Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (18 page)

The truth was, I was pulling away from the only thing I’d ever known. My faith. And the realization devastated me.

I cleared my throat, interrupting their conversation.

“Ah, Aspen.” The Prophet offered me a cocky grin. “Ruthie and I were just discussing our wedding.”

“There’s plenty of time for that, don’t you agree? After all, it’s over a year away.”

“So?” Ruthie snapped. “It’ll be the happiest day of my life, and my future
husband
wants to plan it with me.”

My hands clenched into tight fists. I could feel my pulse jumping in my palm. “Young lady, I—”

“Darling Ruthie, be a dear and give me a moment alone with your mother.”

“Yes, sir.” Ruthie stood and kissed him on the cheek, but Clarence’s eyes were locked with mine. His already smug smile turned unbearable when Ruthie’s lips made contact with his skin.

Keep your anger in check, Aspen. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

When Ruthie left the room, I stood in silence, waiting for the Prophet to speak. After a moment of stillness, he finally did.

“How’s that darling boy of yours? Not too shaken up, I hope.”

“He’s fine.”

“Oh, good.” He pushed to his feet. “You know, I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming months. After all, technically you’ll be my mother-in-law, won’t you?”

He chuckled, and I bit down on my tongue to hide my disgust. The metallic taste of blood lingered on my tongue, and I realized I had nothing left to lose.

“Why don’t you just remove me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve threatened me, you’re taking my daughter, and you’ve made my son disappear. I’ve received your messages loud and clear.”

“Indeed, it seems you have.”

“So, why don’t you just kick me out of the community? Pack a bag and leave me on the side of the road. It happens all the time.”

The Prophet licked his lips and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

My stomach dropped as a creepy smile took over his pompous face.

“The
fun
?” I repeated with disgust. “Are you entertained by all of this? By me?”

“Oh, immensely.” He nodded vigorously. “I haven’t had an adversary in quite some time, Aspen. And a woman? I’ve
never
had a woman push against me. You’re keeping me quite enthralled. But let’s be clear. You can try all you want. You can snoop around the temple and hide in closets, but you will not win. You’re a puppet, Aspen, a plaything, a toy. And
I
am the mouthpiece of God.”

“And what if I don’t believe that anymore?”

Again, he laughed. “Does that really matter? I have ten thousand congregants who would disagree with you, my brother included. I’m sure he’d be quite upset to find out what you’ve been up to. For all we know, he might remove you himself.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Paul would never.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, my dear. You’re not my only puppet.”

My mouth dropped open and my face fell. For the first time in weeks, I felt powerless, defeated, as if he’d already won.

He slapped his hands together, wiping them with quick swipes as if to wash away our conversation.

“Thank you for the lovely meal. I’d best be going. Let dear Ruthie know I’ll be in touch.”

I said nothing but stared straight ahead. As he turned to leave, he stopped beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder again. “And watch your step. I’d hate to see you trip on your little strings.”

He left me standing in my daughters’ room, shocked, with goose bumps on every square inch of my body.

I was shaken, rattled, and most of all disgusted by the conversation that had just taken place. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he was amused by my attempts to save Ruthie from his clutches. It was clear to me now that the Prophet was even more disturbed than I’d thought. I had no idea how to proceed in keeping Ruthie from marrying him.

But there was one thing I knew. I would
never be his puppet.

Never
.

“Respect your elders, for they have created the path on which you walk.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

Another sleepless night, followed by another morning with splotchy skin and dark circles beneath my eyes. But none of that mattered.

It was my first day to practice with the lock Jonathan had given me, and I couldn’t have been more ready. After breakfast, I sent my girls to their religious education classes, and with Jeremiah, I retreated to my bedroom.

Since his disappearance just two days prior, I hardly allowed him out of my sight. The list in my head of untrustworthy sister wives was growing by the day, and the only way to know he was all right was to keep him by my side. Besides, he was incapable of betraying my trust. There was no way he could properly articulate to his father, or anyone else, that his mother was practicing the art of lock picking. My secret was safe with him.

Together, we sat on the floor, Jeremiah stacking his blocks and me fiddling with my lock, trying to remember everything Jonathan had taught me. It was frustrating, and after twenty minutes of failure, I threw my head back in defeat.

“What you do, Mama?” Jeremiah asked, climbing into my lap and blocking my view of the small metal lock in my hands.

I welcomed the distraction.

“It’s a puzzle,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Just like you play with your blocks, Mama plays with her puzzle.”

“Ah.” Jeremiah reached out to touch the metal. “I like blocks.”

“I know you do, Jer-Bear. Now, sit on the floor and build your blocks. Mama wants to solve her puzzle.”

“Okay, Mama.”

Jeremiah slid from my lap and lay on his belly, stacking his alphabet blocks one by one, his little tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

With a smile, I turned my attention back to the stubborn lock in the palm of my hand and whispered, “What am I doing wrong?”

Jonathan’s instructions reverberated through my brain.
Once it aligns with the barrel, we should hear an audible click.

“The click!” I said with renewed vigor. I’d forgotten all about the necessary click. It was no wonder I hadn’t been successful at my first several dozen attempts.

The next dozen attempts were much more successful. Once I heard the click, I knew I was on the right track. After opening the lock five times in less than thirty minutes, I was feeling empowered. I was ready.

A knock on the door brought me back to reality. I shoved the lock and hairpins under my bed before hopping to my feet and answering the door.

It was Pennie.

My frail sister wife offered a weak smile. “You have a visitor. It’s Jorjina Black.”

“Oh,” I said, looking back at Jeremiah. “That’s strange. She was just here last night. Did she leave something?”

Pennie shrugged. “I don’t know, but she asked for you specifically. I can keep an eye on Jeremiah, if you’d like. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.”

I hesitated, not sure if I was comfortable with Pennie watching my son. My paranoia was growing, and despite the friendship Pennie and I had built for three years, I couldn’t let go of the night at the temple. She might have followed me, or it could have been a coincidence. I simply didn’t know.

“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Pennie. Would you be willing to watch him here? He’s enjoying his blocks.”

Relief swept across her pale face. “Yes, of course.”

Pennie walked past me and sat cross-legged next to Jeremiah. “Can I build with you?”

Jeremiah looked up at me, his eyes innocent, questioning. I nodded at him, giving him a confident smile.

“Uh-huh,” he said, handing her a block.

“Can you find the block with the letter
J
?”

I laughed. “He’s too young for that, Pennie.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, we’ll just stack then.”

“Be prepared for the inevitable disaster.” I laughed. “He likes to stack them and plow them down right after.”

Pennie had only been blessed with girls, so she wasn’t used to the destructive nature of boys. Jeremiah was about to give her quite the lesson.

After closing the door behind me, I made my way to the front room, where Jorjina was waiting on the small couch next to the picture window. Her aged face seemed tense. Deep wrinkles had formed between her eyes, and her fingers tapped nervously against her knees.

“Mother Jorjina, are you all right?” Concerned, I sat next to her and placed my hands atop hers.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Aspen, but I need to speak with you. Would you take a walk with me?”

“Um . . .” I looked back toward my bedroom, hesitant to leave Jeremiah. “I’m not sure I should leave—”

She squeezed my hands. “It’s important.”

“Oh.”

I paused, wondering what could be so important. The Jorjina seated next to me was not the woman I’d grown accustomed to. Instead of being relaxed and calm as she normally was, she was tense and paranoid. Like me.

“Yes, of course.”

I helped her to her feet and we walked from the house. When I offered her my arm, she linked hers through mine, thanking me as we walked.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Last night, after dinner, I was looking for the bathroom. I—I heard the horrible things Clarence said to you.”

I swallowed hard. “You heard that? How much did you hear?”

She nodded, her eyes growing teary. “All of it, I think. What’s going on? Why would he say such things to you?”

“It’s a long story, and frankly I’m not sure you’ll want to get involved. I mean, he’s your son.”

Her face fell. “Aspen, I wouldn’t be here if my allegiance was to Clarence.”

Goose bumps rose along the nape of my neck. What an odd thing for a mother to say about her son.

“But you barely know me.”

Her features softened and the corners of her mouth pulled into a gentle smile. “That’s true. But what I do know, I like. Very much.”

I patted her arm that was linked through mine. “Thank you. I’ve felt so alone lately, so alone.”

“Does Paul know how Clarence speaks to you?”

“Yes and no. He doesn’t want to know, really. He just wants harmony. Paul always wants harmony.” I shrugged.

“Makes sense. He’s always wanted his brother’s approval, although deep down I suspect he knows he’ll never get it. No one will. Clarence is simply incapable of truly caring for anyone. And I fear that your little girl will know, all too well, how incapable he is. He lures those girls in with the prestige, with the honor they think they’re being given. But it’s a lonely life, being a wife of the Prophet. I should know.”

Jorjina had been married to the former Prophet and Clarence’s father, Walter Black. Unlike Clarence, Walter was known for his kindness and caring ways. He was truly a good man.

“But your husband was—”

“He was wonderful, yes. But he was still the center of the universe, as Clarence is now. The difference is Walter at least attempted to love, attempted to care. Clarence only cares about himself.”

“I’m learning that.” I kicked several pebbles with the toe of my shoe. “You know, I used to worship him when I was a child. I thought the absolute world of him.”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I feel like my faith, my world, has been turned on its axis. I’m completely off-balance, and I don’t know who I can trust.”

“You can trust me, dear, of that you can be sure. But you have to tell me what’s going on.”

I sighed, afraid to involve someone else in my increasingly dangerous situation, but I couldn’t resist the lure of the potential comfort of Jorjina’s confidence.

“I saw him, late one night, with Gentiles. He was taking them into the new temple.”

Jorjina stopped walking and with horror in her eyes, she looked into mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Gentiles aren’t allowed in the temple. Ever.”

“I know, Jorjina. I know.” I nodded. “And then, at Jordan’s wedding, he threatened me. It was then that I knew he was up to no good, but I had no idea what.”

“The rest of your conversation makes sense now. He’s trying to make your life miserable to keep you quiet.”

“I won’t be his puppet, Jorjina, no matter what he says.”

“His arrogance, his grandeur, it clouds his judgment, dear. The idea of anyone, let alone a woman, posing a threat to him is impossible for him to wrap his mind around. He just can’t do it. I’ve always known he had evil in his heart, ever since he was a boy. But I—what he said to you, Aspen. It was horrifying.”

“Yes, it was.”

“You have to go; you have to take your children away from here. It’s the only way to be free of him, of his maniacal games.”

I froze. “What?”

“They aren’t safe here. Ruthie isn’t safe.”

“But I’m trying to save them
without
leaving. The community needs to know what he’s doing. Whatever it is, it’s highly illegal.”

“Obviously, or he wouldn’t feel the need to torture you, to take your girl.”

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

Tears stung my eyes. I’d thought the idea of someone in my community actually believing me was out of the realm of possibility. After all, if my husband wouldn’t even listen to me, why should anyone else?

“Absolutely not. I know my son better than anyone, and even I didn’t know the depths of his depravity. He’s dangerous, and that’s exactly why I think you need to go. You need to protect your babies. Leave and never look back.”

“Then I’d be running away, and he’d still have control over thousands of lives. Yes, Ruthie would be safe, but someone else would take her place. Another innocent life will be changed forever.”

“Do you really think you can . . . that you can beat Clarence at his own game?”

“I’m going to give it my best shot.”

“But Ruthie, she’ll be married in just over a year, correct?”

I nodded.

“That means she’ll be pregnant by fourteen.”

“Stop!” I yelped, closing my eyes and holding my hand up in the air. “Please, stop. The idea of that monster with his hands on my baby, I—I can’t handle it.”

“You have to handle it, Aspen, because it’ll be her reality. You’re sending your daughter to the wolf’s den. Only you can keep her from a life under Clarence’s thumb.”

Tears filled my eyes, threatening to overflow.

Was I deceiving myself by believing I could do this? That I could catch the Prophet in his illegal activity? That I could uncover enough evidence that he would be arrested? Was I foolish to think that I could help everyone in our community?

“And you think leaving is the best way . . .” My voice faded as I stared unseeing at the sky.

“Yes, I do.”

“But if I do, Paul won’t come with me. He can’t leave the other wives, the other children. You know that, right?”

Her expression froze, causing a tightness to form in my chest.

“I do.”

“And he may try to stop me, he won’t want to be without his little boy. He loves him as much as I do.”

“That’s why you can’t tell him.”

I frowned at her. “You want me to lie? To deceive your son?”

“Of course I don’t want that. He’ll be devastated. I would never want my dear Paul to ache. And he will; he’ll ache for you if you’re gone. But your safety and the safety of your children is more important. Paul’s heart will heal. But if Ruthie marries Clarence, hers will break permanently. There’s no coming back from that. Clarence will never set her free, and you’ll have limited access to her. She’ll be imprisoned within his home. I’ve seen it happen. One of his wives has been reduced to a laundress. She’s isolated, alone. She’s a portrait of misery—”

“That’s enough!” I snapped, overwhelmed as I pictured Ruthie in that state.

Jorjina was making me question my plan, and I resented her for it. I didn’t realize it was possible to resent someone and be grateful for their help at the same time. But that was exactly how I felt.

A group of women walking in our direction whispered as they glanced our way.

Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

“I’m sorry.”

Jorjina turned to face me, grabbing both of my hands and squeezing them as she shook her head furiously. Her eyes were wet, her forehead scrunched.

“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I know this is a lot to take in. I just . . . I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your house last night. I needed you to know that I support you.”

“Will you only support me if I leave?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Of course not. But I know how my son is, and I don’t know that you can win, Aspen. He’s the most manipulative creature, and he’ll stop at nothing to make you the plaything he claims you to be.”

“I won’t allow that to happen.”