Favorite Wife (30 page)

“Did Verlan tell you that I'm going to have a baby?” I blurted out before I lost the nerve.

She stared at me, her face breaking into a smile. “No! My goodness, Susan, you didn't waste any time. How far along are you?”

“It'll be the end of September.”

I anxiously watched her, praying that her pleased reaction was genuine. Then I looked away, satisfied. “Susan LeBaron,” she crowed, “You are going to give us a beautiful, beautiful baby. Verlan is going to be so proud of you!”

I smiled faintly. “I hope so,” I muttered, remembering his rather cool reception of the news.

I could feel Irene's eyes on me. “What do you mean, you hope so?” she demanded. “Of course he will. There is nothing in this world that means more to Verlan than his children. He's told me that a hundred times. They are an eternal blessing to him, one that not even death can take away.”

She paused, staring at me. “He said something dumb when you told him, didn't he? What did he say to you?”

“It was nothing,” I said swiftly, regarding her flustered face. “I'm way too sensitive. I can't expect him to be as excited as I am, after all, he's been through having a new baby countless times.” I slowly smiled. “But thank you for being happy for me. It means a lot.”

As I walked with Verlan back to Aunt Thelma's later, I realized that I loved Irene. She was going to be a true blessing in my life. I now understood how a sister-wife could be considered real family.

Church the next day was a continual learning experience. Uncle Bud's group and I arrived early at the large adobe building, and as each Los Molinos resident arrived, Aunt Thelma introduced me. I knew several of the men, because they had come to Colonia LeBaron for the conferences. Most of them had also come to the priesthood meeting in Ensenada. But most of their wives and children were virtual strangers. I curiously observed the women of Los Molinos as they crowded around. They shook hands and hugged each other and me. Every one of them seemed in good spirits, excited, and truly happy. I sensed again the spirit of unity, the feeling that these people had a deep, abiding purpose in life, one that lifted them above their toilsome, meager existence onto a higher, richer plane. I determined to explore this attitude that they wore like a banner of success.

When Verlan and Irene arrived, Verlan grabbed my hand and marched me to the front, seating me on the piano bench. “You and Aunt Thelma pick out some hymns,” he whispered, grinning happily. “You're going to be a real hit around here. You should hear Brother Castro try to play the piano.” He rolled his eyes and motioned for Aunt Thelma. As the meeting started my aunt and I made an admirable pair, with her leading the hymns and me playing the piano. The congregation crowding the adobe building beamed at us.

Soon I returned to the audience, sitting next to Verlan and Irene. I unobtrusively glanced about, wondering which of the Mexican women was Verlan's wife, Ester. Well, I thought, I will meet her soon enough. I settled back, eagerly listening as Joel took the pulpit.

“Brothers and Sisters,” he began, “only once, in the recorded history of mankind, did God speak from the heavens and give to His children a specific guide for their conduct. Only once did He come to earth in person to deliver those commandments. So important did He consider the law which He gave on Mount Sinai, that He wrote it with His own hand and spoke it with His own mouth. That law is known today as the Ten Commandments. It is the same law which Jeremiah said God would put in the inward parts of His people and would write upon their hearts. Then would it be said that He was their God and that they were His people. This law, my brothers and sisters, is the perfect law of liberty. This very law will have to be established upon earth, beginning with us here, in Los Molinos, before our Savior can come again. Through our faithful dedication, we will one day become as a light on a hill, an ensign to the nations . . .”

As I listened to the familiar sermon, thoughts of Ervil crept into my mind. It was remarkable how both of these leaders had clung to the Ten Commandments as the basis of their doctrine. Yet they so differently interpreted how it should be practiced. Joel maintained that it would take long years of education before the law could be put into force; meantime we could live the positive side of the law—by doing unto others what we would have them do unto us. If we could do this, we would rise to heights of peace and prosperity never before achieved. Ervil, on the other hand, lacked the patience to educate the people. He was set on putting the punishments into effect immediately, thereby forcing people, on penalty of death, to keep the law. This very difference was what had caused the primary breach between Joel and Ervil. Still, both men preached their own interpretation of the law to whoever would listen.

Verlan followed Joel at the pulpit. He cleared his throat and looked the congregation over with a faint smile. “You all know that we have our work cut out for us. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how our Heavenly Father expects so few of us to carry His message of salvation to the entire world. But it must be done, and He has promised us that we will succeed. He stands behind us, my friends. His strength is ours. He has given us the authority to speak and act in His name. As the gospel is poured out to the nations, the people of the world will flock to these heaven-chosen places of safety. We will be ready for them. We will be prepared to teach them the higher principles of the Gospel to attain godhood with us.”

Verlan spoke convincingly. I watched the people of Los Molinos absorb his words, nodding their heads in agreement. Verlan's effect on the church members was similar to Joel's, I realized. They looked to him almost as they did to Joel, as a God-appointed leader.

Brother Castro closed the meeting at noon. When we left the church and the strong leadership, I knew a renewed sense of peace and fellowship, something I hadn't felt since leaving Colonia LeBaron. My soul had craved this very thing. Los Molinos was going to be good for me.

“Susan,” Irene called, picking up her long skirt and hurrying toward me as I stood with Aunt Thelma and Rena in the midst of a group of people. I turned, smiling. She took me aside, slipping her broad arm around my shoulders. “Verlan said to tell you he'll be over to see you for a few minutes before he leaves,” she forced a smile. “Run, run, run. That's all he ever does. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever have him home.” She tossed her head as though pushing the thought away. “You're going to the picnic?”

“I guess so, I forgot to ask the Chynoweths.” I glanced around, whispering, “Which one of those ladies is Ester?”

Irene's eyes twinkled. “She's not here today. I wonder why.”

“Is it because I'm here?” I asked, dismayed.

“I'm sure it is, but don't worry about it,” Irene said darkly. “She acts so stupid. I don't know how Verlan can stand her. Well, she's his problem. I'll see you later.” She picked up her skirt and dashed across the churchyard toward her old pickup loaded with fair-headed children in their Sunday best.

“Hmm,” I thought. “So Irene and Ester don't get along. Ester must really be something.”

Verlan had changed from his suit to a pair of jeans and a Western shirt when he pulled up next to the Chynoweths' camper to tell me goodbye. “Come get in here with me,” he called.

I climbed into the car, suddenly feeling that old familiar knot of loneliness but also the nagging fear for my husband's life, a fear that I couldn't dismiss as easily as he did. “You'll be back in two weeks?” I asked, staring out the window to hide the strain on my face.

“Yep. Two weeks. I'm planning to break ground for Charlotte's house when I come down. Now, I want you to enjoy your stay here, my sweet. Irene hopes you will go see her real often, and I'm sure you'll enjoy her company.” He sighed. “I wish I could spend more time with you, but duty calls.” I fidgeted, continuing to stare out the window. I could feel Verlan's eyes on me. “What's on your mind?” he finally asked.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Promise me you'll be careful. I know what you said, but I can't forget Ervil's words. I'm far from convinced that he was only spouting off. I just don't trust him, Verlan.”

“I'll be careful,” he said soberly. He glanced at me again, then reached for my hand. “I'd better go. I've a long drive ahead of me.”

I closed my eyes, little fingers of aversion tickling my stomach. I had to do it. He wasn't offering. “Verlan,” I choked, “Do you think you could give me some money? There are things I need.” There. It was out.

He was silent, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Then he said, “Well, I could let you have a few dollars, I guess. Honey, after paying for Irene's house, and trying to put a bit aside to start Charlotte's, that doesn't leave much. But here, take this. I'm sorry it's not more.”

He reached into his pocket, extracted three one-dollar bills, and handed them to me. I stared at them, my face burning. My lips stiff with shame, I slowly took the dollars from his hand. “Thank you,” I managed, wadding them in my fist.

He leaned over and kissed me, “See you in two weeks.”

I numbly watched the old, battered Chevelle until it climbed out of sight over the hill. Then I opened my palm and meticulously smoothed out my money. Folding the bills, I shoved them into the pocket of my dress and entered the camper.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
IVE

V
erlan didn't keep his promise to return in two weeks to Los Molinos. On the night that I impatiently expected him, the Chevelle pulled into the Chynoweths' driveway with Charlotte behind the wheel. I looked at her curiously as I walked to the car.

“Verlan asked me to drive down and let you girls know that he's gone on a mission to Oregon,” she said as she opened the car door, her voice strained, tired.

My heart sank at the news. I watched in dismal silence as Charlotte pulled a huge bag filled with my belongings from the backseat. Then reaching in again, she fiddled with an old sheet, extracted my guitar, and handed it to me. I stared at it in surprise. This was a thoughtful gesture—one that left me a bit baffled.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. “I really appreciate this.”

She briefly smiled. Rummaging through her purse, she pulled out an envelope and handed it over. Then she stood uncertainly, the silence awkward as we searched for something else to say.

“My girls said to tell you hello,” she said as she slid back into the car.

I smiled nodding. “Are you staying for the weekend?”

“Just the night. I need to be in Ensenada in the morning. Well, see you later,” she backed out of the driveway.

The night air was chilly as I stood watching the taillights of Charlotte's car wink out of sight toward Irene's. She was actually making a stab at being friendly! Her bringing me the guitar was above the usual call of duty. She was finally beginning to accept me, knowing that we were stuck with one another forever. She may as well. The Lord gave me little things like Charlotte's bit of thoughtfulness to cling to when I felt like screaming my protests about how unfair life was.

Taking my armload into the small room that I shared with Rena, I lit the lamp, tore open the envelope of Verlan's letter, and held it under the light on the dresser. His scrawled handwriting covered half a page. “There are some prospective families in Eugene, Oregon, who are considering joining the church, my love. They really need someone to spend time with them, and I should go. I will be back in about four weeks. I'm sure you will enjoy staying with your aunt awhile longer. Know that I love you and wish I could be with you. Please be patient. Be happy and wait for me, Verlan.”

Dropping onto the bed, I sighed, subconsciously scanning for fleas on the bedspread as I thought of the days ahead without even a glimpse of Verlan's teasing, reassuring face. I had felt so content for the past two weeks, and now my chest ached with emptiness. In spite of my husband's new resolve to prioritize his family, he again considered the call of the church as the more pressing issue. Well, I couldn't expect less of a man like Verlan—he was a messenger for the Lord first and foremost. Just as Grandma had said, I must forget my own needs and support Verlan's work.

Leaning my head against the plywood wall and closing my eyes, I was determined not to cry. I must be brave and selfless, just as the other wives had to be. They missed Verlan as much as I did, and needed him just as much, and I was certain they didn't pout all the time. I would be fine! I had the Chynoweths, and Irene, and plenty of people around to help fill in the gap. At least I wasn't stuck in Ensenada.

Straightening upright, I reread Verlan's letter, savoring the assurances of his love. Then I folded the note, and hid it in the bottom of a drawer, beneath a pair of pants that no longer fit around my growing waist. Placing the letter out of sight symbolized my marriage to Verlan. Our life together had been shoved to a back burner, saved for a time when the church didn't require his presence so much, for when our marriage could actually be lived like most people's marriages. It wouldn't be like this forever. Lingering, I smoothed the rough material down over the top of the letter.

I was so glad I would be staying in Los Molinos while he was away. The past two weeks had been filled with interesting and dedicated people, and the realization that the new colony was beginning to feel like home. I would be just fine.

Thelma and Bud's household was a busy one, and I had fit into their lives with hardly a hitch. Of course, the camper was crowded, but no one seemed to mind. “Don't you worry, honey, we'll just add a bit more water to the soup,” was the way Uncle Bud put my fears of being an intruder to rest. Rena assured me that she liked having someone share her cold bed, someone who didn't forget to powder the sheets each morning.

Much of my time had been spent with Irene and her brood. Being with Irene, I could count on lots of laughs and joking to fill my day. We also shared our personal joys and heartaches. On one occasion I had told Irene about my resentment of Verlan's courtship of Lillie. “I guess I don't have any right to feel this way,” I had confessed. “After all, I didn't hesitate to marry him.”

Irene had chuckled. “Don't worry too much about her. I don't think she's serious about Verlan. All she could talk about the last time she was here was some guy she works with in San Diego. Lillie's seen too much of how her mother goes without, married to Joel and all, to want to jump into the same kind of boat.” Irene sucked at her tooth, a twinkle in her eyes. “Besides, I think Verlan is beginning to realize he has enough wives, don't you?”

I stared at her, my spirits soaring higher and higher, and I grinned. Of course! How could I have not realized what had been going through Verlan's mind on the trip down from Ensenada? His courtship of Lillie had been nothing but an effort to fulfill some sort of misplaced obligation—one from which he now found himself free. He had finally realized that enough was enough, which was the reason for the new sense of peace I had witnessed. I'd have never recognized the reason for it on my own, but Irene knew Verlan well. Irene was perceptive. And of course she was right! I would be Verlan's last wife after all, and the thought made me almost dizzy with happiness and relief. Irene was such a blessing to have for a sister-wife.

The people who lived in Los Molinos were warm and friendly, and never missed an opportunity to invite me over for a visit and a meal. All, that is, except for Ester, Verlan's fifth wife. Ester coldly avoided me. She was a small, attractive Mexican woman, who lived in a trailer house at the far edge of town. I hardly ever saw her. She stayed far away from me at meetings, and although I glanced at her several times, she never looked in my direction. The minute the meetings were over she always hastened away, her back stiff and unyielding. Her sister, Isabel, was married to Joel. The two women had several other brothers and sisters who lived in town. According to Irene, Ester spent all her time with her family. “And that's fine with me,” Irene informed me. “She's so stuck up. She's never even been decent to me.”

One afternoon Irene stopped by the Chynoweths in her old, dilapidated pickup to take me to the small general store in Guerrero. She helped select enough material for a maternity blouse, which cost me two of my three hoarded dollars. When we returned home, she helped me cut it out, and guided my efforts as I sewed it together on her machine.

“One blouse won't be enough, of course,” she frowned as I tried the completed blouse on. Digging through a sack of material in her closet, she said, “Here, this piece ought to be big enough to make you another one. Let's go cut it out. And if you'll bring me some of your pants, I'll sew stretch panels in them. They'll get you by for a while.”

As the days passed, the Chynoweths' new house took shape. Uncle Bud and the boys worked on it from dawn to dusk. Once the roof was on and the doors and windows were in, Uncle Bud and Mark traveled to Utah in the Prophet Joel's big truck for a load of their furniture which was being stored by my older Chynoweth cousin, Victor, in his garage. The men were back within a week, the old truck loaded to the top. Joel and Brother Castro came to help unload. Aunt Thelma bustled about, supervising, as the men hauled precious articles into the new house. Great was my joy when I saw the upright piano at the front of the truck, carefully wrapped in old quilts.

The moment the piano was placed in the living room, Mark pulled up a chair. His fingers danced across the keys. In his rich tenor, the words of “Light My Fire,” the new rock song by The Doors filled the room. I stood at his side, listening in amazed delight.

Joel stopped work and leaned on the other side of the piano. He appeared amused by the words of the song, and by the way Mark had drifted into his own world, oblivious of the clamor around him. Shaking his head, Joel finally walked back outside. “I don't know about the songs he sings, Bud, but that boy of yours has talent,” his words drifted in to me. “If he'd guide his musical ability in the right direction, he could be a real blessing to the church.”

Uncle Bud's voice growled in answer, “Well, why don't you try telling him there's more to music than that loud, modern crap! Believe me, it don't do no good, Joel. Thelma wanted him to take up classical music, but he won't do it.”

After a few minutes Uncle Bud hollered, “Duane, go tell Mark to stop goofing off and come help.”

“Oh, no, let him play,” Joel insisted. “We can get by without him. Music's good for the soul.”

Aunt Thelma set a box down, her eyes met mine, and we both grinned. Joel, our Prophet, was enjoying Mark's kind of music. I could just imagine what Alma would think of the trashy lyrics Mark was crooning—or Verlan, for that matter. They would label the words offensive and evil. But Joel allowed people to be themselves.

It was wonderful to finally have the use of the big house. After we were settled, Steve Silver, the man who had taken on the task of being the colony schoolteacher, stopped by. Steve was an energetic, vigorous man, whose blond hair swooped back from his broad forehead in a perfect wave. Behind glasses, his brown eyes were alert and intelligent. As I listened to Steve and Aunt Thelma talk, I remembered Verlan telling me the history of Steve's conversion.

Steve had joined the Church of the Firstborn of the Fullness of Times in 1958, along with a group of nine other people. These people had all been Mormon missionaries stationed in France. During their spare time on the mission, these fervent young people had involved themselves in an extensive study of their church doctrine, a study above and beyond the usual requirements for Mormon missionaries. Rumor was, the group found things in the church history books that disturbed them. After much study and prayer, dismayed, they concluded that the doctrine being taught by the modern-day Mormon Church was incorrect. From what they'd read, it appeared to them that their beloved Latter-day Saints had changed the original teachings—teachings that Joseph Smith had professed to be “unchangeable and everlasting!”

One of the nine missionaries ran across a copy of
Priesthood Expounded
, a book Ervil had written under Joel's direction. This missionary shared the Le­Baron brothers' book with his young friends, and together, they poured over its contents. They concluded that Ervil's book was based on correct, unchanged principles; the same principles that Joseph Smith had taught in the original Mormon Church. Excited, yet deeply troubled, they took the book to their superiors in the mission field. According to
Priesthood Expounded
, the Mormon Church was in trouble.

The nine missionaries were excommunicated for their efforts and sent home, causing a dreadful scandal throughout the LDS Church. Subsequently, Steve and the others made their way from France to Mexico and Colonia Le­Baron to find Joel. They desired to ask him more about the teachings in
Priesthood Expounded
. After talking with Joel at length, the missionaries accepted his claim to the Mantle, acknowledged him as the One Mighty and Strong (the name of the chosen Vessel of God), and joined Joel's struggling new church.

Steve Silver was the only one of the original nine Mormon missionaries to move to Los Molinos. Joel had asked him to join the pioneer efforts at colonizing the new gathering place. Earning respect with his dynamic, positive personality, he attracted me as well as many others. I could see why Joel had selected him to be in charge of the school.

And now, Steve was explaining the tasks to be completed for the preparation of the new school, and he wanted to know if Thelma and I were ready to go to work.

“You bet,” Aunt Thelma said promptly, answering for the both of us. “Just lead the way.”

We started early the next morning, sorting and rebinding books. During the following days, we helped Steve paint blackboards, sand and revarnish the old, donated desks, and follow up on other chores Steve put before us. I enjoyed keeping busy and knowing that I was accomplishing something worthwhile. More and more the thought of teaching at the new school excited me. Steve hadn't asked me personally yet, but I was hoping that he would. Of course, by the time school started in the fall, I would be far along in my pregnancy. But maybe I could teach for a few weeks, and then again after the baby was old enough to be left a few hours at a time.

Verlan showed up early one morning, worn out from his long and tiring, but successful, missionary trip. He was only able to spend a day with us in Los Molinos, during which time he organized a couple of the Mexican men to dig the foundation for Charlotte's house.

That night, Verlan spent the night with me in the room that I usually shared with Rena. I had looked forward all day to this time with him. The opportunity to spend the night in my husband's arms was rare.

He tossed and turned next to me once we were in bed, groaning restlessly. “Oh, Susan, I have got to get back to work! The funds are running out, and Theron is swamped with jobs to be done in Vegas. He's been carrying the ball on his own, but I've got to get back there and bail him out. I feel guilty even starting Charlotte's house, when I'm so broke. I don't know how I'm going to cover everything, and leave enough money for the family to get by . . .”