some mature qualities. It didn't seem to change her mind though. She stalked about the house with a sour grimace on her face and wouldn't even glance in my direction.

Don't let her get to you, Suze, I thought grimly. She's just not being Christian. When no one was looking, I stuck my tongue out at her stiff back. I was so glad she would only be around on weekends. She was probably mean to the poor little kids she taught at school.