Favorite Wife (31 page)

“Verlan, my love,” I interrupted him softly. “Can't you just relax for tonight? Forget about all that. You can think about it tomorrow,” I kissed his lips and snuggled against him, running my hand suggestively over his chest. His garment strings were in the way, and I pulled them loose so I could feel the crisp hair underneath. His skin was warm and soft as velvet. I planted a couple of kisses next to my fingers, and curled my bare leg over the top of his garment-clad ones.

He patted me affectionately, and mashed his mouth against mine in a quick, dry kiss. “Honey,” he said, catching my roving fingers in his, “Let's don't start getting carried away. I love you so much, and I want you, I really do. But we have to remember you're pregnant now. We wouldn't want to do anything that might harm the baby.”

I sat up in bed and stared down at him. The lamp was still lit, so I could see his face. “Do you mean . . . ” my voice trailed. I gulped, embarrassed.

Verlan grabbed my hand, and gently kissed it. He pulled me back down beside him and wrapped his long arms around me. “That doesn't mean I can't hold you close, my charm. We can still snuggle, and kiss, and enjoy each other's company. It'll be okay, and the next few months will pass in a flash. Okay?”

I lay stiff and still in his arms. In moments his loud snores roared in my ear, and I moved to the far side of the bed. Feelings of rejection and resentment flowed through me in huge, drowning waves. So this was the way things were! My limited sex life would be nonexistent for the next six months. Wasn't that just dandy. Of course, Verlan would be set up just fine. He had other needy wives to turn to, wives who weren't pregnant and off limits. I wanted to scream with frustration. Here I was just beginning to really truly enjoy sex and lovemaking, to look forward to it, and now I had been cut off. Just exactly whose rule was this? I'd never heard of it before—not that I'd discussed sex much with anyone. Did every woman stop making love once she was pregnant? Man, was I ignorant.

Verlan left at the crack of dawn to tell Irene and Ester goodbye. “I hate to leave you so soon again,” he said, kissing me at the door, “But I don't see a choice. I'm supposed to meet Joel and some of the other guys in San Diego for a meeting this afternoon. I don't know what it's all about, but I think there are going to be some changes made in the church organization.”

I glued myself to the window throughout the early morning, watching as Verlan's pickup left Irene's and moved to the western side of the colony where Ester's trailer sat. I stared miserably at the tiny speck of gray, where it stayed parked outside of Ester's place for an interminably long time. As the minutes passed, my stomach clenched. Verlan might have some old-fashioned and strange beliefs, but having sex during the daylight was not against his principles; I knew firsthand. He had lain like a stone next to me all night, and now he was giving to Ester what should have been mine. My throat constricted and my head pounded with the certainty of it. With the soft, May sunshine pouring through her windows, that snobby little witch was writhing in pleasure right now, at my expense.

Suddenly, I hated Verlan. I hated him so bad, with all his excessive regulations and ridiculous fanaticism—his constant excuses and justifications for our having to live this rigid, unforgiving life. What was so godly and right about suffering and heartache and abstinence during pregnancy? My sexual desire was alive and well, and awakened like never before, and now I was cut off, while he took his pleasure all up and down the Baja coast. I hated that dark-eyed little witch.

Brother Castro brought news the following week from the meeting in San Diego, news that caused much speculation among the membership in Los Molinos. Joel had discussed officially stepping down from the position as president over the church. In his place, he desired to ordain Verlan as the new president—an office he would carry along with his duty as President of the Twelve Apostles.

When Irene heard about it, she wept. “As if Verlan has time to do more,” she said bitterly. “We'll never see him now. I wonder what's going through Joel's head?”

I stared at her, shrugged and muttered. “Joel wouldn't give Verlan the office without direct guidance from the Lord. You know that.”

She sniffed, biting her lip. “Yes, of course I know it.” She finally sighed. “I shouldn't have said that, but dammit, Susan, I miss him! He's never been gone so much, and it just seems to go on and on. This new position is going to take so much more of his time, I wonder if he'll ever be able to come home. It's just not fair. Why does it have to be Verlan?”

The weeks passed, and my anger at Verlan slowly evaporated. I missed him desperately, and decided the sex thing was not that big a deal, and no reason to keep feeding the fire of resentment that had consumed me for the first week after he left. His face and voice haunted my dreams at night, and the precious intimacies we had shared in the past, though few, brought secret smiles to my face at the oddest of times.

One morning as Rena and I were outside hanging clothes, a long, gold Cadillac pulled into the driveway. We both stared openmouthed at the fancy new car. Ervil swung the door open and got out, sauntered around the vehicle, and held the passenger door open for Lorna.

“Wow,” Rena breathed, “Will you look at that.” She tore off across the yard toward them, leaving me standing at the clothesline, staring at the man that I hated and feared most in the world.

I hardly recognized Ervil—no more demure long-sleeved white shirt and black pants. This garb had been replaced—an emerald-colored, flowered silk shirt, and hunter-green pleated britches, shouted for attention. The shirt was casually open at the neck, showing off his muscular, virile chest. His thin upper lip was graced with a new mustache.

The drastic change in his appearance took me by such surprise that I momentarily forgot my repulsion and fear of him. I gaped in openmouthed shock. My, my, I thought. The snake has a shiny, new skin. His piercing, blue-gray eyes were the same, though, as they swept around the yard. They hesitated on me. Then Ervil threw me a stiff, crooked smile, and inclined his head in a taunting, half-bow.

My breath caught in my throat. I whirled around, showing him my back as I continued pinning clothes on the line. My hands shook. Oh, Lord, I thought frantically, I can't stay here! I can't walk over there, where he is! What'll I do? What will Lorna think, with me ignoring her like this?

My every instinct was to run. I wanted the ground to swallow me up so that I wouldn't have to face him and pretend that everything was normal. His presence flooded to the surface of my mind the horror of the night in Colonia LeBaron, the night I had cowered at the side of Anna Mae's gas tank and heard Ervil coolly say that he would have someone take care of Verlan.

“Well, hello!” Lorna's voice broke into the traumatic, seemingly endless moment. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing a smile into place. When I turned to her, she saw only friendliness and warmth.

“It's so good to see you,” my voice was sincere as I embraced her. I stared at the baby in her arms, at the small, red face of Ervil's newest son. “This is Aaron,” Lorna proudly held him out to me.

I took the baby reluctantly, and walked with Lorna toward the group of relatives gathered excitedly around Ervil's new car. Be cool, I told myself. Just don't look at him. You'll be fine.

Yet I couldn't help myself. Ervil was like a magnet, forcing my eyes to stray in his direction as he towered over the Chynoweths. His silk shirt glimmered and flashed in the bright sunlight, an outward symbol of the force and attraction of his personality.

“What do you think of Ervil's new love?” Lorna chuckled. “His wives call it his Golden Calf.” I glanced at the luxurious vehicle, suspecting where Ervil had gotten it. The paint was a soft, glistening gold, the interior creamy leather, the dash, wood veneer. A man's jacket was draped over the front seat. My fists involuntarily clenched and my lips tightened in repugnance. Ervil's brand-new, Golden Calf. Oh, Ervil, Ervil. Grandma's precious boy. The Prophet's brother, stooping to such unbelievable depths.

Slowly I realized that a silence had fallen on the group of people standing at Ervil's side. My skin prickled. I sensed that every eye was on me. Pulling my gaze from the car, I glanced hastily around.

Aunt Thelma's eyes looked curious—guarded—as though she could read my mind. I blinked self-consciously, forcing a smile. “Some car,” I mumbled.

Aunt Thelma turned abruptly away from me. “You must all be starved,” she said briskly. “Come on in and I'll fix you some lunch.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Aunt Thelma twine her arm through Ervil's. Her action seemed deliberate, almost protective, and I stumbled hurriedly back to the clothesline.

Susan, you've got to stop this, I thought, as I hung the rest of the wet clothes. You've got to get control of yourself. Openly detesting Ervil will cause resentment from Lorna and Aunt Thelma and trouble from Ervil, himself. You can't let him know that you know anything. He's far too dangerous.

Ervil and Lorna stayed with the Chynoweths for the next two days. Ervil ignored me, for which I was deeply grateful. I watched from a distance as Aunt Thelma bustled around her son-in-law, going to great pains to treat him like royalty. Even his eggs had to be cooked to his perfect satisfaction. I cringed, sickened, one morning, when Aunt Thelma placed the plate in front of him, asking, “Will these do, dear?”

The finish-work on the new kitchen came to an abrupt halt, replaced by lengthy, private conversations between Ervil, Lorna, Thelma, and Bud—that dropped in volume whenever I came near them.

My head and heart ached with fear. Right under my nose, Ervil seemed to be getting his clutches deeper and deeper into my darling relatives, and I didn't know how to stop it. Verlan had sworn me to secrecy about the incident at Anna Mae's, but if I thought it would do any good, I would have taken Aunt Thelma aside and told her about it anyway; however my sixth sense told me she wouldn't listen or believe me. Aunt Thelma was totally bewitched by her son-in-law—it showed in her constant smile and the proud, almost intimate look in her eyes as she regarded him. My heart felt like a heavy stone in my chest, my thoughts frantic as I searched for a way to warn her about the type of man Ervil was, that he was much more dangerous than people knew. Yet something warned me that I was too late. Ervil was carefully romancing my aunt and uncle, weaving an invisible web around them, a net with the strength to pull them to his side, away from Joel and the church body. In the Chynoweths' trusting eyes Ervil was becoming God's champion, the real leader of the church, the actual One Mighty and Strong. I could sense what they were thinking—I could read it in their eyes. Ervil was a born leader, where Joel was not; Ervil had charisma, where Joel had only humility and a strong and willing back. I knew without a doubt that Ervil's trip to Los Molinos had been for this very purpose. He intended to align the Chynoweths firmly behind him—soldiers for his army.

The morning of the third day of Ervil and Lorna's visit, I set off across the field to Irene's. I had wanted to go earlier, yet I was loath to leave my relatives alone with Ervil. Well, my stupid desire to protect them was doing no good whatever, and I had to get away from the stifling air in the Chynoweth home. Besides, I couldn't contain my anger any longer. I had to talk to someone about it.

As I tramped through the field, I glanced over at the distant walls of Charlotte's home that the men were working on. The house was going up much slower than Verlan had expected, I thought dully. But at least it was progressing some. When he returned, he would have a load of lumber for the roof.

I hurried to Irene's back door, changing my direction as I saw that she was in the garden pulling weeds with the boys. “Hi,” I puffed, my breath shortened by the heavy load I was carrying in my belly.

She looked up at me, straightened up with a groan, and threw down her gloves. “Good,” she grinned. “I needed an excuse to take a break. Let's go inside.” She stopped at the gate and called back, “Andre, you boys finish two rows each now, you hear me?”