I am Rebecca (3 page)

AT THE TEMPLE OF WORSHIP
one Sunday in December, Elder Stephen said, ‘Brother Gideon, the Elders thank you for your work at the market. We relieve you of that duty. Your place will be taken by Brother Ira. We have prayed and it has come to us that commercial experience in the market will be useful to him in his work in the business centre.’

Rachel and I were horrified. We’d known Ira all our lives and we knew well he wasn’t the godly man he pretended to be. ‘It’s lucky we understand what to do now,’ my sister said. ‘Ira wouldn’t have been the slightest bit helpful.’

I shuddered. ‘No. He would’ve reported everything to Elder Stephen — all our smiles, everything
we said to pass the time of day with the customers.’

‘He won’t help us on Saturday,’ Rachel said.

She was right. From the moment he picked us up, he set out to make our day difficult. Instead of stopping the truck where we were waiting, he drove on past us to pull up just before the intersection a hundred metres away. When we got in beside him, we politely wished him good morning. He didn’t reply but took off with a jerk before Rachel could shut the door.

He didn’t help us set up the stall, and he didn’t stay around to look after us. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Lipscombe in the sweet stall, we’d have had an impossible time of it. The Elders wouldn’t have liked us accepting help from a worldly woman but, like Ira, the Elders weren’t there.

Ira came back in time only to watch us pack up the truck.

None of us said a word on the drive home. Rachel and I wouldn’t speak to him, and we wouldn’t speak to each other in front of him.

But then, when we were five minutes from home, he broke the silence. ‘If you two little bitches know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouths shut about today.’

Nobody in the Children of the Faith used such words. Rachel’s fingers tightened on mine.

But he had more to say. ‘You know what’s going to happen if you tell? Nobody’s going to believe you. You’re just girls — Pilgrim brats too. They’ll
believe me every time. So suck it up, sisters.’

We stayed silent, too shocked to speak. We didn’t even say goodbye when he stopped at our corner to let us out.

We walked slowly, trying to work out what to do. ‘We must tell Father,’ Rachel whispered.

Yes, but how to do it without breaking the Rule was the problem.

‘We must tell him now. As soon as we get in the house. Rebecca, we
have
to.’

‘I know. But you know the problem as well as I do.’ There was no time for more talk, not with Magdalene and the boys erupting from the house and clamouring for news.

Abraham took the basket from us, his eyes bright as he whispered, ‘What did you see? Quick!’

Always, we kept a lookout for sights we knew would intrigue them. Last week a man had led an alpaca right through the market. This week? We hadn’t given a thought to what we would tell them.

‘Something bad happened. We have to speak to Father,’ I said.

Magdalene clutched our hands. ‘Will you die?’

Rachel gathered her up in a hug. ‘No. We haven’t been bad. We’ll tell you later.’

‘All of us?’ Luke asked. ‘Abraham and me too?’

‘Of course,’ Rachel said. ‘Don’t upset Mother. Just tell her we had to speak to Father.’

We hurried to the door of his study, waiting until he gave us permission to go in.

‘There is a reason for disturbing me?’ he asked at last. ‘Did something happen today? Have you broken the Rule?’

We edged closer together, standing with our joined hands hidden in the folds of our skirts. ‘There is a reason,’ Rachel said. ‘We have upheld the Rule. We have not broken it.’

My turn. This was a risk, but one that had to be taken. ‘Father, we need your permission to speak about what happened. It involves another person.’

The Rule was clear: a man’s behaviour was a matter between himself and his conscience. That particular rule divided the members of our Fellowship into those who carried tales and those who did not. Ira was a telltale; we were not.

Father’s frown deepened. ‘If this matter concerns somebody else, why do you need to speak of it? You know the Rule. I am disappointed in you both. Call the family and we will pray for you.’

We had failed. I turned to leave, but Rachel, her voice desperate, said, ‘Father, it concerns us too. And our good name among the Fellowship. We know it is a serious thing to ask to go against the Rule.’

I gave her hand a squeeze. Father was very conscious of the good name of the Pilgrim family. I reached for some courage. ‘It is a serious reason, Father. Truly.’

He closed his eyes and we knew he was asking the Lord for guidance. Finally, he looked at us. ‘Very well. You have my permission to break the Rule.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

He did not tell us to sit.

‘We began getting low on change after about an hour,’ I said. ‘Usually it takes longer, but today everybody seemed to want to buy our eggs.’

Rachel took up the story. ‘Ira went away as soon as we got to the market. He took the extra change with him. Rebecca went to look for him but could not find him. Five minutes later, I tried.’

Me again. ‘We did not try again. It was not comfortable being alone among the people. But we had to turn several customers away who could not give us the correct money.’

Here was where the story got sticky. Our father would not approve of us accepting assistance from a worldly person. It couldn’t be helped. It must be told. Rachel said, ‘The lady from the sweet stall saw what was happening. She offered to lend us some change and we accepted. We are sorry if that was wrong. We still had over half the eggs to sell and people were waiting.’

We stood, holding each other’s hand tight. Father sat with his eyes closed, praying again, but in the end he said, ‘Continue.’

‘We sold all the eggs and returned the change to Mrs Lipscombe, the sweet-stall lady.’ I pulled a business card from my pocket. ‘She gave us this.’

Father set it on his desk without looking at it. ‘You did right to speak of this. Ira cannot have understood that he was to escort you all day.’ His
eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have the same complaints from when Gideon was your escort?’

It would go badly for us if we did. Gideon had been our escort for several months.

I shook my head. ‘No, Father. Brother Gideon never left us alone. When one of us needed to go to the bathroom, he asked Mrs Lipscombe to make sure the other was safe. Then he would wait and we would walk back together.’

‘He always thanked Mrs Lipscombe for her care,’ Rachel added.

We couldn’t tell Father of Gideon’s kindness in helping us become accustomed to dealing with worldly strangers. He would question us closely to make sure we’d never broken the Rule when we spoke to our customers.

‘I will pray about this. Go and help your mother now.’

‘But that is not all, Father,’ Rachel said. She was shaking, and so was I.

‘We did not speak to Ira about his absence. But on the way home he threatened us. He called us an evil name and he told us not to speak about what had happened.’ I could not go on.

Rachel finished the telling. ‘He said he would deny it. He said we would not be believed because we were girls and we were Pilgrims.’

There. It was done. We had done our best to stop Ira’s mischief, but there was no escape from the fact that we had broken the Rule in speaking of it.

Father’s expression was severe, or perhaps it was full of sorrow at being reminded of the shame of having a son, a daughter and a niece banished and deemed to be dead. Their expulsion from the Children of the Faith had brought the godliness of our family into question.

But it seemed he had not been thinking of them. ‘You are telling me that
Ira
threatened you? That he used foul language against you? I cannot believe it of Ira. He is most strict in upholding the Rule. Are you certain of what you say? Is this a story to cover up your dealings with a worldly woman?’

I stared at him, my chest squeezed too tight for speech. I shook my head. Beside me, Rachel was gasping for breath.

He kept frowning at us, his eyes hard.

‘We speak the truth, Father. The Lord is our witness.’

‘We would
never
grieve you or the Lord like that, Father.’

It seemed Ira knew the Fellowship better than we did if our own father would not believe us.

‘Go and help your mother. I will ask the Lord for guidance in this matter.’

But first we ran to the bathroom where we both threw up.

IT WAS A SOBER AFTERNOON
. The children saw we were upset and, for once, even Abraham didn’t pester for answers. Mother, after a sharp glance at us, carried on as normal.

A bolt of envy shot through me that I would need to pray about later. Mother was so lucky. She was protected from the world by Father. He was the one who had to make the tough decisions, he was the one who stood between our family and the dangers of worldliness. All she had to do was bear children, nurture us, and show by example how to be a good and godly woman.

When the heat of the afternoon was at its peak, Mother told us to take the little ones to the park,
and for once Abraham didn’t object to being called little. He even fetched Zillah’s pushchair while we tied our scarves over our hair. Zillah tugged hers off immediately — but a child so young could be excused, so we didn’t worry.

It took much discipline not to run flat out along the streets to the park. The moment we arrived, Abraham demanded, ‘Tell us what happened.’

It was a relief to tell it without needing to worry about breaking the Rule.

Luke burst out, ‘I
hate
Ira! He’s mean to me and Jesse too.’

‘Will you die?’ Magdalene’s eyes were wide and frightened.

Here it was again — the fear that had been scorched into her very soul when first Miriam, then Daniel and Esther were cast out and deemed to be dead. ‘No, we won’t die. Miriam didn’t die. Daniel didn’t, and neither did Esther. They’re alive and they live in Wellington.’

Father wouldn’t like us telling her that. But right now, my heart was hurting. He should know Rachel and I wouldn’t do anything to grieve him or the Lord. He should know it.

Abraham left off tying complicated knots in his shoelaces and said, ‘I’m gunna beat that Ira up.’

Rachel threw her arms around him. ‘Abraham! Thank you for the thought. But please, please don’t! They’d expel you from the Fellowship.’

‘Rachel’s right,’ I said. ‘We don’t want you to get
in trouble. We need you.’

He took off and raced around the park, running and running. Luke followed him, but Magdalene stayed with us, keeping a tight hold on our hands. ‘What if the Elders make one of you marry Ira?’

I bent down to whisper, ‘We’ll kill him. Clog his arteries with cream so he’ll drop down dead of a heart attack.’

She cheered up amazingly after that and even let us push her on a swing.

Ira. He was eighteen but wasn’t yet betrothed. The Elders could well choose one of us to marry him and, if they did, we’d have to obey or accept that we’d never be given another chance to become a wife and mother.

I would pray for good husbands for Rachel and for me.

FAMILY PRAYERS WERE LONGER
and more solemn than usual that evening. Our father gave us no hint as to whether he had decided to believe us and not Ira. Rachel and I were about to put Magdalene to bed when a voice called, ‘Praise the Lord,’ and in walked Elder Hosea, followed by Elder Asa.

‘Brother Caleb,’ they said to Father, ‘a word with you.’

They ignored the rest of us, even Mother. It wasn’t a good sign. Ira must have decided to make
mischief. Well, if that was the case, I was glad we’d already told Father what happened. Even if it didn’t make any difference, at least we’d tried.

It took a lot to reassure Magdalene. She was certain we’d disappear in the night — that in the morning we’d be dead and gone. In the end, we had to promise to stay with her until she slept. Rachel fetched the basket of mending and we worked as we sang her to sleep.

Eventually her eyes closed. Rachel crammed the shirt she’d finished into the basket. ‘Esther was right. They should have explained everything to her when Miriam was cast out. She wouldn’t be such a mess now if they had.’

‘Will you tell your children? If somebody’s expelled?’ I whispered, conscious of the two Elders in the room down the hallway. ‘Will you say they’re dead and not speak of them again?’

‘I’ll tell them the truth,’ she hissed back. ‘Especially if the poor things get poisonous Ira for a father!’

We stared at each other, shocked by her outburst — and then we collapsed in a heap of giggles.

Luke was in bed by the time we tiptoed from our room, but he had his door open and was on the lookout for us. ‘The Elders sent Abraham to Elder Stephen with a note. He’s not back yet.’

All of us knew what that meant. It was Elder Stephen who took upon himself the burden of owning the Fellowship’s only telephone. He did it to spare us from having contact with the evil of the world.

Why did they want the phone? Maybe it wasn’t about the Ira business after all. I went cold. Had word come about Miriam or Daniel? Esther, even. Was one of them really dead?

We learnt nothing more that night. We didn’t sleep well.

The next day was Sunday.

Father didn’t speak to us at breakfast, but then he seldom did, and we didn’t dare ask what his thoughts were on the Ira matter. Mother was her usual calm self as she organised us all. ‘Rebecca, Rachel — it is our turn to take afternoon tea. Make a batch of biscuits and two trays of scones. Abraham, you are in charge of the children. You may take them outside but make sure they do not get dirty.’

If Ira had told his story, Elder Stephen would preach about the importance of keeping the Rule in every particular. Rachel and I would have to be present for the sermon and we would feel the weight of our leader’s disappointment in our very souls, even though we had no reason to do so.

Mother scolded me for over-mixing the scones. The biscuits Rachel made were too soft and the batter ran all over the oven tray.