Favorite Wife (42 page)

Ervil threw back his head and laughed soundlessly, then wiped his eyes. “Those unsightly, farm-boy specials? Come on! They're practically from the dark ages. Joel never has learned to change with the times.” He laughed again, shaking his head.

Andres snorted and motioned toward a distant windmill. “Take a good look at them, Benny boy. Those rickety old things are the best Joel will ever have to offer you.”

Gamaliel Rios impatiently waved the small talk away, intent on getting back to business. “Enough. You men have made your position clear. If that's the way of it, then there is no deal, so we demand an immediate payment.”

Gamaliel's words trailed off. A breathless, uncomfortable hush fell over the small crowd as Joel LeBaron strolled around the corner of the trailer.

Upon catching sight of the men in their rigid huddle, the tune Joel was whistling abruptly ceased. He looked from one tense face to the next.

“Well, here's the farm boy now,” Ervil jerked his hand in Joel's direction, not bothering to hide the sneer on his face as he looked him up and down. From his work boots and faded jeans to his sweaty, checked flannel shirt with its rolled-up sleeves, Joel indeed looked the part. The slight sunburn on his nose and broad forehead enhanced the image. He smiled good-naturedly and shook hands with Ervil and Dan. “Hello, didn't know you men were in town.” He nodded to the other men. “What's going on?”

“Unfinished business. I was letting these men know the land they're on belongs to me.” Ervil coughed into his hand and casually leaned his shoulder against the trailer. “I'll take a hundred fifty an hectarea for it. They've expropriated my land long enough, Joel. If they want to stay, they'll pay.”

Benjamin and Fernando glanced at Joel, their expressions taut.

The Prophet's eyebrows slightly raised. “You know that the church gave these men this land years ago. It's theirs, free and clear. I'll not have you hounding them.”

Ervil's eyes narrowed. “I don't want there to be any trouble, Joel, I really don't. But I'm the one who arranged for this land in the first place, and since we no longer see eye to eye and have come to a parting of the ways, I plan to take my belongings, or at least the value of them, with me.”

Joel's voice was so low I had to strain to catch his words. “You may have ‘arranged' for the land, but you used church money to do it.”

The men surrounding Joel and Ervil stood silent, almost receding into a backdrop for this strained meeting between the LeBarons. Joel spoke again, his voice even. “Take anything of mine you want, but if you begin to take that which belongs to the needy Lamanites, I'll stand in your way. If it becomes necessary to protect their interests, I'll take you before the courts of the land.”

Ervil's head snapped up, his face becoming a dull red as he stared at Joel. “You'll what!” he rasped. “How dare you—” Growling deep in his throat, Ervil took a threatening step toward his brother.

Joel didn't flinch. He stood in front of his followers, his legs slightly apart, his body relaxed. His eyes were devoid of anger; I sensed only sadness as he looked at Ervil.

Just as suddenly as Ervil's violent anger flared up, it cooled off. “Do you know something?” he suddenly chuckled. “You make me laugh. A goat farmer who's convinced himself he's a spiritual leader! Ha, ha! You're a dry well, Joel. You're all washed up, and it's a sad thing that these men can't accept it!”

Ervil's voice rose again, his eyes glowing with that unearthly light I had come to recognize. “You've let the Lord down, Brother. You've failed your mission, and you're leading precious souls astray. You're standing in direct opposition to Jesus Christ's personal representative, and you'll have to answer for it. Take warning, Brother Joel. The Lord requires payment for your sins. He requires a day of atonement. Blood atonement.”

Fernando and Benjamin Sr. gasped.

I frantically searched my mind, knowing I had heard the term “blood atonement” before. What was it?

Joel bowed his head. A heavy, unnatural silence hung over the group of religious rivals. Then Joel slowly looked up into his brother's eyes. “The only thing the Lord requires, Ervil, is a broken heart and a contrite spirit,” he answered.

Ervil's sensuous lips twisted. He began to say something, then bit the words back. Turning abruptly on his heel, he stalked around the corner of the trailer and headed for the road.

Dan Jordan, Andres Zarate, and Gamaliel Rios stood uncertainly. When Joel searched the faces of his former disciples, his eyes mirrored the deep, heart-wrenching sorrow in his soul. The three men looked away. Without another word, they scurried after Ervil.

Joel sighed as he watched them go. His shoulders suddenly sagged with weariness. Then turning back to the three men who remained, he draped an arm around old Benjamin's stooped shoulders. In a comforting voice, he began to reassure the men of their ownership of the land.

My legs trembled as I stepped off the porch. Suddenly Joel straightened, turned, and regarded me. Concern creased his brow as he saw the terror in my face.

I searched his hazel eyes. Lifting my hand, I placed a shaking finger to my lips.

He threw me a quick, understanding smile. Grabbing Fernando's arm, he led the men away from the trailer.

I fled back up the steps. As I pushed the door open, from the bedroom at the back of the trailer came the gasping wail of a newborn baby.

C
HAPTER
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HIRTY-
T
WO

"T
here!” I took a step back from the table, set my hot pad down, and sniffed at the glass pan filled with steaming, gooey, cheesy enchiladas. Verlan loved enchiladas. This supper was going to be the beginning of a special and intimate evening. Verlan, praise the Lord, was finally home from his mission to Utah, and for the first time in almost two months, tonight was my night.

“No!” I screeched as Melanie, a spoon in her pudgy hand, headed toward the pie sitting on the end of the table. “No, Melanie. That's Daddy's pie, his surprise. He's coming to spend the night with us.”

Melanie frowned. Standing on tiptoe, she eyed the golden brown swirls of toasted meringue. Then she demanded, “Well, where's my lemon pie?”

“If you're a good girl, I'll save you a piece of Daddy's for tomorrow. Okay? But you have to go to bed early.”

Her rosebud lips pouted for a moment as she considered the deal. “Does Ivan get some, too? Does he have to go to bed early, too?”

“Ivan's spending the night at Lillie's. And, yes, he will have a piece of pie tomorrow.”

I smiled as I thought about Lillie. She had come over earlier today, through the field on the little path that had formed between our houses. Glancing toward my bedroom where only a sheet hung in front of the doorway, she had made a cheerful suggestion. “Why don't you send Ivan to my house for the night? That way you won't be so crowded.”

My face reddened a bit, but I immediately agreed. Lillie wanted my night with Verlan to be a memorable one.

Over the past eight months, Lillie and I had become the closest of friends. Time after time she had proved what a gracious and lovely person she really was, with constant thoughtfulness. Lillie had not only become a wonderful example for me, but a source of strength and moral support, as I knew I had become for her. I guiltily tried to ignore the memory of the long months I had allowed myself to openly resent her. I was amazed that true esteem and respect for my sister-wife allowed me to suppress the natural jealousy of knowing my husband loved her and spent time with her. I actually found myself wanting her happiness above my own. And now Lillie had out done herself by wanting my night with Verlan to be a special one.

It will be special, too, I thought grimly, as I scurried around the house making certain everything was shipshape. But as I worked, a tiny finger of guilt persistently plagued me.

I had a secret—one that I knew I should share with Verlan. Yet telling him my secret would put a quick end to my plans for an intimate night in his arms. Past history reminded me of Verlan's firm belief that it was morally wrong to have sex during pregnancy.

“You need this time with him, Susan,” I sternly told myself. “You're lonely, and you're only human! If you don't take advantage of your night with him now, it'll be too late for months to come. Stop feeling ashamed! One night of secrecy won't hurt a thing. It's not your fault he's a fanatic.” Yet all the reasoning in the world didn't change the nagging feeling that I was somehow culpable.

“You've been so down in the dumps, lately,” I grimly carried on my silent monologue as I fed the children and put them to bed. “You need your husband's lovemaking. A woman needs that once in awhile. So just keep your mouth shut, and Verlan won't know the difference.”

Shadows filled the house; I lit my lamps, then walked to my bedroom window and peered out through the darkness toward Lucy's. Then I looked down the road toward Irene's. Verlan's lanky figure wasn't in sight. Where was he? It was getting awfully late, even for him. He knew, of course, that I was expecting him. Maybe he'd run into Joel.

Turning on the oven, I rewarmed the enchiladas, and then wished I hadn't as the minutes dragged by and Verlan didn't show. With the children asleep, the house seemed terribly quiet, and I fidgeted. Rearranging the table settings took my mind off my absent husband for a few minutes, as did sewing the buttons back on James's shirt. In desperation, I cleaned out my silverware box. And when I finally allowed myself to look at the clock on the wall, it was after eleven o'clock.

Listlessly strolling outside, I searched through the damp, ocean-side darkness toward Charlotte's house, straining my ears in hopes of hearing a familiar step in the underbrush. The faint noise of a cricket off in the distance was the only sound. Why didn't he come? How could he do this to me, when he knew how much I needed him and how patient I had been? Oh, life wasn't fair. My night was almost over, and Verlan was leaving for conference in Colonia Le­Baron tomorrow, to be gone for weeks. Where was he?

And yet I knew, of course. Verlan wasn't in a meeting with Joel. Not this time of night. Somewhere within the boundaries of Los Molinos, my darling lay in another wife's arms. He held another lonely woman close to his warm body, caressing and loving her instead of me. On my night!

Anger surged through me, blinding me with the force of it. Every one of Verlan's wives knew whose turn it was; we all kept track. Yet one of them had contrived a reason for him to stay with her. I knew it as surely as I stood here alone in the darkness. Oh, how I wished I knew who it was! I would never forgive her. Who would do this to me?

Was it Charlotte? I quickly discarded the thought. Charlotte was a stickler for the rules. Lucy? No way, Lucy would never presume to take advantage of Verlan. Ester? Of course not. I knew it wasn't Lillie. Beverly, perhaps! Or Irene.

Yes, Irene! She had always been one to send Verlan to another wife if she thought he was needed. She was like that, Irene was; selfless. So if she happened to be having a rough time, she would expect me to do the same. Well, maybe someday I would be willing, but tonight I wasn't. If Irene had conned Verlan into spending my night with her, I would never forgive her. Never!

I stomped back into the house and stared for a moment at the cold dish of food on the stovetop. I had saved my goat cheese for a week for those enchiladas, knowing Verlan was coming. What a fool I was. Picking up the lamp, I stormed into the bedroom.

Misery and loneliness consumed me as, fully clothed, I tossed back and forth on the bed. Oh, how empty and damned pointless life was! Never a moment of true and lasting happiness. If not for my beautiful children, and Lillie, my friend, I would be wishing for a black hole to swallow me up and take me away from this dreary existence. How did a woman keep her faith while living like this? What in the hell had ever possessed me to think life married to a leader would be an adventure? We women, soldiers in the glorious army of the Lord, bullshit. We were nothing but mindless cows in a pasture, waiting for our time of the month so our bull could pay us a visit and start another jewel for his heavenly crown.

We lived in such isolation. We were veterans of loneliness. Whose fault was the greater, the man's for his neglect, or the woman's for accepting it? “Be a good little wife, Susan, and when I come home . . . Be patient, my darling. The day will come when our life as a family will be normal . . .”

A normal family life would never happen. As long as I was willing to put up with Verlan's excuses and warped priorities, my life would remain in the same, intolerable rut. Lucy's pale face flashed before my eyes. Uncomplaining Lucy, always the quiet and long-suffering saint. A stoic, complacent martyr, and I was becoming just like her. But what could I really do about my situation?

I sat up on the edge of the bed, then restlessly paced around my dimly lit bedroom. I could always rebel; I could refuse to stay home and wait for Verlan any longer; I could threaten divorce. I could! I could demand that he treat me like a real wife, and if he couldn't stay at home, then he could just haul me along with him.

But would his fear of losing me prompt him to act? Did I mean as much to Verlan as he constantly assured me I did? As much as Lillie thought I did?

Striking a match, I relit the lamp. I placed it on the dresser and took a long, earnest look at myself in the mirror. At nineteen, a soft, ethereal beauty had replaced the childlike prettiness that was mine on the day of our wedding almost four years ago. Ash-blond shoulder-length hair glistened in the lamplight. An oval face and creamy complexion accentuated the striking, sea-blue eyes that stared back at me from beneath dark, delicately arched brows. Full lips, naturally curved upward at the corners, smiled experimentally back at me, revealing the tips of even, white teeth.

I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it off. Then I slipped out of my jeans. With only my bra and panties hiding my nakedness, I stared at my reflection. My figure was a bit more slender than it had been before, but still showed supple, womanly curves in the right spots. I had to be honest. I looked better than I ever had. Something about the way Verlan's eyes followed me of late told me he thought so too. But would my sensuality be enough? What about the conspicuous age gap that caused lulls in the conversation if we happened to spend much time around one another?

I unfastened my bra and slipped a nightgown over my head. Blowing out the lamp, I pulled back the covers and settled into the pillow. The difference in our ages and interests had nothing to do with the fact that I deeply loved Verlan, and that I needed him more than I ever had. I needed him and I deserved him, and God willing, I was going to fight for my rights. Maybe Lucy and the others were content with their lot in life, but I wasn't. I had shown Verlan a complacent, obedient little robot for far too long. Time for a change!

Verlan leaned over me, waking me with a quick kiss on the lips, “Hi, my love, I hope you're not mad. Say you're not, and I'll promise to spend some extra time with you today before I leave for San Diego. Okay?” His fingers gouged into my ribs, tickling me, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Pushing his hands away, I sat up in bed and looked coldly back at him. His casual manner and cheerful attitude made my blood boil. Instantly awake, I ran fingers through my hair, then grabbed the covers and held them tightly to my chest.

“Oh, I see,” I said slowly. “Pacify the little woman with a bit of ‘extra time.' A little hug and a little kiss. Well, it won't be necessary, thank you.” My voice was suddenly crisp and in control. “I've decided to go with you to Colonia Le­Baron, so you can just spend your ‘extra time' with your other wives.”

Verlan stared at me, his eyes widening. Then he shook his head. “Nope, that won't work. I'm sorry. You can't go this time. I've already promised to take—”

“Oh, no. Don't you dare!” I leaped out of bed, my control snapping. “Verlan LeBaron, you have neglected me for—for too damn long! I absolutely refuse to be left behind, so you might as well change whatever plans you've made.”

“Well, I can't do that. I'm telling you, I already—”

“No!” I shouted. I shook my head and stamped my bare foot, my eyes blazing as I stood half-naked in front of him. “You're not leaving me again, Verlan! I've thought and thought all night long about you and me, and something's got to change. I'm tired of waiting around for you, hoping you'll find some time for me in your busy life. That's all I've done since the day we were married, is wait, wait, wait. Well I'm not going to hang around and be patient and understanding any longer. Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm going to conference with you. I'm your wife, and you owe it to me to treat me like one.”

Dropping his chin onto his chest, Verlan slowly shook his head and sighed. Then he was silent, his eyes flitting around the room as he searched for a way out of the box I'd put him in. I pretended to ignore him as I dressed and put on my shoes, but I watched him stew in the reflection of Lillie's big mirror when I brushed my hair. Finally Verlan patted the bed. “Sit down for a minute and listen to me. I want to explain to you about last night. Last night as I—”

“No!” I snapped, slamming the dresser drawer closed and whirling to face him. “I don't want to hear where you spent my night. I'm too damn mad. Besides, it doesn't matter now because I'm going with you.”