Sister Wife (25 page)

“Are you happy here, Celeste?”

“Everyone is very kind.” I nod. “You have a lovely home.”

“We have a lovely home, Celeste. And I want you to know how delighted I am that you are already carrying our first child. This will be just the first of many, many children for us.”

I try to smile, but suddenly I really am feeling nauseous.

“Let me know if you need anything. And I can be available for you most evenings. Sarah is also expecting a child, so I am truly a fortunate man.”

He stands up, prepared to leave. “Have you heard anything from Jon?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“His mother, Gail, and I miss him terribly. I hope he knows that.”

“I'm sure he does.”

“Take good care of yourself, Celeste. And of our child. If you need anything, let me know.” He drops my hand
and I lean over to turn off the lamp. This is the only good thing about being pregnant. Martin won't be lying with me again until the baby is weaned. That alone deserves a special prayer of thanks.

THE SUMMER DAYS
blend into one another. I still don't have many responsibilities at Martin's, so I spend every afternoon at the river, keeping cool. I stay out of the sun as much as I can, but I do enjoy sitting in the shade, watching Craig create his art. I wonder why he keeps coming back to Unity, but I don't ask.

One day he brings me a book. “I think you might like it.”

I turn it over in my hands and read the description on the back. I'm quite sure this book would be forbidden in Unity, but my boredom is acute and my curiosity has always been a problem for me. I begin to read. When I look up again, I see that the sun has moved halfway across the sky. Craig is standing in front of me. “Enjoying it?” he asks.

I don't know how to answer him. I feel like I've been transported from my own world into an altogether different one for the afternoon. The ideas in the book shock me but fascinate me at the same time. “Could I borrow this for a few days?” I ask.

“Won't you get in trouble for reading it?”

“I'll hide it in my room. No one pays much attention to me.”

He nods. “I'll bring some others too, if you like.”

I feel something happening inside me, something I haven't felt for weeks. I try to identify it and realize that I'm simply feeling lighter. The thought of reading books, even if they are forbidden, excites me.

“By the way,” Craig says, “I have a message for you from Taviana.”

“You do?” My heart stutters.

He nods. “I met her building inuksuk on the beach in Springdale with her friend Jon.”

I can only stare at him.

“Her friend, Jon, he's quite obsessed with them. Even more than me.”

Numbness washes over me.

“Anyway, Taviana wants me to tell you that she and Jon are both enrolled in school for the fall, and that she has a job working at the library. She gets to tell stories to little kids as well as shelve books. She wants you to know that she's doing really well.”

“Oh.” I'm still thinking of Jon, obsessed with building inuksuk.

“Celeste? Are you okay?”

I look at him but barely see him. I can only see Jon, on the beach, stacking rocks.

“Do you have a message for Taviana?”

I think about that. I could tell her that I'm pregnant. And that my father shuns me. And that I'm still heartsick for Jon. “No.” I shake my head. “Just say hi.”

“Okay.” Craig nods, studying me. “Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

I do my best to smile. “Yeah. I'm just a little hot. Thank you for the book. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He smiles back. “I hope so. My dad thinks I come to the river to ponder my life. That's why he's willing to drop me off near Unity.”

I slide the book into my apron pocket with the arrowhead and walk home.

WHEN CRAIG'S DAD
gets fed up with dropping him off near Unity, Craig begins to hitch rides up the road. For some reason he seems to enjoy being with me, just like I enjoy being with him. He begins bringing me books that he's read, and I take them home and secretly devour them late at night. We spend our afternoons discussing the ideas in them.

“So if a person doesn't believe in God,” I ask him, “what makes them behave?”

He considers that. “Their conscience. Do you only behave when you think someone is judging you?”

“God
is
always judging me,” I tell him, though I have to admit, I haven't always behaved.

“But just for the sake of argument, Celeste, imagine that He isn't. Would you start doing unkind or bad things?”

“I don't know.” The concept is just too strange for me. God has always been part of my life.

“Celeste, I don't believe you would. You're a good, kind loving person, whether God is watching you or not.”

Our conversations bounce back and forth. I'm especially interested in the lack of religion in the books. The characters don't have God in their lives, and they are consumed with impure thoughts. Craig and I laugh a lot, and sometimes I argue points that I don't really believe just for the sake of argument. I've tried to convince Craig that I haven't changed my mind about anything since reading the books, but truthfully, I know the books and the conversations with Craig are altering the way I think. When I sit in church on Sunday mornings, I often find myself questioning the things that the Prophet tells us, even more than before. I continue to read late into the night and then lie awake, thinking of questions for Craig. Our conversations give me a reason to get out of bed each morning.

THE LEAVES ARE
changing color and the air is noticeably cooler. Craig rarely builds anything anymore. My stomach is beginning to bulge, but if Craig has noticed, he hasn't said anything. We just sit under the trees and discuss the books.

Today we haven't even talked but just sit quietly, reading.

“Celeste,” Craig says, closing his book and turning to me. He's smiling and his eyes are shining. “I am so grateful to you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me find my direction.”

“Your direction? How did I do that?”

“All these discussions we've had about the books and religion, they've really got me thinking...and I want to learn more. I've decided to go back to school to study theology.”

“Theology?”

“It's the study of religion.”

“Oh.” I'm happy for him, but the “going back to school” part makes my stomach flip.

“I applied to a few colleges, and one has accepted me even though it's so late in the summer.”

“That's good!” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I don't like where this conversation is going. “Your parents must be happy.”

“I'll say.”

“When do you start?”

“In a couple of weeks.” His expression changes. The light leaves his dark eyes.

“What's wrong?”

“The college I'm going to is in Seattle.”

“Oh.” I look down at my book, trying to hide my shock.

“But I'll be back next summer,” he says, trying to be positive.

I nod. “I'll have a baby by then.” I guess he'd figured it out because he smiles, sadly.

“I'm really going to miss you,” I tell him.

“I'm really going to miss you too,” he says.

I gaze out at the beach that we've completely transformed this summer. We've built a whole community of inuksuk, all shapes and sizes. I take comfort in the fact
that when I come back to the beach in the fall, I won't be completely alone.

“I don't think it was me that helped you find your direction,” I tell him.

“No?”

I shake my head. “No. It was the inuksuk.”

WHEN I ARRIVE
at the beach on Craig's last day before he leaves the valley to go to school, I find him building an inuksuk in the clearing under the trees where I first sat with Jon, and where Craig and I have been having our discussions. It's by far the tallest inuksuk on the beach. On each of the outstretched arms there is a small rock balanced. I laugh when I see it.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“This is my farewell gift to you,” he says. “And something to help you remember me.”

“As if I could forget you!” I tell him.

“We're going to have a little pagan ceremony too,” he tells me.

“We are?” I was ready to read and talk about pagan ceremonies, but I'm not so sure about participating in one.

Craig balances small candles on various points of the inuksuk's body. He strikes a match and lights them. Then he motions for me to step closer. He takes one of my hands and then rests his other hand on the arm of the
inuksuk. He nods at the inuksuk's other hand, indicating that I should do the same.

I do and then smile at Craig, feeling silly. He smiles back. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“I guess so.”

“Okay, then.” He clears his throat. “We have created a circle,” he says, his voice full of authority, “that includes Celeste, myself and this inuksuk. It's a circle rich in symbolism.”

The words sound rehearsed.

“First,” he continues, “this circle represents our strong bond of friendship. It was the inuksuk that brought us together, and we give thanks to it for that gift.”

He pauses, and I find myself silently thanking the inuksuk for Craig. Then I wonder if that makes me a pagan.

“Secondly,” he says, “the inuksuk represents strength, and this strength will keep our friendship strong until we meet again.” He squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back.

“Thirdly,” Craig says, “the inuksuk represents respect, and I built this one to show my respect to our friendship.” He smiles down on me, and I find I have to blink back tears.

“Finally, this inuksuk represents the ancient inukuk, the one that pointed people in the right direction, and I give thanks to it, and to Celeste, for helping me find my own direction.

“The balanced rocks that sit on the inuksuk,” he continues, “represent the balance we strive to find in our
lives. Life is fragile, just like the balanced rocks, but they help us remember that anything is possible.”

Craig squeezes my hand again and smiles at me. I smile back.

“Is that it?” I ask quietly.

He nods but doesn't let go of my hand. We stand quietly for a moment, thinking about the inuksuk. I also think about all the new ideas Craig has offered me, and I give a silent prayer of thanks for that.

Finally Craig steps back and lets go of my hand. My first pagan ceremony wasn't nearly as scary as I thought it would be.

“I think you'll be a great pagan preacher some day,” I tell him.

He tilts his head back and laughs a belly laugh so contagious that it gets me started too. We laugh and laugh, wiping tears off our cheeks.

JON IS GONE
. Taviana is gone. Craig is now gone too. The fall days grow colder, and I visit the beach less and less often. I help out around the Nielsson house as much as I can, but I have very little energy, and as my belly grows, I feel more and more awkward.

Winter settles in and I find myself spending more time alone in my room, reading and rereading the books Craig left me. Mother is allowed to attend church services again, so the highlight of my week is when I can visit with
her during the social hour. Rebecca has attached herself to Pam and won't have anything to do with me. Pam is now expecting her first child too. I notice that Martin still spends a lot of time at Nanette's juice table. She doesn't talk to me, but she smiles sweetly at him.

By January I have trouble dragging myself out of bed in the morning. I feel so heavy, and there isn't anything to get up for. Nothing matters. Nobody notices me. I was better off at home, where I had chores to do to pass the time. Occasionally Martin comes by my room to check in, but he doesn't stay long. I have an overwhelming sense of hopelessness, and I sleep for many hours every day. The winter drags on. I constantly think about Jon and how I missed my opportunity to join him. Now I am expecting a child that will be his half-sister or half-brother. I wonder, too, about Taviana and Craig. I hope Taviana has managed to behave herself. And Craig. How I miss our conversations.

The baby does somersaults inside me. It has hiccups. It elbows me. I remember how Mother said I was like a miracle to her when I was born. She called me precious. Nobody else was allowed to care for me.

I feel a strong kick. Unlike Mother, I feel no connection to my baby. I'd be happy to give it away.

ON THE FIRST
day of spring, she is born.

Norah cuts the umbilical cord, hands her to me and the world turns upside down. Suddenly everything matters
again. Gazing down at her wrinkled little face, I know that there is nothing more important in this world than the tiny child in my arms. Something has burst into bloom inside me, and I feel an enormous rush of love. Her eyes blink open and she gazes back at me, and in that instant I want her to have everything I never had. I want her to have an education and a career and to fall in love and choose her own husband if she wants to. I want her to be independent and to travel. I want her to be free to think for herself.

I may not have been strong enough to leave Unity for myself, but in this moment I know that I will find the strength to do it for her.

MY DAYS ARE
now filled with taking care of my daughter. Before she was born, I worried that I would be a terrible mother, a mother who had no patience and who gagged at the smell of dirty diapers. I worried for nothing. What I couldn't do for other people's babies, I can easily do for my own. I love bathing her and feeding her, and I spend hours just watching her sleep. I also spend hours dreaming about our escape.

When the weather begins to grow warmer, I put her in a baby sling and walk to the river. Most of our rock balances did not survive the winter weather, but the inuksuk did. I like to stand under the trees with the tall one Craig built on his last day and remember the little ceremony he created. It always makes me smile.