Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (22 page)

“A woman is first a wife, then a mother. Her loyalty must always be to her Prophet and her husband.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

“Mama?” Susan asked from her bed, looking down at me, a huddled mass on their bedroom floor.

Last night, Jonathan had driven me home after the horrifying call from the Prophet. Frantically, I ran for my children’s bedroom, relieved to find them all fast asleep in their beds. After gathering blankets and a pillow, I lay down in the center of their carpet, and out of pure exhaustion, managed to fall asleep for just a few hours.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Susan climbed from her bed, pulled up the blanket I’d laid over me, and curled up beside me. Snuggling close, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

I had to lie. There was no way I could share what happened the night before. “My bed was uncomfortable, and I wanted to be near you.”

Susan placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Maybe Daddy needs to get you a new bed.”

I pulled her closer. “Maybe.”

She sighed. “But that can wait. I like you here.”

Tears stung my eyes as I clung to my sweet girl. “I like me here too.”

A voice came from the doorway. “Aspen? What are you doing here? On the floor?”

It was Sarah.

“I, um . . . I had a nightmare and just wanted to be here, with my children.”

Sarah smiled, nodding. “Ah, I understand.”

“You said your bed was uncomfortable,” Susan said with one eyebrow raised.

“That too,” I said with clenched teeth. Luckily, Sarah was one of the most trusting wives in the family. I wasn’t worried that she’d question my inconsistent stories.

Noises came down the hall from the kitchen, offering the perfect distraction from our conversation. Cabinets were slamming, children were speaking loudly, and the other sister wives were shushing them and urging them to hurry.

I yawned and sat up, attempting to see the clock, which was just out of sight on the girls’ dresser.

“What time is it? What’s going on out there?”

“Oh,” Sarah answered with a grin. “It’s the Prophet.”

My stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

“He has an announcement this morning. Everyone is to be at the temple in thirty minutes. You’d best wake your children. We don’t want to be late.” Sarah scurried from my doorway with a skip to her step.

For most, an announcement from the Prophet was joyous, exciting, and one of the things that was most anticipated in our day-to-day lives. But not for me. Not anymore.

This can’t be a coincidence.

I woke my children, hurriedly dressed them, and sent them down the hall to eat their morning meal while I cleaned myself up and prepared to walk to the temple. Once I’d dressed and braided my hair, I walked back to the kitchen but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Paul speaking to Flora.

A hush came over everyone in the room. He looked up, glanced at me, and his face fell.

“I’ll speak to you later,” he said to Flora. “Have everyone ready in five minutes.”

He walked past me without so much as a hello. He’d remained true to his word and hadn’t spoken to me since his outburst days prior. But I didn’t have time to pay him any mind. I had to know what the Prophet was about to announce. I could only hope that it wasn’t my removal from the community.

But inside my gut, I knew that it was. This would be the last time I saw my babies. I’d be sent into the outside world with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Where would I go? As much as I’d grown to trust Jonathan, there was no way I could live in his home. But perhaps Brinley and Porter would take me in. They’d always said they were in my debt, and as much as I wanted to deny it, there was a strong probability that I’d be seeking their help.

This was all in vain. You should have left it alone, Aspen. Should have accepted Ruthie’s fate to marry the Prophet in fourteen months. Instead, you’ve lost everything, and the Prophet has won. Jeremiah won’t even remember you.

With a heavy heart, I walked with my children to the temple, Jeremiah in my arms and Beatrice holding my hand. We took a seat near the rest of our family and waited for the Prophet to emerge.

“I’m so excited,” Ruthie said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s about our wedding.”

Foolish, self-absorbed child. I will miss her so very much.

Determined to shield her from my worries, I wore a face of stone. “Don’t be silly; you have over a year before that happens. I’m sure it has nothing to do with us.”

The Prophet’s office door opened, and with a cocky smirk, he closed and locked it before walking to the altar, nodding at the congregants as they took their seats.

“Good morning, my children. I’ve gathered everyone here today for a joyous announcement. Heavenly Father came to me last night; he came to me with a determination I haven’t heard in years. And so, my children, I listened to him. I opened my ears and I listened to all the news he had to deliver.”

Joyous news? That makes no sense.

He turned his attention to our row, fixing his gaze on my little girl. “Ruthie, would you join me, my dear?”

What? No! No! What’s happening?

Beaming with pride, Ruthie smoothed down her dress and walked to the front of the chapel to stand next to the Prophet. He kissed her gently on the forehead and took her hand in his.

“Heavenly Father has decided that we shall marry on your twelfth birthday, rather than your thirteenth. The Lord is ready for you to be one of the chosen wives of our community. He knows you’re ready, and so do I. How do you feel about that, my dear?”

No! No! No!

Ruthie hopped on the balls of her feet, biting down on her lip before opening her mouth to speak. Her voice was loud, jovial, satisfied. “I’m ready, sir. I’m ready.”

“Wonderful, my dear. On your twelfth birthday, we will gather here, all of us, to celebrate our divine union. It will be a day to celebrate indeed.”

He raised their linked hands above Ruthie’s head, and the congregation burst into supportive applause. But I sat, staring at the monster who would own my daughter in just two months. I pictured my sweet baby on that horrible bed, with duct tape over her mouth and hands, tears streaming down her red cheeks as her husband betrayed her trust and stole her innocence while men she’d never seen before watched her agony, her abuse, her ruin.

“Let’s bring your parents up here for a group picture. This day must be celebrated and our joy remembered.”

Paul rose from his seat, one row ahead of mine. He stared at me in annoyance. “Aspen, let’s go.”

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to cooperate, to betray my daughter in such a way. How was I to send her willingly to the wolf in sheep’s clothing, the man who would rape her while other men watched for their own sick, sinful desires? I couldn’t, I wouldn’t!

I opened my mouth to speak, to scream, to grab my daughter by the hand and run far, far away. But the Prophet released Ruthie and extended both hands toward me.

“Aspen, stand here, my dear.” He guided me to stand next to him, and Paul stood beside Ruthie.

The Prophet barked orders to his first wife. “Janine, take the picture. Let’s go.”

“Yes, of course.” Janine hopped from her seat, fiddling with her camera.

“You look tired, Aspen,” the Prophet said. “Difficulty sleeping last night?”

“Just a bit.” I held my head high, refusing to make eye contact.

“That’s a shame. Hopefully you can get some rest today. We need you healthy, dear.”

Two months, two months, two months. I only have two months to save her.

I said nothing in response, my heartbeat thrashing in my ears. With clenched teeth, I focused my attention on Janine, who was now aiming the camera at the four of us standing on the steps of the altar. She snapped several photos and then returned to her seat.

I took one step, but was jerked back by the Prophet’s hand wrapped around my wrist.

He leaned in close, his fingers digging into my skin. I winced, but stayed still. His hot breath crawled across my neck and a chill ran down my spine. I could feel his cheek against mine as he whispered into my ear.

“Dance, puppet, dance.”

The story continues from Detective Jonathan Cooke’s point of view in:

Just Keep Sweet – Book 3 of The Compound Series

Coming Spring 2016

Thank you to my editor, Pam Berehulke of Bulletproof Editing. I am so thankful for you and your awesome skills. Thanks for being so flexible with me this past year when I was a total pain in the butt.

Thank you to Regina Wamba at Mae I Design & Photography. You made this book’s cover absolutely perfect. I’m so in love with it, and I loved working with you. You are creative, professional, and flexible. Thank you so much.

Thank you to Tami Norman of Integrity Formatting for formatting the paperback. You always do such a fantastic job.

Thank you to Deb Bresloff and your constant support with brainstorming, beta reading, and giving me so much encouragement through all stages of this book. I am so grateful.

Thank you to Beth Ehemann for our incredible brainstorming sessions. Each time I’d feel so energized and excited about the plot that I felt like I could write it all in just a few hours. I love your passion for this series; it motivates me like you wouldn’t even believe. Thank you so much for all your excitement and support.

Thank you to Pam Carrion, my unofficial publicist. I can never thank you enough for everything that you do for me on a daily basis—beta reading, running the Sister Wives group, arranging my blog tour and promo tour, assisting me with anything and everything to get the word out on my books. I’m so lucky to have you in my corner.

For the rest of my awesome betas—I am so grateful for each of you. You were each instrumental in helping me create this story: Sally Bouley, Megan Kapusta, Allison East, and Sharon Cooper.

Thank you to my fellow authors who graciously read ARCs of Aspen’s story: Tiffany King, Heidi McLaughlin, Tara Sivec, Erin Noelle, Maggi Myers, Stacey Grice, Renee Carlino, and Willow Aster.

For the “Safe House”—your words of encouragement, your enthusiasm, and your support are absolutely priceless. I love you all.

Thank you to all of the bloggers who are participating in the blog tour/promo tour, who have read ARCs and taken the time to write reviews. I appreciate you all so much.

Thank you to the awesome readers on Goodreads who received ARCs and spread the word on this series. I’m so grateful.

Thank you to all of my readers, especially those in the Sister Wives Facebook group, who actively show your support for my writing and characters. You are all awesome, and I am so lucky to have you.

And thank YOU for reading.

Melissa Brown is a hopeless romantic living in the Chicago suburbs with her husband, Chris, and their two children. Aside from writing, she enjoys reading and baking. She also has a slight obsession with actor Henry Cavill. This is her ninth novel.

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melissabrownauthor.blogspot.com/

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The Compound Series:

Wife Number Seven

His Only Wife

Love of My Life Series:

Bouquet Toss

Champagne Toast

Picturing Perfect

Unwanted Stars

Stand-Alone Titles:

Sorority of Three: Freshman 101

Red Carpet Kiss

Coming soon:

If You Can’t Take the Heat

(Available Feb. 16, 2016)

Just Keep Sweet – Book 3 of The Compound Series

(Available Spring 2016)