Authors: Fleur Beale
The Rule
The selection of marriage partners is the business of parents and Elders. Young people will not try to arrange marriages themselves.
SATURDAY CAME AROUND AGAIN
. There was no news yet about who would have to marry Ira. There was no news either about who would be our escort at the market in place of him. I prayed that Elder Stephen wouldn’t accompany us himself. The market would be a trial to such a holy man. We’d come to understand how chatting to our customers was the worldly way of showing respect, but he would not see our behaviour as respectful, or obedient to the Rule.
Mother checked our appearance. ‘You have your lunches? I want you to buy honey — the largest pot they have.’ She handed me a small purse. ‘That
should be enough money.’
‘Mother, if there is any change, may we buy sweets for the children?’
‘The sweet-stall lady is a good person,’ Rachel assured her. ‘She is very kind and obliging.’
Sweets were rare in our lives. Teachers or other children at our worldly schools in Wanganui sometimes gave them to us, but our Elders didn’t believe in such luxuries.
‘Very well,’ Mother said. ‘I give you permission. I will tell your father.’ She kissed our foreheads and blessed us.
We left the house, walking quietly as the Rule said we must, but the excitement about the possible treat bubbled away. ‘Do you think it’s Mother’s way of saying she’s sorry about what happened with Ira?’ Rachel whispered.
It was all I could do not to skip. ‘Yes! You’re right. Of course that’s the reason. Maybe she’ll scold Father if he isn’t happy about it!’
We reached the intersection just as the truck came around the corner. ‘Dear Lord, please don’t give us Elder Stephen for our escort.’
Rachel said, ‘It’s okay. Open your eyes. Look!’
‘It’s Brother Saul!’
He leaned across to open the passenger door for us. Not even Gideon had done that. ‘Good morning, sisters. All set for a busy day?’ Without waiting for a response, he went on, ‘Now, tell me how all this works. I have had Elder Stephen’s lecture, but I am
guessing his ideas do not help with the business of egg-selling.’
It was going to be all right. I relaxed as Rachel explained things, being careful not to shorten her words. ‘At first we did not speak to the people who came to buy. We kept our eyes lowered and when they said anything, we did not reply.’
‘Hmm, I bet that did not encourage worldly people to think well of the Children of the Faith.’
‘No, you are right. But the sweet-stall lady had been watching us and after a while she came to speak to us — to Gideon too. She said’ — I did my best to copy her voice — ‘“Now don’t take offence, I can see that all three of you are good and holy kids. But nobody’s going to buy from you if you don’t learn to smile. There’s no sin in passing the time of day either. Loosen up. Lighten up!”’
I stopped, for it would be vain to tell Saul how she’d patted our cheeks and told us we’d be a sensation because we were identical and pretty. ‘Fair hair, blue eyes, perfect skin and an air of holiness about the pair of you.’ As she bustled back to her own stall, we heard her mutter, ‘Pity about the god-awful clothes, and you can’t tell me it’d be a sin to give them a decent haircut.’ All women of our faith wore our hair in a single braid, and we never cut it. Our clothing was modest, too — it was easier to keep our minds turned to the will of the Lord if we didn’t need to worry about how we looked.
Saul parked the truck in our allocated space. ‘Elder
Stephen wants a report, but I agree with Gideon that you do need to speak to the customers. As long as you are respectful, I will tell him you have upheld the Rule.’
There was no more time for discussion — the market’s first customers were arriving, and we needed to hurry to set up our stall.
At midday, Saul took over the selling to give us the chance to eat our lunch. He seemed to enjoy it, so we took our time and listened to the easy way he chatted to the people.
When he escorted me back from the bathroom later in the day, I said, ‘Mother wants honey. May we get it now? She said we could buy treats for the children with the change.’
‘And you would like me to take over the eggs while you spend up large.’ He bowed to me. ‘At your service, Sister Rebecca.’
‘Thank you.’
We found the man who sold the honey and I chose a big jar of dark bush honey that I knew Mother would like. Then I hurried with Saul back to our stall, seized Rachel’s hand and said, ‘Five dollars! We’ve got five dollars to spend!’ It seemed like such riches.
She slid out from behind the counter and together we crossed the lane to the sweet stall. Mrs Lipscombe beamed at us. ‘You want four bags? Now, who would these be for?’
‘Our little brothers and sisters. Zillah is just a toddler.’
‘None for yourselves? Or the young man?’
‘Brother Saul? No. Just for the children. It will be a treat for them.’
She didn’t say anything more, just went about putting the bright sweets into small bags. She handed them over. ‘This one’s for the baby. She won’t choke on any of those.’ Then she took a fifth bag. ‘And this lot’s for you and Saul. He’s a good boy — not like that slimy character they sent with you last week. I told that leader of yours what he was up to.’
‘Elder Stephen spoke to you? He rang you up?’
‘He did indeed. Wanted to know how you conducted yourselves. I said to him: “My good man, ask anyone and they’ll tell you the same. Those two girls are a credit to their family.” I won’t tell you what else I said because it’ll just make you blush. But be sure I only told him the truth.’
We couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Elder Stephen being called a good man by a worldly woman. ‘Thank you for helping us. You are very kind.’
Her face grew serious. ‘Any time. And don’t you forget. Sarah Lipscombe is at your service. Any time at all.’ She tapped a finger on the address stamped on the sweet packets.
Back at our own stall, we looked in the bag she’d filled for us and Saul. ‘Six sweets! She’s given us two each!’ Rachel held out the bag. ‘Brother Saul, would you like to choose first?’
Ira would have taken the lot, but Saul shook his head. ‘It is your treat. You choose.’
AS SOON AS WE WERE HOME
, Abraham’s eyes zoomed right in on the five bags sitting in the basket with the honey. ‘What’s that?’
‘Wait. We’ve bought treats, but first we need to give this to Mother.’
The children swarmed around us, slowing our progress to the kitchen. Mother turned from the sink. ‘You are home, my daughters. Did you uphold the Rule this day?’
‘Yes, Mother. And there was money left over.’
She took the basket and handed out the bags for the children. ‘You bought sweets for yourselves as well?’ She was frowning at the fifth bag.
‘No! We did not. Mrs Lipscombe gave them to us. There were six sweets, but two were for Saul.’
Her face relaxed. ‘You are good girls. You may take the children into the garden.’
Rachel held out our bag. ‘Please have one, Mother.’
But she smiled and shook her head. ‘No. They were given to you and you deserve a treat.’
The children, each of them clutching a precious bag, had never walked so carefully through the back garden. Magdalene chose a liquorice allsort first, separating it and eating it one layer at a time. ‘I’m going to save the rest,’ she said. ‘I’ll eat one each day for five more days.’
Abraham spoke around his gobstopper. ‘I’m not. If Father finds out, he’ll make us give him any we haven’t eaten.’
Magdalene and Luke turned to us, their eyes questioning. ‘It will be wiser to eat them before Father discovers we have them,’ I said.
Neither of them looked sad at the idea of eating the lot.
The Rule
Parents will prepare their children for marriage by setting an example of godly living. No matters private to married life will be discussed with the children, whose minds will be kept pure.
ELDER STEPHEN’S SERMON
that Sunday was focused on the roles of a husband and wife. He finished by saying, ‘Brother Ira, come to the stage. It is time for your betrothal.’
Ira clomped up the aisle, his manner so different from when he’d raced up to condemn us the previous week. He was a tall man, but Elder Stephen somehow made him appear small. Our leader was a man whose presence filled any room he entered. Even though his body was stooped with age and his face gaunt, we all felt his power. He had gained much wisdom from his long life.
‘Brother Ira, your Elders believe Sister Kezia will be a fitting wife for you. We will follow the custom in allowing you to speak your mind on this betrothal.’
Ira would not miss the steel that lay behind those words. He coughed, shuffled his feet, then started talking, but not in the ringing, confident voice he’d used last week. ‘I agree to your choice. Sister Kezia upholds the Rule. She is good and chaste and seemly.’
He did not say he held her in esteem. Elder Stephen frowned, noting the omission, but he called on Kezia’s father. ‘Brother Mark, speak for your daughter. Does she accept Brother Ira for her husband?’
‘My daughter accepts the decision of the Elders.’
Such a response made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. I’d never felt sorry for Kezia before, but I did now. She had a forceful character — she wouldn’t have been afraid to voice her true opinion. I couldn’t understand why she had accepted.
We asked her later when we were washing the dishes. She shrugged. ‘I’d have preferred any of the others. But the Elders made it pretty clear that if I refused Ira they wouldn’t let me marry anyone else.’
Talitha dropped the cup she’d been drying, catching it again before it hit the floor. ‘You are brave.’
‘And you’re stupid,’ Kezia snarled. ‘You turned sixteen months ago — Ira was your last hope of getting a husband. The Elders won’t give you another chance. Not now. You’re going to be a useless old maid.’
Talitha smiled. ‘I believe I was born to just be an aunt.’
We stared at her — she didn’t want to marry, to have children? Her life would have no meaning and no purpose. I couldn’t understand it.
THAT EVENING AT BED TIME
, Rachel asked, ‘Who do you want to marry?’
‘I don’t mind, now that I don’t need to worry about getting Ira.’ I leaned across to tap her knee. ‘What about you?’
Her face grew dreamy. ‘I’d like to marry Saul.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up. Please!’ It was dangerous to set her heart on a particular boy. The Elders might refuse their permission, even if Saul did ask to marry her. Or he might want to marry somebody else.
‘It’s too late. I have him in my heart. I know we’re meant to be together.’ She gave me a crooked smile. ‘Pray for me. For us.’
‘Of course I will. You know I will. It’s so long to wait though.’ I wanted to tell her not to dream, not to think about marrying Saul. Might as well tell Elder Stephen never to preach again. I held my tongue.
She said, ‘We’ll find out who can be betrothed soon enough.’
That was true. At the January Meet, Elder Stephen would announce the names of the young men who had permission to marry. We all knew the girls would be chosen from the Sunday kitchen workers: Abigail, Tirzah, Drusilla, Rachel and me.
‘Talitha won’t be on the list. Not if the Elders want to punish her for refusing Ira,’ Rachel said. ‘I feel so sorry for her. She’s not going to have much of a life.’
‘No, she’s not. But she’d have been miserable with Ira. Kezia knows what he’s like. She must think marriage to him is better than no marriage at all.’ I was so glad neither of us had needed to make such a choice.
‘But which boys d’you reckon will be on the list?’
I groaned. ‘I don’t even want to think about it! Make it go away! Please!’
She laughed and began reciting names. ‘Saul. James. David. Malachi. Barnabas. Laban …’
I put my hand across her mouth. ‘Now you’re really scaring me! What if you get Laban, Rachel? That would mean you’d get Elder Stephen for a father-in-law.’
She flopped back on her pillow. ‘Okay. No more. I agree. We’ll be good little girls and just wait.’
‘Like we’ve got any choice.’
She’d unsettled me. Upset me too. I didn’t want to have to think about the betrothal business before I had to.
Rachel must have been following my thoughts. She said, ‘You’re worrying about marriage?’
‘I don’t want to marry Laban,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t imagine embracing him in the marriage bed.’
Rachel choked, then gasped, ‘No! I don’t even want to think about that!’ She dropped her voice
too. ‘I wish Mother would tell us what happens in the marriage bed.’
It was the duty of our husbands to tell us that after we were married, though I was curious to know who told them.
‘We’d know more if Father had let us go to those Health Ed classes in Wanganui.’ I leaned closer to Rachel. ‘What do you think happens?’
She slapped her hands over her mouth. ‘Rebecca! That’s an awful question!’
‘Yeah. I know. But you must’ve thought about it.’ If Elder Stephen heard me, he’d pull down the fire from heaven to burn my wicked heart. I didn’t care. I wanted to know.
‘Of course I’ve thought about it.’ She lowered her hands. ‘You go first.’
That was fair. ‘Okay. This is what I think. It’s got to have something to do with … the difference between boys and girls.’ We’d helped bathe Luke often enough when he was a baby, so at least knew about that.
‘I think that too.’ She frowned and shook her head. ‘But I can’t work out the embrace thing. It’s got to be more than just a kiss or else worldly people would have a million kids each.’
‘I wish we’d asked Esther. She would have told us.’ She’d told us many forbidden things.
Use your own brain. Make your own decisions. Talk to Magdalene when I’m gone, tell her I’m not dead
. She’d told us about bleeding every month too. ‘You know that
stuff about bleeding? That could have something to do with the marriage bed and babies.’
‘Eeew! Gross!’
If only Mother would tell us, but the Rule forbade it.
Again, as often happened with us, my sister picked up on my thought. ‘The Rule keeps us safe, though. D’you wonder about Miriam and Daniel, Rebecca? How can they live without it? How can they be safe without the love of the Lord?’
I shivered. ‘I just pray that they are.’
She sighed and we were quiet again. Our brother and sister were walking the pathway to eternal damnation — to the fires of hell.
At last she whispered, ‘Is it wicked to pray for them?’
She didn’t expect an answer. We knew it was wicked. It was against the Rule to speak about those who had been cast out. Praying for them was unforgiveable.