Favorite Wife (38 page)

It was my turn to laugh, but the sound was tight and humorless. “Oh, Rena—I know because he pulled the same thing on me. I almost married Ervil myself; did you know that? I was stupid! He used the revelation trick on Debbie too, and I don't have to tell you how miserable she is. Teresa Rios is another of Ervil's victims. Pretty convenient, isn't it, Rena? He preys on young, innocent, unsuspecting girls and has them married to him before they know what's happening.”

She listened to my heated whispers, her eyes on the shaft of pale lamplight that fell between the house and the shadows of the tree. As my words ceased, she inhaled and looked me in the eyes.

“There's no sense in wasting your breath,” she said curtly. “You don't know what you're talking about anyway. If I were you, I'd mind my own business. Good night.” Rena's feet made no sound as she walked to the door and slipped from my sight.

“Teacher! Can I go to the outhouse?” Someone yanked on my sleeve, and I looked up at Sam Babbitt, Jr.

“Yes, Sam, go on,” I said guiltily, his insistent demand bringing me back to the hot schoolroom filled with eight-, nine-, and ten-year-olds.

I had to stop this. I couldn't let Saturday night's incident with Rena and Ervil distress me so much. Chances were, my fourteen-year-old cousin was already sealed to him. She would become like Lorna and Anna Mae, another one of Ervil's soldiers, ready to do his bidding in his attempt to take over Joel's church, and eventually, the world. Rena was young, loyal, energetic, and fearless. She was exactly the material Ervil wanted.

I jerked the thought from my mind, stood, and forced myself to concentrate on my students. For the rest of the afternoon I listened to the children read aloud, then had them study for their spelling test. School would be out for the summer on Friday, and I had impatiently marked off the days for the past month. My advanced pregnancy made me restless, the hot classroom leaving me drained each afternoon.

When the final bell clanged, I shooed the children outside. As I rummaged through my desk, gathering papers and belongings, the dividing door between my classroom and Aunt Thelma's opened. Aunt Thelma strode toward me.

I glanced up at her, “Ready to go?”

“No. Not quite. You and I should have a little talk before we call it a day,” her voice was soft and even, but the look on her face belied her tone. Grabbing a chair from behind one of the children's desks, she placed it next to my desk and sat down.

“What? Aunt Thelma, what is it?”

“I want you to stay away from Rena.”

“Stay away from—What do you mean?” I gasped, paling.

Her blue eyes, cold with anger, filled me with alarm. “I'll not have you criticizing Ervil to her,” she softly continued, “she's young and impressionable and easily swayed. Her guidance is not your responsibility, so please keep your negative thoughts to yourself.”

“Do you mean you want Rena to marry Ervil? You want her to be as unhappy and—and neglected as Lorna is? Oh, Aunt Thelma, I can't believe you would—”

“Just like I said, stay away from Rena,” she interrupted. “I know what's best for her.” She stood, shoved the chair out of the way, and stared at me for a long moment. “Do you know, I feel sorry for you, Susan,” her voice was still quiet. “You've been given every chance to accept Ervil. You can never use the excuse that you didn't know any better. The Lord gives each of us the opportunity to repent, then it's up to us.”

I gulped, my hands shaking.

The tiny muscles in Aunt Thelma's jaw and temple quivered. Suddenly she blurted, “I love you. You know that. But you have a closed mind, and I refuse to allow it to affect my family. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to not come over again.” She strode determinedly to the door and jerked it open. Hesitating with her hand on the knob, she looked back at me. “By the way,” she sweetly added, “you're mistaken about Rena and Ervil.”

My heart pounding, I slumped in my chair and stared at the rough-hewn, homemade door. The dark rectangle of wood blurred in and out of my vision, and I closed my eyes, the pain in my chest suffocating me.

“Cry!” I finally screamed to myself, “just cry it out so you can breathe.” But the tears wouldn't come. The minutes silently ticked by, the late afternoon sunshine steadily streamed through the western window. Its rays danced across the width of the desk before me, and disappeared, as the ball of fire crept into the ocean. Soft purple shadows bathed the adobe schoolroom.

I shuddered with the effort to breathe, to make myself think. I had to think . . .

Rena must have been more shaken by my words than I'd realized. I had sown doubt in her mind about Ervil, and she had discussed it with her mother. Why had Aunt Thelma reacted so violently? How could my warm, motherly, fun-loving aunt have changed so much in the past year? Her icy request that I stay away from her family astounded me. That she would allow Ervil to become a dividing factor between her own family was something I wouldn't have dreamed possible. Why had she bothered to deny Rena's and Ervil's involvement? Why the deceit?

I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the open-beamed ceiling, my thoughts racing. I knew now. I suddenly understood the depth of the harm Ervil's rebellion could do. It had been the question in my mind for the past three years, and now I had the answer.

“Father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law—” The words of the Scripture played like a broken record in my mind; this passage in the Book of Luke had never made sense to me, and I had skimmed over it as so much garbled poetry. It spoke of the division that would come in the last days, caused by evil, sinful teachings.

Believers against unbelievers. I now recognized its prophetic meaning. The inclusive evil of Ervil's doctrine—the power it had to physically and emotionally tear families apart, limb by limb. The LeBarons—the Zarates—and now the scripture had become a reality in my own family. How would I ever stand Los Molinos and this lonely way of life without the comforting association of the Chynoweths?

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY

D
ebbie Bateman LeBaron lifted my baby son high above her head and wiggled his little body back and forth. Grinning up at him, she said, “This little James Val is sure a lot bigger than my baby was at two months. He's all LeBaron. I thought you were going to name him James Bruce?”

“Oh, I was, but I like the name Bruce so much, and hate to waste it on a middle name that James'll rarely use. I told Verlan I want to save it for my next boy—Debbie, give him to me!” I gasped.

She dodged my attempts at rescue, giggled, and continued her chatter. “I thought my Jeremy was going to be the runt of the LeBaron kids for the longest time. He's outgrown the runt-stage, but he still doesn't look at all like his daddy.” Debbie muttered under her breath, “Yep. Jeddie's ol' daddy, bless Ervil's peaked heart.”

At that, she handed me my baby. Leaning down, she picked up her own toddler and hugged him tight. “Weren't you, Jeddie?” she murmured, “You were a little blond runt-baby.”

As Debbie dropped down beside me on her mother's sofa and placed her little boy on her fast-dwindling lap, her playful attitude slipped away, replaced by the morose, withdrawn young woman who had met me at the door an hour ago.

I laid James down, turned, and contemplated Debbie. The emptiness in her hazel eyes, the tightness around her mouth, looked nothing like the pretty, vivacious girl with whom I had gone to school three years ago—the girl who had pleaded with me to join her, in the same ceremony, in marriage to Ervil.

Glancing toward the kitchen, I wondered if Debbie's mother could hear us. Although I knew the Batemans were staunch followers of Joel, I wasn't certain how Ruth would react to what I planned to say to her daughter. Debbie had weighed heavily on my mind for days, ever since Aunt Thelma, Mark, Duane, and Rena had moved to San Diego.

One by one in the past two months, Ervil's followers had abandoned Los Molinos, all but Uncle Bud and his wife, Naomi—and Debbie. The tension between the “Ervilites” and the “Joelites” had gotten completely out of hand of late, to the point of ugly and heated arguments between the two groups.

Ervil was claiming ownership to the church land in Baja, which had Joel's people furious. They bickered over who got to use the church building and to whom it belonged. Some of Ervil's men had been seen around town with weapons in their belts. Unpleasant and uninvited visits were paid to many of Joel's people, visits laced with underlying threats; along with advice to pay tithe to Ervil, to be rebaptized, to align ourselves at Ervil's side, or be under the wrath of God. The whole town was immensely relieved, therefore, when the Ervilites packed their belongings and moved away. Aunt Thelma and her children were among the first to go.

I had run into Uncle Bud a couple of times at Castro's little grocery store, and I asked him why he and Naomi were staying in Los Molinos instead of moving away with the others. Uncle Bud was evasive, withdrawn, and appeared to be confused and unhappy. I guessed things weren't going well between him and Aunt Thelma, although Uncle Bud was driving back and forth each week between Los Molinos and San Diego to see his two families. Bud did say that he had moved Naomi into Aunt Thelma's house, and he had offered the news that his new wife was pregnant.

And now I wondered about Debbie's position. Since her arrival in Los Molinos, I knew she had scarcely left the privacy of her mother's home. In our two prior visits she avoided talking about Ervil at all, yet I sensed the cloud of depression that surrounded her.

Keeping my voice low, I suddenly pleaded, “Debbie, why won't you talk to me? I'm your friend, remember? Please let me try to help.”

She stiffened, glanced at me, shrugged, and nervously began to twist her wedding ring. “What's the use of talking about my hang-ups? Just so you can say I told you so?”

“I wouldn't do that, you know.”

She looked away, fidgeting, then spread her hands in surrender. “Okay—Ervil lied to me—I haven't learned to adore him like he promised I would, and I'm unhappy as hell. That's the least of it. It's killing me that he's splintered off from the church! I don't know what to do! I'm torn between my mom and dad, and my husband. I don't know what's right anymore . . . There. Just like you thought.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the couch, absently patting Jeremy's back with soft, even strokes.

I nodded and forced back the lump in my throat. That I wasn't in this same situation was nothing short of a miracle. She restlessly moved Jeremy off her lap, walked to the window, and stared out at the weed-covered meadow across the road. “It's been easy, most of the time,” she muttered, “because Ervil's gone so much. It's when he's around that life's so unbearable. I hate his preaching at me, Susan—I hate it! All the pressure to be his loyal and dedicated wife like Anna Mae is, and to back him up in his rebellion against Joel. To ‘leave father and mother, and cling to my husband,' ” she mimicked. “I can hardly stand to be around him. But . . . now I'm having another kid—”

She glanced at me and shrugged. “I have no choice but to stay with him. There's no use whining about it.”

“That's ridiculous,” I snapped, jumping to my feet. “You always have a choice, do you hear me? You have a choice.”

I began to pace around the Batemans' living room with furious memories of Ervil's arms around Rena. I wondered if Debbie knew about his latest conquest. My innocent young cousin would end up in the same situation as Debbie, in time. I whirled to her, and through clenched teeth, said, “There is a solution. Just tell that—that bastard to forget about you, to leave you alone and not come back. Debbie, he's headed down a path of destruction, and he's dragging his families and followers along with him. You don't need me to tell you that. The guy has big problems. Get out of the mess while you still can.”

Silence after my outburst. I watched Debbie, hoping to see a change in her expression, but despair clouded her eyes. She felt trapped—bound and sealed to Ervil for eternity.

James began to fuss, supplying my excuse for departure. Calling for Melanie, who was playing outside with the Bateman children, I told Debbie goodbye.

The trip back across the colony was a slow one, with Melanie's short legs wandering across the road. My thoughts were filled with Debbie. What would I do if I were in her place? Would I have the courage to leave my husband, take my children and start a new life of my own? The church regarded divorce as shameful, but Debbie's case was different. Joel's people would support her decision.

As I rounded the corner by the largest windmill, I shifted the diaper bag strap on my shoulder, rearranged James in my arms, and kept my eyes firmly on the road ahead of me. At the far end I could see my trailer. I was careful not to waste a glance at the new home being built on the corner lot opposite from the windmill.

Debbie wasn't the only one with problems. Who would have ever thought that Verlan would wait until just this past month to move my trailer-house down from the hill, so that I could be conveniently closer to the well and washing machine at Irene's. Now every time I stepped outside, absolute proof that Lillie was extra-special, and of great importance to Verlan, slapped me in the face. All I had to do to was look to the corner lot where three hired men were feverishly building her house.

The injustice was, that I had been married to Verlan for three years, had given him two children, and I still lived in my old, ugly, drafty trailer. Lillie, on the other hand, had been married only six months, and already Verlan was ensuring that she be the recipient of a brand-new house of her own.

The Saturday morning, two weeks ago, when I had seen her parading around her new lot, giving directions to the hired men, had angered me to no end. I didn't care if she was pregnant, Verlan's building her a home before me still was the height of injustice, and it was beyond me how he could do it. He was due home tonight, and I could hardly wait to give him a big, fat piece of my mind.

“Come on Melanie, stop goofing around!” I snapped, yanking on her hand as she leaned down to pick up an interesting rock.

Behind us, the roar of a small engine turning the corner all but drowned out the boyish voice that hollered, “Hi, Aunt Susan!” Ivan LeBaron, Lillie's thirteen-year-old brother, careened to a stop next to us.

“Hello, Ivan. What have you got there?” I forced my voice to be calm, and I looked curiously at the contraption Ivan sat upon. Three bicycle tires, odds and ends of lumber, and a small gasoline engine, hooked by pulleys to the rear tires, made up the tricycle.

Bright blue eyes and a freckled face grinned up at me from the low seat. “Figured I'd show off my new 'sheen. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, it's quite the—the—interesting looking cart. Did you build it by yourself?”

“Yep. Had to take my motorbike apart, though. The motor used to be the one on Aunt Gaye's well, but it burnt out, so Daddy gave it to me. I had to re-wind it. It works real good now. Want me to give Melly a ride home?”

I looked doubtfully at Ivan's “sheen.” “Are you sure it's safe?”

“Course it is. I'll go real slow. Here, give me your diaper bag. Come on Melly, come to Ivan.” Gently lifting Melanie up on the seat in front of him, he put an arm protectively around her waist. With a wave of his hand, they putted on down the road.

I grinned and shook my head, glad for the interruption to my ugly thoughts. Ivan LeBaron was quite the boy. I had come to know and like him during my months of teaching at the school. Although slow to grasp the basics of reading and history, Ivan was a whiz at math, and according to Steve Silver, a genius at mechanics and electronics. Thus, his new motor cart didn't surprise me.

As I neared the trailer, they were seated on the front step. “Safe as a passenger car,” Ivan grinned smugly.

Laughing, I tousled his dark brown hair. “Come on in, you two. I'll bet I can find a cookie.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ivan agreed.

Soon the three of us were seated around the kitchen table visiting over milk and cookies, and when Verlan's silver pickup pulled up next to the trailer, it surprised me. I hadn't expected him to arrive until late in the night.

He bounded up the steps, threw the door open, and joyfully shouted, “You home?” In two giant strides he was at the table, his blue-green eyes dancing with happiness. “Hello Ivan. Hi, Melanie, sweetheart!”

He squeezed Ivan's shoulder and planted a sound kiss on the top of Melanie's head. Then grinning at me, he crowed, “You beautiful doll, it's so good to see you! Come give me a kiss.”

It had been six long weeks since I had last seen Verlan. I desperately wanted to jump up and fling myself at him. I wanted to, but just as I pushed my chair back, I remembered Lillie's house. I relaxed back into the chair.

“Hello, Verlan,” I said coolly. “It's nice to see you. I didn't expect you so soon.”

Verlan ignored my coldness. Grabbing me bodily from the chair, he pulled me tightly against him and forced me to meet his kiss. Over his shoulder, I caught sight of Ivan's bright eyes watching our every move.

“Well for heaven's sake,” Verlan grumbled as I pulled myself from his arms. “Aren't you glad to see me?”

“Oh, yes, just thrilled,” I whispered scornfully. “I've been wanting to have a long visit with you for weeks.”

Verlan's eyes darkened. “Oh, boy,” he groaned. “You're mad about Lillie's house, aren't you?”

“An excellent guess,” I whispered, darting a furious look at Ivan to see if he'd heard. “Tell you what. Let's don't discuss it right now.”

Ivan casually stood and stretched. “Well, I better be goin'; it's about supper-time. Thanks for the cookies, Aunt Sue. Uncle Verlan, do you want to come outside and have a look at my new putt-putt?”

“You bet,” Verlan agreed a bit too heartily. Winking at me, he followed Ivan out the door, and his voice droned on as he exclaimed over his nephew's new toy. I knew he was biding his time and hoping I was cooling off. As I changed the baby and began to nurse him, I rehearsed what I would say to Verlan. Before I was through, he would be one sorry man who would think twice before stepping on my rights again.

Finally the noise of the motor started, and Verlan leaped up the trailer steps. Dropping down beside me on the couch, he lightly touched James's velvet skin. “He's growing like a weed, the little angel,” he commented. Settling back, he sighed and looked at me expectantly. “Well, I'm ready. What's on your mind?”

I swallowed hard, fastening my gaze on James's plump cheeks as he drank my milk in huge, hungry gulps. I suddenly didn't know where to start.

“Go on,” Verlan prompted.

Taking a shaky breath, I began. “It's not fair, Verlan. How could you build Lillie a house before Beverly and me?” My voice started out low and quiet, but as I continued, it ended in a wail. “All this time I thought you were a fair man. I thought you loved me—thought I was special to you. But, no! All that changed the day Lillie married you! What Lillie wants, Lillie gets! All she has to do is bat her lashes at you, and her wish is your command. Here I've lived in this old, drafty trailer for years now, with the dirt and the bugs . . . You don't care! Just as long as precious Lillie gets a fancy new house before her baby's born, all's well in the Verlan LeBaron family.” Grabbing a clean diaper out of the diaper bag, I shook it out and blew my nose.

After a moment I peered up at Verlan. His face looked grave, but as I met his eyes, the tiniest hint of a twinkle in the very center of his iris began to glisten, then to snap and dance. The twinkle sparkled and grew, and suddenly Verlan's mouth twitched.

My own mouth dropped open in shock. He was laughing at me—laughing at my tears! He was a heartless—I jumped off the couch, my swift movement yanking my nipple out of James's mouth. His sleepy eyes flew open in surprise as I dumped him onto the sofa. Immediately he started to holler.