Stolen Innocence (43 page)

Signing that paper had been wrong on so many levels, and it was clear from how Lamont spoke that it was the greatest regret of his life. In that one phone call to Warren, all of his hopes of getting a family and living his faith were dashed. His sacrifices were deemed irrelevant, and he was back at square one. The prophet had given him no indication of when he could expect to be baptized, especially since Warren had discontinued the practice as part of the community’s punishment for erecting the monument to Uncle Roy. Lamont feared he would never rejoin the priesthood, let alone have the chance to marry, but he didn’t want to be homeless again. Unwelcome in Salt Lake City, he had no other choice but to stay at his father’s house for the time being.

He hung up the phone with Warren, realizing he may have made the biggest mistake of his life for nothing. For months he just existed in the community, not sure how he would ever prove faithful or worthy. That fall, he received more devastating news. Warren had sent a message to say that he had lost a future in the priesthood and there was no hope for him. Lamont had done nothing to provoke this latest retribution. He had stayed under the radar, but his usefulness to Warren was done and it was apparent more than ever that his desperate desires to be a faithful member of the community had been used. He had been nothing more than a pawn and Warren had waited for the legal case to which they had tied Lamont’s name to die down to deliver this final blow. Climbing into his truck, Lamont set off for the barren lands of the Arizona strip. The wide-open desert was the one place where he found peace and could think things through. It was late November and a chill had set in, but Lamont was too distraught to notice. A war raged inside him as he fought the urge to just end it all. While there had been several times in the past when he’d entertained the idea of taking his own life, on this night he felt particularly melancholy. He couldn’t imagine again moving on and having his family disown him once more, but the thought of growing old alone in a society where marriage is everything was too painful. As he pressed on the gas pedal, a light snow began to fall over the desert. Cranking up the radio, he steered along the muddy route toward the radio tower, about two miles in from the road. Suddenly, headlights caught his sight and he steered over to see if he could lend a hand. It appeared that someone had gotten stuck in the mud and was struggling to get a car out.

Jumping from the cab of his truck, he saw a young girl lying on the ground beneath the front end of her vehicle. She seemed to be in pain, and he asked if he could help.

I
t was fitting that Lamont found me when he did. In a strange way, Warren really had controlled our fate: had he not revoked Lamont’s priesthood when he did, Lamont never would have gone driving and never would have found me in my sorry state. Likewise, if I hadn’t been on the run from Allen, I would never have been out in the desert. Our chance encounter had been born out of our individual hardships, circumstances colliding to change everything.

For the first months of our friendship, Lamont did his best to conceal his difficult past, but it had come out in bits and pieces. Now, with the exile of his grandfather, his fear became palpable. He worried that his grandfather’s banishment was his fault, and he feared that it would not be long until Warren removed him as well. If Warren was purging the ranks of even the most pure, like Lamont’s grandfather, then a pariah like Lamont who’d lost the priesthood would not be far behind.

Talking to him on the phone after his grandfather’s banishment, I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, but I could also sense something else—an excitement to talk to me and a reassurance that the only thing comforting him now was the sound of my voice. By the time we got off the phone, he was no longer frantic. He was still concerned, but our conversation had relaxed him. I’d provided the support that he’d needed.

That night, hours after we’d hung up, the importance of that conversation began to come into focus for me. The dependence forming between us had grown dangerous. Our closeness had become something else as we relied on each other for sanctuary from our difficult situations. I didn’t know what was happening. But I didn’t want to stop it.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-THREE

LOVE AT LAST

Happiness is the object and design of our existence.

—
JOSEPH SMITH

D
espite the growing strength of my friendship with Lamont, Meg’s absence from Short Creek was painful. She’d reached out to me in the weeks after she and Jason fled to Salt Lake City to let me know that they were doing fine and she missed me, but beyond that our conversations had been infrequent.

One day Meg called and told me about a trip to Las Vegas that she and Jason were planning to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Worldly holidays such as this one were strictly forbidden in the FLDS, and their special overnight adventure sounded romantic. I couldn’t imagine doing something like that with Allen. I was surprised when Meg begged me to join them in Vegas.

“Come on, Lesie, it will be so fun,” she insisted.

The idea of spending a whole weekend hanging out with my best friend was enticing, but in the wake of Uncle Warren’s recent punishments, I was nervous about breaking any rules and the potential repercussions of getting caught. I wracked my brain trying to come up with ways to escape to Vegas, but it was terrifying. I couldn’t think of a legitimate excuse to use if someone asked where I was going. Finally, I just decided to do it.

“I’m going to Vegas with Meg and Jason this weekend,” I confided in Lamont one night in early February.

He threw his head back in laughter. “Wow, you’re pretty brave,” he said.

Hearing the words from his mouth made me believe that they might actually be true. If anyone found out that I was even thinking of doing such a thing without my husband, I could be severely punished. But I wanted to see Meg, and Las Vegas was only a two-hour drive from St. George.

I wasn’t even thinking about Allen as I packed my overnight bag an hour before hitting the road. I was worried about what I would tell Mom if she called. I knew she would be in touch to see what I was up to and where I would be sleeping that night, and I wasn’t certain I could bring myself to lie to her. Suddenly my phone rang. It was Lamont. “Hey, I think I’m gonna join you guys in Vegas,” he declared.

At first I didn’t know what to say. “You won’t get in trouble?” I asked, concerned yet excited at the prospect of having him join us.

“No, I’ll be okay,” Lamont assured. “I really want to see Meg and Jason.”

I knew how much Lamont liked Jason. They had been friends for many years, and it had been hard on him since he and Meg had left town. I eagerly steered my truck south along I-15 en route to Nevada. It was the same road that I’d taken to my marriage ceremony, only this time, instead of feeling petrified, I was exhilarated. As I watched the landscape rush by me, I giggled aloud, thinking of how much I’d changed since then. Back when I got married, I never would have taken a risk like this. Not only was I making a spontaneous decision, my decision was extremely taboo.

My hotel room was right next door to Meg and Jason’s, and Lamont’s was down the hall. The minute I arrived in Vegas, I traded my ankle-length skirt and ugly blouse in favor of a pair of brown slacks and a cute pink T-shirt. Ever since my trip to Oregon, I felt more comfortable being in public with “normal” people when I wasn’t in those FLDS-approved garments, and with my long hair swept back in a simple ponytail, I was ready to enjoy the weekend.

During the day, we walked up and down the strip, popping in and out of shops and stopping to enjoy cheap eats at lively, casual restaurants. We even rode the loopy roller-coaster at the New York-New York Hotel and Casino. At first I was afraid to ride it, but grabbing Lamont’s outstretched hand, I decided to take a chance. We rose toward the sky, taking in the incredible view before we plummeted at breakneck speed down the 144-foot drop. Lamont was laughing and the warm Vegas sun reflected in his blue eyes. As the speed picked up, the ride felt reckless and dangerous, but it also made me feel free.

On solid ground, I turned to Lamont, consumed by my first real taste of romantic love. A fluttery sensation took root in my stomach, and all at once I was giddy in a way that I never had been before. I had spent much of the weekend watching Meg and Jason fawn over each other. Seeing them together, I came to realize the difference between real love and the emotion that Allen professed to feel for me, but it also made me understand the true weight of my feelings for Lamont. I had always known what it was to love my family, but the passion I felt for Lamont was something entirely different. It was invigorating but perilous, and it did not take long for guilt and a sense of wickedness to grab hold of me.

That night we ate dinner at the Stratosphere Hotel in a restaurant situated eight hundred feet off the ground. There were views of all Las Vegas, and taking in the expansive scene, I appreciated how far I was from Hildale in every way. Somewhere out in the distance my mom, Sherrie, and Ally were sitting down for dinner. Allen was probably returning home to find the trailer empty again. Meanwhile I was suspended in midair, hanging above the bright lights of Vegas and looking out at my future.

While we were eating dinner that evening, a photographer for the restaurant came around and offered to take a souvenir photo for us at the top of the Stratosphere. Our small group huddled together with our arms over one another’s shoulders in a friendly embrace. Lamont stood next to me with his arm around me. It was an innocent gesture for an innocent moment, and the photo perfectly summed up our weekend together.

After we returned, Lamont confided in me that he had officially left the FLDS, and now he was renting a room at his friend T.R.’s house. The prophet of the Centennial Group had offered him work and welcomed him with open arms. Lamont had been hesitant to tell me that he was officially an apostate, but he was relieved that I didn’t spurn him. Encouraged by my reaction, he even invited me to come by and meet his friends Leysiy and T.R. Even though every FLDS teaching inside me said that I shouldn’t go, I went.

O
ne night in March, Lamont and I decided to secretly see a film, and afterward he drove me back to my truck. We lingered for a few minutes talking.

“I can’t keep this inside any longer,” Lamont said, looking at me intently. “I love you.”

My breath was caught in my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Of course, Allen had spoken those words to me before, scribbling them in cards or uttering them aloud because he thought he should, but Allen’s words didn’t sound at all like Lamont’s. Lamont was so sweet and his emotion so pure. I loved him too, but I was too afraid to say it. Unable to muster up even a sound, I sat paralyzed in the passenger seat for a very long while.

My silence terrified him. “Elissa, are you okay? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything? Please, speak to me.”

I could hear Lamont addressing me, but I was unable to respond. I’d spent my entire life wishing and praying to love someone, but each time I’d given my heart, it had been torn apart. I’d loved Dad, and he was taken away from me. I’d loved my brothers, and they, too, were out of my reach. My love for Kassandra and later Meg had also been genuine, but again, I’d ended up feeling used and left behind. Now that the moment was finally here for me, I was too overwhelmed to own it. If I told Lamont I loved him, I would be giving him my heart and committing myself to him. I wanted to do this, but Allen’s presence in my life couldn’t be denied.

I had the urge to flee. Grabbing the door handle, I jumped out of the truck, leaving Lamont with no explanation as I got into my vehicle and drove off. The following day I pulled out my cell phone and called him. At first we were quiet and a little awkward, but then I blurted out, “What you said last night…” trailing off.

“I shouldn’t have said it,” Lamont said softly into the phone. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“Whoa!” I stopped him. “Honestly, I love you too.” But then I choked up and snapped my phone closed.

I sat there watching the phone vibrating on my bed as Lamont called me back ten or more times. I didn’t know what else to say, and I wanted so badly to pick up, but I was frozen. Finally, I dialed my voice mail and listened to his message: “I am so happy, Elissa. I want to talk to you about this more. Call me back.”

Knowing that Lamont loved me was a powerful and frightening thing. I had been so cheapened and tarnished by my relationship with Allen. I didn’t really think that I deserved to be loved, especially by someone as engaging and kind as Lamont. I was sure that I loved him and I wanted to be with him more than anything, but rather than making things clearer, this thought only made them more confusing.

The day after he confessed his love for me, I finally returned Lamont’s voice messages and agreed to meet him later that day at the big white rocks in the desert where Meg and I had watched movies. It was a safe and private spot, filled with memories for me. I arrived a little early and got out of my truck to wander and think.

The very beginnings of sunset were stretching across the vast Utah sky as Lamont’s truck pulled up, and he rushed over to collect me in a big hug. Looking at him that day was different than it had ever been before. Somehow, being in touch with our true feelings and sharing them had changed everything. We climbed into his truck to talk things out. At first the conversation was a little awkward, but then I looked into his eyes and with tears rolling down my cheeks said, “I love you too.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked.

“This is just so new for me.” The words came out without my planning them. I just let out everything I was feeling inside. “To tell a man I love him and mean it is just…”