Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (5 page)

Flora

The first wife of Paul Black took pride in the amount of patience she bestowed upon her husband’s other thirteen wives, who she lovingly referred to as his “baker’s dozen.” Paul wasn’t pleased when Flora used that phrase, reminding her that she was, in fact, part of their group, and not separate from them.

“Fourteen does not a baker’s dozen make,” he’d say chidingly in a singsong cadence.

She’d shrug her shoulders and offer a polite laugh, but deep down she knew she was different. She was his
first
wife
.
That meant something in their community. It was a role to be revered, respected, and it set her apart from the others.

She and Paul had known each other since they were very young. In fact, they were second cousins, and essentially were promised to each other at a young age. When they married, they were both teenagers, inexperienced and sheltered. Flora was always tall and sturdy, not one to turn the head of men. So she was relieved to be paired with a boy who was as handsome as Paul, and happy to be matched with someone so kind. Pleasing Paul became her number one priority in life. And, in her opinion, she was quite good at it.

That is, until Aspen.

On the surface, Flora tried to be amiable to Paul’s newest wife, but she could feel a distinct difference in her husband once he learned of the impending marriage, and it was upsetting. She could feel him slipping away. Not only from her, but from all the other wives. Even Aspen seemed unaware of his lingering stare, his cheeks quick to flush in her presence, his overly attentive nature with her girls.

He was acting like a boy. A silly boy. He had never behaved that way with her, even when she was his one and only, and that killed Flora. It felt like a knife jabbing right through her heart.

Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

The mantra echoed through her consciousness whenever Paul stumbled over his words when speaking to his newest wife, or when Flora noticed him watching Aspen as she ate her supper. Flora repeated it when he explained his reasoning for spending so many evenings with Aspen. He said all the right things, such as “I need to get to know her, to make her comfortable.”

But Flora knew the truth. He was infatuated with Aspen.

Weeks ago, she’d heard a scream. It was a scream of ecstasy, of pleasure, and she knew it was Aspen’s voice. Not only that, she was fully aware of what that scream of signified.

Passion.

She herself had never screamed. In fact, she’d never been offered the release that Paul was clearly giving his newest bride. They’d lain together hundreds of times over the years, but Paul was the only person to end their lovemaking session with a release.

Had she wanted one? Not exactly. But when she heard the obvious passion coming from just down the hall, it made her wish for a different story, a different past with her husband. And it hurt her heart.

Why wasn’t she desirable in her own right as his first wife? Why didn’t he want to please her too? Wasn’t she good enough?

Keep sweet. Keep sweet. Keep sweet.

When Paul allowed his infatuation with Aspen to affect them all, however, Flora’s hurt feelings turned to anger for the first time in their twenty-two years of marriage. She was furious, and no longer had the desire to hide her animosity.

The morning after they’d joined the Prophet and hundreds of others in the field, waiting for Heavenly Father, Paul had come to her in the kitchen with pale cheeks and red eyes, asking for a private discussion.

Something was very wrong.

He asked her to join him in his study, and so she’d entrusted JoAnna to finish supervising breakfast cleanup with the children. The youngest sister wife had happily accepted the new responsibility.

Flora clutched at her skirt with clammy hands as she followed Paul into the study, where he immediately closed the door and gestured for her to sit.

“What is the matter, dear husband? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I—I’ve been removed. The Prophet has asked me to step down.”

“As foreman?”

It was worse than she could have imagined. This was their livelihood, their food, their electricity. Paul’s job provided the bulk of their family income.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“I stepped out of line. It’s complicated.”

“How did you step out of line?” she asked, crossing her arms as her suspicions grew. Somehow, she knew she could trace this back to Aspen.

“There was a man in the field last night, a man who didn’t belong.”

“So? I don’t understand.”

“He made Aspen uncomfortable, so I went to the Prophet. I asked him about the man, and . . . and . . .”

“Paul?”

“He told me to mind my business. That he was a trusted advisor, and that I needed to keep my wives under control.”

“But what does this have to do with the temple?”

He licked his lips and stared down at his desk. “I didn’t let it go. I pressed him for more information. I’m his brother; I should know who his trusted advisors are.”

Flora shook her head in disappointment. “Oh, Paul, you didn’t.”

“I know.” He threw his hands into the air. “Believe me, I know. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I do.” Flora’s cheeks grew hot. She’d had enough. “It’s her.”

Paul locked eyes with Flora, and her stomach lurched. But she refused to back down.

“Her?” Venom pierced the word.

“Ever since she walked through those doors, you’ve been infatuated. Obsessed!”

“You are out of line!” Paul yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. “You will not speak to me that way.”

Flora slapped the desk as well, mirroring his action as bravery coursed through her veins. “Yes, I will! I am your
first
wife, and I deserve respect.”

He stormed around the desk and pushed Flora into the wall, pressing the weight of his body into hers. He didn’t tower over her like he did most of his other wives, but he intimidated her just the same. Regardless of her small act of defiance, they both knew who was in charge in their relationship.

“Now, you listen to me,” he spat. “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect for twenty-two years. But I have fourteen wives, not one. And if
any
of you had given me reason to ask my brother a question such as this, I would have done it. I would have done it to protect my wives, my family. Aspen is a part of this family.”

“Believe me; I know that.”

Flora narrowed her eyes, daring him to raise his hand to her. She knew that wouldn’t happen. For all his brutish posturing at the moment, he was a gentle soul who would never harm her. But clearly she’d hit a nerve.

He released her and walked back to his desk. “Then act like it, Flora. This is ridiculous.”

She stepped toward him, placing her hands on the desk and leaning forward. “Is she the one? The one you wanted all those years ago?”

His eyes widened. Apparently she’d struck a nerve. But he brushed her off.

“Don’t be silly.”

She licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry. “You think I don’t know, don’t you?”

“Flora.”

His tone held warning. And she knew if she pressed, she’d be back against the wall once again, but she didn’t care. She wanted the truth.

“I remember. It was seven . . . eight years ago. You went to the Prophet and asked for her.”

“Flora!”

“But he told you no, didn’t he? I remember.”

“That’s enough!”

Paul slammed his hand again on the surface of the desk. His cup holder bounced to the floor, and pencils spilled at Flora’s feet. Normally, she would bend down to clean up the mess, but not this time.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he insisted, “and this is not something I care to discuss. I will
never
care to discuss it.”

She knew she had to drop it. Paul wouldn’t break, but she knew the truth. He’d wanted Aspen for eight years, and he finally had her. No wonder he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the other thirteen.

“Fine. What are we to do for money? Do I need to look for employment?”

“I’ll find another job; don’t worry about that. There are always construction jobs in the area. They may not pay as well as this one, but we’ll make do. We always have before.”

Flora placed a hand on her chest as her heart rate returned to normal. “Should I tell the other wives?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll tell them at our next family meeting. I just . . . I needed you to know.”

“I see.”

“You’re important to me, Flora. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down at his desk, not meeting her eyes. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. You know I would never—”

“I’m fine.” She smoothed down the cotton sleeves of her dress. “God didn’t bless me with this robust body for nothing.”

Paul pretended to laugh, but he looked at her with an expression that was too close to pity.

Refusing to let him see how much it hurt her, she offered her husband a calm, gentle smile and left him sitting in his chair. Now, more than ever, she knew that he would never feel for her what he clearly felt for Aspen.

Flora knew Paul Black inside and out. That man would never have gone to the Prophet based on her silly suspicions or fears. He’d brush her off, tell her to keep sweet. But for Aspen, he was protective, strong, willing to question his brother, the Prophet.

Her heart broke with that realization. She and her husband were friends, and that was all. He was in love with someone else.

Flora walked through the kitchen, giving JoAnna a tight smile but not stopping to finish the morning chores. When she reached her bedroom, she locked the door behind her and sank into the inviting covers of her bed. Then she clutched the nearest pillow and cried herself to sleep.

“Women must give of themselves fully to their husbands, at all times and without fail.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

I was elated, bursting at the seams with excitement. I couldn’t wait to share the news with my husband.

We were going to have a baby.

That morning, I’d checked the calendar and with a wide grin, I gathered the girls together and we walked to the local pharmacy, where I purchased a pregnancy test. With hope and prayer, we returned home.

When two vivid pink lines formed on the the test, I texted Paul from my cell phone, asking him when he’d return from work that day. I’d been using the contraption for several months and was finally accustomed to all of its noises and functions.

Paul read my message, but didn’t respond. Something he rarely did.

That’s odd.

We hadn’t spoken since the night in the field, but I could think of nothing I’d rather share on our first conversation since that evening. I wasn’t naive. I knew Paul had already fathered fifty-two children, with three other wives currently pregnant. However, he knew of my hesitancy to enjoy our time in the bedroom—not only was I terrified of betraying Heavenly Father, but I worried that my womb would be cursed if we crossed that line.

This pregnancy, those two simple lines on a stick, told me that was not the case. The Lord was blessing us with a baby, one that would unite us for all eternity. Nothing could be better.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Paul
: I’m in my study. Can this wait?

That was peculiar. He was just on the other side of the house; why wouldn’t he make time to see me? Especially since he’d come home from work specifically when I’d needed him in the past. Which led me to wonder why he wasn’t at work. They’d finally broken ground on the new temple just days before the Prophet called the faithful to the field.

Rather than respond, I grabbed the test from my dresser and placed it in my pocket before walking through the kitchen and common areas to reach his office. I was surprised to see Flora’s bedroom door closed. It was mid-morning; why was she still in bed? I hoped she wasn’t ill.

Everything about this particular morning suddenly felt off. My radar was up. I had to know what was going on.

When I reached Paul’s office door, I knocked softly. He answered, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring. Both of his cheeks were a deep shade of scarlet, and his eyes were wet.

Something was horribly wrong.

Quickly, I closed the door before pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”

Paul flinched at my touch.

He
flinched . . .
the man who had worshipped my body just a few evenings before actually recoiled as if poison dripped from the tips of my fingers. The man who had looked at me with such adoration, such love and kindness just hours before in the field.

Stunned, I pulled my hand back, clutching it to my chest as if I’d been burned, and stood with my mouth agape.

He hunched over, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head back and forth, staring at the floor. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Paul,” I whispered. “Talk to me. You’re not yourself.”

He retreated to his desk, collapsed into the leather chair, and hung his head in his hands. His elbows pressed into the wood of his desk. “Everything’s spinning out of control. And it’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

I followed him to the desk and crouched at his feet, my hands clutching his knees. He turned to glare at me, his eyes cold and unkind. This wasn’t the Paul I knew.

“You know how you tempt me.”

“Tempt you? Paul, you’re not making any sense.”

“I lost my job because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I had to protect you, had to know you’d be safe, and it cost us everything.
Everything
,
” he said, and his fist made contact with the desk, sending a loud boom through the study.

I jumped at his anger. Before speaking, I took a breath, attempting to remain calm.

“The Prophet fired you? For asking about the man by the tree? Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does,” he snapped. “I crossed the line. The Prophet gave me an answer and I didn’t accept it, because I knew
you
wouldn’t accept it. And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Are you . . . are you saying this is my fault?” I pulled back, removing my hands from his lap.

“I’m saying you
know
what you do to me.”

My world was spinning. He was speaking nonsense.

“What do I
do
to you?”

Paul ran both hands through his hair before he pushed up from the chair and stormed across the room. “You manipulate, you tease, you wrap me around your finger. And I’m too weak to resist because I’m a spineless excuse for a man.”

Outraged at his words, I gritted my teeth.

“
I
manipulated
you
?” I crossed my arms boldly in front of my chest, glaring at him with daggers in my eyes. “
You
convinced
me
, you
tricked
me into betraying my beliefs, into turning my back on the Lord, and
I
manipulated
you
? Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe I have.” He shrugged, tears forming in his eyes. “Since you walked through that door, I’ve done nothing but think about you. My priorities aren’t what they should be. Hell, I probably deserved to lose my job.”

“Please, do not use profanity in my presence,” I said, scolding him. “And besides, that’s not my fault. I asked the Prophet to reassign me, and I trusted him to place me where I belonged. If you’d like, I can ask again—”

“Of course not. Don’t even say that, Aspen!”

The thought of asking the Prophet for yet another reassignment made bile rise in my throat. Not only was I certain he would deny my request, considering my condition, but I cared for Paul. The girls were comfortable here; the last thing I wanted to do was go.

But I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. At that moment, I knew I had to snap him back to reality.

“Then what?” I countered, placing my hands on my hips. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to release me—release your control over my heart, over my mind. I can’t function; I can’t focus. You’re all I can think about,” he cried out, clutching the ends of his hair in frustration and agony.

As I watched him, looking forlorn and out of control, my suspicions were confirmed. Paul was in love with me. And just like everyone else I’d ever known who’d fallen in love, he was cursed with confusion, anger, and helplessness. Love was a disaster.

“Have you felt this way before?” I asked, bracing myself for the answer I was certain to hear.

“No. Never.” He clenched his jaw, wearing his guilt like a mask. “I care for my wives; I do. But I—not like this. Not like you.”

I didn’t understand. Even though I could feel his attachment to me, his adoration and obvious attraction, I failed to understand why he didn’t feel this way for any of the other thirteen women he was bound to for eternity. Why me?

“I’m so sorry.”

I reached out to rub him on the shoulder, but pulled back before making contact, not wanting to make things harder on him by leading him on in any way. My nerves were on fire, as I had no idea how to handle him in this state. Despite my desire to run from the room, I took his hands in mine.

“I’ve prayed to Heavenly Father ever since that night you first . . . pleased me. And I think we have our answer.”

Panic seized my husband’s face. Even though he was begging me to release him from my grasp, his heart had no intention of letting go.

“We need some time apart. For you to reconnect with your other wives, and for me to focus on my relationship with my sister wives. I’ve hardly gotten to know them at all. It’s like we’ve been in our own little world, and that has to stop. The physical releases have to end.”

I paused, biting my lip as I waited for a response from him. I braced for an outburst.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” he said, and then gasped. “Are you . . . are you
leaving
me?”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t do that, Paul. I swear to you.”

“Then, what?”

“I’ll ask Flora to take me out of your sleep rotation. I’ll see you at dinners and family prayer. We just won’t be intimate. And according to the doctrine, you shouldn’t lay with me now regardless. Not in my . . . condition.”

Since sexual intercourse was only encouraged for procreation, there was no need to lay with your spouse during pregnancy. Paul and I were both familiar with the doctrine, and his eyes lit up with understanding at my last sentence.

“Are you . . . ?”

I nodded, reaching into my pocket to produce the test. But my elation had been overshadowed by concern. “I took it this morning. Couldn’t wait to tell you.”

Paul threw his head back as tears streamed down his cheeks. “And I ruined it. I’m a monster, aren’t I?”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re not. Believe me.”

He nodded, and I held back the urge to say,
If you only knew.

Instead, I said, “But we need to find a new way to be. This isn’t working, and it’s not fair to your other wives. I refuse to be a cancer on your family. I want to strengthen the Black family, not pull it apart. Tell me you want that too.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you have to let me go. For the good of your family. For
our
family.”

“I can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. “I can’t be away from you.”

“You
have
to, Paul.”

“It’s too hard. I just—”

“It’s an infatuation, but it’ll pass with time. It
will
.”

He said nothing, just shook his head, staring at me with puppy-dog eyes, begging me to change my mind. But even though we hadn’t known each other long, he knew me better than that. Once I had an idea in my head, it was nearly impossible to change my mind.

The silence that hung heavy between us made me uncomfortable, so I kept talking, doing everything I could to reassure him that we’d be all right.

“And once he or she is born and joins our family, we’ll find a new way to be married to each other.” I shrugged, rubbing my belly.

“What do you mean? Like a new normal?”

“Exactly.”

He squeezed my hands and brought them to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“It’s for the best. I promise.”

“I’m going to miss you. More than I’ve ever missed another person.”

I chuckled. “I’ll still be here. We just won’t be . . . intimate.”

He closed his eyes again and shook his head. “That’s exactly my point! It’ll be agony. Total and complete agony.”

“Maybe at first,” I conceded. “But we’ll make it work.”

“A new normal,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not sure if I can do that, but I hope to prove myself wrong.”

“Heavenly Father will guide us. Trust me, Paul, it’s for the best. It really is.”

I left his study, feeling a weight lifted from my shoulders. Heavenly Father had given me a sign, and I’d read it clearly. It was time to reconnect with my Lord and leave the pleasures of the flesh behind me. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wouldn’t miss it, but I knew this was for the good of the entire family.

Instinctively, I rubbed my belly once again, knowing I would support Paul and strengthen his bond with all his wives in the long run. I would be an example of plural marriage; one my daughters could be proud of. And maybe, just maybe, the Prophet would forgive his brother and allow him to return to the project.

Unfortunately, I had no control over that. I could only wait patiently and hope for grace.

But I still wondered who that man was by the oak tree. Out of deference to Paul, I decided I wouldn’t pursue it. Making waves would not be a smart choice for myself or for the family, but deep inside, I knew my curiosity couldn’t be silenced for long.