Favorite Wife (21 page)

Ervil nodded. He was standing back, watching the reunion between the women, a pleased smile on lips. I was thrilled about Lorna being here, but I hoped Ervil would make himself scarce once she was settled. The memory of his whispered threat rushed over me again. He spared me only a glance, and I began to relax. After all, he was Verlan's brother. By now surely he'd accepted the fact that I was his brother's wife.

“Mama, can we get out?” a little boy whined.

“Yes, Andrew.” Lorna opened the back door and a striking little boy, along with an equally lovely little girl stepped from the car. They looked like children out of a fashion magazine, they were so beautiful and well dressed. Their hair was platinum blond, and they had huge aquamarine eyes, satin skin, and perfectly formed noses and mouths. They looked to be about five and three years old.

“Lorna!” I involuntarily exclaimed, “they're beautiful!”

“Thank you. Andrew, Tarsa, this is your cousin, Susan. Can you say hi?”

Little Andrew glared at me, and Tarsa hid her face on her mother's legs. “They're shy,” Lorna grinned, unabashed.

Charlotte had finally come outside. She stood on the porch, torn between the duty of hospitality, and her new distrust and repugnance toward Ervil. She stiffly extended her hand to shake his, then nodded to Lorna and reluctantly said, “Come on in.”

“I don't suppose Verlan's here,” Ervil stated. He settled down on the couch and sat Tarsa on his knee.

The contempt in Charlotte's brown eyes clearly showed. “No Ervil, too bad. He'll feel terrible to have missed you.” She arched her eyebrows and pointedly added, “He's working, you know.”

Her sarcasm was dismissed with a wave of Ervil's hand. “I'm sure I'll bump into him soon. We have much to talk about, he and I. Much to iron out.”

Lorna and I glanced at each other. There was no mistaking the sparring tone in both Charlotte's and Ervil's voices. I gulped and lowered my eyes. How could I have missed Ervil's overbearing attitude while he was courting me? How could I have thought he was righteous, and how could Lorna stand him?

I had a new respect for Charlotte, though. She wasn't afraid to show her anger and mistrust to Ervil or to let him know that she was against his policies and that she totally supported Verlan. Charlotte had spunk.

“I'm sure you all must be hungry,” Lucy said as she jumped off the couch to break the tension in the room. “Come on into the kitchen, everyone, and I'll dish you up a bowl of beans. Come on, kids.” She hurried into the kitchen and Charlotte, Lorna, and I followed her.

“I hope you don't mind beans,” Lucy was saying, “That's all I have cooked. There's some bread, and I think I have a bit of salad left from lunch.”

“Beans are fine,” Lorna assured her. At the smell of food, the other children traipsed in from the back rooms where they had been playing a noisy game of Monopoly. They served themselves a bowl of beans and joined Lorna's children at the bar. Their clamor was deafening.

“Ervil, you want a bowl?” Lucy called into the living room.

“That would be fine,” he called back.

“Here, Susan, take this to Ervil.” Lucy handed me a plate with a bowl of beans and two slices of bread. “He can eat in the living room where it's quiet.”

I hesitated, my insides gripped with nervousness. But Lucy had turned and walked into the dining room, her hands full of sliced bread. Susan, I sternly asked myself, are you planning to avoid Ervil for the rest of your life? Charlotte wouldn't. I carried the plate into the living room.

Ervil wore his usual garb—a long-sleeved white shirt and black pants. As I handed him the plate, I forced myself to glance at his face for an instant. I didn't want to appear afraid to look at him. Just one swift glance, then I turned back toward the kitchen.

“Wait!” he commanded. He grabbed my wrist with his free hand. Startled, I looked into his eyes. They glowed with that same, unearthly light that I remembered from Anna Mae's bedroom.

“You'd better listen,” his voice was low and threatening. “The Lord's mighty sick and tired of girls who ignore Him to gratify their own sexual desires—who marry for love . . . love that's based on the lusts of the eyes—and of the flesh. That's what you've done, and the Lord won't tolerate it. Hear me? You've blatantly ignored the guidance of the Lord, and you'll have to answer for it.”

The magnetic power of his eyes and personality grappled with my will as I tried to yank free of his grasp. His lips twisted contemptuously, “So, you thought you would . . . ” His eyes flickered toward the kitchen and his whisper trailed off. He released my arm.

Behind me, Charlotte's voice sliced through the tension in the room. “Susan! Lucy needs your help.”

On rubbery legs, I dashed past her. Oh, God in heaven . . . I shuddered as I leaned against the stove. Ervil's furious because I married Verlan! That light in his eyes makes him look possessed! What does he want with me?

Charlotte was close behind. She looked me up and down, then whispered, “What was that about? What's going on between you and Ervil?”

I searched her face. Should I tell her? Would she understand, and perhaps advise me what to do? As I hesitated, she coldly whispered, “You should stay away from him! You're married now, remember? I suggest you stay away from his families, too. Do you understand?” Her eyes held mine, insisting that I respect her wishes.

“I intend to stay away from him!” I hissed. I turned my back and began to clear up the dining bar. Obviously she believed I was flirting with Ervil! And she was telling me to stay away from Lorna. Well, that I wouldn't do. Lorna was my cousin, and I needed someone.

Our guests stayed only a few more minutes. They needed to unpack Lorna's belongings and were anxious to get started. “Come see me soon, okay, Susan? We have some catching up to do!” Lorna called as they exited the house. I waved at her, swallowed the lump in my throat, and went to find Charlotte.

She was still in the kitchen. With mixed feelings, I watched her as she washed up the bean kettle. I needed to say something—to explain. I moved up next to her and began to wipe the counter as I searched for words. Clearing my throat, I began. “Charlotte, I would like to tell you what happened earlier with Ervil. There are things you don't understand. He grabbed me and started—sort of preaching at me, and I didn't know what to do or what to say—”

“Well, maybe in the future you'll have enough sense to know whom to stay away from,” she snapped. Hanging up the dishtowel, she marched from the room.

I blinked my eyes in shock. She acted as though I had sought Ervil out! As though I had gone out of my way to provoke his threat! She was treating me like an empty-headed little trollop. I slammed the dishrag into the sink, stormed across the living room, and out the front door. Hesitating at the gate, I set off toward the winery. I needed to get away. I needed to breathe. I walked rapidly around the corner and up the road toward the highway, past the run-down shacks that the lined the road on each side. People stared as I stalked by, unmindful of the village around me.

Why did Charlotte have to act so high and mighty? She wasn't even giving me a chance. She hadn't spoken a decent word to me since my arrival, and I strongly suspected she had no intention of ever doing so. It was obvious that she considered herself Verlan's only real wife. She probably thought of the rest of us as mere concubines. Just because she was the first and legal wife didn't give her any more rights than the rest of us! Mrs. LeBaron, indeed! She evidently thought she could order me around. She'd practically commanded that I stay away from Lorna. Well, I would just show her! She wasn't my boss, and I would do whatever I wanted.

Suddenly Ervil's threatening words filtered through my anger. What had he meant by saying I would have to answer for marrying Verlan? Was he telling me that he thought I would go to hell? Well, he could think what he wanted. I was married to Verlan now, and no matter how Ervil disapproved, there was nothing he could do to me.

I stopped by the highway and walked to the little grocery store. I wished I had some money. A cold Coke sounded wonderful, but I had no money. Not a single peso.

I rested in the shade of the store, ignoring the men that lounged in front, who were leering at me. After a while I began to feel silly standing there alone, so I retraced my steps the mile back to the winery.

I was halfway home when the gold Chevelle pulled up next to me. Charlotte leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door. “Get in,” she said quietly.

I hesitated, wondering if she planned to apologize or if she had more cutting remarks. I got into the car.

Her face was set, her eyes glued to the road as we bumped along. Sitting stiffly, I waited for her to speak. Finally as we turned the corner, she glanced at me. “Verlan wouldn't want you wandering around town alone,” she said. “If you want to take a walk in the future, be sure to take one of the big boys with you.” She pulled the car into the yard and braked to a stop. Without another word she walked to the house, leaving me sitting in the car, alone in the evening twilight.

I reclined against the seat and stared after her. I felt so empty and alone. Why had she bothered to come after me? Did she feel it was her duty to Verlan to see that I was safe? That had to be it. She felt it was her duty.

Lucy's baby, Norine, was wandering about the yard, dragging her bottle behind her. She looked lost and unhappy, cold and neglected. I left the car and went to her. As I picked her up, she wrapped her arms around my neck, snuggling her cold little body tighter against me. “Aunt Susan,” she lisped.

I took Norine into the big house, to the boys' shadow-filled bedroom, and sat down with her on my lap. As I rocked her, she watched me with her enormous blue eyes. She seemed to say, “I'm your friend, Aunt Susan, I care about you. You belong here.” I hugged her, wiping my tears on her tiny shoulder.

The bedroom door was partially open; enough that, when Lucy and Charlotte entered the dining room, I could see them outlined in front of the lamplight. Charlotte held her purse, and she pulled some bills from it and handed them to Lucy.

“This is going to have to last you girls,” she was saying. “Give ten to Beverly, and go ahead and send Irene and Ester forty dollars. Brother Castro is supposed to be coming through on his way to Los Molinos on Monday; have him take it to them.”

Lucy nodded, squeezed Charlotte's arm, and dropped the money into her skirt pocket. As they walked away, Charlotte said, “My next check will be larger. There should be enough extra to have your tooth fixed, and to fill the spare butane tank. Tell Beverly to make her money stretch . . .”

They had left the dining room, but I could hear Charlotte's voice droning in the kitchen as she left more instructions with Lucy. I couldn't make out any more words, but I had seen enough. I knew the answer to one of the questions I had planned to ask Verlan—the reason why Charlotte was working. The answer stunned me. She was working in San Diego to support Verlan's families.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

A
s the first month of my new life slowly passed, I buried Ervil's threat, and became engrossed in the daily chores of Lucy's household. I had become adept at making bread and sorting clothes—tasks that were continual with fourteen children and two adults to care for. Lucy and I worked well together, but our visiting had dropped to a minimum. We had little in common other than the chores and Verlan.

Beverly continued to avoid me, pointedly staying out of my way. I bumped into her at the outhouse and at the washing machine periodically, and attempted conversation, but it was futile. She remained cool and withdrawn. Seldom did she even come to Sunday school, which was held in the living room, with Charlotte teaching the class. I wondered how she could stand the confinement of her tiny house day after day.

I was beginning to know each of the fourteen children who lived in the big house, and enjoyed their different personalities. They were bright and loving and some of the little girls took turns spending the night with me. The younger children had accepted me without question, turning to me as quickly as they did to Lucy to resolve their spats.

Verlan Jr., Charlotte's oldest son, was quick-witted and intelligent. His studies at school were of paramount importance to him. He readily accepted me as his father's wife, ignoring the fact that he was a year older than I was. He loaned me books and let me listen to his Marty Robbins albums. Rhea and Laura treated me like a special friend, and they helped with my loneliness. Verlan had returned twice from Las Vegas to see us, spending a day or two each time. He also traveled on down the peninsula to Los Molinos to spend a day with Irene and Ester.

Having Verlan home was wonderful. He spent a quiet, intimate night with me, and it seemed like a second honeymoon, but much more pleasant. He told me repeatedly how much he missed me and hated being away. He had dreams of all six of his families being together in Los Molinos and of having his own business so he could stay home with us. One day, he promised, his dream would become a reality.

The time Verlan had with us was all too short. I tried to be brave each time he left, but the sobs continued for hours. Then I would dry my swollen eyes, go into the big house, and find some chore in an effort to fill my hollowness.

Verlan and Charlotte came for Thanksgiving, bringing us a turkey and all the trimmings, and we had a great feast. It was wonderful to eat something other than beans, rice, wheat, and green vegetables.

Beverly joined us for dinner. As usual, she ignored me. She sat at the other end of the table, quickly ate, and then grabbed her baby and retreated to her house. I knew it was because of me that she remained so reticent, and I felt bad. But I didn't know how to change the situation.

Charlotte continued her coolness. She spent her time with her children, reading and talking with them. It was clear to me that living away from them was the hardest of her trials. Although I felt no personal closeness to her, I felt bad for them all. I wondered why she was the financial support of the family instead of Verlan. I knew he was earning money, and I wondered where the money went. But I didn't feel comfortable asking about it.

Several times as the weeks passed I found myself wishing that I had a bit of spending money, something for the few necessities, or to purchase a Coke or some other small pleasure. I considered asking Verlan if he could occasionally give me a little cash, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him. It was plain that the finances in the family were tight, and I suspected that if he had the money to give, he would. Neither he nor Charlotte ever offered, so I bit back the words and managed to do without. Surely, I thought, he will realize that I have needs, and soon will offer me an allowance.

Totally disregarding Charlotte's advice, twice I walked the six blocks across the small suburb of Ensenada to see Lorna. The first time, she eagerly welcomed me, but stepped back self-consciously as I walked through the door and into her adobe. I couldn't help staring with dismay at the weather-worn shack. The walls of the two rooms were rough adobe. Above, a cheesecloth ceiling sagged, stained brown where the rain had leaked through the roof. The floor was bare cement, broken and cracked in several places. The kitchen cupboards were warped, unpainted boards tacked together. A hot plate on one end of the rickety table served as a stove. Dim light filtered through the old plastic that was tacked up to the one window in the room. At the opposite end of the room was a ratty looking couch and a wooden rocking chair.

I entered the bedroom. In the far corner stood a beautiful bedroom set, the bed neatly made up with a colorful Spanish quilt. On the cement floor to the left of the bedroom door, Lorna's children were asleep on a twin mattress.

With building fury, I looked around the impoverished little house. Lorna wasn't used to living like this—she was used to the luxuries of San Diego! How could Ervil dump her and her beautiful children in a place like this?

Lorna was watching, waiting for my reaction. “It's not fancy,” she managed to grin, “but I plan to fix it up. Next time Ervil comes to see me, I want to have this place looking good. It has possibilities, don't you think?”

I tried to smile at her enthusiasm as we went back into the kitchen. I wanted to ask Lorna why she put up with this, living like ghetto paupers, but I didn't know her well enough to voice my opinion. I gazed out the open door, keeping my eyes averted. The yard around the house was packed dirt, swept and water-sprinkled to keep the dust to a minimum. A chicken wandered past the door. I could see an old outhouse at the corner of the bare lot. A neighbor woman from the lot next to Lorna's was walking toward it.

“Lorna!” I exclaimed, “That old woman is using your outhouse!”

“Oh, it's okay. Actually, the cranny belongs to her family,” Lorna explained. “They said we could share it with them.” She took my arm and steered me to the kitchen table, then put water on the hotplate for tea. As she moved about, I noticed her slightly bulged abdomen. She looked to be about five months pregnant.

“When Ervil comes he's going to have an outhouse made for us. And he's going to get someone to fix the roof.” She chuckled, “You remember that storm we had a few days ago? Rain poured through the roof! I had every pot and pan I own scattered around to catch the water. I had to run back and forth to keep them emptied. Andrew helped me.”

I leaned back in the chair, my anger subsiding as I marveled at her cheerfulness. She acted as though she enjoyed living in squalor, in a town where she knew practically no one, with two kids and pregnant. I shook my head in admiration. Lorna could teach me a few things about keeping a positive attitude regardless of the circumstances. She obviously adored Ervil and was willing to overlook his shortcomings.

I wondered if Ervil had told her about his courtship of me. I shuddered. It was a miracle that it wasn't me living here. If Ervil had apprised her of me, she didn't mention it.

“Lorna, why are you living here instead of in Los Molinos or Colonia Le­Baron?” I finally asked.

She shrugged and pursed her lips, her voice light, “Ervil's always traveling back and forth between San Diego and Los Molinos, and he wants a place halfway in between where he can rest. He has plans to start a business in Los Molinos soon and will need to take care of the paperwork for it here in Ensenada.” Her hazel-blue eyes suddenly snapped defensively, “I offered to live here, Susan. He didn't ask me to.”

I stared into my cup and quickly changed the subject. We visited for an hour, catching up on each other's lives. As Lorna talked, I was amazed at her selflessness, and by her faith in Ervil. She firmly believed he was a godly man, and she lived for the meager time he afforded her.

As the sun began to lower over the ocean, I reluctantly walked home. Lorna was nothing short of an inspiration, I decided, and I determined that I would go often, in Ervil's absence, to see her. It was absolutely beyond me how Lorna could love him, but she did. For her sake, I prayed as I walked that Ervil would become the husband and the man that his families and the church needed.

I was soon to find out that Verlan's home in Ensenada served as a halfway house for many of the church members who lived in Los Molinos. Most of the men who had settled in Los Molinos worked in the San Diego area and made the seven-hour trip on the weekends to see their families. Since Ensenada was about halfway, many of them stopped here to rest, eat, or visit. Often the men had family members with them. Occasionally they arrived in the middle of the night, and Lucy bedded people down throughout the house.

One night in late November the Prophet Joel pulled into the yard in his pickup and camper. The roar of his engine woke me, and I peeked out the window. At first I thought he was Verlan when I saw his lanky form climb from the pickup, and my heart began racing with excitement. But as he walked in front of the truck, I could tell by the headlights that it was Joel. Two of his six wives were with him, Jeannine and Kathy, who lived in Los Molinos.

They knocked on the front door of the big house, and had no sooner entered, than another car parked behind Joel's pickup. The woman driver followed the others inside.

I dressed, and entered the side door of the house. Lucy was heating up the leftovers from supper, and she threw me a warm smile. “Hi! Will you help me get this food ready? Joel and some of his family are here. Slice that bread, would you?”

I could hear voices in the living room, and suddenly the young woman I had seen in the second car entered the kitchen. She smiled and said, “Hi, Susan. Remember me?”

“Lillie!” I shrieked, dropping the bread knife. “Lillie LeBaron! Boy, have you changed!”

“You have, too,” her laughter rang. “It's been five or six years, hasn't it?”

Lillie was a stepdaughter to the Prophet Joel. She was Jeannine's oldest daughter from her prior marriage, and she'd lived in Colonia LeBaron years ago. We'd been fast friends when we were small. I hugged her, then held her away from me and looked her over. She was my height, but slender as a willow. Beautiful, dark blue eyes with curly black lashes dominated her face. Dimples dipped into her cheeks on either side of smiling lips. Softly curled brown hair puffed around her shoulders. Clinging seductively to her slight frame was a tailored, dark blue pantsuit, beneath which peeked the toes of black patent leather shoes. Her appearance was the epitome of perfection. The long drive from San Diego hadn't even wrinkled her clothes.

She stared back at me, smiling, taking in my disheveled attire. Suddenly I felt dowdy and tomboyish in my faded jeans. I reached up and self-consciously smoothed my hair, wishing I had taken the time to put on fresh, feminine clothes.

“So, you're a married woman, huh?” she chuckled. “How do you like it? Talk to me! I want to hear all about it.”

I turned and began to slice bread as I filled Lillie in on my wedding details. Her mother, Jeannine, came into the kitchen to say hello and sat at the table to join us. Soon the Prophet Joel and his younger wife, Kathy, wandered in and pulled up chairs. In minutes we were all comfortably visiting. Lucy set bowls of soup on, and our visitors began eating their midnight supper.

Seldom, other than in church meetings, had I the opportunity to be around Joel. He sat with a kitchen chair turned backward between his Levi-clad legs. Resting his arms on its back, he held his soup bowl in his hands. The sleeves of his plaid shirt were rolled to his elbows, showing spots of black grease between the golden hair on his forearms. Strands of thin, red-gold hair hung over his broad forehead, and he tiredly wiped them into place. His homely face appeared tired, his deep-set eyes circled with smudges.

“Lucy, I didn't think that old truck was going to make it,” he mumbled between bites. “I'll take it into Ensenada in the morning. See if I can get José over at Venzon's to have a look at it.”

He turned to Jeannine. “You girls might as well ride on down to Los Molinos with Lillie, don't you think? There's no sense in you having to sit around tomorrow, waiting on the truck. If it's the alternator, it will take most of the day.”

“Now, darling, I will just wait with you,” Jeannine said firmly. “Kathy can go on down with Lillie if she wants, but I'm staying with you.”

Joel looked at his younger, blond and pregnant, wife. “Honey, what do you want to do?”

Kathy smiled at Joel and squeezed his knee. “I'll wait too,” she grinned. “Jeannine's not having you to herself.”

“Whatever,” Jeannine seemed unruffled as she shrugged her shoulders. “We may as well stick together. Lillie, I don't like the thought of you driving all that way alone. Why don't you stay too and caravan with us once the pickup's fixed?”

Lillie considered. “I only have five days of vacation left. I would rather go on down, in a way. But, then, it would give Susan and me a chance to get to know one another again.”

“Yes! Do stay, Lillie!” I exclaimed. “We could do something fun.”

“Okay, I'll stay,” she grinned.

“Bring your things out to my trailer,” I suggested. “The bed's not real comfortable, but the company's great.” I giggled and moved to the door. “Goodnight, everyone.”

As Lillie stood to follow me, Joel eyed us both. “You know,” he drawled, “I had a feeling you two would become friends again.”

I stared at him, surprised. Joel—thinking about me? When? What had made him think of Lillie and me renewing our old friendship? That was weird . . .

“It's going to be great having you here, Susan,” Lillie was saying as we walked to my trailer. “I go to Los Molinos pretty often to see Mom and the kids, and I always stop here at Lucy's. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don't know. What's there to do around here?”

“We could go downtown and go shopping! Ensenada is so much fun. We could go out to eat and to an early movie. What do you think?”