Sister Wife (15 page)

Mother laughs a little. “I doubt that. Though she certainly works hard at it.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

“But just because you like a boy, Celeste, doesn't mean the Lord has it in His plan for you to be together. The man you'll be assigned to will take care of you and provide you with a home. A mere boy could never do that.”

“I'd be happy to stay here. I'm not ready for children and sister wives.”

“Celeste,” she says softly, picking at a broken thread on her quilt. “It's amazing how fast you'll adjust. Change is hard, but you're a wise girl, and you know that here we sacrifice our childish whims in order to obtain a place in God's kingdom. You'll find the happiness you long for in the heart of your new family.”

I'm watching my mother's face as she speaks, and I notice that the haunting sadness of her eyes does not match
her words. I also know that in her own way she's telling me she won't listen to any more talk about Jon.

“Eat your breakfast, Mother,” I tell her. “The baby needs his nourishment.”

“You think it's going to be a boy?” she asks, reaching for a piece of toast.

“The last three were girls. A boy would balance things out.”

She nods. I wait quietly while she eats. I'd like to ask her more—how she felt when she was assigned to Daddy, how long it took Lena to accept her, and who the boy was that she longed for. I wonder if he still lives in Unity and if she ever thinks about him. But I remain silent, knowing that I would be asking too much of her.

When she's finished eating, she slides back down into bed and I tuck the blankets around her.

“Are they giving you a rough time?” she asks.

“Pardon me?”

“Lena and Deborah.”

“Oh. That. Yeah, well, they're letting me know they think I'm evil.”

“You're not evil, Celeste.” She sighs. “And it's your birthday. If I could, I'd get up and relieve you of some of your chores to give you a break.”

“I know you would.” I place my hand on hers.

She gets a dreamy look on her face. “I remember so clearly the day you were born. My first child. You were like a miracle to me—so tiny and precious. I wouldn't let anyone
else hold you or even change your diaper. I was too afraid they'd drop you or something.”

I smile at her, wishing I could remember when I was her only child. Now she's expecting her eighth, and she's just turning thirty-two.

“And now you're fifteen, and the cycle continues. I wonder if my mother felt this way when her oldest daughter turned fifteen.”

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“Proud.” She smiles. “And sad that you won't be living here much longer. But excited too, knowing we're on the right path, heading toward the highest degree of celestial glory.”

“Speaking of chores,” I tell her, ignoring this religious talk, “I better get back at it. I'm in enough trouble around here.”

“How mad was your father?”

“Very.”

“He wants what is right for you, Celeste. That's all.”

I simply nod, not wanting to aggravate her. But deep down, I now realize that what Daddy actually wants is what is right for
him
. Nobody ever asked me if being a celestial wife is right for me. If they had, I'd have told them no.

Chapter Fourteen

A
bigail studies me from her rocking chair. She reminds me of an overgrown bulldog who is especially grouchy about being woken in the middle of the night by a pesky intruder. I'm the intruder.

Jimmy brought me straight to Abigail's Freedom House, as he calls it, after rescuing me off the street. He'd left me standing alone in the dark living room with my suitcase while he went to wake her up. It felt totally wrong, and I'd begged him to just let me sleep on the couch until morning, but he said that was against house rules, and no one dared break house rules. Abigail had lumbered into the room, tying the sashes of her housecoat around her thick waist, her long braid tousled from sleep. She'd switched on a couple of lamps, glanced at me with half-asleep eyes and then disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the sound of water running, possibly a kettle being filled, and a murmur of conversation with Jimmy, who'd followed her in there.
When she came back into the living room, she'd motioned for me to sit on the couch, and she sank into the rocking chair.

Now she rubs her face with her hands in an attempt to come fully awake. When she finally speaks, her voice is weary. “Hello, Taviana.”

I nod.

“I've been expecting you.”

That startles me. “You have?”

She sighs heavily. “Yes, I have.”

“Why?”

She ignores my question but says, “I'm surprised you lasted there as long as you did.”

I find myself squirming in my chair. “I liked it there. It was safe.”

“You don't have to live in Unity to be safe.”

“I did.”

“Only because you didn't know you had other choices.”

I hear the whistling of a kettle. “Jimmy,” she says. He's leaning against the doorjamb leading to the kitchen, arms crossed. “Make the tea, please.” Then she eyes me intently. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

I think about the pathetic cup of soup I had at the bus station, but before I can answer, she says, “Scramble up some eggs for her too.”

“Scrambled eggs, coming right up.”

He disappears into the kitchen and she settles herself into the chair. “Okay, from the beginning. Tell me how you got here.”

I know she isn't asking how I got from the bus depot to her house, and her no-nonsense attitude works like a truth serum. I sit back and describe life with my mother, living on the streets, and how I met Jacob and ended up living in Unity. “And everything was fine until the Prophet ordered me to leave,” I conclude.

Jimmy comes into the living room and hands us each a mug of tea.

“That Jacob is a special one,” she says, warming her hands on her mug. “Even if he is one of them.”

I nod, thinking of him, and wonder how well she knows the people there.

“So now what?” Abigail asks me.

The question takes me by surprise. Somehow I'd expected
her
to tell
me
what would happen next.

“Now I hope to find work and a place to live.”

She doesn't reply.

“A real job,” I explain, in case she misunderstood. “Not what I was doing before.”

Jimmy comes back in and hands me a plate heaping with scrambled eggs and toast. It smells delicious. He also hands me cutlery and then sits on the couch beside me.

“Thanks,” I say, and suddenly I realize how hungry I am. I place the plate on the coffee table in front of me, lean over it and begin shoveling food into my mouth.

“In case you're wondering,” Abigail says, “Jimmy received a phone call today from someone who lives in Unity, so we knew you were in town but we couldn't figure out where you might go. Tonight, after I was in
bed, there was a knock on the door and a young man was there.”

“Hunter.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Jimmy said. “Apparently he'd been trying to find a phone number for me but gave up and just came over.”

Celeste, Jon and Hunter. I owe each of them.

“You'd better get to bed, Jimmy,” Abigail tells him. He nods, gives me a reassuring smile and disappears down the hall. Abigail waits until I've finished my eggs. Then she places her mug on a table beside her. She leans forward. “So, what about school?” she asks.

“What about it?”

“Aren't you planning to finish it?”

“No, I'm too far behind.”

“It's hard to find a decent job without a high school diploma.”

“I'm sure I can find something. I'm a hard worker.”

“If you're a hard worker, you can finish school.”

I think about the kids I met in the park today. Smug-girl will have told them all about what I did in Highrock. “I can't go back to school,” I tell her simply. “I'm not like the rest of them.”

“We can't keep running from past mistakes,” Abigail says. “At some point, we need to accept what is, what was done, and move on.”

Easier said than done, I think, and I then remember the book I wanted to borrow from the library today, how the jacket blurb said the character was haunted by
her past. I wonder how she ended up finding redemption. I definitely need to read that book.

“How old are you, Taviana?” Abigail asks.

“I just turned seventeen.”

She shakes her head. “You've seen a lot in your seventeen years. Going from living on the street to Unity... that's going from one extreme to another.”

“It is.” I nod. “But I needed that extreme. It was the only way I could break the pattern of my life.”

Abigail studies me. I look around the room. It is small and overcrowded with furniture, but it feels homey. There are pictures of children all over the room.

“So what do you know about me?” she asks suddenly.

“Not much. Just that you took in Jimmy and some other boys who decided to leave Unity.”

“Did you know that my children still live there?”

“No.” That surprises me.

She sighs but doesn't share any more details. “So here's the deal,” she says, folding her arms across her chest “I take in young people who have left Unity and need a place to live. It's always been boys in the past, but I'm happy to provide a home for girls too.” She clears her throat. “The authorities recognize the service I provide for these kids, so they turn a blind eye when it comes to laws about legal guardianship and all that.”

I nod.

“But there are rules. If you are willing to follow the rules, you are welcome to live here.”

“I got pretty used to rules in Unity.”

“Yes, I guess you did. But mine are different.”

I wait for her to continue.

“Rule number one. You must attend high school until you graduate.”

“But I just told you that I can't do that!”

She shrugs.

I cross my arms and sit back. I should have known that this was too good to be true.

“Do you want to hear the other rules?”

“Whatever.”

“Everyone pitches in with the cooking and cleaning. I provide a place for you to live, but it's not a hotel. The curfew is ten thirty on school nights, midnight on weekends. If you can, I encourage you to work part-time while you attend school so you can contribute to your keep. I expect common courtesy and good manners at all times. We respect each other's belongings and we each attend a church service of our choice.”

I must look surprised at that because she explains. “I may have left Unity, but I did not lose my faith in a higher power. It is my hope that the members of this family—and that's what we are, a family—will find strength in God's love, just as I do.

“This is also not a flop house,” she continues. “If you bring someone over to sleep, you check with me first, as Jimmy did tonight.” She thinks for a moment. “It hasn't been an issue in the past,” she says, “because there have been only boys, but of course boys and girls will occupy separate bedrooms. Occasionally we have to double up.”

I suddenly feel incredibly tired. The rules sound about the same as they did in the group homes I lived in before, and those never worked out for me.

“Any questions, Taviana?”

I notice a slight change in her voice. It's somewhat softer, gentler. Even her face looks less bulldoggish now.

I shake my head.

“You're welcome to take a couple of days to think about it.”

“But I already know I can't go back to school.”

“We can get you help with your schoolwork, if that's what you're worried about.”

“It's not.”

She sighs. “I didn't think so. Now listen,” she says in her gentler voice. “I can see you're exhausted. Things always look better after a good night's sleep. In the morning you can meet the boys, and I'll give you until Saturday to decide what you're going to do.”

She's right. I am exhausted. I decide to accept her hospitality for tonight, and maybe for a few more days. With any luck I will have found myself a job and another place to live by Saturday.

THE SOUND OF
male laughter and clanging dishes drags me from a deep sleep. It takes a moment to remember where I am, but when I do I get up and quickly pull on my clothes. I comb my hair with my fingers before I step into
the hallway. The coast is clear. I duck into the bathroom and then head down the hall toward the kitchen.

Sitting at the table are Jimmy and two other boys. Abigail is standing at the counter making sandwiches. Jimmy smiles when he sees me. “Morning, Taviana,” he says.

I smile. “Hey.”

“This is Matthew and Selig.”

They both smile shyly, nod and continue eating. They look like so many of the boys I saw in Unity, with their sandy-colored hair and wiry bodies. I wonder what gave them the courage to leave.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Abigail asks. She's wrapping two heaping sandwiches at a time in plastic wrap. These boys must have big appetites.

“Good, thanks,” I reply.

“That's great,” she says. “So, Jimmy and I are off to work, and Matthew and Selig are off to school. The house is all yours until school gets out.”

I nod. “Is there anything you need done?”

Abigail looks surprised that I asked. “Thank you. I suppose you could clean up the kitchen when we're done.”

“No problem.” I pull out a chair beside Jimmy's and reach for a piece of toast from a plate that's stacked high with them. “Where do you work?” I ask him.

“I'm on a construction crew. We're all over the place, wherever there's work.” He takes two more pieces of toast and reaches for the jar of homemade jam.