She looked at me and shrugged. “Well, all right. Be sure to tell him hello for me. And tell him not to worry. You kids are doing great here.”
I looked down. My hands were shaking. I stuffed them into my Levi’s. “Will do.” I almost sprinted to the door.
“What’s the hurry? Have your sisters had lunch yet?”
“Not yet,” I yelled over my shoulder, and closed the door.
I ran to Maudy’s on quiet side roads, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might know Lane, which was everyone. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the people who’d urged me to shrug off Lane’s behavior: my mom, who said, “We have to show God we have the power to forgive, just like Jesus in the Bible.” And Lane’s sister Lisa, who, on the day of Mom’s funeral, had turned to me in the car and said, “Haven’t you already put Lane through enough? He’s not botherin’ you no more. Come on, Ruthie. You and I both know he coulda done lots worse to you. So why don’t you stop bein’ such a brat about it? You should act more Christlike, like your dad did. He believed in forgiveness and you should too.” Even Lane’s own words—“Hatred will eat ya up inside and take ya straight to hell”—gnawed at me. When I thought about what he was now doing to my brother, I felt like retching.
All the words I’d ever heard in church, and at all the conferences and Sunday-school classes, seemed to be taunting me now:
honor thy father, honor thy mother, be like Christ, be good, count your blessings, do what you’re told, prophets, men, husbands, gods, visions, dreams, destruction, forgiveness, sacrifice, submission, faith, Babylon, heaven and all the blessed little children
…
I realized that all those words, words that had held such power throughout my childhood, words that had characterized our way of life, words that had defined me, my siblings, our mom—they meant nothing to me. All the preaching, all the hours in church memorizing scriptures, how could that mean anything when the community supporting it wouldn’t defend the innocence and safety of a child? With a certainty that took my breath away, I decided I had to get away from LeBaron, and I had to bring my siblings with me. I vowed that my siblings would not suffer the way I had.
I swung open the metal-framed glass door at Maudy’s. Stucco dust rained down as it slammed against the exterior wall. The wooden phone booth was on the other side of the store—and occupied.
“Buenas tardes,”
said a young Mexican woman behind the white tile counter.
“I need to make a collect call to the States,” I said breathlessly, hoping she wouldn’t ask why I hadn’t paid our standing bill. She pointed at a plastic chair where I could sit until the phone was free. I passed a nervous few minutes, my white plastic tennis shoes wagging the entire time, until the man was finished.
When at last the phone was free, I jumped up, punched the number, and tried to collect myself for the Mexican operator who would connect the call. After a few mumbled exchanges, I heard the sound of a distant ring. Matt answered after the second one. “Yes, I’ll accept the charges.”
“Matt?” was all I could say before dissolving into tears.
“Ruthie? Is that you?”
I fell to the booth’s stool and slumped forward, the receiver in the crick of my neck, my face in my hands. “Matt.”
“What’s up, Sis? Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“Matt,” I whispered, “you have to come and get me. You have to come and get
all of us
.”
“Why, Ruthie?” His voice was calm and caring, but had a hint of doubt, as if he thought I might be overreacting about something.
“You. Cannot. Leave. Us. Here. Anymore,” I had never spoken more seriously to my brother in my life. And then I began to sob.
He paused for a second, surprised by my tone. “Uh, okay. Well, tell me what’s goin’ on.” His voice was serious but reassuring.
“Luke…”
“What? Is he all right, Ruthie?”
At last the words tumbled out. I told him what Lane had done to Luke, and that he planned to take Elena to the mountains.
“That …
dirty … son of a bitch.
” The anger in Matt’s voice was almost uncontrolled. “That …
bastard.
Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody. Luke hasn’t told anyone.”
“Well, don’t let him, and don’t you tell anyone either. Where’s Lane now?”
“He leaves for El Paso tomorrow morning.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“He said he doesn’t know.”
“Okay, listen.” Matt’s mind was racing. “I just bought you a car, an Oldsmobile station wagon. It’s old but it runs good. I was gonna bring it down for you and the girls. But”—he took in a deep breath— “here’s what I’ll do. I’ll take tomorrow off, and Maria and I will bring the station wagon and pick you guys up. We’ll be there by tomorrow night.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure out the rest once the kids get across the border.”
“How are we gonna get across the border? The border guys aren’t gonna believe we’re old enough to be their parents.”
“You’re right.” We both went silent, thinking. “You’ll have to find someone to help us.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.
Someone.
Ruthie, someone we can trust.”
“But who?
“
Someone
. And go get everybody’s birth certificates and Social Security cards.”
“That’s all still back at the house.”
“Then go back to the house, Ruthie.”
I gasped. “I haven’t been back there—”
“Go back to the house and look in Mom’s purse. And look in Mom’s dresser.”
“Matt, can’t we do that when you get here?”
“No, we have to have everything ready by then.
You have to get the birth certificates now
.” His voice was so forceful I hardly recognized him. “We have to have them if we’re gonna cross the border.” I sat there a moment. “Okay, Ruthie?”
“Okay.”
“And make sure Luke doesn’t tell anyone about this. Understand? If Lane or his family finds out, there’s no way we’re gonna get the kids out of Mexico.”
I hung up the phone, relieved but frightened. Alejandra’s house, where Lane was staying that night, was perilously close to Mom’s, so I took a roundabout route, through acres of pecan orchards, past a dozen fences, and over several ditches. Twenty minutes later I was there, at the back fence of Lane’s farm, staring across at our tiny home.
I touched the barbed-wire fence lightly, thinking I might get shocked, forgetting that the power had been off since the day Susan and I had flipped the switch. I ran up the pathway, past the alfalfa, past the well, the corral, Lane’s shop, Lane’s rusting pile of appliances, Lane’s rusty tractors, and all the broken-down cars of Mom’s that Lane had forever promised to fix.
Then I was at the front door, the veins in my throat throbbing and the blood pounding in my ears. I stepped inside gingerly, like a character in a horror movie. The floor was covered by a thick layer of dust, and the stench from mouse droppings was overwhelming. I peeked at the living room where I’d played the piano, where Luke and Matt had played checkers and cards and wrestled, where Audrey had attacked me, and where we’d heard the news about Mom. I walked through the kitchen where I’d made dozens of birthday cakes for my family, where Lane had taken a belt to Mom, and where Matt had told Mom that he was leaving. I walked down the hallway where I’d watched my younger brothers and sisters take their first steps.
Her bedroom. The bedspread tossed aside, as Mom had done when she ran to see what was happening to Micah. The romance novel still open to the page she’d been reading. The air still smelled of her perfume. I felt dizzy and had to rest on the edge of the bed. All at once I felt compelled to throw myself into the line of dresses hanging in Mom’s closet, rifling through them until I found the fuchsia one she’d worn that night she’d danced with Matt. My hands began to shake again as I held the dress to my face and smelled the scent of her skin. I lay it on the bed, put my head into it, and breathed again.
A mouse scampered across the floor and startled me from my reverie. I went to the closet and picked up Mom’s old, navy-blue purse. The handle pinched my fingers where the leather was hard and cracked. Digging around for her wallet, I felt the guilt and fear that I had always felt when digging through Mom’s things. The wallet fell open when I found it, and two $1 food stamps fell to the floor, as did a stack of blue Social Security cards and a wallet-size family photo from days gone by. In it, Micah was on Mom’s lap, chewing on his fist and looking at something other than the camera. Meri was on Lane’s lap. He was holding her tightly, but her body still collapsed over his forearms and her head hung lifelessly to one side.
I slipped the food stamps, Social Security cards, and other paperwork into my back pocket with the photo, folded Mom’s dress, and put it in a plastic bag. I noticed Mom’s watch, her makeup, an old pair of glasses, and some perfume and threw those in too. The sun had begun setting behind a cracked windowpane, and the house was growing dark. Now I would have to work quickly. I searched through all the drawers in all the bedrooms, taking every little thing I thought that Luke, the girls, or I might need. Finally, I left and closed the kitchen door behind me.
A cool breeze blew my hair into my face, and for one last time I heard the water running through the irrigation ditches and the crickets chirping. Then I swung the bag over my shoulder and walked away, never once looking back.
When I returned to Marjory’s, she looked at the plastic bag suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
For some reason, I hadn’t anticipated this confrontation and mumbled through a long-winded nonanswer. She interrupted me and pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table, a sign that we needed to sit down and talk.
“Ruthie, is this about Lane?” I just stared at her across the table. “It is, isn’t it?” I looked down, unable to hide. “Listen, I want you to know something, honey.” Her hands reached across the table and she held my hands. “I know you and Lane don’t get along because of what he put you through, but your mom is gone now, and we all have to learn to get along for your little sisters’ sake.”
I looked up stunned, and once again at a loss for words
“You know, Ruthie, you can’t let what he did ruin your life. You can’t carry that around with you forever. You have to get over it. And that means you have to
forgive him
.”
Her last two words incensed me. I had finally had enough. I pushed my chair back with a screech, bolted up from the table, and ran down the hall. “Hey, Luke, come in here!” I yelled. He was looking through his leaflets when I stormed through the door of Marjory’s back bedroom. “Hey, Lukey, we need to talk.” He looked up at me startled, then suddenly stood up as if he knew I was serious.
“What’s wrong? Have you lost your mind, Ruthie?” Marjory shrieked.
“Tell her,” I commanded Luke. “Tell her what Lane did to you.”
Marjory listened to Luke’s story, and the shock on her face was so obvious I wanted to get down on my knees and thank God for the reaction. And when I told her that Lane wanted to take Elena with him, Marjory began to cry.
“What do you want to do?” she asked through tears.
“We need to get my brother and sisters out of here. Matt is already on his way to pick us up.”
“You’re right. You have to get out of here, Ruthie.” Marjory sniffled. “And so do I.”
Now it was my turn to be shocked. Marjory had been raised in a polygamist family and had lived the principle for most of her life. I had no idea she’d been having her own serious misgivings about LeBaron. She felt that she didn’t belong here anymore. She said she wanted to return to the Christian church she’d been part of in the States and to live closer to her children. This was apparently the final push she needed.
The next morning, with Marjory’s help, I started getting things ready for the trip. Marjory had decided she’d help me and my siblings get across the border, and then we’d go to my grandmother’s house in Strathmore. I was counting the minutes until Matt and Maria arrived. Not until nightfall did I tell Leah and Elena that we were going to visit Aaron and Grandma. The clapping and screaming went on for some time. Luke seemed happy as well. I never told any of them that we wouldn’t be coming back.
Late in the evening Matt and Maria rumbled into the driveway in an old, brown Oldsmobile station wagon, and I met them at the door with a tight hug of relief. They both looked exhausted and smelled as if they needed showers, but there wasn’t a moment to waste. Lane’s trips to El Paso were often short, and he might suddenly walk through the door, especially since it was Marjory’s night.
The atmosphere was tense when Marjory and the three of us sat at the kitchen table to organize all our paperwork and come up with a game plan for the border crossing. Marjory would come with us—she had already spoken with her daughter in the States—and we would drop her off there once we’d safely made it into the States. Then, we would drive to Grandma’s house.
“Matt, I don’t care what we do after that,” I said, “as long as we keep Mom’s kids together.” He looked me in the eye and nodded in agreement.
A few minutes later, while Maria and I loaded all the bags into the back of the station wagon, she whispered that she was pregnant. She seemed disappointed when I didn’t act excited. I blamed my reaction on the stress of the day, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl who’d once been so set on becoming a designer that she’d cadged money away while selling pine nuts. Part of me felt sad for her.
With the car packed, Matt woke Luke up; I woke the girls and put them all in fresh diapers, having only one size to fit all. Holly’s diaper looked enormous, while Elena’s was so small I had to use masking tape to keep it together.
“Are we gonna take the goat with us?” Elena asked me, still half-asleep.
“Not this time. It won’t fit in the car. But a neighbor’s going to take good care of it for us.”
“Are they gonna feed it until we come back home?”
“Of course they are. They won’t let the goat starve. Okay, come on,
let’s go
.” I scooped Holly up and headed for the car. I put the smallest of my sisters between the other two, in the fold-up seat in the very back of the station wagon, then went back inside to mix a fresh bottle of formula.