Being Magdalene (13 page)

MOTHER STAYED IN BED.
Zillah and I did the chores and cooked dinner. We recited the psalm as we worked.

At prayers that evening, Father began by praying to the Lord for the health of His beloved servant, Naomi. Then he prayed for us to be good, obedient daughters who would not grieve the Lord with any further transgressions.

‘Praise the Lord,’ we said.

After the prayers, we had to recite the psalm. If he had heard us reciting it as we worked, he didn’t tell us.

‘My daughters, I have prayed about your transgressions and it has come to me that you must stay home from school tomorrow and Wednesday to reflect on your sin.’

‘Yes, Father.’ Did he know that staying home wouldn’t be a punishment?

‘Also, on Wednesday you will not accompany your mother to the Circle of Fellowship meeting.’

‘Yes, Father.’ That too was a gift, not a punishment.

‘Go to bed now. Both of you.’

We hurried from the room in case he remembered to set psalms for us to learn the next day and the day after.

Zillah climbed on to my bed. ‘I’m frightened, Magdalene. Just a little bit.’

‘I know. Me too. I think Father —’

‘It’s the Faith, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘He doesn’t know if it’s really, truly what the Lord wants.’

‘Yes. I think so. He’d have let Elder Hosea yell at us and punish us if he was sure the Elders were right.’

‘I’m sorry Father’s worried,’ my sister said. ‘But I’m not sorry either. Is that wicked, Magdalene?’

‘The Elders would think so.’ It would mean hell and damnation for sure. ‘I don’t believe the Elders. Not now. Not since Rebecca ran away.’

A memory surfaced in my mind. ‘I reckon it was Elder Hosea’s fault she ran away. She was going to marry Elder Stephen — she wasn’t happy about it, but she was going to do it. Then Elder Hosea came on her wedding day and he wouldn’t let Father drive her to the temple. He said Elder Stephen wanted him to drive her there. We were all at the temple, waiting for her to arrive, but suddenly all the Elders got up and ran out. We didn’t know what was happening.’

Zillah turned that over in her mind. ‘But she might have run anyway.’

I shook my head. ‘When we got home we found a note on the table.’ I knew it by heart — we’d all read it so many times. I recited it for her.

Zillah said, ‘I reckon he screwed up his face too — you know, like he was smelling something bad.’

I screwed up my own face. ‘He’s a horrible man, but he’s dangerous. We’ll need to be careful, Zillah.’

‘I wish Luke was here,’ she said.

Mother stayed in bed all Tuesday as well. On Wednesday she stayed in her room and she didn’t speak to either of us. She ate the food I took her.

A postcard came in the mail from Luke. If she had seen it, she wouldn’t have let us read it. She’d have set it aside for Father to read, then he would have decided if we needed to see it.

‘It’s a picture of lions,’ Zillah said, waving it as she ran in from the letterbox. ‘Are there lions in Auckland, Magdalene?’

‘There might be some in the zoo.’

We sat at the table to read our brother’s writing together.

Zillah turned the card over to look again at the lions. ‘I wish he could tell us true things. I want to know about the library.’

And we both wanted to be sure he would come back, but neither of us said the words. The Lord had been merciful to us this week — it might be a sin to ask for more.

When Father came home at midday, he finished eating before he read Luke’s message. ‘Have you read what your brother has written, my daughters?’

It was a sin to have done so. We should have waited for his permission. I bowed my head. ‘Yes, Father.’

I didn’t ask for his forgiveness. I wasn’t sorry.

‘Thank you for your honesty, Magdalene.’

I waited for a punishment, but there was nothing, not even harsh words. Zillah was right — it was frightening to have our father so uncertain of the Rule. I’d almost rather he punished me.

He drove Mother to the Circle of Fellowship. She didn’t even look at us. Zillah and I stared after them, watching until we could no longer see the car.

‘What’s going to happen?’ she asked. ‘Will we have to go to worship on Sunday? I don’t want to, Magdalene. I really don’t.’

I had no comfort for her. Yes, we’d have to go and, yes, it would be terrible.

The next day Father said that going to the Circle of Fellowship had tired Mother but we must carry on as normal and go to school. It was hard to pretend that everything was normal when even Sharon chose a seat on the bus as far from my sister as she could.

At break, my friends hustled me away from Sister Leah’s accusing eyes.

‘We hear you’ve been sinful!’ Carmel said. ‘Running! Tut-tut, Magdalene! And without a scarf to cover your wicked head. Shocking!’

I flopped down on the grass. ‘Did you get prayed for because of me?’

‘Thirty minutes. Father excelled himself.’

Jemimah wouldn’t look at us. She picked daisies and started making them into a chain.

‘What?’ I asked. ‘Tell me, Jemimah. Please!’

She hesitated, then dropped the daisies. ‘Magdalene, Father says you and Zillah went to a worldly school on Monday. Is it true?’

I closed my eyes. How did he find out? ‘Yes, it’s true.’
Lord, help me
.

‘What was it like? Was it really evil? Did you learn wicked things?’

I breathed out, dizzy with relief. She wasn’t going to shun me for breaking the Rule, for having a sister who had smashed it to fragments. Carmel too looked
like she wanted to know. I told them the truth of what had happened on Monday. I told them what Zillah had learned in the few hours she was there.

I also told them about Elder Hosea coming to our house and yelling about how I’d behaved immodestly by running, and how I’d compounded my sin by not wearing a headscarf. ‘At least he doesn’t know she went to the school.’

Jemimah winced. ‘Actually, he does. Apparently the school rang Sharon’s father.’

So when I went to his house looking for Zillah he would have realised who the child calling herself by his daughter’s name really was. I tried to remember Elder Hosea’s exact words when he’d accused us. Something about Sister Leah and Sister Judith. He must have rushed to judgement before he knew the full evil of what we’d done. There would be no mercy for us now.

Carmel said, ‘Lighten up, Magdalene. Your father hasn’t asked the Elders to punish you, has he? No? Well, there you are — no reason to look so terrified.’

Jemimah stood up. ‘We’d best not be late. Sister Leah will rant for the rest of the day if you transgress by even a second, Magdalene.’

I attracted trouble and it spread to those around me. Pollution, contamination, the iniquity of worldliness. What if the Elders were right? What if the Rule was right? Damnation and the fires of hell for ever.

MOTHER TURNED HER FACE
to the bedroom wall when I took in her lunch tray.

Be like that! See if I care!

But I did care. I wished she loved me. I wished she loved Zillah.

Before Father returned to work for the afternoon, he said, ‘My daughters, you may visit your sister tomorrow. I will drop you off at the hospital on my way back to work. You can walk home. It is not too far.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

When he’d gone, Mother got up. She seemed perfectly well, because she spent the rest of the day following us around, preaching at us.
Obedience. Transgression. Sin. Iniquity. Salvation. Wrath. Damnation, destruction, death
.

We did our work, and hers. We endured.

I tried asking her things to divert her mind. ‘Mother, what would you like us to cook for dinner?’

She quoted scripture at me. ‘
I have esteemed the words of His mouth more than my necessary food
. Turn
your mind to your salvation, daughter. Trust in the Lord to provide.’

I cooked sausages. She ate them, and it didn’t seem to occur to her that the Lord needed a handmaiden or two.

Before we went to bed that night, Father said, ‘My daughters, I thank you for your work this day. You are good children. I give you my blessing.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ We went to our room, feeling more battered by his kindness than we were by our mother’s preaching.

Once again, Zillah huddled beside me in my bed, the words she’d wanted to say all that day tumbling out. ‘I wish Mother wouldn’t keep talking and talking. It’s horrible and she sounds just like Elder Stephen. She won’t stop us seeing Rachel, will she? D’you think the baby will be born by tomorrow? I want to see it. Will they let us see it?’

I held her close. She was small and frightened. I told her what I knew, what I believed, and I prayed it would help her. ‘Father’s promised we can see her. It’ll be okay, he’ll take us. If the baby does come, we’ll be able to see it. When you were born we were allowed to see you even though you were very sick.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Daniel prayed for you —’

‘To the nice Lord?’

‘Yes, to the nice Lord. Daniel always prayed to the nice Lord.’

‘Is that how Luke knows about the nice Lord?’ she asked. ‘Did Daniel tell him? How did he find out?
How did he know there was a nice Lord?’

I didn’t know but the idea of a nice Lord seemed to comfort her and she went to sleep.

Friday morning arrived and Mother kept to her bed. Zillah and I went to school and caught the bus home, as usual. But the moment we were out of sight of Sharon and others who got off at our stop, we took off, running.

I no longer cared about the Rule but I did care about hurting Father. I slowed to a walk. Zillah looked back over her shoulder. Understanding flicked across her face, and she too slowed her pace.

It wasn’t against the Rule to swing our arms high with every step we took. It wasn’t as much fun as running, but it helped.

Mother hadn’t prepared the lunch. We did it, including a tray for her, but when I gave it to her she said, ‘Have you transgressed this day, daughter? Confess your sin. Cleanse your soul.’

How to answer? In the end, I said, ‘I understand, Mother,’ and hurried out of the room. She had said nothing about us visiting Rachel in hospital, and didn’t even send her a scripture.

If only we could talk to Father about our mother’s behaviour. But I knew it would hurt him to hear our questions. Anyway, he’d just say he was praying for her.

When we were almost ready to leave, Father said, ‘Take your sister a sandwich. She says she craves homemade bread.’

We were happy to prepare one for her. I cut the bread thin, the way she liked it. Zillah picked
lettuce and a tomato from the garden. We made two sandwiches.

‘That is kind,’ said our father.

He went to the bedroom to say goodbye to Mother. We did not. She’d only preach at us.

Outside the hospital, Father pointed to a sign. ‘Go through that door, daughters. Ask the person at the reception desk how to find your sister.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ I wished he would come in with us, but he drove away and left us to face this worldly place by ourselves.

Evil, contamination, moral pollution, sin
… I held Zillah’s hand and shut the words out of my head.
Damnation, transgression
… Like the Elders, they weren’t going to be easily ignored.

I tried to avoid the eyes watching us. Zillah pressed hard against me, making it difficult to walk. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘We can do this.’

The woman behind the counter took one look at our long skirts and headscarves. ‘Let me guess — you’ve come to visit Mrs Bright?’

I nodded. ‘Yes. Rachel. We’ve come to see our sister.’

She gave us directions. ‘If you get lost, just ask. Anyone will be happy to help you.’

We went up in the lift with worldly people. A man asked, ‘Which floor for you, kids?’ He carried a bunch of flowers. Faith men never carried flowers. He
punched in the number for us, and stepped aside for us to get out when we came to Rachel’s floor.

Zillah said, ‘Worldly people are kind, aren’t they, Magdalene?’

‘Yes. Look — this must be where Rachel is.’

The door was open. The room had several beds in it — one with the curtains pulled around it. It hadn’t occurred to me she would be with worldly people, that men would be visiting their wives in the very room she had to sleep in. I didn’t know what to do. Should we knock? Should we say
Praise the Lord
the way Faith people did when they came into your house?

Zillah let go my hand and darted forward. ‘Rachel! Has the baby come? Can we see it?’

And there was our sister. She was sitting in a chair beside the bed. She stood up to welcome us, her arms outstretched. It was plain to see her baby was still unborn.

‘It is good to see you, my sisters,’ she said. ‘And no, Zillah, this baby does not want to come into the light of day just yet.’

I gave her the sandwiches, then pulled up chairs for Zillah and me. ‘Will the doctor have to cut you open?’ I asked. ‘Is that why you have to be in the hospital?’
Please tell us!

She smiled at us. ‘Yes. My baby will be born on Monday.’

Zillah gasped. ‘That’ll hurt so much! Shall we pray for you, Rachel?’

‘It will not hurt,’ our sister said. ‘They will give me an anaesthetic to stop the pain. The baby will
be safe and so will I. Your prayers will help me too.’ She opened the packet of sandwiches. ‘You wonderful girls! May I eat these right now? They look so delicious.’

It was her way of saying,
Don’t ask more difficult questions
.

She told us everyday things unmarried girls are allowed to know — how Saul brought Hope to visit each evening, how he was building a house for Elder Stephen’s grandson Philemon, how Saul’s mother loved caring for Hope.

A familiar voice interrupted us. ‘Good afternoon, Sister Rachel.’

It was Elder Stephen. The worldly people in the room stopped talking. They stared at our leader, dressed in his black clothes.

I scrambled up from my chair. ‘Please sit down, Elder Stephen.’ Why was he here? It couldn’t be about Zillah and school, and, anyway, he’d want a wider audience than just Rachel.

The talk in the room started again. Elder Stephen ignored us all except Rachel and remained on his feet, gazing down at her with his sorrowful eyes.

She said, ‘It is kind of you to visit me, Elder Stephen. Praise the Lord, I am perfectly well.’

‘It is not the state of your physical health that concerns me, Sister Rachel,’ he said in a voice loud enough to reach every corner of the room. ‘It is your immortal soul I fear for.’

It was his preaching voice. It was the way he spoke when he warned us of the fires of hell. I collapsed back on my chair. Zillah slid off hers and climbed on
to my knee. I didn’t understand. Rachel’s soul couldn’t be in danger. She obeyed the Rule. She was good, modest and seemly.

She was frowning as she answered him. ‘I do not understand, Elder Stephen.’

He let a silence build before he answered. ‘My child, must I remind you it is a sin — a deadly sin — to speak with those who have been cast out?’

‘You do not need to remind me, Elder Stephen. Please tell me why you have done so.’ She was so dignified, so sincere — surely he’d see she wasn’t trying to hide anything.

Again, he regarded her without speaking. Around us, the room grew deeply silent. ‘I have a report to the contrary. I have reason to believe you do not speak the truth. What have you got to say for yourself? Do not further compound your sin by speaking an untruth.’

She stared at him, her mouth half-open as she shook her head. ‘You accuse me unjustly. Most unjustly.’ Her voice trembled.

I looked for someone to help us. The man at the door said, ‘I’ve rung the bell. Don’t worry.’ He flexed his arms.

Dear Lord, please don’t let him lay his hands on our leader
.

The Lord heard my prayer. Rescue arrived — a nurse, hurrying though the door. The man pointed at our leader. She nodded and went to my sister’s side.

‘Excuse me, sir. I need to take Mrs Bright’s obs. If you would be so good as to leave us.’ She spoke with authority, but he too was a person of authority.

‘Remember my warning, Sister Rachel.’

‘Sir! You’re upsetting my patient. Go!’ She made a shooing gesture with her hands.

He left without saying anything more.

Rachel sagged back in her chair, her eyes shut. Zillah looked up at me. ‘Will she —’

‘Hush. All will be well. You’ll see.’

The nurse gave us a sharp look but concentrated on soothing our sister. She put her fingers on Rachel’s wrist. Zillah slid off my knee to watch. ‘What are you doing?’

The nurse didn’t answer until she took her fingers away. ‘Taking your sister’s pulse.’ She smiled at Rachel. ‘It’s a trifle tumultuous. Let’s see how your blood pressure is.’

Zillah watched, fascinated by the equipment. The nurse saw her interest and explained what she was doing. I kept my mind fixed on her kindness, on Zillah’s excitement at learning something real.

‘Not bad,’ the nurse said. ‘Pretty good considering the upset you’ve had.’ She held our sister’s hand in both of hers. ‘You need to stay calm, my dear. I’ll tell Reception to alert security if any men like him ask for you again.’

I thought Rachel would be horrified, but she said, ‘Thank you.’

‘You could do with a bit of shut-eye. Let me help you on to the bed.’

We stood back while she settled Rachel down, rearranging a heap of pillows to make her comfortable. ‘Rest now, and don’t worry. We’ll make sure you and your baby are safe.’

We kissed our sister goodbye. She pressed our hands. ‘Thank you, darlings. I am glad you were here.’

Zillah said, ‘But what was he talking about? Did you understand?’

‘No. I cannot think. Try not to worry.’

As we left, I thanked the man who had called for help.

His wife laughed. ‘That old nutter hasn’t a clue how close he came to getting a boot up his backside!’

We scuttled away, shocked by the picture her words painted. I wanted to laugh and laugh.

Back out in the sunshine, Zillah said, ‘Did he mean Rebecca? Has she come to see Rachel? Rachel would have said, wouldn’t she, Magdalene?’

She held my hand, swinging it backwards and forwards as we walked. It made thinking harder. ‘Stop it, Zillah! We need to think about this.’

Her face fell. ‘I’m sorry. Please don’t be cross.’

I rubbed my face. ‘I’m not cross. Truly I’m not. I’m just trying to work out why Elder Stephen thought Rachel had talked to somebody who —’

‘Was dead,’ Zillah said. ‘Let’s sit on this wall. We can sit and think and think. It might be Daniel, Magdalene. He’s a doctor, and doctors work in hospitals.’

‘Of course! You’re right, you clever thing! Some telltale must have seen him — it’s got to be somebody who knew him in Wanganui.’

Zillah jumped down from the wall. ‘It’ll be somebody like Sister Beulah. She always carries tales.’

I started walking again. ‘We’d better tell Father what happened.’

‘Will we tell him about Daniel?’

‘No. I don’t think so. We’ll just tell him exactly what Elder Stephen said.’ We could be wrong and Father preferred facts. He didn’t like guesses.