Favorite Wife (14 page)

“Oh, Grandma, I . . . I shouldn't have come so late,” I stammered. “I should have waited until tomorrow, I . . .”

“Now, now. You are welcome here anytime. You know that. Honey, something's wrong. What is it?” She set down the lamp and turned to me, her eyes filled with concern. Her soft, silver-brown hair was in a long braid down her back. Her tiny frame swam in the huge robe that she clung to.

“I—I just need to see Verlan. Is he here?”

“Why, no, he hasn't shown up yet.” She picked up the lamp. “But come see who I have in here!”

I followed her, protesting. I didn't want to see anyone else—just Verlan. He wasn't here, and I needed to go home before I was missed.

Grandma tapped lightly on a bedroom door. A woman's voice called for us to come in. Standing in the middle of the room in only her bra and panties, was Verlan's second wife, Irene. I recognized her immediately, and wanted to turn and run. I didn't know if Verlan had told her about me. For all I knew, she might be furious and even hate me. Sudden visions of Estela popped into my mind. I felt awkward and embarrassed as I stood in the doorway while Grandma charged confidently into the room. She turned and motioned for me to follow her.

“Irene, dear,” Grandma beamed, “look who I have here! She wanted to see Verlan, but you'll have to do. Come in, child,” she motioned to me again.

Oh, Grandma! I thought as I stumbled out of the shadows. Irene watched me as I self-consciously removed my baseball cap. My hair fell around my face, and I pushed it out of my eyes. “Hi,” I mumbled.

“Well, hello.” Irene grabbed her nightgown and slid it over her head. She turned her back and removed her bra from her enormous bosom, wiggling the nightie down over her hips. Then she turned, and without hesitation, walked to me. Her ample arms enfolded me in a hug.

“I'll just leave the two of you alone to visit,” Grandma said smugly. She nodded her head at us and grinned as she left the room.

I wanted to shake Grandma. Either she knew Irene well, and knew she would be nice, or she had a mischievous sense of humor and enjoyed fireworks. I stood uncertainly, staring at Verlan's second wife. I didn't know what to say. I frantically wished I knew her better. Had Verlan told her about me?

“Why don't you sit down, Susan?” she invited.

She sounded friendly. I remembered her from when I was small. She'd taken care of Fara and me right after we had moved to Mexico, when Mom was in the hospital giving birth to Ramona.

“Irene,” I haltingly began as I sat down on the bed, “I'm really sorry about this. I had no idea that you were here, and Grandma didn't tell me. I just needed to talk to Verlan for a minute, and it wouldn't wait. I hope you're not mad.”

She plopped down next to me on the bed. “Now, why would I be mad?” Suddenly she chuckled, “Hey! I don't know what Verlan told you, but I was thrilled when he said he was courting you. I mean that, so stop feeling bad about being here, okay? I'm glad you came! Verlan will be, too.”

Irene's eyes were an intense blue. She was a pretty woman, with a boisterous, fun-loving personality. I relaxed, and suddenly I was glad I was here. Irene wanted to be my friend, and I needed a friend.

“I wasn't planning to come to conference,” Irene was saying, “but Joel had room to bring me, and I got ready at the last minute. Verlan doesn't even know I'm here. Boy, will he get a hot surprise when he crawls into bed!” She chuckled again, and sat silently for a moment, then cleared her throat. “It's none of my business, but why did you break up with Verlan? When he read me your letter, he cried. He loves you, Susan. He was so upset. Want to talk about it?”

Her voice was concerned and was offering relief from my burden. My shoulders sagged. I buried my face in my hands, rubbed my tired eyes, and tried to clear my thoughts. I suddenly felt the need to hide my face on Irene's broad shoulder and sob my confusion.

Instead, I proceeded to tell Irene about Ervil. The words came slowly at first, then tumbled over each other as I told her of his claiming revelation about me, about my visits to him, and about the secrecy involved. I told her about Debbie and Teresa Rios. I was reliving the past six weeks—the initial excitement at the thought of serving the Lord, the hurt and the confusion, and finally the mistrust. As I drew the story to a conclusion I was talking through tears, and unmindfully wiping them on the bedsheet.

Irene said very little as she listened to the story. She waited until I reached the part about Ervil wanting me to be secretly sealed to him. At that point she could contain herself no longer. “I can't believe the gall of that man!” she raved as she jumped up. She began to walk the floor in furious strides, her nightgown clinging to her full figure. “In the first place, he has no business claiming a revelation about you or any other woman. You, as a woman of the church, have the right to expect your own, personal revelation, directly from God about whom you should marry. It's your life, and it's your choice, and I don't care if Ervil claims to be the King of Sheba, he had no right to try and manipulate you.” She dropped back on the bed and rearranged her pillow against the headboard. She continued to rave and rant. Her short, auburn hair and ruddy complexion emphasized the anger in her blue eyes. They snapped with fire.

“I have a little story to tell you, one that will perhaps show you what a conniving manipulator he is.” She stopped for a moment, staring at her nails, gathering her ammunition. “You don't know about Anna Mae, do you? About how she came to marry Ervil?”

I shook my head, frowning.

“I didn't think so,” Irene sniffed. “You know that when Anna Mae first joined the church she was married to Nephi Marston. They had four children. Well, anyway, Nephi left the colony to go back to the States to work. He was gone for a month, and when he returned, he pulled up in front of his and Anna Mae's house, loaded his arms up with the things he'd brought for his family, and walked in the door, all excited about being home. He put down his packages and leaned over to kiss his wife. And, what do you think she tells him? ‘Nephi, I can't kiss you,' she says. ‘I married Ervil while you were gone.'

“Can you imagine that!” Irene snapped. “He had no idea. Ervil didn't even wait for a divorce. When Joel found out about it, he wept. He asked Ervil how he could do such a thing, and Ervil said that because of his position in the church, he didn't feel obligated to wait the customary six months. That's just for people who have sex on their minds, Ervil told Joel. Well, Joel contemplated taking Ervil's authority away. But he figured that he'd learned his lesson and would clean up his act. Boy, was Joel wrong!”

My insides were churning, and my head felt heavy. I lay down on the bed, Ervil's face swimming in front of me. More than anger and betrayal, I felt sadness and hurt. How could the patriarch of our church do these things? Grandma LeBaron's son! A brother to the Prophet Joel? I couldn't comprehend it.

Irene's voice dropped to a low, tired tone, her eyes looked haunted. So caught up in my own problems, I had failed to see how this whole thing would affect anyone else.

She gnawed at her lip, then said, “I'm breaking a confidence to tell you this, but I think under the circumstances, it's justified.” She hesitated again, then glanced over at me. “I found out a little while ago from Ruth Bateman that Debbie is already sealed to Ervil. Susan, she has been for the past two months.”

I gasped, “Oh, no! Oh, Irene, you've got to be kidding.” But even as I said it, I knew it was true. The trapped look in Debbie's eyes earlier today flooded back into my mind. She had been beyond convincing, and Ervil had sworn her to secrecy. She was miserable about it, but knew it was too late. “Oh, no,” I groaned, bursting into tears.

“She doesn't love him,” Irene said. “She can hardly stand him, but he convinced her that she would go to hell if she didn't marry him. And he promised her she would learn to love him. I feel so sorry for her, Susan. Her mom and dad are furious. They're ready to string Ervil up by the balls. Why do you think he's in such an all-fired hurry to get you sealed to him? Because he wants it settled before Verlan can show up and throw a monkey wrench into his plans, that's why. He's a low-life ass! I can't imagine Joel putting up with him any longer.”

I blushed at Irene's language. She was the wife of the President of the Twelve Apostles, and it shocked me, but I admired her for it; she certainly wasn't stuffy.

Irene pulled the covers back from the bed and crawled under. She had started to wind down, and I stood up, thinking I should leave. “Susan,” she yawned, her sleepy voice stopping me, “Maybe you still feel marrying Ervil is the right thing to do. If so, go for it! But let it be your decision, not Ervil's, or Verlan's for that matter. Whoever you marry, make sure you love the guy. If you don't, you'll never be able to put up with this way of life.”

I put on my hat and left the dark house, running through the quiet streets of Colonia LeBaron. For the first time in weeks, my mind was wonderfully free of that horrible confusion. I didn't begin to understand Ervil or what the church would do about him, I only knew that I was no longer under his spell.

I pushed to the back of my mind the look that crossed his face when I refused to be sealed to him. I'm free of that man, I reminded myself. And Irene had said Verlan still loved me . . .

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

I
t was customary for the brethren to hold the priesthood meeting early on the opening morning of conference. This was a traditional, men's get-together to discuss church issues and to talk over the theme of the upcoming meetings. I knew Verlan would be there, and I also knew there would be a recess before the general session began. My plan was to find him and talk to him during that recess.

After I dressed, I stood in my bedroom and surveyed myself in the mirror. A crisp, freshly ironed white blouse lent me a mature and businesslike appearance. My blue and red plaid skirt still looked fairly new, and this morning Aunt Thelma had presented me with a new pair of nylons. My legs looked great, but as I glanced at my feet, I groaned with frustration. My big toes were plainly in view through the holes in my shoes.

A few days ago Dad had brought us another bag of goods from the thrift store in the States, but the two pairs of shoes in the bag had fit Fara, and were ugly. My fifteenth birthday was three days ago, and Mom had assured me that before conference, she would take me to Casas and buy me a brand-new pair of shoes. Such a purchase was an unheard-of luxury in the Ray family. Time had slipped away, and I was still stuck with my dingy old tennis shoes. They would never do. I would have to go to Franny's and ask her to loan me a pair.

As I hurried across the colony, once again in the direction of Grandma LeBaron's, I wondered why I allowed myself to be so forward. “You could just wait and hope Verlan comes looking for you, you know,” I muttered to myself. “That's much more ladylike. If Mom knew what you were doing, she'd ground you for a month.” Well, I couldn't wait. I had to see if what Irene told me last night was true. I had to see if Verlan loved me.

I wondered if it was difficult for Irene to say. Did it bother her much to know that her husband loved other women? I believed in plural marriage, but I realized that it would bother me more than a little bit, but that was the sacrifice we had to make.

A peach orchard separated Grandma's house from the Widmars' attractive, white clapboard house. As I hurried through Franny's gate, I thought, “This will be just perfect. From here I can see Verlan when he comes down the road from the church.”

Francisca was getting dressed as her mother ushered me into her bedroom. Her honey-blond hair was held out of her way in a ponytail on the top of her head. Her large body was scantily covered in a white silk slip. As soon as the door was closed, I asked about the shoes.

“Sure you can borrow a pair, but they'll probably be too big.” Franny frowned as she dug through her closet. “These are the tightest on me; try these on.”

The white pumps were huge on me. “Here,” she giggled, handing me tissue paper. “Stuff 'em. They'll work. They're better than those rags you have on.”

I blushed with embarrassment. Francisca had never known what it was to do without.

“Why did you get ready so early?” her green eyes were alert with interest. “Church doesn't start for over an hour. Are you doing the music?”

“No, Esther is. I have someone to see.” I turned my back, hoping she wouldn't ask who.

“Who?” she demanded.

“Verlan,” I mumbled, knowing she would preach.

Settling back against the headboard, she crossed her legs, cupped her hands under her chin, and studied me. “You really like him, don't you? I thought you said you broke up with him.”

“Yeah, I did, but . . .” my voice trailed off.

She shook her head and sighed. “I'll never understand you, my friend. It's like you're just begging for a miserable life. Do you realize what being married to him would be like? Pure hell.” She shuddered. “He's old enough to be your father; doesn't that matter to you? He's practically bald, for heaven's sake. He has all those wives . . . You'll get lost in the crowd.”

“He's not bald!” I said defensively. “He's just a bit thin on top. I think he's handsome, and he's so nice, Franny! Besides, even if you marry Alma D. you won't be the only one for long. You'll have to put up with him chasing other girls and getting married again and again. Verlan has five wives already, so he's got to be about ready to call it quits—which would mean that I'd be his last. I'd rather be the last than the first, any day.”

That silenced her. Looking pensive, she pulled her dress on, then moved to the mirror and finished putting on her makeup. “There!” She gave her eyelashes a final sweep of mascara. “Let's go get a cup of cocoa.”

We took the steaming mugs onto the porch. As I sipped, I walked to the edge of the grass and scanned the road toward the church, then searched the plowed field between the road and Grandma's back yard. Nothing. I sat down on the swing by Franny. My heart was beginning to thump, my insides were fluttering, and my hands were sweaty. Would Verlan be happy to see me? Would he want to court me?

I closed my eyes. After my long visit with Irene last night, I'd gotten little sleep. My eyes were burning and my head was starting to ache, and Franny was gossiping nonstop about trivial nonsense until I was ready to scream. I needed time to think, and I wished I'd just stayed home! Chances were that Verlan wouldn't go to Grandma's after the meeting—what had possessed me to come looking for him? I should have been ladylike and waited . . . I set my empty mug down and wished I hadn't drunk the cocoa. I could taste the bad breath.

“What's going on with Debbie and you?” Franny finally asked. “She won't talk to me, and she's been acting so strange. Something's bothering her, and she refuses to say what. The two of you have been so chummy, I know you know. Don't you?”

I nodded. “I wish I could tell you, but I can't. You'll find out soon enough. You're going to be sick, though. No . . . ” I shook my head as Franny began to plead with me, “I can't tell, I promised. She'll tell you real soon. There's no use in her hiding it any longer.”

Franny gasped. “Oh, no! She's pregnant! Is that it?”

I stared at her, shocked. “No! It's nothing like that, Franny. At least I don't think so . . . ”

Over the top of Franny's head, in the field behind Grandma's house, I saw movement. My heart began to pound, making it hard to breathe. It was Verlan. With my eyes glued on his form, I said, “Franny, I have to go now.” I stepped off the porch.

“Susan,” Franny's voice was low, “Do you love that old man?”

I moved on down the little path through the peach trees, to the fence that separated Francisca's yard from Grandma's. “I guess I have my answer,” she called after me. Without looking back, I waved to her.

Like a giraffe, Verlan's long legs covered ground at an incredible speed, his head and shoulders leading the rest of his body. I hesitated at the gate, savoring his every movement. Blood roared in my ears, my breathing was shallow.

Suddenly he glanced over at me. Stopping abruptly, he stared at me across the plowed field. Even though a good distance separated us, our eyes locked. I searched his features, looking for a sign of feeling or emotion. As I recognized my own fear of rejection mirrored in his face, all the doubts, the confusion, and the strain bottled inside for the past six weeks sprang to the surface. I wept with relief. Raw, unrestrained emotion hit me with such force that I could scarcely stand, and I grasped at the fence for support.

The brilliant colors of autumn swayed through my tears, the morning air soft and sweetly scented by the Widmars' fresh cut alfalfa behind me. Somewhere close by a chicken clucked. The world around me shone brilliant, a bounteous gift from God, faultlessly framing the most intense, overpowering revelation of my life. I loved Verlan LeBaron.

Through a blur I could see him motion to me. Resuming his giraffelike gait, he walked into Grandma's backyard. He stopped under the water tower, and turning, waited for me.

My legs were shaking as I drew nearer to him. His eyes searched my face, tried to read what the tears meant. Suddenly his tense shoulders relaxed, and he opened his arms to me. Without a word, I stumbled into them. His familiar scent enveloped me, and I buried my wet cheeks on his chest. He rocked me and kissed the top of my hair, then slid his hands up to cup my face. Tipping my head up so he could see my eyes, he planted a soft kiss on the end of my nose.

“You're so thin!” I croaked. My arms tightened around his waist.

He hesitated, searching my face. “I've been worried about you,” he said simply.

I knew it was true. His face was pale and the lines around his mouth deeper than I remembered. Love for me practically leaped from his eyes, and suddenly I felt so ashamed. This man in my arms was the one God had shown me was to be mine. He'd given me my own personal revelation, and I had cast it aside. I'd allowed myself to be swayed by a self-serving manipulator, who used God's name to get what he wanted. Anger and hurt confounded me as I thought of Ervil's treachery, and I hid my face against Verlan's chest. My shoulders shook with grief.

“Hey! Don't cry like that, sweetheart,” Verlan pleaded. He led me to the back steps and sat me down, his arm around my shoulders. “We're going to get through this, somehow.”

He gazed into the field, his voice filled with pain as he said, “Irene told me about Ervil. Susan, I can't tell you how sorry I am, or how grieved and disgusted I feel. My own brother! It's hard to believe. Oh,” he sighed, “He's pulled this before on other men, but I guess I thought he was above stealing his own brother's girl. Goes to show you how wrong a man can be, doesn't it?”

He wiped the tears from my face with a huge thumb. “We need to talk, don't we?” He said softly. “See if there's any way we can straighten this mess out.”

I nodded and buried my face in my palms. How could I admit to him how I'd fallen so easily into Ervil's trap? How did you explain to someone what a scoundrel his brother was, and what an idiot you were?

Verlan's eyes darkened with anxiety. “Honey, Ervil's a power-hungry man. I know better than anyone does what kind of influence he's capable of wielding over other human beings. I don't know where it all will lead, or just what sort of scheme he has up his sleeve . . . I haven't trusted him for months, and now, with this last trick, I've lost all respect for him.” He shook his head, his mouth a hard line. “Joel's going to have to deal with him, and he just can't put it off any longer.” He looked at me, and then looked away, squeezing my fingers nervously.

“What?” I asked, searching his face. “What else were you going to say?”

His eyes suddenly seemed black with grief. “Susan, even if Ervil made you swear not to tell anyone, you have got to tell me! I have to know. Did he have you sealed to him, too? Did he convince you to . . .”

“No!” I snapped. “I wouldn't do it. He wanted me to, but I wouldn't.” I stared, shocked, at Verlan. “Is that what you thought? Didn't Irene tell you about our conversation? I would've told her if I was sealed to Ervil. I wouldn't even be here with you, if that were the case. Do you mean all this time you thought I was sealed to him?”

Comprehension and joy slowly changed Verlan's wild countenance. He grabbed me and hugged me. “Then, do I still have a chance?” he shouted. “Oh, honey, you're no pushover, are you? I thought I was too late! Say I still have a chance with you!”

He pulled me to my feet at the edge of Grandma's porch. His hands were trembling as he held mine, his aqua-colored eyes dark with emotion. The strain of betrayal had left his face, and his rugged features were softened as he looked down at me. With shaking voice, he said, “I love you, Susan. I have since the day I saw you sitting there in church six months ago. I knew you were supposed to be mine; I just knew. Oh, honey, are you gonna be mine? Are you gonna marry me? Will you marry me?”

I wanted to be a challenge. I wanted to make him beg me, plead for my love. But I couldn't hide my joy and relief. I couldn't answer him, tell him with dignity that I would be honored to be his wife. I sobbed and clung to him, and he knew.

“Susan . . .” he whispered my name. He bent his face down, his blue eyes closing as he pressed his mouth down hard against mine. Suddenly, with an impact that left my senses reeling, my dream of months ago flooded over me. Verlan—his blue eyes—his hard kiss. He had come to me, held me in his arms—whispered my name—rescued me from evil and terror—rescued me from . . . Ervil!

The knowledge rushed through me and I gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. Ervil LeBaron? It couldn't be. Verlan's own brother, Ervil . . . the evil, grasping spirits in my dream? It couldn't be true. No. It just couldn't be true. It couldn't be, but even as I battled against the conviction, I knew it was.