Favorite Wife (35 page)

I could feel myself blush and I hastily drew back, embarrassed that Irene and Lillie had heard his comment. But Irene was her usual, jocular self. “Verlan's got good taste,” she nodded proudly. “Hell, Floren, you knew that when he picked me out of the crowd.”

Everybody laughed, and I quickly looked at Joel's face to see if Irene's swearing bothered him. But he looked jolly and his eyes sparkled, so I figured he didn't mind.

“Hey!” Joel said. “Let's put all this hard work aside and go fishing. Irene, Susan, why don't you girls go with us!”

Without waiting for an answer he turned and strolled after Benjamin Zarate. “Why don't you guys put the well digging off till tomorrow and find some buckets and come with us to the beach?” he called. “The grunion are running tonight, and I'm taking Floren fishing. What d'ya say?” As Joel neared Benjamin, he motioned with his hand toward the Zarate family. I knew he was telling Brother Zarate to bring the whole group.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Joel's wives, Jeannine and Gaye, quietly conversing together. Gaye whirled on her heel, stomped over to Joel's old pickup and got in, slamming the door closed behind her.

“Oops, Gaye's mad,” Lillie grinned.

I nodded and glanced at Lillie. “Do you know why?”

“Oh, because she and Mom planned for this to be a family outing. They've made a picnic lunch and everything, and now Daddy's inviting half the town to come. Gaye says he always does that and the family doesn't get any time alone with him.”

“Well then, I'm certainly not going to go.” I started toward Lillie's car, needing to check on my sleeping baby.

Lillie hurried after me. “Oh, Susan, don't worry about Gaye. Everyone else is going, so you may as well. It'll be fun. Irene, you'll come, won't you?”

Irene looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “Have you ever been grunion fishing?”

“No, I don't even know what they are,” I confessed.

“Then you should go. Let's stop by my place and pack a lunch. Donna, will you tend Melanie?”

Donna glared at her mother and snapped, “Since I wasn't invited to go along, I might as well.”

An hour later, a small caravan of vehicles moved across the barren land to the beach. In spite of my sympathy for Joel's exasperated wives, I couldn't help but admire him for inviting everyone to the outing. His kind of love was all-encompassing. Joel considered all of his people as family and wanted to share everything with them—even something as simple as a fishing trip. Steve Silver's Volkswagen had fallen in behind Lillie's car. I turned and peered through the dust, making out three other vehicles behind his, each one loaded with people and fishing buckets. Ahead of Lillie, Irene, and I, Joel's pickup raced toward the beach. Floren was huddled down in the back of the truck with Joel's kids, his balding head sticking up above the rest.

The sloping ground became sandy. We parked the vehicles, and gathering up blankets, buckets, and picnic sacks, the crowd hurried over the steep dunes to the ocean.

“Let's gather some driftwood and make a fire,” Joel called to the men. Within minutes a roaring fire invited cold palms toward its warmth. Blankets were spread over the damp sand, and everyone gathered around, our backs to the incessant wind. A blessing was asked, and baskets and bags were opened. Everyone snooped into each other's grocery supply, looking for tempting morsels. Talk and laughter defied the snapping of the fire and the deep, rolling rhythm of the ocean waves.

“Let's sing a hymn,” Gaye called once the food was gone. The strum of her guitar wafted through the salty air, blending with her clear voice. The song she had chosen was an old and familiar one, of the joy and beauty life offered when people's homes were places where love was shared. One by one the crowd joined in, eyes meeting in meaningful looks across the flames as friends and family sought one another. This was the wonderful unity that Joel inspired, this belief that we were a chosen people—a special people, called of God to lead the inhabitants of the world heavenward. And before us, like Moses of old, was our beloved Prophet.

We sang around the fire until the moon appeared, then Raul Perez, a young, fun-loving man, hurried away to the pounding water's edge. He ran back, his eyes flashing. “Grab your buckets,” he shouted above the wind. “The grunion're here!”

A dozen men jumped to their feet and headed to the water. Some of the women gathered up sleeping children and took them to the warmth of the vehicles. Lillie, Irene, and I hurried after the men toward the froth a giant wave left on the sand. Just below the high tide mark, small, flopping fish glistened in the moonlight.

“Grab 'em, grab 'em!” Lillie giggled. We dropped to our knees and grappled for the plentiful, squirming fish, throwing them into a bucket. Then as the tide rolled toward us again, we raced, laughing, out of its reach.

I breathlessly pulled the wet sleeves of my sweater up, getting ready for another race against the tide. All along the beach on either side of us, a full moon revealed dark figures heading toward the spawning life left on the sand. Oh, this was fun! The pounding waves rolled in and out as the fish were gathered. To our right, I could see Joel and Floren, working together.

I grabbed for a fish, flinging its slimy, blue and silver body into our five-gallon pail. “What do we do when the bucket's full?” I shouted to Lillie.

“We empty it into that barrel in Daddy's truck.”

“Then we'd better go. They're beginning to jump out again.”

Lillie grabbed hold of her side of the bucket handle. We dashed over the sand dunes to the pickup, emptied the bucket, and laughing, raced each other back again.

As we topped the dune, a scream floated toward us. It was a man's scream, high, thin, and weak. Prickles of fear raced down my spine. Then another scream—a woman's this time. Lillie and I stared at each other, our eyes wide with growing dread as we ran to the beach.

“It's Joel . . . ” The wind carried Irene's voice to us. “He's out past the tide . . . It's dragging him out, pulling him under! Oh God! Please . . .”

Lillie dropped the bucket, racing toward the water. “No, no!” Irene shouted at her, grabbing her arm. “Floren's gone out after him. The undercurrent's too strong for you.”

From every direction people raced toward us. Shouted questions and answers, calling and screaming filled the air as we frantically searched the pounding sea for Floren and Joel. The crests of the waves looked fluorescent under the moonlight, as though mirroring innocence and beauty instead of a skulking, hungry evil with the power to snatch our spiritual leader from us.

Raul Perez and Fernando Castro raced into water, striking out for the open sea beyond the breaking surf. Raul carried a rope over his shoulder.

Gaye stood calf-deep in the boiling water. She was silent, searching the waters for sign of her husband. Jeannine shouted above the roar around us, “Pray! Everyone pray.”

“Oh, Father in Heaven,” Steve called loudly, looking up into the starlit sky. “Still the waters, Lord! Just as you did during the storm of long ago on Simon Peter's fishing boat. Still the waters and bring Joel back to us. Bring him back, Lord . . . ” Steve's voice broke and his shoulders shook. His cheeks glistened with tears as he dropped his hands into the sea that suddenly swirled around his thighs.

Every second crawled as we waited—huddled together in desperation, each of us tortured with our own thoughts. Joel had to come back—we couldn't go on without our Prophet. God wouldn't take him from us. But what if He did? What would we do? Oh, Lord in Heaven, what would we do! How could Joel survive so long out in that wild ocean? What if Floren and the others were dead, too? What if . . .

Suddenly a shout broke through the ominous silence. Raul's muscular shoulders appeared through the water's surface, fighting his way toward the shore. “Help, help!” His voice sounded weak.Steve and Brother Zarate plunged toward him. Raul turned around, pulling on the rope. Out of the midst of a ten-foot wave, Floren and Joel were washed toward us. Behind them, Fernando Castro's head stuck out above the water. Steve and Brother Zarate grabbed hold of Joel's limp body, pulling him to shore. Behind them, Floren struggled to his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the shoreline. He crumpled to his knees.

“Lay him on his stomach! Lay him on his stomach,” Irene shouted, pushing the men away. “Someone get a blanket! Bring flashlights. Stand back, now! Stand back and give him some air.”

Seventeen people crowded around Joel as he lay deathlike on the sand. Jeannine and Gaye dropped to their knees beside their husband, willing him to live. Irene pounded his back with several quick thrusts, forcing water from his lungs. Then turning him over, she started CPR. Jeannine breathed into his mouth, working rhythmically with Irene. Suddenly the Prophet's eyes opened, and he gagged, choking up salt water.

“Joel! Joel, can you hear me?” Gaye sobbed. “Joel, darling, say something! Tell me that you're okay.”

Every eye was glued on Joel's face. He looked deathly gray in the yellow gleam of the flashlights, his eyes two cavernous circles staring up at the faces above him.

Suddenly his mouth moved, his hand motioning weakly toward the ocean. “A—a river—undercurrent—going out fast. Be careful, all of you,” he croaked. “I'm okay. I'm fine, now. You—all fish.”

“Now, Joel, you just relax. We're through fishing for tonight,” Floren's voice shook. “You're not out of danger yet so take it easy. Man, I've never been so scared in my life.”

Struggling, Joel sat up, ignoring his wives' protests. Floren dropped down beside him and gently pushed on his shoulders, trying to make him lie back again.

Benjamin Zarate had stood quietly at the side of the crowd, his brown eyes filled with misery as he watched his friend. Suddenly he pushed his way through the kneeling people to Joel's side. Joel looked up at him and lifted his hand. Benjamin gripped it, pulling the Prophet to his feet. He slid an arm around Joel's waist and looked up into his eyes.

“Joel, my friend,” the old man's voice quavered. “I thought we had lost you. I thought Satan had won and snatched you from us.”

Joel's voice was still feeble, but his eyes were steady, as he answered, “Benjamin, the Lord's plan for His people won't fail. Our mission has hardly begun, so you know it's not my time to go. Remember what I told you earlier today, when we were looking for water? Have a little faith, Brother. Have a little faith.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

I
sprinkled the last of my cornstarch on Melanie's raw bottom and pinned her diaper on, careful not to make it too tight around her legs. She sniffled, stood up, and looked at me with bright, pain-filled eyes. Gathering her close, I hugged her, my chest aching as I felt how thin she had become.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” I whispered. “I've got to get you some decent food, something besides beans and carrots. Oh, and beets, we can't forget the beets.”

I dropped back on the couch, sighing as I watched Melanie toddle across the floor toward a toy. She'd had diarrhea for a solid month, caused from improper food for her sixteen-month-old stomach. The medicine Lucy had given me for her wasn't working. Neither was the salve for her bleeding bottom. I needed to take her to a doctor.

I need to see a doctor myself, I thought ruefully. I hadn't had the money for a checkup since realizing that I was pregnant again. My second child was due in three months.

This past year had been a long and hard one—months of watching from a painful distance as Aunt Thelma's family became even more engrossed in Ervil's affairs. Since Ervil's removal from the patriarchal office, he had kept a low profile around the colonies. I knew he came and went occasionally—his car could be seen parked in the Chynoweths' driveway. He had made their home his base in Los Molinos. Although I still dropped in to see the Chynoweths on a regular basis, I gave their place a wide berth whenever Ervil was around.

There were several people in Los Molinos who now openly sided with Ervil, attending the private meetings he organized in the Chynoweths' home. One of these people was a man named Conway LeBaron, a cousin to the LeBaron men and a rather recent member of the church. Another of Ervil's new followers was one of Brother Zarate's sons. It angered me to see Benjamin Zarate's lovely, close-knit family being torn apart.

It seemed to me that Verlan and Joel ignored what was happening, and it angered and frustrated not only me, but Irene as well. She and I had discussed it just the other day. Joel had even agreed to let Ervil's group use our church building for their Sunday meetings, with their meeting starting as soon as ours adjourned. The tension between the two groups of people, as Ervil's group took possession of the church, and Joel's group left, was revolting. Irene had ranted to me about it, saying, “I can't believe what ostriches Joel and Verlan are! Why don't they do something? How can they just sit back and watch that snake weasel his way into people's heads? Oh, Susan, it worries me to death. I wish they'd ban him from the colony.”

Well, I had other things to worry about at present. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, reluctantly considering Lillie's offer, yesterday at church, to buy my guitar. The thought of it caused bitterness to rise in my throat—the dreadful thought of selling my prized possession to Lillie, of all people. Especially now that I knew for certain of her plans to marry Verlan.

It wasn't just speculation now. No sir, Verlan had secretly told Irene about their plans, and the moment he was gone from town, she had come to my trailer and told me.

According to Irene, Verlan had persistently asked Lillie to marry him over the past months, and she'd finally accepted. It was as simple as that. The wedding would take place in a couple of weeks.

And to think that I had actually started liking Lillie again! Ever since that night on the beach, the night of Joel's accident, I had tried to put the past aside and forgive Lillie for her secret involvement with Verlan. On her weekend trips home from San Diego we had even spent a bit of time together. And now she had changed her mind again and was planning to marry Verlan after all.

Verlan, of course, hadn't confided in me about their plans. He knew my feelings on the matter very well. So to avoid a problem, he'd said nothing at all. The thought caused rage inside me, hot, hateful rage.

I fidgeted restlessly on the couch. In spite of my anger toward Lillie, I had to consider selling her my guitar in order to have doctor money. Verlan, I knew, wouldn't be coming down to see us until after he and Lillie were married. There was no way to get in touch with him, so I couldn't count on him for advice or help. Verlan Jr. had sent us all the money he could, with instructions to make it last for two weeks. It was substantially less than we were used to, my share barely covering the cost of filling my empty butane tank. It left me no choice but to rely solely on the family garden and the big bag of beans in Lucy's shed for food—which explained Melanie's condition. Beverly's new little girl had diarrhea, too.

Suddenly Melanie let out a cry. She turned and looked at me, her pale face contorted with pain, her legs spreading stiffly apart.

“Oh, doggonit! Not again,” I breathed, hurrying to her. It hadn't been ten minutes. I laid her down and changed the diaper, washing the acid liquid from her blistered bottom and spreading on a thick layer of Lucy's cow-teat salve. Blood oozed through the yellow covering, staining my fingers.

Picking up my sobbing little girl, I rocked her as I struggled with the decision before me. She needed to see a doctor. I would have to bury my pride and resentment and sell Lillie my guitar.

“Knock, knock, Aunt Susan.” Kaylen, Irene's blond, twelve-year-old son, stuck his head inside my doorway, interrupting my gloomy thoughts. Kicking the mud from his shoes, he lumbered in.

“Here's your milk. Mama said to tell you she sent you part of our share for Melanie. How's she doin'?”

He set a half-gallon jug down on the table and picked Melanie up, talking gently to her as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Thanks, Kaylen,” I smiled tiredly, “She's still the same.” I patted the seat beside me, impressed at how gentle the boy was with his little sister. He dropped down next to me, snuggling Melanie onto his lap.

“How're things at school?”

He shrugged, making a face. “Same ol' crap. I don't learn nothin'. I can't wait until I'm old enough to go to San Diego with Verlan Jr. and Chad and earn some money.” He looked out the window at the rain, his eyes shadowed, “When I do, I'll promise you one thing. My money's going to the family! You and Mom and Aunt Lucy'll have what you need. I'm sick and tired of seeing y'all go without. It ain't right.”

I looked at his serious, youthful face, my heart bursting with love for him. “Kaylen, that's the nicest thing anyone's told me since I can remember when,” I declared, squeezing his arm. “But I hope by then we won't need to use you boys' money. You'll have families of your own to support. By then, your dad'll figure something else out.”

Kaylen glanced at me. “I'm willing to do my part,” he said shortly. As he shifted Melanie on his knee, she whimpered and looked up at him, her blue eyes bright with sudden tears.

Kaylen's gaze narrowed as he scanned her pale face. Suddenly he looked at me and roared, “Aunt Susan, you need to take Melly to the doctor. She's been sick for too long. Just look at her! She's flabby, like her flesh's turning to water. Look at the purple around her eyes. You've got to do something.”

I looked away from Kaylen's earnest face and nervously chewed my nails. He was absolutely right. I had been acting stupid and childish not to put my baby's well-being above my own pride and anger at Lillie. I should have jumped at the chance to sell her my guitar yesterday, when she first offered to buy it. I could have had Melanie to a doctor by now.

I abruptly stood. “Kaylen, I want you to go and find Lillie. She's most likely at Jeannine's. Tell her I need to see her and ask her to come. Will you do that for me?”

Kaylen's eyes met mine as he got to his feet, but he didn't say anything, just nodded, content to trust me. Glancing from Melanie to me, he headed for the door. “I'll hurry,” he promised, dashing out.

I rocked Melanie in my arms and watched Kaylen from the big window until he disappeared behind Silver's place. Then I slowly walked to the middle bedroom, put the baby in her bed, and picking up my guitar, carried it to the couch. I had a bit of furniture oil left, and I cleaned the light-colored wood, buffing it until it glowed.

Why, I wondered, did I feel so sad? Was it because the guitar meant so much to me, or was it because she would be taking possession of it? I wondered again what had motivated Lillie to finally choose Verlan for a husband. I knew there were several other men interested in marrying her; as was my cousin Mark. Mark liked her a bit too much—it was obvious by the way he mooned around her whenever she was in town. I shook my head, thinking about it. The way Mark was involving himself with Ervil's group made me glad for Lillie's sake that she paid no attention to him.

But why Verlan? Lillie saw how his families lived—how we did without. She was aware of how much Verlan was gone from home. Our family was one of the largest in the church, yet Lillie had chosen to be a part of it.

Placing the guitar strap over my shoulder, I stood, lightly strumming the chords to a favorite tune as I watched out the window.

Lillie had a good job in San Diego. She owned her own car. Irene told me she had even purchased her own furniture and placed it in storage, so that when she had a house, she could furnish it. I could just imagine how fancy and comfortable Lillie's home would be. Verlan was going to love staying at her place.

And then there was me. I had little of value, little of my own. Looking around at my trailer, I realized that everything in it had been loaned or given to me—the dishes, bedding, table, and chairs. Every item had been used, and certainly looked it—except for my guitar. It was the nicest thing I owned, other than my wedding ring. And now my guitar would belong to Lillie, the girl who was marrying my husband—the girl who had everything.

I shook the thought away as Lillie's car turned the corner. She pulled up next to the trailer, waving as she saw me through the window. Opening the door, I stood on the threshold, watching as she walked toward me. Her steps were small and modest, feminine as a cat's.

“Hi,” Her voice was soft. “Kaylen said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Come on in,” I held the door open and stepped back.

As she moved to the couch and sat, I could sense her nervousness. Her lips were in a tight line, her bright blue eyes determined-looking. Suddenly I realized she was expecting me to chew her out about marrying Verlan, and she was steeling herself in preparation for it. Her gaze swept around my trailer, taking in the scattered toys and littered table, then resting on me in surprise as I held out my guitar.

“You said you wanted to buy it,” I said shortly. “Well, I'm ready to sell.”

Startled, she took the guitar from me. “Are you sure . . . ? I thought you didn't want to do this.” Her eyes probed mine as I tried to hide my unease.

“I need the money.” I stood up and turned my back to her. Lillie sat uncertainly, holding the guitar on her lap. I could feel her watching me, and I knew she realized how upset I was.

“Susan, if it's money you need, I could loan you some. I would be glad to.”

“That won't be necessary, thank you just the same. If you're interested in buying my guitar, it's for sale. If you're not, I'll find someone else who wants it.” I took a deep breath and stared out the window.

The contents of her purse rustled as she dug into it. Then she hesitantly said, “Here, I checked on prices for used guitars in San Diego, and ones similar to yours are going for fifty dollars. Will that be okay with you?”

Fifty dollars! My hand shook as I held it out and took the money. I had never had fifty dollars all at once in my life. It would pay a doctor, and buy so many other things that I needed . . . “This will be just fine,” I said, keeping my tone expressionless.

“Susan, please . . .” Lillie's voice dropped and failed. I glanced up at her face, noting the pleading in her eyes. “Please don't hate me.”

As I realized what she was referring to, the blood immediately rose to my face. “I can't promise you that,” I snapped. “My feelings aren't to be considered in your plans, so what do you care how I feel? It wouldn't change your mind, now would it?”

Lillie hesitated, the color rising in her cheeks. Visibly swallowing, she said, “I'm doing what I believe is right. You have to understand that. I don't mean to hurt you. Verlan doesn't, either. You have no idea what he's going through! Verlan is more upset over how you will take this than over any of his other wives. He feels so deeply about you . . .”

“Oh, I just love hearing from you how my husband feels!” I sneered. “I suppose he tells you everything, right? All of our little secrets, all of his fondest desires—I suppose the two of you are just so close . . .”

I turned away, hiding from Lillie's red-rimmed eyes, the torment of my own. The seconds ticked by as I fought back tears. Why didn't she just leave! Our business was over with. Couldn't she see I hated being around her now—that just looking at her made my heart want to break?

Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. “It amazes me that you think you have reasons for jealousy about me! It just amazes me. How do you think I feel, listening to Verlan talk about you? Susan, his eyes sparkle when he talks about you. His voice fills with laughter and he looks so young . . . Oh, he talks of the others, too, but it's not the same. The more I'm around him, the more I'm convinced that you're the very heart of him. I'm marrying him knowing that.” Suddenly she was beside me, forcing me to look at her. “Do you understand what I'm saying?” she whispered.

Staring into her eyes, I slowly shook my head.

Lillie shrugged lightly and let go of my shoulders. “Verlan has a favorite wife. It's you. You're it. I can't take your place in his life, no one can. There is no reason for you to be jealous of me.”