Stolen Innocence (18 page)

“I can’t do this,” I told him during another conversation. “You know, I just don’t think this is right for me. I have prayed about it. I don’t feel good about it. My heart and my gut just tell me that I need to grow up a little. And I need to prepare myself for this kind of responsibility.”

Uncle Fred’s tone was gentle yet firm. We had been talking about this for a few days, but finally he gave me a new response: “This is the prophet’s calling, and you will have to take it up with him if you feel like you’re not prepared.”

A wave of relief swept over me. I had his blessing to contact the prophet about my situation. I walked out of Uncle Fred’s office pondering what I would say when I got Uncle Warren on the phone the following morning. That night I barely slept, worrying about how Uncle Warren would react to my request to see the prophet, and I was lying in bed awake when the black night sky gave way to the purple lines of daybreak. I hadn’t had much contact with Uncle Warren since my days at Alta Academy, and I knew I had to first speak with him before I could see his father. The thought of our conversation filled me with the same dread that I’d always felt as I climbed the steps to his office at Alta Academy.

That morning, Mom sat next to me as I picked up the phone to dial his office. Eventually, I was patched through to Uncle Warren, and in a shaky voice, I told him why I was calling. Trying my best to calm my nerves, I explained that I didn’t feel the marriage was right for me, making it clear to him how old I was. “I don’t feel like it’s right for me to marry at this point in time. It’s just that I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility.”

I was frightened by the eerie silence on the other end of the phone. The lull was broken by the sound of his hypnotic voice. “Are you questioning the prophet and his revelations?” he asked.

Stumbling over my words, I tried to clarify that I wasn’t trying to defy the prophet. “I just want to make sure he knows that I’m only fourteen and how I feel.”

“I will speak to the prophet,” Uncle Warren assured me. “I will tell the prophet that you feel that you’re too young and need some time. Say your prayers.” He said he would contact Uncle Fred after he had spoken with Uncle Rulon.

Not only would I pray, I would fast in the hope that God would understand my concerns. The phone call with Uncle Warren had drained the last of my energy, but a piece of me felt better knowing that I’d told him my thoughts. Honestly believing and trusting that the priesthood leaders would listen to me, I felt my anxiety begin to ease.

Back in my room, I knelt by my bed and spoke to God as if he were my friend. “I believe you are listening to me,” I said, closing my eyes and envisioning him before me. “And that you have my interest in mind. I’m begging you.” Fighting back sobs, I gathered strength. “I know you are up there and you can hear me. If I have proven myself worthy, then you can change this situation for me.”

When I awoke it was the middle of the day, and I was on the floor next to my bed. I’d been so exhausted from not sleeping the night before my conversation with Uncle Warren that I’d fallen asleep in the middle of my private prayer session with God. But I was sure God would see that I was a good person and hear my pleas. With that realization, my mood began to lift, and the darkness that had lingered over me for days temporarily receded.

Over the next few days, both of my stepsisters were told whom they were going to marry. Lily was invited for a drive around the town with our twenty-three-year-old stepbrother Martin, whom the prophet had revealed as her husband even though they’d been raised as brother and sister for a few years. Nancy’s intended husband, Tim Barlow, was already married to one of Nancy’s blood sisters as well as one of her stepsisters.

For members of the FLDS, dating is not permitted in any traditional American way. However, once a girl has been promised to a priesthood man, sometimes the new couple is given a chance to spend some quiet time alone together. The man will typically come by the girl’s house and pick her up for a ride in his car. Both Nancy and Lily had the chance to meet and talk to their future spouses like this, yet for some reason I was still in the dark about whom I was to marry. It was troubling, but I held out hope that it meant that now was not my time after all.

My hope turned out to be short-lived. When a few days passed and Uncle Warren still hadn’t responded, my anxiety returned and once again the future became uncertain. I kept replaying my conversations with Fred and Warren in my head, insisting to myself that they just didn’t understand how old I was.

Finally, Uncle Fred summoned me to his office. “Uncle Warren has contacted me, and the prophet wants you to go through with the marriage.”

His words hit me like a sharp slap. I could barely stay focused as he continued, “This is God’s calling and your mission. You must open your mind and heart and do what has been revealed for you.”

“I just don’t know if I can do it because I don’t feel like it’s right,” I pleaded, swallowing the knot in my throat. Carefully I explained that I didn’t want to disobey the prophet; on the contrary, I believed that following his word was the key to my eventual salvation. I’d be much more willing to accept any decision from the prophet if he’d just let me wait a couple of years until I felt more ready.

Fred heard me out but continued to state that this was the will of the prophet and of God. Still, something inside of me kept pushing back. Uncle Fred insisted that this was the path that God had chosen for me. It felt like I was being punished, and I wasn’t sure why. Though it was hard to see a way out, I remained resolved to fight for what I believed was right.

B
y the end of the week, I’d grown tired of everybody talking to me about my impending marriage and of the spiteful attitudes of some of my stepsisters. I could feel that many of the older girls were worried that they’d been passed over for someone so much younger. If it were up to me, I would have gladly traded places. I said as much to Uncle Fred during one of my conversations with him, but he’d frightened me when he told me that if I refused to follow the destiny that the prophet had revealed for me, I was not likely to get another opportunity. Eternal salvation depended on marriage to a priesthood man. I believed his words and was terrified of that fate—being alone for all eternity, stuck between worlds forever.

When I arrived at prayer service on Thursday night, I was emotionally exhausted. I’d been in my mother’s room for hours sobbing over my situation. I knew that she too had doubts about my marriage, and even though I was being viewed as disobedient, she encouraged me to stand up for myself. Nevertheless, she had to tread carefully. All it would take was Uncle Fred getting wind of her support for me, and she herself would be subject to reprimand from the prophet. There would be extreme consequences for her if she overstepped her role as a submissive wife, and her eternal salvation, for which she had already sacrificed so much, could be taken away in an instant.

I was comforted by Mom’s presence as we walked into the living room for prayer that night. I took a seat right next to her and waited for the rest of the family to assemble. As the room began to fill, I noticed that some of the mothers were sitting on the floor. “Please come and sit here,” I told one of them out of respect, motioning to the empty chair just beside me. “Or at least take my chair.”

When she declined, preferring to remain on the floor, I grew worried. Maybe everyone was angry with me. Many people viewed my actions of late as immature, and their attitudes made me feel like a child throwing a temper tantrum. To them, accepting the will of the prophet was simply what you were required to do. There were no questions involved, no other options. Even though the temperature in the living room was comfortable that night, I felt cold and wrapped myself deeper into my fuzzy jacket. It was then that I saw Allen standing in the doorway.

“Great,” I thought; the night couldn’t get any worse. It was hard to imagine that I was related to him. I was hoping he wouldn’t even look my way; in my current state I couldn’t even pretend to be polite. I watched as his bulky frame clumsily stepped into the room, and I grew immediately unnerved when I realized he was walking in my direction. He would never come straight toward me in a setting like this—unless there was something else going on.

Watching Allen lumber over, I kept hoping he was going to turn and walk in another direction, but he didn’t. He walked directly toward me, then without a word sat in the only empty chair in the room, right beside me. In an instant, the realization of my fate hit me, robbing my lungs of air. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room taking in my every move. Overcome with disbelief, I could no longer handle the pressure, and without thinking, I jumped from my chair and sprinted upstairs. I was afraid, disgusted, and angry at everyone. They knew how I felt and how much I did not want this, but no one seemed to care.

Winding my way through the halls and rooms of the enormous house, I felt tears flow down my face. Part of me wanted to pass off Allen’s actions as happenstance, but I knew that for him to make such a public display and sit in the one empty chair beside me meant something. The fact that the mothers had chosen to sit on the floor instead of the seat next to me meant that this had been arranged. The whole family was in on it. They all knew who I was going to marry before I did. Not only would they force me to get married at fourteen, they would force me to get married to the one person I had come to loathe in my short life.

In between my footsteps, I could hear my mother behind me urging me to slow down and tell her what was wrong. I was sobbing uncontrollably when I reached her bedroom door and blindly pushed it open. The four walls of my mother’s room were my only sanctuary, and I flopped down on Mom’s bed before my legs collapsed beneath me.

“I know who I’m going to marry!” I shouted.

“Really? Who?” Mom asked, sounding completely in the dark.

“Allen!” I yelled back without even raising my head from the pillow. I couldn’t believe Mom hadn’t been hit with the same realization the minute he sat down next to me.

“He’s your first cousin,” she assured me. “They wouldn’t do that to you.” The she began to cry herself. When I finally calmed down, I sat up to hear Mom out. “If you’re really concerned, you need to go and talk to Father about it,” she said, trying to console me.

“I will not get married!” I announced defiantly, emboldened by my mother’s words. “I will not marry Allen!”

It wasn’t ten minutes before I was paged over the house intercom. “Elissa, Father wants to see you.”

“Oh, great. What now?” I thought. I didn’t even try to make myself presentable. I was almost beyond feeling as I made my way across the house to Uncle Fred’s office. I expected that he’d be angry with me for my outburst and was a little surprised to find him seemingly unfazed.

“Sit down, Elissa,” he instructed, motioning to the leather chair facing his desk. “How are you doing?” he asked casually.

“Father, I know who I’m going to marry,” I blurted out.

I watched the corners of his lips lift into the beginnings of a smile. “Oh, really? Who?” he asked.

“You are going to place me by Allen.”

It took him a moment to validate my suspicions. But I was right. “Well, yes,” he said. “That is what the prophet has revealed for you.”

“No! I want you to know that I won’t do it. I will not marry Allen. I just don’t want to marry that man!”

I was momentarily surprised at my own courage. I hadn’t even hesitated before saying those words. A week before, I would have stumbled and tripped over my own tongue, but now I was determined. Knowing that Allen was to be my husband had only strengthened my resolve. I paused to take a breath. To this point, I’d clung to the hope that Uncle Rulon would come to see that this was not right for me. But at that moment, I realized that I needed to speak to him myself.

The look of puzzlement on Uncle Fred’s face quickly faded and was replaced with a stern stare. “You would defy what the prophet has revealed to you?” he retorted.

“You realize Allen is my first cousin?” I reminded him.

“This makes no difference in matters of the Lord,” Uncle Fred told me. Members of the FLDS believe that intermarrying among family members is okay if it is what the prophet reveals. Even concerns over birth defects are diminished with the explanation that a child who comes to the earth “imperfect” was sent that way by God because the child was “too special” and would again be whole in the Celestial Kingdom. Birth defects are never blamed on cousins marrying or incest but rather occur because “God wanted it that way.” While rumors continuously circulated outside of our community that babies born with birth defects were drowned at birth, it was simply not true. These children were held with reverence because of how special God thought they were. That my marriage had been a revelation from the prophet negated any worldly concerns about interfamily marriages and their consequences.

“Well, I want you to know that I’m not going to be able to do this,” I huffed. “I just can’t bring myself to do this. I will not marry that man.”

“Well, then, you need to go and speak to Uncle Warren, because this is something that has been revealed for you. So, you need to talk to the prophet and tell him this.”

I
don’t even remember who answered the phone when I called Uncle Warren the next morning. Usually it was one of Uncle Rulon’s wives or sons.

“I need to come up and see the prophet,” I told whoever was on the other end of the line. I was unyielding in my position that I would not get married unless I heard of the revelation from the prophet’s own mouth. After several moments, I was given an appointment for the very next day.

I tried to calm myself as I thought about everything that had happened in the last few days. By this time tomorrow, I would know whether I was getting married to Allen, but before that decision was reached I would get the chance to approach Uncle Rulon myself, to speak to him and tell him in person that I didn’t feel this wedding was right for me. While I was anxious, I was also hopeful that seeing me in person would bring him a new revelation from God, a revelation that I was too young, that I was destined for something beyond being a fourteen-year-old bride. I was destined to do other things, to learn, to grow, to get an education—possibly even become a nurse. I could see this destiny for myself, but in the end, the only thing that would matter was whether the prophet could see it as well.