Being Magdalene (9 page)

RACHEL, SAUL AND HOPE
had dinner with us that night to celebrate Abraham’s betrothal. Rachel held our brother’s hands and her face was glowing with happiness. ‘I am so pleased for you, Abraham. Talitha is such a good choice for you. She was always kind to us when we worked in the kitchen.’

She didn’t notice she’d said
us
and
we
. Usually she was careful not to refer to Rebecca in any way.

Saul shook Abraham’s hand. ‘We are pleased for you, brother. May the Lord bless you both.’

Rachel began to help us prepare the meal, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Sit down, daughter. You are well? What does the midwife say?’

Zillah and I went about our tasks quietly, hoping we might hear something real. But married women seemed to speak in a code that meant nothing to us.

Rachel said, ‘She says the baby is growing as it should. But the scan showed I will need to have a Caesarian section.’

‘Oh, Rachel! What is the reason? How can she tell?
You still have six weeks until the baby is due.’

Rachel looked serene. ‘Do not worry, Mother. I am in good hands. It is called placenta praevia. The Caesarian is necessary to keep both of us safe.’

Zillah ignored my warning head-shake to ask, ‘What does that mean, Mother? I don’t … do not understand.’

‘You do not need to know, Zillah,’ Rachel said. ‘Will you pray to the Lord to keep the baby and me safe? Will you do that for me, little sister?’

‘Yes, I will pray,’ Zillah said in the dead, defeated voice she used when her life seemed hopeless. But I was angry. I wanted to slap people — Rachel, Mother, every single one of the Elders and Father. I was certain he hadn’t supported Brother Jedidiah in his quest to get proper education for his children.

Neither of us talked during dinner. Abraham was cheerful. Saul helped Hope with her meal so Rachel didn’t have to do anything except eat. Every now and again the two of them exchanged a private smile. They loved each other and I knew I should feel glad for them instead of furious. Marriage put up a wall, and if you weren’t married you got shut out. Doors got banged in your face.

Something half-remembered niggled at my mind. It was to do with the time Daniel and Esther got banished. No, it was before that. With no warning, the entire memory smashed into focus and I flinched.

‘Magdalene! What is it now?’ Mother asked, frowning at me.

‘When Zillah was born — you had to be cut open,
Mother. Rachel, do you have to —’

Father silenced me. ‘That is most unseemly, Magdalene. Go to your room. You will spend tomorrow in the discipline room, repenting for your sinful immodesty.’

I went to get up, then I stopped. ‘Father, how can I know what is unseemly if I have no knowledge? I did not understand it was a transgression.’

‘Your good sense should have guided you. Go and pray to the Lord for forgiveness. At once, Magdalene.’

I went to my bedroom, but I didn’t pray. I wondered if Father truly believed I would. I sighed. Yes, he’d expect me to obey him because the Rule said children must obey their parents. If we didn’t obey we would be damned to go to hell where we would burn for eternity.

I went to the window. There were no clouds in the sky now. I wished Mother loved me and Zillah. Rachel had become so like Mother that it was useless even to think about asking her for answers. She’d looked truly shocked by my question.

I picked up my pillow and smashed it against my bed, over and over again until I felt calmer. Damn the discipline room!

Swearing was a wicked sin. I would go to hell for sure.

Zillah would have to get through tomorrow on her own. I huddled into a ball on my bed. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about our lives was fair. In a few days I’d be thirteen. In six months’ time I’d be working in the kitchen on worship days — I’d be one of the kitchen
girls. Elder Stephen would read my name out and he’d read out the names of boys who could ask to marry me when I turned sixteen.

I wished Zillah and I could live with Abraham and Talitha in Auckland. We could all live there for ever and I wouldn’t have to get married and turn into Mother the way Rachel had.

It seemed a long time before Zillah came to bed. She leapt at me and wrapped me up in a hug. ‘Father’s mean. It’s not fair.’

But I was calm now. ‘Zillah, I’ve been trying to remember. Shall I tell you about when you were born?’

‘Yes!’ She wriggled so she could lean against the wall. ‘Father would be so angry!’ She grinned at me.

Yes, he would. I didn’t feel even a speck of guilt. ‘Okay, I can’t remember everything. It all got mixed up with Daniel and Esther being banished.’ I pushed away the memory of them both stumbling down the aisle at worship — Daniel bleeding and limping from where the Elders had beaten him, and Esther with her arm around him, helping him. His blood was on her white blouse. ‘I’d just started school.’

Zillah nodded. ‘Yes, because you were five and school starts in February and my birthday is the second of February.’

‘Mother was sick. She stayed in bed one morning and Esther said she shouldn’t be by herself, but Father prayed and said the Lord would keep her safe.’

‘Did Esther defy Father?’ Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it. ‘Did she disobey him?’

‘It’s lucky for you she did. She called an ambulance and they took Mother to hospital. They had to cut her open to get you out.’ I picked up the hem of my apron and held it out to show her. ‘I’d just learned how to sew like this.’

She pulled a face. ‘Herringbone stitch.’

‘Yes. I asked Mother if the doctor sewed her up with herringbone stitch.’ I couldn’t remember what her answer had been.

‘What was I like when I was that little? Was I like Hope when she was new?’

I shook my head. ‘You were tiny, much littler than Hope was. They had to keep you in a sort of glass case and you had tubes stuck in you. You were pretty sick and we didn’t know if you’d live.’ I grabbed her and tickled her. ‘But you’re tough. You survived.’

She turned it all over in her head for a bit, then asked, ‘Is that what Rachel was talking about? Will they have to cut her open to get the baby out?’ She frowned and I knew what she was going to ask next.

‘I don’t know how babies get born if they’re not cut out. And if you ask Rachel she’ll just say you’ll find out when the time is right.’ And Mother would punish her for being unseemly.

We were quiet — so much to think about. So many questions.

My birthday was just before the New Year. The Children of the Faith didn’t celebrate birthdays.
When I came in to breakfast, Mother only said, ‘Now you are thirteen, Magdalene, I hope you will be more responsible.’

I sat down. Her comment hurt my heart. What did she want of me that I didn’t do already?

Something kicked my ankle and I looked up to see Abraham rolling his eyes. I was comforted.

When Zillah and I were doing the dishes, she said, ‘You
are
responsible! It’s not fair. Father never growls at Abraham and he speaks unseemly all the time.’

I put the final dish in the rack. ‘Daniel got growled at. He had to learn lots of psalms. But he didn’t want to work with Father. That’s the only reason Abraham doesn’t get growled at.’

She threw cutlery into the drawer. ‘I want to work with Father too, but I get growled at and prayed at.’

Mother called from her sewing room. ‘Hurry, girls. We need to leave or there will not be time to sew Talitha’s dress.’

Abraham drove us to Sister Priscilla and Talitha’s house, with Mother lecturing him the whole way. ‘My son, you and your wife must make sure you spend Sundays worshipping the Lord. Your father will send you a scripture to study each week.’

‘Good of him,’ our brother said, but Mother didn’t hear the wryness in his voice, or else she chose to ignore it, for she went on about the evil of worldly churches and how the people who went to them would be damned for worshipping false gods. He must have been relieved it was a short car ride — if he happened to be paying her any attention, which I suspected he wasn’t.

She preached the same thing to Talitha the moment we began sewing, but Sister Priscilla put her hand over

Mother’s and said, ‘Be easy, Sister Naomi. I believe we may trust in the good hearts of our children.’ Mother said no more, but I knew she was offended at not being allowed to speak her mind. I tried to feel compassion for her. I failed.

All morning, I sewed buttonholes. Mother sewed the wedding scarf with tiny stitches. Talitha used the machine to sew the long seams. Her mother worked on the petticoat and Zillah had the task of doing its hem.

Rachel came to help the next day. Mother and Sister Priscilla talked with her about the baby, but we didn’t hear anything more about the operation to cut the baby out.

It took us several days to finish the dress, petticoat and scarf, but that wasn’t the end of the sewing. Zillah and I would have to spend hours each day for the rest of January stitching all the things Faith girls had to have when they got married — table napkins, tablecloths, tea towels and table mats. There was no escape for Zillah — she was a girl and this was what girls were born to do.

I WANTED TO WARN
Carmel about Abraham’s plans before she heard from somebody else, but I wasn’t quick enough. When we got to the temple on the first Sunday of January, I saw her hovering near the door. She darted forward, seized my hand and dragged me off to a corner. ‘Is it true?’ Her eyes were wet with tears.

‘About Abraham?’ I asked, to give myself time. Of course it was about Abraham.

‘Is he betrothed?’ She waited until I nodded, then she almost hissed the next words. ‘To Talitha! She’s so old and she’s not even pretty.’

She was pretty. But her prettiness was a quiet sort, very different from Bernice’s startling beauty. I took my friend’s hands. ‘I am sorry for your pain, Carmel.’

She snatched them away. ‘I prayed to the Lord. I prayed and prayed. And now I won’t get married ever. He’s broken my heart.’

‘Carmel! Anyone would think he’d courted you then abandoned you!’ The truth was he probably
didn’t even know her name — he’d certainly never spoken to her.

My sharp words seemed to have an effect. She put her hands over her face, sniffed twice, then wiped her eyes and gave my arm a shove. ‘Anyway, you’d have been a horrible sister-in-law! Come on, we’ll get into trouble if we don’t join in the dancing.’

All morning she was in my thoughts. How could she be so heartbroken one second, then joking the next? I watched her as often as I could during the dancing and saw how she giggled the same as always whenever she missed her steps. Had she liked the drama of believing herself in love?

When I passed Jemimah in one of the chain dances, I whispered, ‘Have you heard anything? About …’ I didn’t dare say Neriah’s name.

‘No. It’s like they really are dead.’

The dance moved us away from each other.

At morning tea break I collected drinks for my parents from Jewel, who might have become my sister-in-law if things had been different. I wondered about Bernice and Eden who had given their hearts to my brother. They might know by now which of the young men on the list was going to ask to marry them. Perhaps they would be comforted to know Abraham was getting married at the end of the month.

The betrothal ceremony took place the following Sunday.

Mother made us both get up early. ‘Magdalene, make enough stuffing for four chickens. Chop the onions finely. And work quickly. There is a lot to do. Zillah, make a batch of pikelets. You know the recipe. Make sure you get it right.’

She peeled a sinkful of potatoes, her hands moving so quickly they were just a blur. I didn’t try to copy the speed at which she worked — I knew it would end in disaster. I kept an eye on Zillah, helping her when she got stuck. I held up four fingers when she took the flour. Her frown disappeared. I said, ‘Oh, can you not find the
baking powder
? Somebody has moved it beside the
sugar
.’

She grinned as she took them both from the pantry, and again when I said, ‘I think there are four eggs left in the bottom carton.’ I got a beaming smile too when she took the milk from the fridge without needing to be prompted. Of all the womanly chores, it was cooking she was okay with. She said she liked seeing things change from one thing into something different.

We arrived promptly at the temple in time for worship to begin at ten o’clock. The word Zillah chose for our game was
sacred
. It was a good one. Elder Stephen uttered it nineteen times in his sermon about the sacredness of the marriage bond.

But Elder Stephen was in no hurry to begin the ceremony itself, even though Talitha and my brother were the only ones getting betrothed. He gripped the lectern while staring out at us with his usual sorrowful frown. I thought Abraham would be furious, but he
appeared relaxed — there was even a small smile on his face.

Father, though, sat straight and rigid. I guessed he was urging Elder Stephen to get on with it. Mother looked as calm as she always did during worship. She had prayed and her prayers had been answered. All would be well.

But not if Elder Stephen changed his mind.

Finally, he started speaking. ‘Brother Caleb, your son Abraham is of betrothal age. The Elders believe Talitha Trueman will make him a fitting wife.’

Father stood to give the response. ‘As is the custom, I ask my son Abraham to speak his mind on this betrothal.’

Abraham strode to the stage. All at once, I understood why girls liked him so much. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking — handsome even. It was more to do with how he held himself, looking out at the world with an easy confidence. ‘Father, brothers and sisters. I hold Talitha Trueman in high esteem.’ He looked to where she sat and spoke the next words to her, rather than to all of us. ‘I know her to be pure in thought and deed. She upholds the Rule, and she is good and kind and seemly. I will be honoured if she will accept me for her husband.’

Zillah leaned in close. We were both relieved. He’d done well. Talitha could be proud of him.

Elder Stephen went on to the next part of the ceremony, although by the expression on his face it almost killed him to continue. I shivered. He truly hated my family. ‘Brother Ebenezer, as is the custom, I
ask if you accept this … man as a fitting husband for your daughter.’

Those words were a departure from custom, as was the way he spoke. He might as well have said,
Only a desperate idiot would let his daughter marry this low life
. He should have said,
I ask Brother Ebenezer if he accepts this marriage for his daughter
. He should have sounded pleased.

Brother Ebenezer climbed the steps to the stage. First, he turned to Elder Stephen, treating him to a moment’s silent scrutiny that made our leader’s face grow red. Then he stepped to the edge of the stage to speak the customary words. ‘Brothers and sisters, I hold Brother Abraham in very high esteem. My wife and I are honoured to welcome him into our family as the husband of our beloved daughter, Talitha.’

Wow! That was a departure too. Nobody ever included their wife in these announcements. Nobody ever called their daughters
beloved
. Elder Stephen looked as sour as an unripe plum.

We all stood and said, ‘Praise the Lord.’

The betrothal was official.

During the lunch hour, people came to our brother to give him their good wishes as was the custom. My stomach hurt as I watched. It should have been a joyful part of the day, but many of them were subdued and almost furtive. Every one of them looked towards the Elders, but none of the Elders came to wish Abraham well. Only his friends Simeon and Titus and a handful of married men showed they were truly happy for him as they shook his hand.

I saw Rachel talking to Talitha. My sister’s face was glowing with joy as she congratulated her. She looked so happy. All must be well with her pregnancy.

Mother fussed over her, but she didn’t seem worried during the long days when we sewed and stitched and tried not to ask to go out into the summer sunshine. I was grateful for the days when Rachel joined us because Zillah was given the task of looking after Hope. We could hear them playing out in the sunshine as we worked our way through the lists of things Talitha and Abraham would need when they were married.

I learned nothing more about what would happen when Rachel’s baby was born. All she would say in my presence was that the midwife was watching her closely, then she would add, ‘My husband and I pray every day for our child to be born safely. All will be well with the Lord’s grace.’

Often, I had to unpick my angry stitches.