Favorite Wife (24 page)

Surely I was imagining things. I blinked rapidly, my stomach churning dangerously as I sat stiff and tense in the middle of my bed. I was losing my mind. Verlan, cuddled up to Lillie, his own brother's stepdaughter? No, it couldn't be real. I was really losing my mind.

I stared at the curtain. The window and what was behind it seemed to tug at me, compelling me to look again. I crawled to the side of the bed, and with shaking fingers, I carefully pulled the faded material back. I stared at the tight huddle behind the steering wheel, and physically shook as I dropped the curtain back into place.

I pulled the covers back and dove under them, huddling in a rigid ball beneath the heavy blankets. This couldn't be happening. Verlan wouldn't be doing this to me; he loved me. Surely he wouldn't be courting another girl when he had hardly seen me in the four months since we'd been married. Yet I knew my eyes did not deceive me.

My body trembled under the covers as I fought nausea and hysteria. Soon Verlan would be coming in, expecting me to receive him in loving arms. Well, he was in for a disappointment in that area. Jumping up, I bolted the door.

Time passed slowly. Twice more, I peeked out the window, only to see the same sight, in the same position as before. Finally I could stand it no longer.

I had to get up and go outside, go relieve the churning in my stomach. I put a coat over my nightgown and slipped my shoes on, carefully opened the door and raced toward the privy. I yanked on the door of the outhouse, surprised that the door held. I yanked again, harder, desperate to get inside. Suddenly from behind the door, Beverly's muffled voice said, “It's busy.”

“Oh, sorry,” I stammered. I glanced quickly around the dark yard, searching for a place to vomit in peace without Verlan and Lillie, on the other side of my trailer, seeing me. I dashed away from the outhouse, and ducked under the clothesline, holding my hand over my mouth as I ran. I reached the weeds past the clothesline just in time.

When the worst of it was over, I leaned against the wooden pole, my legs trembling. Fatigue and illness, coupled with the trauma of Verlan and Lillie's betrayal, left me stunned and weak. I felt detached from myself, unable to cope with the hurt that drove deep into my soul. I held on to the pole, sobbing brokenly.

“Susana, are you all right?” Beverly softly asked behind me.

Swallowing back my sobs, I clutched the pole and turned my face away from her.

Suddenly she reached out and touched me. Just for a moment her hand lingered, warm and soft, on my arm. Then she let it drop to her side.

Surprised, I glanced at her. Her features were unreadable in the darkness, but her voice was filled with emotion as she said, “I know what you're going through, Susana. I understand how hard it is. Please don't cry. Please don't cry . . . ”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

B
everly's short figure retreated into the shadows of the yard. I leaned against the damp clothesline pole and stared after her, hearing a soft grating as she closed her door.

“ . . . I understand how hard it is . . . ” she had said. I was certain she'd seen Verlan with Lillie and felt the same shock and distress as I had felt. She'd known that I was crying, but surprisingly, I felt no embarrassment. Beverly understood my pain, and for the first time, I understood her resentment.

I stole back to the trailer, conscious of Verlan's car. I didn't want him or Lillie to see me and to think I was spying on them. Locking the door, I went to bed. My initial anger at Verlan had left me with a dull ache, and a mute questioning of his actions. Had his courtship of Lillie been lengthy . . . or was today the beginning? I knew the answer. As cozy as they appeared, their relationship wasn't something new. Past experience reminded me that Verlan didn't behave that way, not until he knew a girl well . . . which meant when Lillie and I had gone to the movie, she'd been hiding their relationship.

I tried to be reasonable. Hey, dummy, I reminded myself, you knew there was a possibility you wouldn't be Verlan's last wife. But I'd seen very little of him in four months . . . four and a half months, to be exact. I sat up and began counting. I had spent only seven nights with Verlan since our marriage, and four had been the nights of our honeymoon.

I smiled wryly, realizing Verlan's other wives must also feel neglected. Irene and Ester, in Los Molinos, rarely saw him. I wondered if his desire for Lillie was a righteous one or if he was letting the lust of the flesh be his guide. Surely this was rushing into another relationship by anybody's standards.

I lay down again and pulled the quilts higher. It had been more than an hour since Verlan's arrival. How much longer would he stay with Lillie? I wrestled with my pillow, punching it, as I tried to become comfortable. My body and mind slowly relaxed.

Sometime later, a loud pounding startled me. My eyes opened as Verlan's voice called, “Susan, open up.”

Immediately awake, I lay still. Instant fury engulfed me. So! I raged to myself. He has finally told that simpering girl goodnight. He's tired now, so it's my turn. Stiff and sullen, I waited as Verlan knocked repeatedly.

“Susan, open this door!” he suddenly bellowed. The trailer shook as he angrily yanked on the door handle. “I know you can hear me. Stop being silly and let me in.”

So I was being silly! I grimly enjoyed Verlan's ranting, and I let a full minute pass before I turned the lock. He yanked the door open and stormed in, his heavy frame causing the trailer to sway. “What do you mean by locking me out?” he snapped. “You knew I would be coming to spend the night with you.” By the dim light coming through the window, I could see his body silhouetted against the curtain. He ripped his shirt open with obvious annoyance.

In the four and a half months since I had become his wife, I hadn't spoken an angry word to Verlan. The words had been there, but I had bitten them back. Now they flew out of my mouth, sarcastic and insolent. “Yes, Verlan. You're absolutely right! I knew you would be coming to spend the night with me. I knew it was my night. My night—what a joke! You have just spent half my night hugging up to Lillie LeBaron!” I flounced on the bed, glaring at him through the darkness. “Oh, I saw you. All snuggled up to that skinny little . . .”

“Susan LeBaron, you hold it right there,” he roared. “What I do with Lillie is none of your business.” He stared at me, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. Suddenly his voice dropped, taking on a tone of disbelief. “You know, I can hardly believe that my sweet Susan is talking this way. You've never shown me disrespect before! What has gotten into you that you would start now?” As he stood in front of me in his long, white garments, I could sense the puzzled expression on his face.

Suddenly I laughed—a hysterical, weak, female sound. I wanted to scream and cry, but I laughed because his words were so sincere, so innocent of any wrongdoing on his part. He honestly couldn't understand my problem, why I was so mad and hurt. As he stepped toward the bed, I quickly scooted over, far against the wall. He climbed in next to me and tiredly lay his head down. I cringed as he reached out and absently patted my leg.

“It's been a long, wearing day, and I've got an early priesthood meeting in the morning,” he yawned. “It's good to see you, Susan.”

“Right,” I growled. Additional words of hurt and rejection were battling to be voiced. They raced through my mind, thoughts fighting for precedence. So, he didn't think his courtship of Lillie was any of my business, huh? Now wasn't that something, when I would be forced into sharing my husband with her, and be stuck living around her for the rest of my life! I took a ragged breath and opened my mouth to say the sentence, just like that. The words were well chosen, perfect. He would have to chew on that one.

From next to me, a sudden, gentle snore erupted from Verlan's nose, followed by a louder, deeper sound escaping from his mouth.

“Hell and damn!” I said aloud. Amazed, I rolled over in bed to peer at his sleeping form in the darkness. Totally exasperated, I snapped my mouth closed and swallowed back the flood of angry words that coursed through my mind.

Boy, wasn't Verlan LeBaron something! He hadn't been in bed two minutes and already he was asleep. Lillie had worn him out, and now he had no time for me. I fought the urge to yank the pillow from under his head as tears slid down my face, wetting my hair and pillow. I'm too late, I thought disconsolately. I didn't say anything soon enough, and I didn't tell him about the baby. But what does it matter? He doesn't deserve to know.

I barely stirred as Verlan got out of bed the next morning. Keeping my eyes closed, I ignored his movements as he dressed. Soon he left the trailer, and I snuggled deeper under the covers. The first rays of sunlight made my temples throb so I quickly closed my eyes. Tired from the emotional stress of the last hours, I drifted back to sleep.

Later when someone tapped on my trailer door, I struggled to awaken. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I opened the door and sleepily peered into the sunlight. Beverly stood before the trailer, a tentative smile on her lips as she looked up at me. “Susana,” she said quietly, “Would you have breakfast with me this morning?”

“Are you . . . are you sure you want me to?” I stuttered, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

She looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. “Yes, I do. It's not much what I have made, just huevos rancheros, but I would like to have you share them with me. Yes?”

Warmth and gladness rushed through me, and I wanted to hug her. “I would be happy to,” I grinned, pushing the hair out of my eyes. “I'll get dressed and be there in a few minutes.”

Stunned at the change in her attitude, I quickly dressed. What had come over her? She was actually reaching out to me, offering me her friendship! It seemed that all Verlan's wives could rely on was each other. To survive the loneliness, we needed to stick together.

Beverly's table was set for two, with a vase of plastic flowers in the center. She pulled out a chair, and I sat down, wondering what to say as she bustled around the kitchen. She served Spanish-style eggs and rice, then poured a hot, mahogany-colored brew that I didn't recognize into a coffee cup. I sensed her nervousness as she sat and looked at me across the table.

“Susana,” her eyes were a fluid, gentle brown, “I want to apologize for the way I have treated you. It was wrong of me. I want us to be friends, if you're willing.”

Suddenly I realized I had been holding my breath. I exhaled, closing my eyes to hide the relief, the guilt, and the turmoil in my heart. Now I understood the feelings Beverly had harbored against me. I opened my eyes again and reached for my cup. I took a sip of the hot liquid before I answered. “I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't realize what you were going through until—” I stopped, searching for words.

Beverly's tone was gentle, “I know. It's hard.” She stared at her plate, mixing her eggs and rice together. “I saw Verlan with Lillie last night . . .” She shrugged and sighed. “I'm more used to it now, I guess. It's all new to you. It's different, somehow, with the wives who are already married to him. It's not so hard to accept them. It's the new ones he chases and marries that about kill you.”

Beverly suddenly looked up. Tears had filled her brown eyes, and they threatened to reopen my own wounds. I nodded, swallowed hard, fought to gain control of my emotions, and took another sip of the brew in the cup. “This is good,” I said, changing the subject. “What is it?”

She dabbed at her cheeks and tried to smile. “Mom and Dad used to let me drink coffee, back when I was at home. Verlan won't let me drink it anymore, so I pretend this is coffee. It's just oven-browned grains that I've ground together and boiled. It's not exactly coffee, but . . .”

“But it's hot and relaxing,” I finished her sentence. I suddenly felt at ease. The tension was completely gone. Beverly fussed as we ate, refilling my cup, and chatting away as though there had never been a problem between us. The food was delicious, and my stomach felt almost normal. I ate greedily.

The moment the baby stirred in the crib, Beverly jumped up and brought her to the table. I smiled, holding my arms out, and Beverly said, “Go see Aunt Susan, Lorraine.” She put the blanket-wrapped little girl in my lap, and the baby looked up at me with her huge, curious, brown eyes.

“Aren't you a pretty one,” I crooned. “She's seven months, right?”

“Almost nine months,” Beverly corrected. “She's so much fun. She's walking around holding on to the furniture now, but she doesn't dare let go and try it on her own. See her new teeth? It's not much fun nursing her, I'll tell you, now that she has them.”

I stuck my finger in Lorraine's mouth, felt the tiny teeth, and grinned. “She bites you, huh?”

“Boy, does she bite! I'm going to have to quit breast-feeding soon. I'm hanging on as long as I can, because I'm not ready to get pregnant. One baby is enough in this little house.”

I nodded, and wondered if I would still be living in the trailer when I had my baby. And I wondered if Beverly had guessed that I was pregnant and had opened the subject, hoping I would confide in her. I quickly decided against it. As mad as I was at Verlan, I still wanted him to know before anyone else.

“Beverly, did you know about Lillie before last night?”

The muscles around her mouth stiffened. “Not exactly,” she shook her head. “But I wasn't surprised. Irene told me that a year or so ago Verlan took Lillie out a couple of times, up in Las Vegas. Nothing ever came of it, and I thought that was the end of the courtship. I guess I was wrong.”

“Didn't he talk to you about her, tell you he was courting her?”

Beverly shook her head again and started clearing up the table. “He didn't tell me about you, either. The first I knew about you was when Irene came back from Colonia LeBaron, right after you and Verlan were married. She told us all then—it was a shock.”

My face flamed. “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize . . .”

“It's not your fault!” she snapped. “That's just the way Verlan is. He told me that he hadn't wanted to worry me about you—until there was actually something to worry me about.” Beverly glanced at me as she wiped the table with a wet rag. Then in a scornful tone of voice, she added, “If you haven't already figured it out, I may as well warn you. As Verlan's wife, you have no say whatever in what he does or who he marries. You just have to hang on and like it or lump it.”

I stood up, walked to the dishpan, and automatically started washing the dishes. The tight feeling of strangled emotions had begun to tear at my chest again. I furiously scrubbed at dried egg on a plate.

Beverly's voice interrupted my runaway thoughts. “I've upset you, haven't I? I'm sorry, Susana, I shouldn't have said that. It's really not so bad. At least we have a roof over our heads and food to eat. No one ever said plural marriage would be easy.”

I handed her a clean plate, and muttered, “At least, no woman ever did.” During the silence that lapsed, bitter and angry thoughts warred inside me. “It's not fair!” I suddenly blurted out. “We women have feelings and needs, too—just like men do. But we give up our rights once we become a wife to one of the brethren. How is it fair that a man gets to have so much freedom, and yet a woman of the church has no rights at all? Does God love His sons so much more than His daughters? Is that it?”

Beverly was silent. When she turned to me, our gazes locked. “I don't know, Susana. I think He must,” she said soberly.

I gaped at her. I hadn't really meant the words—I had only been venting my anger. Did she really believe it, about God being partial to the men?

As I thanked Beverly for the meal and turned to leave, I threw an appreciative glance over her tidy little home. My roving eyes suddenly stopped as they saw the new, white blanket, covered in big pink roses, displayed on her bed. As my startled brain recognized it, I almost gasped aloud. The blood rushed to my head. It was just like the one Verlan gave me for Christmas! I quickly clamped my mouth shut and turned away from the insulting sight.

So, I thought contemptuously as I marched toward Lucy's, Verlan couldn't even pick out something original, something just for me! More than likely every one of his wives except Lucy, who got the kettle, has a blanket just like mine! And I was gullible enough to think he chose it especially for me. Perhaps the blankets had been cheaper by the dozen. Oh, what's the difference, anyway, I thought. What does it matter? Lillie really missed out by not marrying Verlan before Christmas. She, too, would have been the proud new owner of a pink and white blanket.