Sister Wife (2 page)

“Not soon enough for me,” she sighs, closing her eyes.

“But very soon for you.”

I don't answer but pull her closer and we snuggle together, waiting for sleep to come.

Nanette and I have shared a bed for as long as I can remember. I cannot imagine sharing one with anyone else. I've listened to my mother's sister wives whispering in the kitchen, giggling, so I have an idea about what sleeping with a husband means, what you have to do with them to have babies. With Jon I can imagine it, I even yearn for it. With a husband who may be older than Daddy...yuck! A shudder runs through me.

“What's wrong, Celeste?” Nanette's eyes have popped open again.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.”

She studies me for a moment and then closes her eyes.

Having lots of babies is required, but at least I won't have to sleep with him every night. Some nights I'll be alone. Whoever my husband is, he'll have to take turns sleeping with each of his wives. That's the one good thing about having sister wives.

In less than a minute, I can feel Nanette's breathing change as she drifts into sleep. I twist a lock of her soft hair between my fingers and feel her warm breath on my cheek. Have I ever shared her unquestioning faith? Maybe I did, a long time ago, though Daddy has always said that I ask too many questions for my own good. He tells me I should be more like Nanette, that I should practice purity and keep sweet.

If only I could.

Chapter Two

“
T
he dishwasher was the only good thing about home,” I tell Celeste, placing another dry plate on the towering stack. She's washing the dishes so fast I can barely keep up. With thirty-two of us living here, washing dishes is one big chore.

“I still don't understand how a machine can wash dishes, Taviana,” Celeste says.

“It's simple,” I tell her. “There are racks that hold 'em. You put the dirty ones in, add soap, turn it on and presto! Water swishes around and cleans everything. About an hour later you just have to put them all away.”

“Kind of like putting the dishes in a sink with soapy water, swishing them around and then putting them in the drying rack. I don't see that it would make much difference. You still have to put them away.”

I think about that. “Your hands don't get wet with a dishwasher, and no one has to dry.”

Celeste shrugs and then glances about to see who might be listening. “I just think it would be better if there were fewer kids,” she whispers.

“You want me to leave?” I ask, putting on my most offended face.

She flicks soapy water at me. “Not you, silly!” She lowers her voice. “You and Nanette are what make this place bearable. It's all the little ones. They're too small to help, but they make such a mess and they need so much attention. I never get my mother or Daddy to myself.”

I glance at Celeste's face as I run the dishtowel over another plate. She's grouchy, as usual. I prefer doing chores with Nanette, who's always cheerful. She's also drop-dead gorgeous. Maybe it's a good thing she's in this old-fashioned place because in the real world a girl who looks like Nanette would attract way too much attention. She's only thirteen, but under her long dress she looks more like eighteen, and she has the kind of chiseled face you'd expect to see on the front of a fashion magazine.

But I'll never forget how welcome Celeste made me feel when I first arrived. Most of the women and girls gave me looks, and I knew they didn't think Jacob should have brought me here. Celeste seemed stoked to meet someone from outside The Movement, and she's always firing questions at me. I try to return the favor by telling her stories, even though I know I'm not supposed to. She's just so curious, and the stories make her smile.

“So what eventually happened to the Pied Piper?” she asks, quietly, while pulling the plug from the bottom of the sink.

I have to wrack my brain to remember. “I think he led all the kids out of town, never to return again.”

She looks horrified. “He wasn't a good person?”

I shrug and add one last plate to the stack. “He was just angry. He'd been hired to lure all the rats and mice out of town, which he did. But then the mayor didn't pay him, so he got even by luring all the children away.”

“That's awful!”

“It's just a story, Celeste.”

“But why couldn't it have a happy ending?”

“That would be boring,” I tell her and snap the tea towel at her backside, but even with that I can't get a smile out of her today.

I find Nanette at the back of the sprawling house, ironing. She grins when she sees me. I make myself useful by folding towels that are heaped in another basket. “How come Celeste is always so grouchy?” I ask her.

“That's just the way she is,” Nanette says. “Daddy says she thinks too much.”

I pull another towel out of the basket and consider that. There is such a routine here, such a structured lifestyle, that I suppose a person doesn't really need to think much at all. Conformity is what they strive for, not individuality. Everything is laid out, from what you're expected to contribute right down to what you wear. Even your husband or wife is chosen for you. Maybe it's not the thinking that is Celeste's problem, but the questioning.

“When you're finished here,” I say, “do you want to go for a walk?”

“Sure,” Nanette says. “I'll just check with Mother first, to see what else has to be done.”

Nanette had to rock one of the twins to sleep, and I had to make sandwiches for the following day, but finally we're on the dirt road that winds its way through town. The sun has just set and the mountain range to the east appears black against the indigo sky. Nanette reaches out and takes my hand. I squeeze hers back and we stroll along in a peaceful silence. Nanette is the sister I always dreamed of having.

Just as we're rounding the last bend before the road would take us right out of town, we pass the Nielsson farm. I can hear hushed voices and I smell cigarette smoke, which is unheard of in Unity. Peering into the twilight, I see that there's a group of guys gathered outside the barn. They're straddling farm equipment and sitting on the flatbed of a pickup truck. Their heads turn in unison as they notice us. Nanette squeezes my hand a little tighter.

“Want to turn around?” I ask her quietly.

She glances at the guys and nods. As we turn back, one of them calls out, “Good evening, ladies. Care to join us?”

“Don't say anything,” Nanette instructs quietly.

I look down at her and am surprised to see how frightened she looks. Then I glance back at the boys. They look harmless enough, even though I see a flask being passed between two of them, guys who I don't recognize.

“Why don't we just go over and say hi?” I suggest, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“No,” she whispers firmly. “Three of those boys are apostates. Don't go near them.”

Now I get it. An apostate is someone who has been kicked out of the community. They're considered “tools of the devil,” and Nanette probably figures they're here to poison the minds of our pure boys. Maybe they are, but what she doesn't understand is that the life I lived before coming here is probably way more sinful than what any of these boys can even imagine. I don't miss that life, but sometimes I long to hang out with guys my own age. My opportunity has arrived. I drop Nanette's hand. “You go on home,” I tell her. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

“You're not going to talk to them!” she says, horrified.

“Just for a bit,” I tell her. “Don't worry, Nanette,” I add, tugging her long braid. “I know how to handle guys. I was an old pro at it before I came here.”

Not a good choice of words, I realize. She regards me seriously and glances back at the boys. “I don't like this,” she says quietly. She gives me a disapproving look, turns and walks away.

I watch her disappear into the darkening night. Then I find myself hiking up my skirt and scrambling over a fence. “How's it going?” I ask, walking up to the group.

It takes a moment for any of them to answer. I suppose they are as stunned as Nanette that I actually joined them. Then the boy with the lit cigarette speaks. “You must be Taviana,” he says.

“I am. How did you know?”

“Because no girl who was raised in Unity would've climbed that fence the way you just did.” He's regarding me with admiration.

I shrug. “Okay, but how do you know my name?”

“I live in Highrock now. The people on the streets there are still talking about you. You're like an urban legend or something.”

Highrock is where I used to live, before Jacob rescued me. I quickly change the subject. “So what's your name?”

“Lucas.”

“And what brings you here, Lucas?”

He takes a long drag on a cigarette. “I'm just back for a visit, to say hi.”

I nod and glance around at the faces of the other boys. The ones from Unity are looking slightly embarrassed by my presence, but one of the other strangers pulls the flask out of his back pocket and takes a swig.

“Is it true what they say about you, Taviana?” he asks while sliding the bottle back into his pocket.

I look directly at him. He looks away. “Probably,” I tell him. “What's it to you?”

“Just wondering if you still...”

“No,” I tell him. “That's why I moved here.” I look at the other boys. “So, who are the rest of you?”

A third stranger, who looks a little older than the rest, offers his name first. “I'm Jimmy,” he says. He bows slightly and adds, “Pleased to meet you, Taviana.”

I bow slightly back. “And I'm pleased to meet you, Jimmy.”

A Unity boy, who couldn't be more than twelve years old, speaks up. “I'm Stephen Nielsson.”

“Hi, Stephen,” I say, smiling at him. He blushes deeply.

“I'm Cameron,” a slightly older boy says. “Stephen's cousin.”

I nod at Cameron. He's very cute, in an innocent way. I think of Nanette and wonder how girls here can remain so self-disciplined when it comes to these boys. I turn to the last boy. “And you're...?”

“Jon,” he says and smiles.

There's something so sweet, so refreshing, about Jon's face that I can hardly drag my eyes away. My physical response to him is something I haven't felt in a couple of years, something I thought I might never feel again. It takes me by surprise.

“So what are you guys doing?” I ask, looking around and hoping I've masked my reaction to Jon's smile.

“Just hanging,” flask-boy says, and I realize I never asked him his name. I also note that he didn't offer it.

I turn back to Lucas. “How come you left Unity?” I ask him.

He studies my face for a while, and I sense he's trying to figure out how to answer that question. “I had a...a clash of values with the Prophet, you might say. I wanted more in my life than I could ever get here.”

“More in your life?” I ask. “Like cigarettes and booze?” I gesture toward his friend.

He studies me a little longer and then shakes his head, as if dismissing me. “Have you found in Unity what you came looking for?” he asks.

“I didn't actually come here looking for anything. I was invited here. And I like what I've found. It's safe.”

Lucas grunts. “Yeah, well, you won't be here long if you keep jumping fences to talk to guys. Don't you know they don't like that kind of thing?”

I just shrug, but his words sting. I nod. “You're right, Lucas. I just wanted to be friendly, but I guess I should go.” I turn to look for the gate and pull up my dress slightly to make walking easier. “See you guys around,” I call over my shoulder.

It has gotten much darker, and I hope I'm walking toward where the gate is. When I get there, I realize that what I thought was a gate, isn't. I begin following the fence that runs parallel to the road. If I have to climb over it again, I want to do it where the boys can't see me.

Suddenly I hear running footsteps approaching me from behind. I whirl around, expecting to find flask-boy following me, looking for a little action, but I come face to face with the guy called Jon.

“Hey,” I say, startled.

“Hi,” he says. “Are you looking for the gate?”

“Yeah, which way is it?”

He points in the direction I'm walking. “Just a little farther.”

“Thanks.” I smile at him and force myself to keep walking. I'm worried that if I talk to him any longer, I might slide back into some old habits, like flirting. That would probably scare this innocent boy off. Yet this guy has clearly rekindled feelings I've tucked away.

“Can I walk with you, show you where it is?” he asks.

I hesitate before I answer, and in that moment I see a look of concern cross his face. “I mean you no harm!” he says.

“I know you don't,” I answer, and I smile at him. “Yeah, c'mon, Jon. Show me to the gate.”

We walk along in silence for a moment, and then I ask, “So why are those guys in Unity tonight?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “They just like to come around and tell us what it's like to live in different places.”

“How would your parents feel if they knew you were talking with them?”

“They wouldn't like it much.” He hesitates. “So I hope you don't mention it to anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Jon.”

I think about my earlier conversation with Celeste, the one about the Pied Piper. Maybe these guys visiting from the outside are a modern-day version of the same guy, only this time he's only interested in the boy children.

“Here's the gate,” Jon says a moment later. He unlatches it and holds it open for me. I reach out my hand to shake his. He looks startled but takes my hand in his. “It was nice meeting you,” I say.