Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (13 page)

“When obedience is your quest, you are powerful in the eyes of our Lord.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

My pale hands trembled, the pads of my fingertips rattling a soft
tap-tap-tap
against the brass knob. I willed my body to calm, but was unsuccessful as my heart raced and sweat built on my brow.

It was ten o’clock in the evening and I was attempting to find a way into the new temple, to gather more information for Detective Cooke. Paul had retired to Sarah’s bedroom, and my children were safely tucked into their beds, with Scout taking up most of Jeremiah’s small mattress. Wearing my darkest dress and a deep brown hooded sweatshirt, I’d crept out of our home and into the silence of the dark night.

Leaves crackled beneath my feet, and the chilly air raised goose bumps on my neck. One small lamp burned above the entrance to the temple, lighting my way. Ever so slowly, I turned the knob of the main entrance, but it wouldn’t budge.

“No, please.”

My muscles tensed as I jiggled the handle again and again, desperately needing access into the ominous building, the building that just might hold the answers I needed to protect my daughter.

And then I remembered, there were several doors on the other side of the building. With renewed vigor in my step, I made my way around the massive structure, my breath quickening with every passing second.

The next door I tried was locked.

As was the next.

“Please,” I whispered with anguish as my hand grasped the final brass knob. My jittery palm clutched the cold metal. I held my breath and closed my eyes tightly as I turned the knob. Instead of the stubborn refusal to move I’d grown used to from the other knobs, this one twisted easily all the way. It was unlocked!

What a blessing indeed!

“Thank you,” I whispered as I pulled the door open and peered inside. “Oh, thank you.”

“Aspen?” a voice called from behind me.

I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat and stealing the air from my lungs. She said my name once again, and I knew I was caught.

“Aspen.”

Releasing the knob, I backed away from the door, allowing it to close with a melancholy click as I turned to face my sister wife.

“Pennie, what are you doing here?” I pulled at the neck of my sweatshirt, as if it could protect me from her prying eyes.

My frail sister wife stepped out of the shadows, her brow knitted and her cheeks pale. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing at the temple alone and in the middle of the night?”

“I, um . . . I was looking for something.” I swallowed hard, my throat dry and unforgiving.

“What?”

Pennie didn’t look like herself; her narrowed eyes made her seem suspicious of me.

What is going on?

This moment was important. I had to seem strong, focused, and confident, even though I was nothing of the kind. Instead, I was terrified, embarrassed, anxious. But there could be no shred of doubt in my sister wife’s mind. She had to believe my story.

I took a deep breath before attempting my lie. “Jeremiah’s hat. We were out for a walk and he dropped it, of course. You know that little boy; he’s dropping things all the time. I remembered that he’d asked to look inside, you know, the temple, and I thought, maybe—”

“Maybe he dropped it inside?” Pennie asked, guiding my lie.

Perhaps she believes me. Perhaps.

“Yes.”

“Well then, let me help you.”

No! Go home! Leave me be!

Against my will, I accepted her offer. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Once again, I twisted the knob, and the two of us stepped into the back entrance of the temple. Although the outside structure had just been completed, the interior was far from finished. Considering the sheer size of the temple, it would take months to be completed.

“Can you find a light switch?” Pennie asked.

I scanned the framed-out walls and chewed on my bottom lip. “No, I don’t think there’s electricity yet. Besides, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves. This is still a construction zone.”

That wasn’t my reason. The Prophet couldn’t know I was trespassing in the temple. He couldn’t know anything I was up to.

“Thank goodness for the windows.”

Dozens of windows allowed the moon to shine through the barren building to expose the bare concrete floors, piles of wood stacked here and there, and sawdust floating in the air.

“What kind of hat was he wearing?”

“What?” I winced, temporarily forgetting my lie. Telling untruths was not my norm. But if I was to protect my children, I knew I had to work on it.

“Jeremiah’s hat, what did it look like?”

I searched my brain. “It was his brown one, the one I knitted last winter.”

Remember to hide that hat the moment you return home.

We walked slowly through the room, dodging power tools strewn about.

“I don’t see it. And we really shouldn’t be here, Aspen.”

“You’re right. I’ll stop by in the morning and ask the men if they’ve seen it. Perhaps they put it aside already.”

“Good idea. Let’s get ourselves home. The others might grow worried.”

We walked in silence toward our house, the lights beckoning us home. Halfway there, I glanced at Pennie.

“You never did say why you were out here in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, well, I was looking for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s Beatrice. She was crying. Poor thing must’ve had some sort of nightmare. She was sobbing and asking for her mama. I couldn’t find you in the house, so . . .”

My heart sank at the idea of letting my youngest daughter down, not being there for her when monsters overtook her dreams. But I wasn’t about to relent on my sister wife. Something wasn’t sitting well with me, and I needed to figure it out. Pennie was my ally, my friend. Wasn’t she?

“How did you know I’d be there? At the temple?”

Pennie bit down on her bottom lip, rubbing her arms to keep warm. “I didn’t.”

“Then . . .”

“I just got lucky, I guess.” She shrugged, pulling on the front gate as she averted her eyes.

Pennie wasn’t being honest with me, of that I was certain. I needed to push her further as my gut told me she had followed me to the temple.

“Who’s with B?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said she was upset. I assumed one of the other sister wives stayed with her while you went to find me.”

“Oh no.” She paused, and I could see the wheels spinning inside her head. “Ruthie said she’d look after her. I offered to ask another wife, but she insisted.”

“Ah, I see.”

Pennie opened the front door, and the warmth of the house enveloped us both. We stood in the foyer, my eyes like daggers, piercing hers, wishing she’d reveal the true nature of our meeting at the temple. But I knew my sister wife would never tell. She simply dodged my gaze and looked at her feet.

“Well, good night.”

“Thank you, Pennie. For looking after B. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Of course.” She nodded, finally meeting my eyes. “I’d do anything for you and your children. I hope you know that.”

And with that, she walked down the hall, leaving me alone in the entryway.

Not wanting to waste another second, I walked to the girls’ bedroom, only to find them all sleeping soundly in their beds. Carefully, I crept to Beatrice’s side and glanced down at her porcelain skin. Her face was calm and clear, unlike the face of a little one who’d been inconsolable just minutes before.

I crossed the room to Ruthie’s bed and perched myself next to my sleeping girl. Ever so gently, I stroked her arm, rousing her from her slumber.

“Mama?” Her voice was hoarse, her eyes struggling to open.

“Everything’s okay, baby. I just had to check on B.”

“Why?” she asked, opening both eyes, looking dazed. “Is she sick?”

“No. I was told she had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Ruthie yawned, rolling over. “I must’ve slept through it. I’m sorry, Mama.”

I knew it.

“Don’t worry, my darling. Go back to sleep.” I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

Before leaving the room, I walked to the closet and snatched up Jeremiah’s brown knitted cap, then tucked it into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I closed their door and leaned against it for a moment, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

You followed me, Pennie. And I’m going to find out why.

“Honor thy father and mother. But honor thy Prophet above all else.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

Since the Prophet’s announcement, my eldest daughter had become increasingly difficult. Even the simplest of responsibilities or chores turned into an argument, and I was losing my patience.

Each night, I fell to my knees and prayed to Heavenly Father, begging for guidance and fortitude. But unfortunately, keeping my composure when dealing with Ruthie was not my strong suit, especially when I knew how misguided she was. And so, once again, I found myself in a standoff with my naive and headstrong girl.

“Ruthie, I’m warning you.”

“No, Mama! I don’t wanna wash the dishes again. I just helped Mother Pennie last night.”

“That doesn’t matter. You will do as you’re told, young lady.”

“But why can’t Susan—”

“Not another word. Now, scoot. Mother Flora is waiting for you in the kitchen. When your chores are complete, she’ll dismiss you.”

Ruthie hung her head and walked toward the door, muttering under her breath, “I can’t wait till I’m thirteen.”

“What was that?”

Her shoulders tensed and she froze beneath the doorway. “Nothing, Mama.”

I placed my hands on my hips, asserting my authority. “Ruthie, I demand that you turn around and repeat your words right now.”

She turned to face me with red cheeks and flared nostrils. Her lungs heaved as she glared in my direction, but I matched the daggers in her eyes with blades of my own.

“Say it.”

“I said I wish I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

“You know why, Mama.”

“Say it,” I insisted. “I want to hear the words come out of your mouth.”

“So I can marry the Prophet.”

“And . . .”

“So I won’t have to listen to you anymore, to your rules and your endless chores. I won’t have to take your orders and I
won’t
be treated as a child.”

She stomped one foot against the wood floor, holding her breath like the child she was. The sound of her defiance echoed through the hallway.

“Exhale.”

She shook her head but held strong. Her cheeks turned crimson, her eyelids twitching. When I laughed at her ridiculous attempt at disobedience, she released the air from her lungs, inhaling deeply.

“Are you done?”

She nodded.

“My darling Ruthie, I treat you as a child because you
are
a child.”

“Not to him, I’m not. To him I’m a woman. He wants to marry me, to be linked with me for all eternity. And then I’ll be free.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I know how it feels to be trapped.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at my clueless daughter. She had no idea what being trapped actually felt like. No idea whatsoever.

“No, my darling, you most certainly do not. Do you honestly think he’s your prince on a white horse? That he’ll save you from your horrible life?”

“Why is that so silly?” she asked, tears forming in her blue eyes. “Everyone but you says it’s an honor. Everyone. Even Mother JoAnna, and she’s seething with jealousy.”

It was true. My sister wife JoAnna had always had her eyes on the Prophet. I held back a laugh at my daughter’s observant nature. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the proverbial tree.

“It’s easy for them to say that. They’re not your mother.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Mama? I’m counting down the days until I’ll be his bride. It’ll be the best day of my life. Why can’t you feel the same?”

I was counting the days, the days I had left to save my girl from the theft of her innocence. It horrified me to know she was looking forward to this marriage as much as she clearly was. She viewed it as freedom, but I knew better. It was anything but.

“I will never do that. And when you’re a mother, you’ll understand why. No one knows what’s best for you, but me. No one.”

“Not even the Prophet?”

My clever daughter had backed me into a corner. For me to answer honestly would be blasphemous as it would be to deny that the Prophet was indeed the mouthpiece of God. And I wasn’t ready to do that. My faith, despite my personal feelings toward Clarence Black, was still too strong.

“You know I can’t answer that. Now, go. Flora’s waiting for you. We’ll discuss your punishment later. Until then, you keep sweet, do you hear me?”

She said nothing.

“Ruthie!”

She sighed, muttering softly, “Yes, Mama.”

“Hey,” I said, allowing my voice to soften. “How long will I love you?”

She dodged my eyes, biting her bottom lip . . . just like her mother.

“How long?” I asked again in a singsong tone that I knew drove my daughter just a little bit crazy. She knew I wasn’t going to let up until she answered.

“Always and forever.”

“That’s right. Now, scoot.”

Defeated, Ruthie turned to walk to the kitchen, leaving me in the wake of her despondence.

My wide-eyed, naive little girl had no idea the life that awaited her with Clarence Black. A life of servitude, of forced, painful intercourse, and child-rearing. If she thought helping to care for her younger siblings was difficult, she was in no way prepared for the responsibility a newborn baby of her own would bring.

And even before she was blessed with a child of her own, her simple list of chores in our home was nothing compared to the inevitable duties she could count on in the Prophet’s household. No matter how much a child was asked to do in a household, a wife was responsible for so much more.

If Ruthie’s marriage to the Prophet came to fruition, she would learn that fact ever so quickly. But that day would never come, not if I could help it.

I had to get back to the temple without being followed, so I planned ahead. That evening, Paul would be spending the night with Pennie. It was the perfect time to go.

I just had to wait.

• • •

With Jeremiah’s cap and two flashlights tucked inside my knapsack, I returned to the open door at the back of the temple. Fearing I’d missed my one chance to enter because of Pennie’s interruption, I closed my eyes and begged Heavenly Father for one more blessing. Holding my breath, I turned the knob, and when it opened once again, I released the air from my lungs.

Sweet relief.

Retrieving the flashlights from my knapsack, I entered the temple, closing the door gently behind me. Once again, the room was dark, save for the moonlight pouring through the dozens of windows. With a flashlight in each hand, I was able to see the details of the room, many of which had been lost on me days earlier. Work gloves, blueprints, toolboxes, everything you’d expect to see on a job site such as this one.

I needed to explore further.

At the far corner of the room was a staircase that would lead me to the other two levels of the massive building. I searched my memories to recall the original plans Paul had shared with me when he was foreman of the project. The chapel would be housed in the entire first floor, and the other levels were to be constructed for classrooms for religious education, meeting rooms for the Prophet and the men of the priesthood, and a kitchen for large events such as the Prophet’s weddings. Perhaps some of these rooms were already constructed.

I made my way up the bare wooden steps, avoiding hammers, stray nails, and other tools strewn about. When I reached the top of the stairs, I was surprised to feel carpet beneath my feet. The second level was further along than the first. I shone my lights to see finished drywall, and cans of white paint lined up, waiting to be used. The door frames were empty, except for one.

Without hesitation, I moved straight toward that door, hoping for clues, evidence of some sort that I could bring to the detective. Placing both flashlights in one hand, I opened the door with the other, once again holding my breath.

Nothing but an empty closet.

Keep looking, Aspen. You’ve only just begun.

Before I could take another step, however, I heard a door open downstairs.

No!

My heart pounded. I heard two men talking as the door slammed behind them. One of the voices belonged to the Prophet, but I couldn’t recognize the other. With each breath I took, the voices came closer, and panic consumed me.

Hide, you stupid woman! Hide!

Quickly, I turned off the blazing flashlights and retreated into the empty closet, easing the door as close to the latch as possible. I couldn’t close it all the way or it would be impossible for me to follow their conversation. And I needed to hear their words. I had to know what was happening.

The voices drew closer. The men were coming up the stairs.

Be as quiet as a mouse!

“When will you be ready?” the other man asked, his voice husky and deep. “My guys are waiting.”

“These things take time,” the Prophet answered, sounding as calm and collected as always. “Be patient.”

The other man released a sardonic laugh. “And how do I know you’ll deliver? They paid you in full. Hell, so did I.”

“And they will be satisfied, I assure you.” The Prophet stopped just in front of the closet. Fear swept from my forehead to my toes as I eased myself away from the door, still slightly ajar.

Please don’t open the door. Please don’t open the door
.

The closet door slammed and I swallowed hard, tears of relief forming in my eyes, so grateful that he hadn’t discovered my hiding spot. Attempting to gain my composure, I listened as their conversation continued.

“I’m not so sure I believe you, man. In fact, we may have to take our business elsewhere.”

“That would be a fool’s decision.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because no one can deliver like I can, and you know it. Have I ever let you down before?” the Prophet asked.

A long pause hung in the air, and my mind spun frantically as I attempted to understand their cryptic exchange.

“No.”

“Come, it’s on the third floor. I’ll show you and you can report back.” The Prophet clapped his hands. “You can assure them on my ability to deliver.”

“Fine. But you better not be fucking around with me, goddamn it.”

A harsh slam rattled the door. I could only assume the Prophet’s fist had made contact with the unfinished wood.

“Do
not
take the Lord’s name in vain. Not in my temple, do you understand?”

I could hear crackling on the other side of the door, and then the other man attempting to speak. His voice was different, as if something was cutting off his air supply. And then I understood.

The Prophet hadn’t slammed his fist into the door; he’d slammed the man into the door. I imagined his hand wrapped around the other man’s neck as he forced him against the wood. But then I heard rustling and a click. The other man had a gun; I could feel it in my bones.

“Put that away,” the Prophet said. He was trying to sound tough, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“I don’t believe in your god. So I can say whatever the fuck I want, wherever the fuck I want. Got me?”

“And that’s why you’ll burn.” The Prophet’s words were matter-of-fact and came as no surprise. We all believed that Gentiles were going to hell. Only the chosen would join Heavenly Father.

The other man chuckled. “Believe me, buddy, you’ll burn too.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. The men stood in silence for a moment, apparently in a standoff.

“Put it away and I’ll show you the upstairs.”

“Fine.”

Their footsteps grew distant as they vacated the second floor to climb to the third. I sank to my knees, my breathing ragged and my mind overwhelmed by dozens of unanswered questions. What was on the third floor? I wasn’t leaving until I found out.

Detective Cooke seemed confident that the “product” the Prophet had spoken of previously was drugs, and more than ever, I thought he was correct. Everything he’d said to the other man tonight aligned with that theory. Perhaps he was using the third floor to store the illegal substances until he could deliver to the other man and his associates.

But if Detective Cooke was going to do anything to prosecute the Prophet for illegal activity, I needed to supply him with proof. I could only hope and pray that the third floor would be my answer.

The two men were upstairs for almost an hour, and my bladder gave a sharp twinge, warning me that I couldn’t stay in that closet for much longer.

Mind over matter, Aspen.

Their voices approached again as they passed through the second floor via the stairway. Their tones were more relaxed now, almost friendly. Obviously the Prophet had satisfied the other man’s concerns. They said their good-byes and the temple door closed once again.

This was my moment.

It’s now or never. Go to the third floor.