Being Magdalene (8 page)

THE PLAYGROUND WAS BUSY
with families. Adults smiled as the boys pushed Zillah and me high on the swings. So free — I loved it. Nobody even frowned when we all zoomed down the slide, one after the other, with Zillah screaming and laughing.

Neriah and her brothers and sisters could have fun like this now, and they wouldn’t have to worry about somebody seeing them and telling the Elders how unseemly they were being.

As we were leaving, Zillah said, ‘I think the Lord likes it when we’re happy.’

But Elder Stephen wouldn’t.

Back at home, Zillah and I hurried to help Mother. Zillah set the table while I made gravy for the roast lamb. Luke sat in the window seat reading his Bible, except that he didn’t turn the pages.

‘Where is your brother?’ Mother asked.

I waited for Luke to answer her but, when he didn’t, I said, ‘I think he is talking to Father.’

A look of alarm crossed her face. ‘Why? Magdalene,
what have you done this time?’

I stared at her. ‘Nothing!’ Why would she think I’d transgressed? And, even if I had, Abraham wouldn’t tell on me. It came to me that she didn’t know the true selves of her children. Not of me, Abraham, Luke and Zillah, anyway.

She shut her mouth in a tight line. Zillah glanced at me and I shook my head. It wasn’t our place to speak of Abraham’s plans. We’d just get growled at if we did.

When Father and our brother came to the table, Mother searched both their faces, relaxing only when Father gave the twitch of his mouth that was his way of smiling. Abraham winked at us.

Nobody spoke much as we ate and I thought how strange it was for Mother to be the only one of us unaware of Abraham’s plans. Was this how it would be in a worldly family? Who would our banished brother and sisters ask for permission to marry? A bold thought flashed into my mind — they mightn’t ask anybody except the person they wanted to marry.

Would that be a good thing or a bad one? I worried about it for the entire meal. Elder Stephen told us worldly marriages were full of strife and discontent. Such people, he preached, only had one or two children. That made my thoughts skitter to another question. How did children decide not to be born to such parents?

Mother’s voice jerked me back to the present. ‘Magdalene, if you do not intend to eat your food you had best leave the table at once.’

I bowed my head. ‘I am sorry, Mother. Please may
I finish? It is delicious.’ I put a forkful in my mouth in case she sent me away. But all she did was sigh. I was sorry to be such a burden to her. She was a good and godly woman, just like Rachel was.

After prayers that evening, Zillah said, ‘Father, it is holidays tomorrow. Please may I go to bed later?’

He didn’t even think about it. ‘No, Zillah. You will go to bed at your normal hour.’

She opened her mouth to argue but shut it again when Abraham, Luke and I all shook our heads at her. She left the room, dragging her feet.

If she was allowed books to read she’d be happy to stay in bed all day.

As I sat with Mother doing the mending that evening, she recited scripture and the Rule at me. I shut her out and turned my thoughts to Miriam, Daniel and Rebecca. They might be married by now. If they had children, they would give them books, I was sure of it. Miriam would buy books with glorious pictures. Daniel would choose ones with long, made-up stories and books that explained things. I couldn’t think what Rebecca would choose. She was too much the same as Rachel in my mind, and I knew Rachel would never give Hope or the new baby a worldly book. But Rebecca would have lots of books by now, I just knew it.

Mother was singing a hymn when Zillah and I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast next morning. She came
over to us to touch our foreheads. ‘Bless you, my daughters.’

Her good mood had to be because she now knew about Abraham’s plans. She would be relieved, thankful and ecstatic at the thought of more grandchildren. Did Talitha look forward to becoming a mother, I wondered. Was that another reason for her to marry Abraham?

Mother gave us our chores for the day. ‘Girls, you are to clean your bedroom — floor, ceiling and walls. Take down the curtains and wash them. Change the lining paper in the drawers. Tomorrow you can do the same for the boys’ room.’

I said, ‘Yes, Mother.’

But Zillah said, ‘Mother, when we finish all that, may I help Abraham in the workshop? Please?’

Mother’s good mood vanished. ‘Zillah Pilgrim, you are a girl, not a boy. Your place is in the home. It is your duty to learn how to be a good wife and a good mother. Go to your room and pray for forgiveness.’

Zillah stared at the floor as she left the room. I touched her hand as she passed me. ‘I’m — I am sorry,’ she said, and I knew the apology was for me because now I would have to do the breakfast dishes by myself.

Luke and Abraham gave me sympathetic looks as they went off to the workshop at the hire centre.

Zillah wasn’t on her knees praying when I went to our bedroom. She was standing at the window, watching the clouds. ‘I wish you could catch a cloud. We could float away. Would you like to float away on a cloud, Magdalene?’

I pulled a chair to the window so I could reach the curtains to unhook them. ‘Do you mean go away for ever and ever? Or just for today?’

She didn’t answer for ages. I watched her draw lines on the pane with her finger. I didn’t stop her. Mother hadn’t told us to clean the windows but she’d notice if we didn’t.

‘For ever and ever. If you and Luke and Abraham come too.’

I was shaken. Did she realise what she was saying? Her next words showed she did. ‘I’m going to ask Luke if the nice Lord says girls can’t go to the workshop and learn about real stuff and then I’m going to tell Father and he’ll growl, and that’s why I want to go away for ever and ever.’

I climbed down from the chair very carefully, leaving the curtain hanging by a single hook. I hugged my sister, holding her tight. ‘Promise me something, Zillah? Promise me you won’t go away unless you tell me first. Will you promise?’

She thought about that for ages too. I just held her — there was nothing I could do to ease the pain in her heart. I hadn’t been able to do it for myself either.

Eventually she said, ‘Okay. You’d be sad if I ran away and you didn’t know, wouldn’t you, Magdalene?’

‘I’d be worse than sad,’ I told her, sickened to think of her out in a world she knew nothing about.

She laid her hand against my cheek. ‘I promise. You can come too. Would you like that, Magdalene?’

She pulled out of my arms and I took my time
climbing back on to the chair. I wanted to answer her honestly, but how? What to say? I looked down to speak to her, leaving the curtain still swinging by its hook. She watched me, her head on one side and her face a mix of trouble and hope.

‘Zillah darling, I’ve thought so much I get all mixed up. I get worried about sin and Elder Stephen and salvation. And I don’t know what’s right and true. Luke prays to the nice Lord, but how do we know which Lord is true?’ I stopped, gulping to choke back tears. I was so weary of crying.

She clung to me again. ‘I’m sorry! Don’t be sad, Magdalene. Please don’t cry.’

‘It’s okay. I’m not really sad. Come on, we’d better get on with the work or we’ll be in trouble. Here, you take the hooks out.’

She worked quietly and I couldn’t bear it. ‘Zillah, I’ll think about it, I promise you I’ll think about it. But will you promise you won’t run away without telling me? Please?’

She bent her head over the curtain and I knew I’d disappointed her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

She patted my knee. ‘It’s all right, my sister. I won’t go away without telling you.’

She seemed older than me in that moment. I wished I had her courage.

THAT EVENING, ABRAHAM TOLD
us Talitha’s father had given him permission to marry his daughter.

Father said, ‘She is a godly and seemly young woman, my son. You have chosen wisely. Let us pray the Elders agree to this marriage.’

We slipped to our knees and, as usual, none of us children closed our eyes. We pulled faces at each other while Father begged and entreated the Lord to guide the Elders to look with favour on Abraham’s marriage.

If the Lord wished it, Abraham would become a father himself. I wondered if he would change like Rachel had. She’d turned herself into a copy of Mother as she used to be before Rebecca ran away. I prayed he wouldn’t turn himself into Father.

Later, when Zillah and I were both in bed, our brothers came into our room to tell us more. We had to smother our giggles at the sight of Abraham trying to walk quietly. His big feet weren’t designed for tip-toeing. He sat cross-legged on the rug between our beds while Luke took the chair.

‘A question,’ Abraham said, glancing from Zillah to me. ‘Was Talitha’s old man happy because she’s getting a husband, or unhappy because I’m such a miserable sinner?’

‘You’re not!’ Zillah said, remembering to keep her voice down. ‘You’re nice and you’re good and you’re kind.’

‘Sure, kid,’ he said. ‘But Brother Ebenezer doesn’t know that. He just knows I don’t speak seemly and look a bit too cheerful. Magdalene? What do you reckon?’

Rachel and Rebecca had often talked about how Talitha’s father had protected her from having to marry a man she didn’t like when she was sixteen. I said, ‘I think he loves her. If she wants to marry you, I think that’s what matters to him.’

Abraham picked a thread out of the rug and flicked it in my direction. ‘Dead right, sis. He’s not even bothered about her coming to Auckland with me.’

Zillah said, ‘Abraham, what will you do if the Elders won’t let you marry her?’

His face darkened. ‘They’ll say yes if they know what’s good for them.’

We talked about easier things — the wedding would be at the end of January and they would fly to Auckland that very day.

When the boys had gone, Zillah came and sat on my bed. ‘Will he marry her if the Elders say no, Magdalene? He’ll go to Auckland and be dead to us. Talitha mightn’t want to be dead and damned.’

I sat up, my chin resting on my knees. ‘He must’ve
talked to her about that. I hope he has.’

But, when I got the chance to ask Luke the next day, he said, ‘Yeah, I asked him that too and he just patted my head and told me not to stress. Annoying!’

Each day, when the boys and Father got home from the hire centre, Abraham would stomp in the door and say, ‘No word from on high.’ On Tuesday, a whole week after he’d asked the Elders for their permission, he didn’t say anything at all. His face was set and angry. We didn’t dare speak to him — it seemed to me that he was only just holding on to his temper and one little push would bring forth a string of words Father would have to punish him for saying.

Even Father picked up his mood, because he said, ‘Be patient, my son. All we can do is pray.’

Abraham gave him a scorching look — there was no way he’d be praying. We knew that, even if our parents did not. It was a total mystery to me that they could be so blind.

We all found the days of waiting hard to bear. Father’s face became grim. Mother either snapped at me and Zillah, or she followed us around preaching scripture at us. The boys took to staying late at Abraham’s work, coming home to dinner only after the rest of us had finished ours.

Then at last, on Christmas Eve, the three of them came home together at the proper time. Abraham burst in the door. ‘Yes! The ancients have finally given us their blessing!’

Mother collapsed on a chair, grabbed the skirt of her apron and sobbed into it. ‘Thank the Lord,
Abraham! The Lord be praised! He has answered my prayers and you will be saved, my son. Talitha is a good and godly woman. She will keep your feet on the path to salvation.’

Abraham patted her shoulder and rolled his eyes at us. ‘Calm down, Mother. We’ve only got a month to prepare for this wedding. I told Talitha and her mother that you and the girls would help.’

Mother gave her face a final wipe, stood up and put her hands on his shoulders. She had to reach up, he was so much taller than she was. ‘We are blessed to be able to help. We will visit them tomorrow.’

That night, when I went to bed, Zillah was waiting for me. ‘Helping means doing heaps of sewing, doesn’t it?’ she said.

‘I’m afraid so.’ I loved sewing, but it made her miserable even though her stitches were neat enough for Mother not to have a reason to scold her. There was no way either of us could get out of it.

It was Christmas the next day. I thought longingly of the frivolities worldly people would be enjoying on this day. Elder Stephen preached about how they celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ with coloured lights, overeating and giving each other gaudy trinkets.

I’d have loved a box full of gaudy trinkets. Zillah — she’d want a box full of spanners and hammers.

Elder Stephen said worldly people gave no thought to the birth of our Lord Jesus. For that alone, he told us, they would be damned to spend eternity burning in hell. He said they got drunk, they fought, they
cursed and blasphemed when they should be turning their minds to saving their rotten souls.

For Faith families, the day wasn’t very different from any other. Father gave thanks to the Lord for the birth of his son and that was the only way we celebrated Christmas.

Abraham drove Mother, Zillah and me to Talitha’s house in the afternoon. He didn’t come in — it wasn’t the custom for young men to spend time with the girl they were to marry, other than half an hour on Sundays during the lunch break at worship.

Talitha and her mother greeted us warmly. It was easy to see her parents were delighted with their daughter’s quiet happiness. It lifted my heart to see it, but Zillah was subdued all afternoon. The question of how to comfort her nagged at me, even though I knew nothing would help her. Unless she really did run away. My needle jabbed my finger.

‘Magdalene! You are getting blood on that cloth!’ Mother snatched her handkerchief and flattened it against my finger. ‘Can you not concentrate, even for a little while? This will have to be washed.’

She went to take it, but Talitha said, ‘Sister Naomi, with your permission the girls and I will go out for some fresh air. They have done such good work.’

Mother didn’t want to let us go, but Sister Priscilla said, ‘That is a kind thought, Talitha. And you are right — they are such good workers. Sister Naomi, you must be proud of your daughters.’

Pride was a sin. Sister Priscilla must know that. Maybe she didn’t worry about obeying all of the Rule
either. Talitha held the door open. ‘Come, girls.’

‘Do not forget your scarves,’ Mother called after us.

‘Thank you,’ I said once we were well away from the house.

Talitha smiled. ‘I needed a break too. And I want to talk to you both about your brother. But we will wait till we’ve climbed the hill. There’s a park at the top. If we’re lucky we’ll have it to ourselves.’

We were lucky — there were no worldly people to stare at us. Zillah didn’t stay beside me but ran round and round. There were trees at one end. She tied a knot in her skirt and began climbing. I didn’t try to stop her. Talitha wouldn’t tell on her.

‘What do you want to know?’

She sat down on a bench, patting the space beside her. I joined her, but before she could speak I asked the question that had been bothering me. ‘Talitha, did he tell you he was going to go to Auckland even if the Elders said no to your marriage?’

She stared out at the distant mountains and didn’t speak.

I should have kept my worry to myself. ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked.’

Her attention seemed to come back from far away. ‘It’s all right. Of course you want to know, to understand.’ She gave me a smile. ‘Yes, he told me and he told my parents.
I’m going to go whatever they decide
. That’s what he told us.’

I sagged with relief. ‘Thank you for telling me. But Brother Ebenezer … wasn’t he angry?’

She was looking out at the mountains again and
her voice was kind of dreamy when she answered. ‘No. He told Abraham he honoured him for his honesty. He said the decision to marry him must be mine alone.’

‘But, Talitha … the Elders mightn’t have given him permission. Or they might have said yes, but not till he was twenty. They don’t like us — they like to punish us.’

She took my hand. ‘Peace, Magdalene. I told your brother I would go with him to Auckland whatever they said. If he would take me.’

‘What?’ Surely I couldn’t have understood her. ‘You’d leave the Faith?’

‘It didn’t come to that in the end. There is no need to think of it further.’ She gave me a funny little smile, and I knew I couldn’t ask her if Abraham had said he’d still marry her if he left the Faith.

Instead, I said, ‘What did you want to ask me?’

‘Just tell me about him. I don’t know him at all, not really.’ She gave a grin. ‘I just know all the girls gaze at him during breaks on worship days.’

I thought of Carmel. This news was going to break her heart and it was no comfort that I’d tried to warn her. I didn’t know what to tell Talitha.

‘Start with the Rule,’ she said while I was trying to think what to say. ‘Why doesn’t he believe it?’

That was easy enough — though I checked first to make sure we really were alone. ‘He says it’s just things a bunch of old men make up. He doesn’t believe Elder Stephen hears the word of the Lord.’ I slid a sideways look at her, wondering if I should continue.

She was nodding. ‘I often feel the same. Go on. These are good things to know.’

I thought she could just be the ideal wife for Abraham, but I said, ‘He’s different from you though, Talitha. You’re always seemly. You’re a good and godly person.’

‘I know how to appear so to the Elders,’ she said. ‘At home, we worship the Lord in our own way. Mother and Father believe the Lord wants us to love each other. They have taught us all to be kind to each other. Mother said the Rule used to be good. That was years ago — before I was born. Then one day they realised the Elders were changing it. They say it’s got much worse over the last few years.’

‘They’ve made it mean and horrible. I hate them!’ I would burn in hell for saying that. Or would I? I wished I knew what was true.

‘Look at me!’ Zillah shouted. She was hanging upside down and her skirt had fallen over her face. We could hear her laughing.

I jumped up. She mustn’t do that. It was so unseemly. Father would growl and pray and send her to the discipline room. I was running when Talitha caught me. ‘There’s nobody else to see her. Let her be happy.’

I stopped. ‘Yes. Of course. Thank you.’ I called to my sister. ‘That’s clever, Zillah!’

Later, as we walked back to the house, I said to Talitha, ‘You’ll leave the Faith, won’t you? You and Abraham — you won’t come back from Auckland.’

Zillah grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Don’t leave, Talitha. You’re nice and Abraham’s nice. We don’t
want you to go away and be dead to us.’

I thought Talitha would reassure her, that she’d tell a lie and say of course they’d come back. But she said, ‘Abraham loves his work and we both love our families. I pray we’ll come back but — you must have noticed — the people are uneasy. Father says it’s died down a bit since Brother Jedidiah took his family out, but we think that’s because they’re scared. Elder Stephen is powerful and he doesn’t like being challenged.’

Zillah said, ‘Is that what Brother Jedidiah did? How did he challenge him?’

Talitha sighed. ‘I shouldn’t tell you, so be careful. Okay?’

We nodded and I felt a shiver of fear. If Elder Stephen suspected I knew something forbidden, he’d punish me for ever. But I wanted to know. ‘Please tell us.’

‘Brother Jedidiah wanted his children to have a proper education. He asked the Elders to allow it. Father supported him, and so did some of the other men.’ She stopped and I guessed she didn’t want to say our own father had refused to go against the Elders.

I took Zillah’s hand. She was trying not to cry.