I rarely got a chance to talk. Mitchell did all of that. Days. Weeks. Months of listening to him go on and on. But sometimes even he couldn’t keep it up and there would be a lull in the one-sided conversation. Sometimes he would even ask me a question. It was extraordinarily rare, but sometimes I got to talk about something that I wanted to talk about. Which was always my family. It was the only thing I cared about. The only thing I ever thought about. I was desperate to keep their memories clear in my mind. Even if they had moved on—and I had accepted that they had—I had not moved on. They were my only hope. My only joy. The only thing I lived for was the thought that one day I might return to them.
But Mitchell hated it when I talked about my family. He hated it if I even mentioned them in passing. It was as if I were talking about something so foul and disgusting that it had to be avoided at all costs. (This from a guy who was pretty hard to disgust.) Whenever I mentioned my family, he would instantly get angry. “Get past it, Esther! You have to move on! This is your life now. You have to let your former life go! I don’t want to hear about them, Esther. Not now. Not tomorrow. Never again!”
One day toward the middle of July, Mitchell was complaining about his mother. She had been granted a restraining order against him after he had pushed her down a flight of stairs, and it made him angry that he couldn’t go near her anymore. As part of the conversation, he mentioned where she lived.
“My cousin Olivia lives in that neighborhood,” I said without thinking. “She and I were very close.” Realizing what I had said, I flinched against his coming anger at the mention of my family. But he didn’t rip my head off like I thought that he would. I waited longer. He didn’t say anything. I felt elated. He was going to let me talk! “We used to play together in her yard. She has a great swing in one of the trees in her front yard. And a small tree house in the pear tree. I loved being there. We’d have such fun together.”
Mitchell seemed to think. “I know that house,” he said. “It is very near my mom’s house. Yellow paint, right?”
I was so excited to think about my cousin. “Yeah, yeah, the yellow house. Olivia and I were very close. We’re the same age, you know. I would play with her and my other cousins all the time. In the tree house. On the swing.”
Surprisingly, Mitchell allowed me to go on. It was like Christmas morning. I could talk about my family! I described the times that we had played together, the things that we would do, more about where they lived.
I had no idea that I had betrayed my cousin until the next day.
*
Mitchell came out of the tent in the morning. I was already up and so was Barzee. He wandered over to the small container we used to store our food and poked around inside but didn’t take anything out to eat. Straightening up, he looked at me and forced a smile, which made me nervous.
“I have to tell you something, Esther.”
I felt the familiar feeling of my stomach falling.
“You’re not going to like it.”
I was already braced. But the truth was, there was very little he could say or do to me that would have shocked me any longer. I didn’t feel anything anymore. The soul that lived inside me had been pushed so far down that everything I did was simply going through the motions.
But even though I had retreated, I knew that something new was coming and I was sick with dread.
“The Lord has commanded me to go out again.” He kept his snake eyes on me. “He has commanded me to go and take Olivia to be my next wife. I’m going to go and get her and bring her back here.”
The blood rushed from my brain. I felt like I was going to fall over. I had to steady myself as I stifled a scream.
I had planted the idea. I had betrayed my own cousin by the things I had said.
I felt the crushing weight of utter despair.
*
Mitchell knew from experience that it was going to take planning and preparation to get what he wanted. He spent a week or so putting the plan in place.
He decided that he was going to kidnap Olivia on July 24, a state holiday commemorating the day the Mormon pioneers made their way into the Salt Lake Valley. He knew there would be lots of traffic and parades and parties and city fireworks that night. The police would be preoccupied, leaving him a little more slack to do his evil thing.
Thinking of what he was going to do made me sick with guilt. What would Olivia think when she was dragged into camp and saw me here? She would know I had betrayed her! She would know it was my fault. How could I ever face her? How could she ever forgive me? And if the police ever came to rescue us, would they think it was my fault too? Would I be sent to jail for helping Mitchell with this terrible crime? I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was young. And thoroughly brainwashed about how the safety of my family was my responsibility.
Then I had the worst thought of all: What if she was hurt, or even murdered, while Mitchell was trying to kidnap her? The fact that I had planted the idea in Mitchell’s mind was almost more than I could bear.
But I have to admit that there was a tiny bit of me—a very tiny bit—that wanted her there with me. Together, we could find a way to escape! We would have each other. It wouldn’t be so bad. But whenever I thought of this, I felt guilty. I knew my secret wish was incredibly selfish. There was no way I could wish this upon anyone.