Favorite Wife (8 page)

Noticing me, she hesitated, her eyes sharp as a teenager's. “Susan! My, don't you look nice!” She threw me a conspiring smile, as if she knew I had taken special care with my appearance today, and why. I blushed a little as I touched her knobby fingers.

Several of the brethren came in together and took their seats on the stage. Still there was no sign of Verlan. I'd wanted to ask Grandma about him, but not with Esther so close to her. I looked to the back of the building, expecting that at any moment he would be coming in.

Joel blocked the doorway. He was talking to someone hidden behind him. I twisted, trying to see if it was Verlan, but when the Prophet finally started up the aisle, I realized the man following him was Jay.

As my brother dropped onto the bench directly behind us, I turned around and anxiously studied his face. His expression was unreadable, his eyes trained on the stage and the men preparing to open the meeting. I couldn't help but wonder what his little visit with the Prophet had been about. Carmela? I hoped so! If so, what had Joel's response been, and how could I stand to wait until after meeting to find out?

Esther was at the piano beginning the prelude so people would settle down. A sinking feeling was forming in the pit of my stomach. Oh, what if Verlan hadn't come at all! Maybe I had waited all this time, and he wasn't even going to show up. If that were the case, it could be another six months, until next conference, before I would see him again. Suddenly I wanted to cry.

Bishop Alma LeBaron stood up on the stage and walked to the pulpit, and a hush settled down around the crowded building. He called the meeting to order, announced the opening hymn, and asked a Mexican member to open the meeting with prayer. A rush of anger replaced my disappointment as I watched Alma. How could he act so good and humble today, when he'd been so hard and heartless the last time I saw him?

As Brother Castro stepped to the pulpit and bowed his head, the back door by the stage opened with a grating sound. Verlan stepped through the doorway. He glanced quickly around, noticing everyone's bowed heads. Hesitating at the side of the stage, he clasped his hands together in a hurried effort at reverence. Brother Castro grinned at him, cleared his throat, and prayed.

I wanted to laugh out loud. He had come! He was here! With pounding heart I stared at him all through the prayer, reveling at how very tall and distinguished-looking he was. My body burned hot and then turned icy with excitement.

Once the prayer was over Verlan stepped onto the stage and sat down on the bench by the Prophet. Grinning widely, he leaned over and shook hands with all the men, then he settled back and looked over the crowded building. He nodded and smiled at several people as his eyes quickly roved around. I stared at him with bated breath as he looked in my direction, waiting for our eyes to meet in joyful recognition. But he looked right past me, down to the last bench and back again. He didn't even hesitate as his eyes swept over me. I waited and watched him for an hour, but he ignored my desperate stare. The meeting droned on forever, and I didn't even try to pay attention. I sank lower in the seat, suddenly wishing I could just disappear. All I wanted was to go home and lock myself in my room. How could I have set myself up for such a plunge? What a silly girl I was, to imagine a stupid nightmare with a pleasant ending was guidance from God!

Oh, if only he would just look at me! Maybe he figured five wives were enough, and he wasn't interested in marrying anyone else. Maybe his wives had laid down the law with him and told him they wouldn't accept him marrying another woman. When it came right down to it, five wives were a lot for a man to have. Certainly nothing to be ashamed of if he decided to stop there.

I glanced over the men on the stage and was suddenly conscious of Brother Ervil's eyes straying in my direction. What was he staring at? I watched him for a few minutes and soon realized it wasn't me he was looking at, but Debbie, seated next to me. She and Mark had been whispering back and forth and looking into each other's eyes in a telltale way that anyone could recognize as mutual attraction. Ervil seemed fidgety and concerned as he watched them. What's the matter with him, I wondered, doesn't he like Mark? Maybe he feels responsible for Debbie because she's staying at Anna Mae's, and he's being protective. Surely he's not like Alma and wants Debbie to marry an old man!

It reminded me of Carmela, and I looked over to where she was seated next to her mother. Her face was turned away from me, but as I watched her she cast a furtive glance at Jay. Soon she looked at him again, obviously trying to catch his eye, but he wouldn't look at her. Maybe he'd finally given up hope and was trying to let Carmela know. I pondered the situation again, but today my own uncertainty and sense of rejection smothered my anger.

What had ever made me think that someone like Verlan LeBaron could secretly admire me? He probably only remembered an awkward young girl covered in mud. The embarrassment of that day so many weeks ago flooded over me again.

The second the meeting was over, I dashed out of the building. Verlan hadn't spared me so much as a glance, and to watch him visiting with everyone but me, as would probably happen, was more than I could bear.

As I helped Mom and Aunt Thelma prepare lunch, Mom said, “Susan, you're going to have to take your turn staying with Maria's kids this afternoon. You won't mind, will you?”

I instantly agreed. Of all days to stay at home, this was the perfect day. I wouldn't have to see Verlan again and feel the agony of his disinterest.

That evening as I got ready for the play we were to put on, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “Come in,” I yelled, my mouth held funny as I applied heavy pink lipstick in front of the mirror. Jay walked in, all dressed up in his costume, and lounged against the wall as he watched me primp. “That stuff looks awful on you. Why do you smear it on like that?” he shuddered.

I glared at him in the mirror. “If you came in here to gripe at me, then you can just go back out again. I have to wear this for the play, remember?”

He abruptly moved closer to me. “Suze, I need you to get a message to Carmela for me tonight,” he whispered.

I whirled and stared at him. “Did you talk to Brother Joel? What did he say?”

Jay avoided my question. “Just tell her to be behind the back hedge at her house tomorrow night at ten. Tell her to be ready.”

His face looked strained in the dim light that filtered through the window. I knew this was the most difficult decision he had ever made. He was planning to run away with Carmela, and he knew just what the implications would be. He would lose his fellowship in the church at the very least, and possibly his membership. He might not be allowed to return to the colony.

“What about Alma?” I said abruptly. “What are you going to do if he catches you? He said he wouldn't warn you again. Aren't you afraid?”

“He was just trying to look tough the night he showed up here. He would no more use that gun on me . . .” Jay's eyes softened. “I love her, Suze. He's got to realize that some people are just meant for one another. I've tried to tell him but he won't listen, and I can't think of any other way.”

“Where will you go? What will you do once you're married?” I thought of his house across the road and of his big plans to bring his bride to live in it with him.

“I have it all worked out, but I don't want you to know anything about it. Alma will probably question you, and I don't want you to have to lie for me. I'll let you know where we've gone as soon as I can. Okay?”

“I'll tell her tonight,” I promised.

Jay kissed my cheek and hugged me hard. “You're a good kid, Sis,” he whispered.

The play, as Esther had assured us, was a “grand success.” Our audience deafened us with applause and whistles. Their faces were a white blur to me from up on the stage where I stood with the other girls and sang harmony to “Welcome to Gay Havana.” I tried to find Verlan's face in the crowd, but my searching almost made me forget my lines, so I gave up and paid attention to my part.

I had the perfect opportunity to speak with Carmela while we were changing out of our costumes after the play ended. There were other girls around us, but I made sure I was next to her, and I whispered Jay's message. Her fine, black eyes widened and locked with mine, and her full lips pursed in anxiety. She slowly nodded her head to let me know she would be waiting for him.

“I'll be praying for you,” I whispered.

As I walked toward home with the rest of my family, the moon was low and orange on the eastern horizon. Eerie light shone softly where the trees didn't make shadows. Dad carried little Thelma as she slept, and Uncle Bud held my baby brother, Ariel, tucked snugly against his chest.

Maria gabbed in broken English to Aunt Thelma and Mom about the “wonder-ful play,” causing them to laugh merrily at her efforts. My thoughts were heavy and troubled as I trailed behind the others. Nothing was going right. If Jay got hurt, or worse, I would be partly responsible. I had encouraged him about Carmela from the start. I liked her as much as any girl I knew and wanted her in our family, but suddenly I was feeling scared. What if Jay was wrong about Alma not being serious in his threat? The thought was too horrible. I remembered the moonlight gleaming on his shotgun barrel and the timbre of his voice when he told me that someone should teach me to have respect for my elders. I shuddered. He might even come after me as an accomplice. I had never, in all my years in the church, heard of anything more awful than this.

The following day, Saturday, was a repeat of the previous day, with meetings and preaching. There was a two-hour stop for lunch, then the preaching lasted until six. Verlan paid no attention to me, and I had given up hope that he would.

There was a mad scramble at home to get chores and supper completed in time for the big dance. It was the highlight of the whole weekend for the young people, and I tried to be excited about it.

“What's for supper, Mathel?” Dad boomed as he walked into the kitchen with a brimming milk bucket.

“Chili beans, and they're hot ones. Fara, call everyone for the blessing so we can eat.” Mom dropped a hot pad onto the table and lifted a huge kettle onto it, then turned to my aunt, noting her attempts to slice bread with our dull old knife. “Thelma, are you sure you're up to going to that shindig tonight?” she asked.

“Why, I most certainly am! I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Aunt Thelma two-stepped around the kitchen, holding the knife in one hand and a plate of sliced bread in the other, a silly smile on her face. Then she plopped the bread down on the table and said, “God's neat; let's eat.”

My stomach was turning in knots through the meal. Jay kept his attention on his bowl, and I marveled as he spooned beans into his mouth as though he hadn't a care in the world. I sighed, wondering how someone who planned to elope and leave the home of his childhood this very night could act so nonchalant. What would Mom and Dad say if they knew? But they couldn't know. Dad would probably get a kick out of it, but Mom would be frantic.

I adored my brother and would miss him terribly, and now that I really thought about it, seventeen was awfully young for a man to marry and make his way in the world with a wife to support. Oh, everything was such a mess! This was the worst conference of my life.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

A
s my family and I strolled up the starlit road to the dance, we could hear the tinkling sounds of piano music long before the building could be seen. The music was mixed in with the low tones of Dad and Aunt Thelma discussing someone's sermon from this morning's meeting.

The night air felt soft and cool against my neck after the day's heat. Quiet as a shadow, Jay walked beside me, and I wanted to reach out and touch him. It was eight o'clock, only two hours before Carmela was to meet him. I wondered how he planned to leave the colony, and as I glanced at his pale face, I wanted to hug him and to beg him not to carry out his plan. But I couldn't do that. He had his mind made up, and I felt he was justified. Heaven alone knew what the night would bring.

Two caballeros on dark horses galloped past us in a wild, furious race, the hoofbeats pounding in rhythm to my heart. Cars were parked for a block on either side of the road as we crossed the cattle guard by the church. The churchyard was packed with Mexicans from around the valley that had gathered to peer into the huge windows and watch the festivities. Their dark faces turned to stare at us as we made our way up the sidewalk.

The benches in the big meeting room had been removed, leaving space for the dancers to rest. Someone had hung gay-colored serapes and Mexican sombreros on the plastered, white-painted walls. Red and blue streamers were woven together and hung in wild array from the ceiling. The cement floor was sprinkled with baby powder for easier gliding. The small electric generator was purring, and two naked lightbulbs glared on either end of the big room, casting shadows along the walls. Younger people milled in the center of the room, talking in small groups.

As we walked in, Gaye, one of the Prophet Joel's wives, was seated at the piano pounding out “Turkey in the Straw” in an effort to get people onto the dance floor. My gaze automatically swept the building. Verlan was on the far side, leaning against the wall, talking animatedly to his brother Ervil. The grin on his face made my heart ache, because I wished he were smiling at me. I forced my eyes away from him and quickly looked among the crowd. Debbie, in a flowing, crimson gown, her chestnut hair bouncing around her shoulders, motioned for me to join her on the bench under the window. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Oh, Susan, Mark is so gorgeous!” she whispered in my ear the moment I sat down. “I think I'm in love. Why haven't you told me about him?”

I chuckled. “He is cute, isn't he? I haven't seen him for years. I hardly knew him before now. He likes you, too, by the way.”

“Do you really think so?” she sounded anxious.

“I know so,” I grinned. “He's definitely interested, so relax and enjoy it.”

Soon one of the brethren called the dance to order and said a quick prayer. Immediately the piano music started up again, and people began to choose their partners for the Virginia Reel. As one of my classmates whirled me around, I searched the crowds for Jay, but he had disappeared. I tensed, wondering about him.

The dance ended. I excused myself and moved from the floor. As the piano player began the next tune, Mark strolled toward Debbie and me, and with a courtly bow extended his hand.

“Who, me?” I joked, determined to put my anxiety aside and have some fun. I looked quickly at Debbie to see her reaction.

“Go on,” she laughed and pushed me.

My cousin swung me onto the floor for a fast and furious square dance. Lane Stubbs's younger brother, Kimball, was the caller. His high-pitched voice rose above the music: “Swing your partner 'neath your arm, and all line up for a doe-si-doe! Swing the gal on your left, then the lady on your right. Swing her all around, all around you go . . .”

Laughing breathlessly, I almost forgot about Jay until I was swung next to Carmela. She was dancing with her brother, Ernesto. Her dark brown skin had a yellow tinge to it, and gray circles stood out beneath her eyes. She smiled gently at me before Ernesto whisked her away.

For the next hour I scarcely had time to catch my breath. Several gentlemen, young and old, swept me around the floor. As I danced, I kept a nervous eye on Alma, and noted Carmela's dark hair among the other dancers. Jay hadn't reappeared, and I fretted about his whereabouts. I assumed that he had decided to stay away, hoping that Alma wouldn't connect him to Carmela's disappearance.

The Prophet Joel, dressed in his business suit, gallantly waltzed my mom across the floor, and as I watched, he winked at his own mother, Grandma LeBaron, who was dancing with young Elias Paisano. She ignored Joel's teasing gesture of derision for her partner. With her head held high, she allowed Elias to lead her around the room. Halfway through the waltz, the other dancers cleared the floor for Grandma and her partner. Elias's black eyes never left her face as he guided her across the floor. Grandma's hair was piled high like a tiara, and in spite of her bad hip, she waltzed with stately bearing, as if the young boy was a prince. Their audience clapped with noisy appreciation as the last strains of the waltz sounded.

The floor was soon crowded again. As I glanced around, I caught Alma's nod of approval at his son Alma D., as Francisca swayed in the young man's arms. I turned my face away. Amazing how it was acceptable for Alma's young, single son to choose the church-grown girl of his choice, but not for my brother to do so.

Mark and Debbie had danced every dance together since his first one with me. At least they were enjoying themselves. I grinned at them as my partner swung me near. Suddenly Mark's eyes widened in surprise. Ervil had appeared at his elbow. Abrupt and commanding, he yanked Debbie away, leaving Mark alone on the dance floor. My cousin looked around self-consciously, then moved to a bench and sat down. Well! Our patriarch certainly was taking his role as Debbie's protector seriously. It had been downright rude, the way he had cut in. I sniffed in distaste. Alma wasn't the only LeBaron who had behavior problems.

As soon as the dance was over, I casually made my way to the bench where Carmela was seated and eased down beside her. She was talking to her mother in Spanish. “I'm feeling so sick!” she was saying. “I can't stand to sit here any longer. I'm going to get Ernesto to take me home.”

“What's the matter with you?” Flora asked sharply, “is it that headache again?”

“Sí. It must be all this noise.” Carmela really did look sick as she covered her ears with her hands. Flora motioned for Ernesto and asked him to take Carmela home. He grudgingly agreed but complained about missing the dance. Carmela didn't even glance at me as they walked away.

I looked hastily around for Alma, to see if he had noticed Carmela's departure. But there he was, already stalking toward the door. Oh, no! I thought in panic, what should I do? There has to be something . . . ! I wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, and I bounded off the bench and raced toward him.

Just as he reached the door, the Prophet Joel stood up. “Where you going, Alma?” he called out. “Don't be leaving; we've got a meeting starting right now, back in that small room down the hall. Did you forget?” Alma hesitated at the doorway. Reluctantly he turned and followed Joel.

“Oh, praise the Lord!” I breathed. I dropped onto the bench by the door, my legs shaking and weak as hot wax. Did Joel know? Or was it just luck and God on Jay and Carmela's side? I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall, feeling drained with the stress of the last two days. Now, if Carmela could just ditch Ernesto somewhere . . .

“Young lady, are you too tired to dance with me?” a musical voice asked. Opening my eyes, I looked into Verlan LeBaron's grinning face. His huge hand was outstretched for mine. I stared at him, tongue-tied. I swallowed and tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. My mouth was dry as chalk.

He was dressed in a navy suit, with a striped tie pinned neatly into place. His blue eyes twinkled at me, and I remembered them from my dream. In a daze, I reached for his hand. It was warm and firm as he led me onto the dance floor. His arm slipped around my waist, and he grinned down at me as we swayed to the music. The sweet, spicy scent of his aftershave washed over me. I trembled, overcome with emotion. I recognized the scent from my dream.

White teeth flashed in his tanned face. “You're all grown up, aren't you? Seems like the last time I looked at you, you were just a tiny little thing with a long blond ponytail. My, how time flies.”

I wanted to say something to him, anything, so he wouldn't think I was a total idiot. But the words refused to come. What I had been waiting for had finally happened, and it left me speechless. My dream had been real! I no longer doubted it. Only the formalities remained, but I didn't question that they would happen. True, this was only a dance, but it was the beginning of a marriage, whether Verlan LeBaron realized it or not. I closed my eyes and swayed in my future husband's arms, too moved inside to hear the music. I was glad the lighting was poor so Verlan couldn't see the tears on my cheeks.

When the dance ended, he escorted me to my seat, squeezed my hand as he released it, and smiled into my eyes. I didn't remember sitting down. I didn't remember anything about the rest of the social. Jay and Carmela's elopement seemed far away. Verlan LeBaron's eyes were the color of a tropical sea.

After the closing prayer and the people around me were leaving the building, after Mom motioned for me to join the rest of the family for the walk home, I felt the daze of unreality gripping me. The moon floated like a yellow balloon in the clear night sky. The family was silent—tired after the long day and exuberant activity. I lagged behind, lost in my thoughts. My mind felt drained and exhausted. So many things had happened in such a short time. Had it only been an hour since Jay and Carmela's departure?

Dad slowed his steps to match mine and put his arm around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, glad for the support. My legs felt so weak. We had lagged quite far behind the others, and suddenly Dad cleared his throat. “Well, Sis,” he said softly, “I guess I might as well tell you now. Verlan LeBaron asked me tonight if he could court you. What do you think about that?”

I stopped and turned to stare at him. His face, usually so jovial, was serious beneath the brightness of the moon. I felt no real surprise at his words, only a radiant, liquid warmth seeping over me like melted butter. My dazed mind began a slow, monotonous chant . . . He wants to marry you. He really wants to marry you.

I started slowly down the road, with Dad falling into step with me. Finally he could stand it no longer. “Well? What do you think? It's up to you, you know. If you don't want him hanging around, just say the word, and I'll . . .”

“Daddy,” I interrupted, “I want to have him hang around. I mean, I want him to court me. But I would like to tell him myself if it would be all right with you.”

“I kind of figured you'd say that,” he chuckled. “Okay, I'll tell him tomorrow that you want to see him. But just so you know, I warned him that if you said yes, there was to be none of that kissy stuff going on. You are only fourteen, and I told him so. He was surprised.”

“I'll be fifteen in October,” I reminded him.

We walked into our yard and stood for a moment on the front porch. I gathered that Dad wanted to say more to me, but he shrugged it off and hugged me instead. With a wave of his hand, he sauntered around the house to spend the night at Maria's.

I fell into bed, drained by the emotional upheavals of the day. But my mind refused to clear. I examined the fact that Verlan's request to court me was giving substance to my dream. It was amazing. My thoughts lingered on the soft look in my father's eyes as he told me of Verlan's interest. I relaxed into the warm feelings that coursed through me as I thought of Verlan. Verlan, the man I would marry.

Suddenly, thoughts of Jay and Carmela invaded my mind. I tossed restlessly, listening to the sounds of the crickets outside my window. Their incessant clicking was like seconds on a clock marking off minutes until Alma discovered that his stepdaughter was gone. I wondered where they were—if they had gotten safely away.

I fought sleep. Snuggling against my pillow, I rested my tired eyes for just a moment. It seemed as if I had barely closed them when someone was shaking me. Instant fear gripped me.

“Susan, you've got to wake up!” My mother's voice sounded frightened.