Favorite Wife (29 page)

“Did he tell you that we have a school built?”

“A church-run school? No. Who will be the teachers?”

“Steve Silver will be the main one. See that adobe building over there, close to that windmill? That's the school. It's serving a double purpose right now. We're holding Sunday meetings there until we can afford to build a real church. We're super excited about having our own school, although it's going to take some more work and planning before we're ready to start classes.”

Aunt Thelma glanced at me. “Steve's asked me to help him teach. I just couldn't say no to him.” She sighed, but I could see a twinkle in her blue eyes.

I stared at her curiously. “Oh, I would think you'd enjoy teaching. Wouldn't you?”

She chuckled, “Truth is, I'm thrilled to death he asked me. I've always thought that I would make a good teacher. The problem is Steve and I won't be able to handle all the classes alone. We're going to have to find someone else for the younger grades.”

Aunt Thelma's voice trailed off and stopped. She stared at me, her eyes widening as she grinned. “Susan! You could help us teach!”

I looked at her blankly. “Me! Oh, no. I couldn't teach school. I don't know the first thing about it, and I didn't even finish school myself.”

“Well, honey, I don't know much about it, either. But that doesn't matter, Steve has experience, and he'll train us. Besides, you're smart. I know you could do it, and we need someone who's not tied down to a houseful of kids. There are so many children! Of course, the high school kids will still go to the school in Guerrero, the town just over the hill that you drove through on the way here. We'll have our hands full with the elementary ages. There'll be almost a hundred kids, once Verlan brings the rest of his family down.”

“Wow!” I whistled in surprise. Zion was indeed growing, just as Verlan had said. Suddenly I laughed, becoming intrigued by the idea. “Teaching is something to think about, isn't it? It would certainly give me something to do, and I've been needing something. We'll see.”

As we walked back toward the camper, I glanced again at the distant house that Aunt Thelma had identified as Irene's. Someone was on a ladder, painting the eaves a dull yellow. There's Verlan, I thought, shading my eyes against the rising sun. He's already hard at work. One of these days he'll build me a home, too, a home of my own. Tingles of excitement shivered through me. My life was beginning to come together.

Uncle Bud puttered around the unfinished building as we stopped in front of the camper. He had loaded tools onto the scaffold, and was hitching at his pants and glancing around.

“Thelma!” he roared, “Get those lazy boys up. Daylight's wasting—let's get some work done around here.”

Mark and Duane were already up and hovering over the table, wolfing their breakfast. Mark grinned at me, his mouth full. “Hi, Suze! You sure showed up at the perfect time. Dad'll have you pouring cement before the morning's out, mark my words.”

I laughed and flexed my muscles. “Right. The new house'll go up fast now that I'm here.”

Thirteen-year-old Duane kissed my cheek, then glowered at Mark. “Just so you know, brother dear. I'm not gonna be the go-fer all day again. I'm sick of it, and I'm going to talk Dad into lettin' me help him lay adobes. I can do it just as good as you.”

“Okay, boys, your dad's ready to get started, so move out,” Aunt Thelma broke in. She pulled on a pair of gloves and threw me a pair. “Let's go,” she said. “Rena, you stay here and clean up the camper.”

As we gathered around the work area, Uncle Bud pointed to a bucket and shovel. “Duane, start hauling water and get to mixing. I need mud,” he ordered.

Duane groaned, looking at his mother with mournful, hazel eyes that were like Lorna's. “I'm sick of being the peon around here,” he grumbled as he picked up the bucket. “It's no fun. Why can't I lay adobes for a change? I can do it.”

Mark snorted and began loading adobes into a wheelbarrow. “It takes an expert brick mason, dummy. You just stick to something you can handle. Stick to the mud.” He grinned. Grunting, he pushed the wheelbarrow of adobes to the work area.

Aunt Thelma opened a straw bale and scattered straw into the large mixing hole. “Come on Duane, pour some water in here,” she said briskly. I pulled on my gloves, picked up a shovel, and helped Thelma mix straw into the soft earth in the hole. Duane sloshed water in, then waited as we mixed it together.

The morning hours flew; the wall grew higher. On the scaffold, Mark fit adobes onto a layer of mud, then smoothed the sides with a trowel. Uncle Bud placed another adobe, chipping at it with the edge of the trowel to make it fit. He dumped mud between the bricks, scraped the sides smooth, then used a level and checked accuracy.

“Hey, peon,” Mark hollered over his shoulder to Duane. “Hoist that mud up here. And add a little more water in the next batch; this is too thick.”

Duane glowered at his brother as he trudged closer and lifted the heavy bucket over his head. “It just ain't fair, Dad,” he whined. “I have to do all the haulin' and mixin' and put up with him telling me what to do, when he's only a few years older'n me.” Screwing up his mouth, Duane mimicked in a high falsetto: “Go add more water to the mud, peon.”

Uncle Bud snickered. Then he roared with laughter. “Why don't you save yourself the work of hauling the water from the well, Duane, just go pee on the mud.”

“Bud!” Aunt Thelma choked. “Don't you think these guys come up with enough of that sort of rubbish on their own, without you putting in your two cents' worth? Why don't you let Duane have a turn up there with you? Mark can help down here.”

“Aw, Mom . . . ”

Duane shot a look of triumph at his brother. “You heard her. Climb on down, smart aleck.” The switch was made. And in spite of Mark's lack of faith in his brother's ability, the adobe wall progressed beautifully.

The sun was beginning to set, and Aunt Thelma and I were preparing supper, when Verlan knocked on the camper door. “The boys and I just completed the finishing coat on Irene's house,” he said as I joined him outside. “She's got a big supper cooked and asked me to bring you over. She was mad that I didn't take you to her place last night, but I explained that you wanted to see your relatives. So she's cooked up this big supper and asked me to come get you.”

“Go on, Susan,” Aunt Thelma called. “I'll save you a piece of cake.”

As we tramped across the weed-covered meadow toward Irene's, a man working on a distant rooftop waved to us. Verlan returned the greeting, shading the sun from his eyes as he watched. “That's Joel, helping Fernando get his roof on,” Verlan said.

I stared at Joel as we continued toward Irene's. His red hair glistened in the late afternoon sunshine, his head dropping with each stroke of the hammer. Building someone's roof seemed a menial task for a Prophet of God, who had the entire world to bring to salvation. I had always wanted to know Joel better. Perhaps now that I was here in Los Molinos I would have the opportunity.

I breathed deeply of the ocean air and looked again at the place that would soon be my home. There was something special about this colony. Something that drew me—excited me. These people were working to fulfill a God-given charge—to prepare a place of safety to which the people of the world could retreat when the time of the destruction came—the horrible end of times spoken of in the Book of Revelation. Joel's people here had a purpose—to help him build Zion. Of course, Colonia LeBaron had the same purpose since its founding, but I had been a child then. I had been too young to know the spirit of united effort toward a common goal that was manifested by the people there. But now I was a grown woman, prepared to join the rest of the saints and push the work of the Lord ahead, right here in Los Molinos.

Verlan and I skirted a fence at the back of Irene's lot. Goats bleated from a pen at one corner, and Verlan reached over the fence and patted the sleek black and white hide of a nanny. “How you doin', Heather,” he murmured.

From what appeared to be a kitchen window, I saw Irene wave to us. Then she hurried out the back door. “Hi!” she called, her face creased in a huge smile. She hurried to me and hugged me tight, then soundly kissed my cheek. Her blue eyes danced as she held me away. “Let me look at you! Yep, Verlan was right. You're just as pretty as ever.”

“Oh, Irene, I'm not . . . ” I grinned and blushed, at a loss for words. She was as warm and friendly as ever. Surely this was what the Lord had in mind when He said that sister-wives should get along. How could anyone not want to be friends with a person like Irene?

She grinned at Verlan and took his arm, then twined her other arm through mine, and pulled us toward the house. “I really should feel jealous of you, you know,” she teased me. “But somehow I'm not. I'm just tickled to death that you're here. I wanted Verlan to bring you down months ago, but he was afraid you wouldn't like our tent. It was rather nice, actually, not much housekeeping to do.”

Verlan chuckled, glancing at me over the top of Irene's head.

“The house looks real nice,” I said, admiring the paint job as Verlan opened the kitchen door. Suddenly clear was the reason Verlan hadn't finished the plumbing and the other devices in the house in Ensenada. He had known that the place there would only be temporary.

Verlan was certainly spending money on Irene's home, reminding me of my resolution in Colonia LeBaron to ask him for an allowance. I couldn't put it off much longer because I was becoming desperate for clothing.

We entered the neat, modest kitchen. The cement floors had been painted apple green, and had bright, braided rugs scattered about. A stainless steel cabinet with a built-in sink stood against one wall. In one corner sat an old refrigerator. A blond boy peered into its interior. He looked at me and gave me a shy smile.

“Kaylen, this is Aunt Susan,” Verlan said.

The next few minutes were a carbon copy of my first day at the big house in Ensenada, with fewer new faces and new names to remember. Irene's ten, fair-haired children, along with one dark-haired little adopted girl, crowded around us. Irene introduced her brood to me, then shooed most of them outside for the evening chores. “You and Verlan sit down and visit while I set the table,” she commanded, hurrying away.

Verlan had settled onto the couch, and patted the seat beside him. “Come sit by me, honey. Well, now, you've almost met the whole family, all but Ester and her kids, and you'll meet them at the church tomorrow.” Leaning back, he shook his head. “I don't know what Ester's problem is, but she has never spoken to any of my other wives. She just refuses to have anything to do with them. She doesn't understand what a blessing she's missing.”

The dining room table was covered with an eight-foot piece of plywood to make it long enough for such a crowd. We sat down to a meal of enchiladas, Spanish rice, and beans smothered in melted goat cheese. On the kitchen cupboard were three pies, topped with lightly toasted meringue.

“Susan, what do you think of our little town?” Irene asked as she dished up the food. Her voice rang with pride, just as Aunt Thelma's had.

“I like what I've seen of it,” I said emphatically. “I'm looking forward to meeting everyone.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, everyone'll be at church tomorrow, and tomorrow afternoon a bunch of us are planning to go to the beach for a picnic. It's still a little cold, but we'll bundle up. You'll come along, of course? I'm sure Thelma and Bud will be going.”

As we ate, I watched Irene's children, and I had to smile. They were so much like their mother. They bickered as to whose turn it was to talk, telling me one exciting story after another. Verlan proudly observed them, laughing over their expressiveness and bragging about their small achievements.

The major dinner subject was the birth of a set of twin goats. Steven, the thirteen-year-old, was insistent that he be the one to show them to me. “They're my goats!” Andre, the older boy, roared at Steven. “I'll be the one to show 'em to her! You just mind your own business!”

“Boys, boys!” Verlan broke in. “You can both show them to her. Steven feeds them too, Andre. He should get to show at least one of them to her.” That settled the argument.

It was fully dark as we finished the meal, and Verlan excused himself to go say goodnight to Ester. The boys found a flashlight and led me outside.

“They are fine animals,” I assured them, looking the goats over. “You must be real proud. Both of you.”

“They're the nicest ones we've ever had,” Andre bragged. “You wouldn't believe how much milk these two nannies give. We have cheese all the time now.” We tramped back to the house, the boys keeping up a constant stream of conversation.

Irene looked at us, her arms filled with leftovers from dinner. “Let me just get these dishes done, then we can visit before Verlan gets back,” she said.

“Can I help?” I offered.

“Sure,” Irene pointed to a kettle, “heat the water in that. Andre, go get Aunt Susan a bucket of water.”

The children crowded around as we cleaned the kitchen and tried to visit over the noise. “You kids, leave us alone for a few minutes, will you?” Irene finally hollered, exasperated. “Go on, now, every one of you. Get your clothes laid out for church tomorrow.”

“We already did that,” Steven said, grinning.

“Then go do your homework.”

Andre looked at Steven. “I don't have any homework. Do you have any homework, Steve? Donna, do you?”

“Nope. Why can't we stay here with you and Aunt Susan, Mom?”

Irene glared at them. “Because we haven't had a minute alone! Go on, all of you, before I get mad.”

They reluctantly left the kitchen, and I admired them, thinking that my own child would resemble Irene's, with their thick blond hair and blue eyes. I glanced at Irene, wondering if she would be happy about my pregnancy.