Favorite Wife (37 page)

I shook my head, wondering how Irene had the nerve to do it. “Did Charlotte ever find out the truth?”

“Oh, I'm sure she did. I imagine she accused Verlan of overindulging me, and he let her know he'd spent the night with Lucy. I told Lucy about it the next morning, and she got a big kick out of it.”

“Speaking of Lucy,” I changed the subject, “I wish she would have come to my party. I imagine she could use some cheering up, too.”

Donna hooted. “Aunt Lucy thinks playing cards is wicked. She'd never come to a card party. Besides, she doesn't care if Daddy gets married again. Aunt Lucy likes Lillie.”

Irene glared at Donna, then abruptly changed the subject. “Well, guess what, girls? Guess who visited me yesterday?”

“Who?” Beverly and I said in unison.

Irene rolled her eyes. “None other than Ervil the Great, in his fancy gold car. We had a long visit.”

I pursed my lips. “What did he want?”

“You won't believe what he talked about. He was so affable and friendly, and acted like he and I were best of buddies. He wants to start a target practice for the women of Los Molinos.”

“A what?”

“Target practice. You know, guns. He wants to teach all of us women how to shoot guns in case we should ever have the need to know how. He plans to talk to every woman in Los Molinos about it, so you two can expect a visit,” Irene sniffed. “He's crazy as a loon.”

“What did you tell him?”

Irene snorted, “That I wasn't interested, thank you. I told him to cross me off his list and not to bother coming back to see me.”

I shuddered. “Well, I hope he knows better than to come to my house. He's well aware of how I feel about him. Beverly, if he comes to talk to you, don't let him in. Just tell him to go away.”

She nodded in agreement.

“I'll be seeing Ervil before too long, though,” I grimaced. “You girls know that Uncle Bud is taking a plural wife—Naomi Zarate, Benjamin's daughter, the young widow from Mexico City with the two children. Aunt Thelma and Uncle Bud are insisting that I come to the wedding. Ervil, of course, is performing the ceremony.”

“How nice,” Irene said sarcastically.

I nodded and paused, reflecting. “You wouldn't believe how happy Aunt Thelma is about Bud's marrying Naomi. She's absolutely thrilled. It almost doesn't seem genuine.”

We settled into our pinochle game for the rest of the evening, and in spite of the anguish in our hearts, we enjoyed each other's company. It was midnight by the time we put the cards down.

“Do you know, I still can't believe how happy Thelma is about Naomi,” I muttered as I sorted cards.

Beverly shrugged. “Things are different in their case, Susan. Thelma is Bud's only wife; why should she mind sharing him with Naomi? It's different with us. You can only cut the pie in so many pieces before no one gets enough.”

Irene glanced at her and stood up. “I've heard enough talk about pies and weddings for one night,” she yawned. “Come on Donna, let's go home.” Cutting herself one last piece of fudge, Irene shoved it into her mouth. She waved goodnight to me and headed out the door toward the old pickup. Beverly and Donna trailed through the darkness behind her.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
N
INE

T
he coal oil lamps resting on either end of the Chynoweths' piano and coffee table cast uncertain, ghostly shadows along the walls of their living room, shadows that at first held suspiciously still; then they wavered and dissolved as the warm bodies in the room merged closer together.

“Congratulations, Bud, Naomi!” A chorus of voices rang out as Ervil Le­Baron's ceremonial words of Sealing for Time and Eternity came to a halt. The circle of guests moved in for the traditional hand shaking and backslapping.

I watched from my seat in the back of the room. I knew I should congratulate my uncle, but Ervil's people possessively surrounded him, leaving me little desire to barter for standing room. Other than the Chynoweths, not one of the group had spoken to me. I linked my fingers together around my swollen middle.

I had purposely arrived late. Knowing full well I would be the only one of Joel's followers invited to attend, I was hesitant to come, especially as I had sensed that Uncle Bud was the only one of the family who really wanted me here. All I desired to do, now that the ceremony was over, was give my uncle a quick hug and slip out the back door.

For the past few months, Aunt Thelma's natural warmth had slowly disappeared. Although the outward sham of being close, loving relatives still existed, complete with invitations for occasional Sunday dinners, there was a barrier in our relationship, an underlying strain between my aunt and me. Yet Uncle Bud treated me with more love and consideration than before. I knew, of course, that Aunt Thelma's coolness was because of my open contempt of Ervil.

And now as I watched the middle-aged groom, I swallowed an affectionate grin. Miserable in his Sunday suit, easygoing Uncle Bud kept craning his neck around and tugging at his tie. Sweat glistened on his sunburned forehead. He mopped at it, then grinned at his new wife. Naomi Zarate Chynoweth's dark eyes shyly met Uncle Bud's hazel ones. Covering her embarrassed smile with her palm, she quickly dropped her gaze.

Aunt Thelma stood straight and proud at Bud's right side as the guests lingered in the line to visit. Strikingly elegant in her pink and white outfit with the matching necklace and large, pearly earrings, her brown and silver hair had been gathered high on her head in soft curls. With her hair up, Aunt Thelma dwarfed Uncle Bud. A constant smile played across her glossy pink lips as she watched the events in her living room, yet the smile didn't reach her eyes. Obviously Aunt Thelma didn't consider Naomi a threat to her and Bud's relationship; Naomi wasn't in the least pretty—she was quiet, unassuming, and half Uncle Bud's age. But she was a stepping-stone into the Celestial Kingdom—a necessary tool so that the Chynoweths could attain godhood.

The bride's face brightened and was transformed into near-beauty when Mark, Rena, and Duane pushed through the small crowd to embrace her. Naomi's own son, twelve-year-old Alejandro stood shyly apart from the others, his brown eyes studying his new relatives.

As the group of young people moved on toward the kitchen, Mark casually draped his arm around Alejandro's shoulders, and pulled him along to the refreshment table. My cousin's action was gentle and protective. Mark will make a good stepbrother for the boy, I thought.

Rena was the last to excuse herself from her father and Naomi. As I watched her hurry across the room, I noted again that she'd certainly grown out of the gangly stage this past year. She'd become tall and graceful, and was budding into a beautiful young woman. Glistening, brown-gold hair hung to her waist in a mass of curls, sensuous against her cream-colored satin dress. The men would begin noticing her soon.

I looked back at the tight ring of well-wishers around Uncle Bud. Andres Zarate, the bride's younger brother and the only member of the large Zarate family to attend the wedding, crowded in close. Andres smiled broadly as he leaned an ear toward Ervil in order not to miss a word his idol said. Old Benjamin Zarate's absence from his daughter's wedding was, of course, conspicuous; religious arguments among the close-knit Zarate family were reaching the boiling point. Watching Andres, I realized that his father's passionate efforts at defending Joel's doctrine were useless. Andres beamed with pleasure as Ervil absentmindedly patted him on the shoulder.

Ervil ignored Andres, and extended his hand to his cousin, Conway Le­Baron. Conway and one of his wives made up the outer edge of the circle. I looked quickly away, a hard lump in my throat. A month ago, Verlan had confided in me that Conway, our church treasurer for the past several years, had frozen all of our church funds and records, refusing to release them to Joel and Verlan. He had turned them over to Ervil, of course. Our church was penniless.

My heart was heavy as I watched the group. These people had believed in Joel, but now because of Ervil's demand for complete power and authority, they had not only rejected Joel, they blatantly ridiculed and threatened the very man they had previously revered as a prophet of God.

Ervil's quest for followers had expanded to people outside of Joel's disciples. Next to the piano, wearing an expensive suit and an arrogant smile stood a gray- haired gentleman who was a stranger to me. Seated in front of him, his mousy little wife kept her eyes fastened on the floor as though ashamed and confused by the happenings in the room. Her husband was Ervil's honored guest. A diamond pinkie ring on the man's finger flashed and glimmered in the lamplight, and I suspected he was Ervil's latest answer to financial freedom.

From the other side of the room, Lorna caught my eye. Grinning, she pushed through the crowd. “How are you, Suze?” she whispered. “Everything okay?”

I nodded and gave her a stiff smile. “I'm just hot and tired. I think I'll go give Uncle Bud a kiss and then leave.”

Lorna looked me over, her understanding gaze resting on my tummy. “When's the baby due?” she asked sympathetically.

“In a month,” I sighed, then grinned at her. “Will you be staying down for a few days?”

She shook her head. “Ervil needs to get right back to San Diego. He's bringing Debbie down here, did you know? She's going to move back in with her parents for a while.”

“You're serious!” I squealed in delight. “Debbie's moving here? Well, that ought'ta liven this dead town up a bit!”

I grinned, my thoughts flashing back to three years ago, to the pretty girl from California who had pleaded with me to join her in marriage to Ervil. Debbie Bateman, the hilarious, foul-mouthed, gum-chewing girl, rumored to be terribly unhappy in her marriage. Debbie's parents had moved into the place across from Lucy's only last week. I'd been so busy with my own affairs I hadn't had a chance to go see them, and so hadn't heard about Debbie.

I glanced again to the front of the room. Most of the wedding guests had meandered into the kitchen where Aunt Thelma was busy at the refreshment table. I frowned, noting that Ervil still hovered over Bud and Naomi. The crowded room was like an oven, and I longed to get the amenities over and go out into the fresh air.

Awkwardly passing time, I turned to Lorna. “What do you think of your father's new wife?”

She glanced at the couple, shrugged, and whispered, “Dad's going to have his hands full with that woman. If he can keep her in line, I guess she'll be okay.”

Shocked, I stared at Lorna. “Why do you say that? Naomi's so quiet and sweet, you hardly know she's around!”

“Ervil thinks she's trouble . . .” Lorna's words trailed off, and she glanced guiltily at me as she remembered I was a “Joelite” and couldn't be trusted. Sickened, I quickly looked to the cozy picture Ervil, Bud, and Naomi made, standing by the piano.

“—How proud I am of you,” Ervil was saying to Bud, his voice floating above the noise in the room, “I'm sure you'll honor the Lord with a house full of new sons.” Ervil patted Uncle Bud's back and smiled patronizingly down at the bride. “Strong sons, who will be soldiers in our army; what do you say, Naomi?”

Naomi's bowed head lifted. She looked directly into Ervil's eyes and whispered something; then with a scornful expression, she pointedly turned her back. Ervil frowned, muttered something to Bud, turned on his heel, and stalked from the room.

My heart skipped a beat and my eyes widened in surprise. “Well, well,” I mumbled under my breath. “Naomi Zarate, no wonder Ervil thinks you're trouble! Your father would be proud of you—fancy a tiny, shy woman like you turning a cold shoulder to Ervil LeBaron! There is finally a woman in the Chynoweth family who doesn't trip over herself to lick his boots!”

“Come on, Lorna,” I said triumphantly. I grabbed her arm and pulled her along with me toward Uncle Bud and his bride. Naomi was someone I wanted to know better.

Bud's leathery cheek felt smooth against mine as we hugged. “I was afraid you weren't going to show up,” he growled into my ear. “I was about to have Mark go get you.”

“Now, Bud, I wouldn't miss your wedding, you know that.” As I looked up at the teasing, laughing face that I loved like my own father's, tears filled my eyes. A foreboding came over me, the sense that my adopted family would soon be whisked away, removed forever from my sight because of Ervil's schemes.

“Susie, honey, this is a happy occasion!” Uncle Bud reproached. “I hope those are happy tears.”

I whispered, “Nothing—nothing will ever change the fact that we're family, will it, Uncle?”

“No, darlin', nothing ever will change that.”

I squeezed him again, then turned to his bride. “Welcome, Naomi,” I whispered to her. I searched her eyes. Oh, God, I silently thought, let me see some stability in her. Please . . .

Naomi's usual shyness had disappeared. As I took her soft hands, a small flame of hope for the Chynoweths began to burn within me. Perhaps she could talk some sense into Uncle Bud, make him see how fanatical and dangerous Ervil was. Maybe in her own quiet way, Naomi would be able to do what my open anger and disgust hadn't accomplished.

The guests stood around the kitchen, loudly visiting in little groups, as Lorna and I joined Aunt Thelma. She handed each of us a saucer of wedding cake. Glancing briefly at me, her eyes narrowed. “Susan, you look miserable. Should I have Mark drive you home?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks, I can walk. I did want to talk to you about some things going on at school, but it'll wait until Monday.”

She nodded, then briskly said, “Did you notice where Rena went? She's supposed to be serving the punch.”

I glanced around. “Maybe she's gone outside. I'll go have a look.”

“I'll check the bedrooms, Mother,” Lorna offered, hurrying away.

The night air felt cool on my hot cheeks. I took a tired breath, glad the evening was over. A fragment of the dread I had felt while talking to Uncle Bud still gripped me, and I exhaled, trying to ignore the vague emptiness.

Somewhere in the moist darkness, a faint sound—soft, girlish laughter mixed with the lower tones of a man's voice, wafted toward me. The tones sounded intimate, and I sensed I was intruding on something private. I hesitated, then continued around the corner of the house and stopped in the shadows of Uncle Bud's fig tree.

Silhouetted against the gray plaster of the house, Ervil held a woman in his arms. Pale moonlight glistened off of Rena's light-colored satin dress. Ervil's voice was gentle and soothing, his words muffled against her hair.

No! I thought wildly. My heart leaped into my throat, my hands suddenly clammy. No! Not Rena—not my baby cousin. Ervil can't have her—I won't let him.

I moved out of the shadow of the tree just as the kitchen door opened and Lorna stepped onto the porch. Rena pulled herself from Ervil's grasp.

“Oh, there you are,” Lorna said, peering at Rena. She laughed and walked closer, her laughter abruptly dying as she noticed Ervil's arm around her sister's waist.

Ervil casually dropped his hand. His eyes darted from Lorna to me, then he brushed past his wife and stalked into the house.

Lorna stood as though frozen; her startled gaze fastened on her sister, the lighthearted voices from inside the house mocking the rigid moment. Rena's chin came up, and she boldly met Lorna's eyes. “What did you want?” she snapped.

Seconds ticked by as the sisters stared at one another. “Mother was looking for you,” Lorna finally whispered. She abruptly turned and stumbled after Ervil.

Annoyed, Rena tossed her head and called after her, “Well, I wasn't exactly lost!” She sighed with exasperation and bounded up the steps. Hesitating a second, she threw a glance at me and mumbled, “Night, Suze.” She turned the doorknob.

“Rena, wait!” I commanded, suddenly finding my voice. I hurried to her side, yanked the door shut, grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the house. My hands shook.

“Rena, honey, listen to me!” I whispered urgently. “You don't know what you're doing, Rena. Please stay away from Ervil!”

Light from the kitchen window softly illuminated her face as she regarded me. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said mockingly.

“Yes you do!” I snapped. “I saw the two of you, I know what was going on. Rena, Ervil is not the great man of God that he would have you think he is. He's trouble, Rena, more than you could ever understand right now. Please, oh, please, believe me and stay away from him!”

Rena's laughter was insolent. “You're the one who doesn't understand! He and I were just talking. Now let go of me.”

I grabbed her arm tighter, and hissed, “I'll bet he told you he had a revelation that you were to marry him. I'm right, am I not?”

Even in the poor light I could see the startled flash of impact in Rena's eyes. She swallowed, slowly dropped her gaze from mine, and began to twist her hands together. “How did you know?” she finally whispered.