Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) (21 page)

“What?” he sneered. “I can’t do that.”

Jorjina felt desperate—she knew the only sure way to protect Paul and his family, including Aspen and little Ruthie, was for them to leave. She’d tried to encourage Aspen to leave when she overheard Clarence calling her a puppet. But just like Paul, Aspen had refused. They were equally stubborn.

“I’ll help you go—we’ll get you out.
Please
.”

“Mother, do you hear yourself? I’m not running away. Clarence needs to be stopped. If I leave, who will challenge him? Who will take him down?”

Jorjina pondered that question and sat quietly, closing her eyes tight and nodding. “You’re right. I know I’m being shortsighted, I just . . . I want to protect you, all of you.”

“Then who will protect everyone else?” Paul shrugged. “I can’t let him win, Mother. I can’t. This is too important.”

Jorjina’s tears could no longer stay at bay, they poured from her eyes as she kissed Paul’s hand. “You’re right; we have to stop him. But, darling, I don’t know how. After all these years, I still don’t know how to control him. I swear on my life, I did the best job I could, but he . . .”

“You didn’t do this, Mother. He’s pure evil, and it has nothing to do with you or Father or how he was raised. There’s a beast inside of him that must be tamed before he destroys us all.”

Jorjina nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Whatever you need from me, you’ll have it. I promise. I’m an old woman, I know that, but I’ll do whatever I can to help you, son.”

Paul exhaled. “Thank you. I’d hoped the other members of the priesthood would help me, but if Arthur is any indication, I don’t think that will go very well.”

“No, they’re all worried about their own standing with Clarence. They won’t challenge him. They know if they do, he could take everything away.”

“Right.” Paul gritted his teeth and a tick formed in his jaw. “That means I have to go to the police.”

“Are you sure you can trust them?” She grimaced. Even Walter hadn’t held much trust in the gentile justice system. People in the outside world viewed them as freaks, robots. Police officers often couldn’t see past their own bias to actually help those on the compound, and for that reason, those in the FLDS were conditioned to fear them rather than seek them out for protection or assistance.

“What choice do I have?” Paul threw his arms up. “I need someone.”

“You’re right.”

He paused. “I never told you this, but . . . I followed Aspen, months ago. She went to the police station.”

“What was she doing there?”

“She was working with a detective, trying to save Ruthie. I followed her and she told me everything, how Clarence was playing mind games with her, how he was using us all for his own amusement, and I didn’t believe her, Mother. I didn’t.” Paul’s eyes welled with tears. “Maybe if I’d believed her, none of this would’ve happened to Isaac.”

“You can’t do that to yourself, Paul, you can’t.”

“I let this happen. I let it happen to my boy. I’ll never, ever forgive myself. No matter what happens, even if I kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands, I’ll always know . . .”

“You’ll always know that you defended him, that when he told you what happened, you sprang to action. You didn’t bury your head in the sand or deny his claims.”

“I buried my head for months. Months. Aspen begged, she pleaded with me to listen and I didn’t. I was too afraid of losing everything.”

“Are you afraid now?” Jorjina asked, already knowing the answer to her question. She needed Paul to see, to put the past behind him, to focus on the future.

“No.” He shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Not at all.”

“You can’t change the past,
believe
me.” Jorjina shook her head. “For decades, I wished I could. I wished I could go back and stop Clarence from declaring himself prophet. I would have urged your father to name you or Arthur, but we never thought he’d go so fast. We weren’t prepared. So, if you’re going to blame yourself, then so should I. Because of me, your brother is in the position of power that he is. Do you blame me for that? Do you blame me for the rape of your son?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Then you can’t blame yourself either. You didn’t know.”

“But Aspen—”

“Aspen didn’t know. She knew he was playing games, yes; she knew he entered the temple and that he wanted her daughter. That’s it.”

“I should have dug deeper. I should have stood by her.”

“Then stand by her now.”

Paul nodded. “I will . . . if she’ll have me.”

“She’s been tormented by Clarence for months, completely alone with no one she can trust. Believe me, Paul, she’ll have you.”

“You think so?”

“If I know anything about that woman, it’s that she’d give anything for your support. She loves you, Paul.”

Paul froze, appearing stunned to Jorjina. She tilted her head in surprise. “Didn’t you know that?”

“I, uh . . .” He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “I don’t know.”

“I must confess something, son.”

“What is it?”

“I knew about Clarence threatening her. I overheard him at your home. It sickened me to my core, and I spoke to Aspen about it. I urged her to leave.”

“You what?” A look of betrayal crossed his face and guilt swarmed Jorjina’s belly.

“I thought it was the only way to save Ruthie from Clarence’s clutches. I’m sorry, son.”

Paul clenched his teeth and breathed in deeply. “Why are you telling me this?”

“During our conversation, when I pressed her to leave, she spoke of you. She didn’t want to break your heart by taking Jeremiah away. She didn’t want to hurt you and I suspect, she didn’t want to
leave
you. She loves you, of that I’m sure.”

Paul was silent, taking in Jorjina’s words. He said nothing but nodded slowly.

“I have to speak to her.”

“Yes.” Jorjina nodded. “Find your wife, tell her what you know. Maybe together you can talk to the police, to that detective who was helping her. Maybe the three of you can figure out what to do.”

“I think it’s the only way.”

“Go to her, son. And know that I’m here when you need me.”

Paul kissed his mother goodbye and she watched as he walked back toward his home with determination. She looked down at her aged, frail hands, the bones pressing high against her pale skin, the brown age spots growing larger with each passing year. She knew her time on this earth was coming to a close. She could only hope she’d live to see the day when Clarence was behind bars and no longer the prophet. But of that she couldn’t be sure.

What she did know was that it was about time she paid a visit to her oldest son. Without hesitation, she left her home and walked the three blocks to Clarence’s sprawling house. As she approached the house, Janine ran from the front door.

“Mother Jorjina, what are you doing here?” Janine grabbed her arm and guided her toward the door. “Let me help you.”

Silly woman, I’ve got it under control.

Jorjina attempted to hide her ragged breathing. “Thank you, dear. I’ve come to see Clarence.”

“He’s in his study,” Janine said, closing the front door behind them. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“That would be nice, dear, thank you.”

With her shoulders high, Jorjina made her way to Clarence’s study, knocking her shaking knuckles against the wood of the door.

“Come in,” he said. When she entered, he looked up from his desk. “Mother?”

“Hello, Clarence.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve come to ask a favor,” she said, resisting the urge to cross the room and slap him across his face. She wanted nothing more than to punish him for all his crimes against their people. The people her husband cared so deeply for.

“Mother, your entire life is a favor.”

“Excuse me?”

A snide chuckle left his lips. “Well, since Father died, I’ve cared for you, housed you, clothed you, fed you. What more could you need?”

You snide, selfish monster.

Jorjina resisted the urge to snap at her son, to remind him of the years she spent wiping his bottom, of cleaning his urine-soaked sheets, of drying his tears when he was teased by older boys on the compound. She resisted because she knew the only way to manipulate her son was to ignore his attempts to bring out the worst in her.

You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

“Yes, I guess that’s true,” she said between clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered across her face.

“What’s the favor, Mother?”

“Ruthie.”

Clarence froze, his eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“Call off the wedding.”

“Did Paul send you? Oh, let me guess. Little Miss Aspen begged you to come here.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I came on my own accord.”

“And why is that?”

“She’s too young, Clarence. You’ll raise suspicions in the outside world. Heavenly Father approves of young unions, of course, but . . . twelve is . . . well, it’s inappropriate.”

Clarence stood, walked around his desk, and perched himself against the corner of the wood, crossing his arms in front of him. “It was a revelation.”

“And I don’t question that, son. But perhaps Heavenly Father didn’t mean for you to marry her quite so soon. Perhaps the revelation was just a bit early.”

“Hm.” He studied her face, making her uncomfortable. After speaking with Paul, the only thing she could see in Clarence’s eyes was pure evil. “Well, that’s just impossible. The preparations are already underway. Janine has been working day and night to make this the most beautiful wedding our community has ever seen. Besides, it’s the unveiling of the new temple; everyone will be there . . . including
you
.”

The last word was said with scorn—unbridled, angry scorn. A chill ran down Jorjina’s spine. “Are you sure there’s no way you’ll reconsider?”

Clarence ignored her request. He was now pacing the room, his arms flailing about. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you came here all on your own?”

“Yes, because it’s the truth.”

“It’s a fucking lie.”

“Clarence!”

He scoffed. “Stay out of this, Mother.”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“Why?” He closed the space between them, yelling down at her. “Why?”

She stood tall, not allowing him to intimidate her. “Yes, why?”

“Because it’s always been Paul, Mother. Always! I’m the prophet, the mouthpiece of God, but all you care about is Paul and his pathetic family.”

“I love all of my children equally.”

“Bullshit.”

“Clarence, this language is unbecoming.”

“You never loved me the way you love him. Never. I could never live up to perfect little Paul and his perfect ways.”

“Your brother is far from perfect, but his intentions are pure.”

“And mine are
not
?” He glared at her; one of his eyes betrayed him with a frantic twitch. “I’m the prophet. I’m the leader of our people. The one and only person on this earth deemed worthy to speak directly to God. How
dare
you not believe in me.”

“Your jealousy is not my fault. I raised you with love and kindness, as did your father. You chose another path.”

“And what does that mean?” he growled.

“I see you,” Jorjina whispered. “Others may not, but I do.”

“And what do you see?”

Jorjina hesitated, but then spoke her truth. “I see the monster you’ve become.”

He bared his teeth, leaning in close. “I should have killed you a long time ago.”

Without thinking, Jorjina’s hand raised and her palm made contact with his face. A sharp sting radiated through her hand and she quickly covered her mouth, shocked she’d hit her son. Rage enveloped Clarence—his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He lunged forward, pushing her across the room and into the wall. He pressed both hands into her neck, and Jorjina could feel her airways compress. Again and again he pressed his weight into his thumbs as they removed the air from her lungs. With her mouth wide open, she knew it was time to beg—to beg for forgiveness, for mercy. But she wouldn’t do it. She’d never beg Clarence for anything. And so she closed her eyes and welcomed death.

A knock at the door startled Clarence, and he released his grip on her neck. The air flying quickly into her mouth and nose caused her to choke. Again and again she coughed, holding on to the wall as she gasped for air.

“Janine, what do you want?”

“I brought tea . . . oh no, Mother Jorjina!”

“She’s fine, leave us.”

“But she can’t—”

“I said leave us!”

Jorjina, with eyes still pressed tight, heard the door close. Her hand gripped the chair rail of the wall, and she felt her lungs return to a normal rhythm.

In, out. In, out. Breathe, Jorjina.

She opened her eyes to see Clarence holding the teacup that Janine intended for her. Her throat burned, but she refused to ask for a drink.

He took a sip of her tea then deadpanned, “Get out.”

Jorjina said nothing but walked to the door, turning the knob.

“And don’t come back,” he said with disdain. “Or I’ll finish what I started.”

Jorjina clenched her teeth and walked out of his office, turning back to look him in the eye. She knew if they hadn’t been interrupted Clarence would have ended her life. That knowledge was the most painful thing she would ever have to live with.

“You won’t win,” she said, shaking her head, her voice hoarse.

“Oh yes.” He smiled. “Yes, I will.”

Chapter 19