Chapter 11
Repentance is difficult when you resent it.
Two weeks ago, I’d cheated on my husband in my heart, and every day since then I’d been doing my best to repent. When I thought of Porter, I pinched the skin just above my wrist to snap myself out of it. When Leandra asked me to go into town today, I lied and told her that I was needed at my mother’s house. My father was out of town and mother was suffering from a bad case of the flu. That was the truth. But Mother hadn’t asked me to come by. I told myself that it was a lie with a purpose—it kept me from going into town. It kept me from allowing temptation to take over my body and lead me straight to the apartment above the coffeehouse.
But I resented it.
I wanted to walk to Porter’s apartment. I wanted to be pushed up against his wall. I wanted the touch of his thumb against my wrist rather than the sharp pinch of my own fingernails.
“What are you doing?” Aspen asked, gesturing to my wrist, angry and blotchy from my own efforts. Quickly, I dropped my hands to my side and looked straight ahead.
“Nothing. I think I have a rash.”
“Mm-hmm.” The skepticism in Aspen’s voice was apparent, but I ignored it. Aspen was walking to my mother’s house with me. She’d offered to join me to get out of the house since she’d been left in charge of all the children the day before.
“It’s a gorgeous day.”
Aspen was overly chipper on that day. Not that she was a particularly somber person; she wasn’t. But she was, in many ways, the yin to my yang when it came to personality. Devout plural wife and follower of Heavenly Father, she was proud of her role in the Cluff family. She was proud of her three children and hoped they’d marry in their teens, just like she had. She wanted their place in the celestial kingdom to be secured, just like her own.
She was sharp and opinionated, but she knew exactly when and where she could safely express those opinions without jeopardizing her relationship with Lehi, Leandra, or the prophet.
Aspen was also the most perceptive of the sister wives. I used to think she had some sort of mind-reading abilities, and it took me some time to feel comfortable with her for just that reason. When you were having doubts about your faith, your life, and your husband, the last thing you wanted was for someone to be listening in on your private thoughts.
“You’re quiet today.” She nudged me gently with her elbow. “Even more than usual.”
I shook my head and shrugged, summoning all the energy I could to act natural. But since meeting Porter, acting natural had become increasingly difficult.
We passed by the open field where several children were playing some form of tag. They laughed as they ran, and I wondered how long it had been since I, myself, had laughed.
So long ago, I couldn’t remember.
“They’re having fun,” Aspen said, watching the children.
“I miss fun.”
“Kids are fun. You know you can play with mine whenever you like,” she teased, and her elbow nudged mine again.
“I know.” I stared at the ground as we walked.
“Is that why you’re upset? I know you’ve been trying for a long time.” Her voice softened.
I could feel Aspen studying my face, and I knew what I had to do. I had to lie.
“Yeah. Three years is a long time, right?”
She shrugged. “Everyone’s different. Maybe it’s the timing. You only see Lehi a few times a month.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from getting pregnant.”
“True.” Her brow knitted and she opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.
We walked in silence. Guilt was the only emotion I could feel.
Yes, Aspen was not always the easiest to get along with, but she’d always been there for me when I truly needed her. And I was leading her to believe such lies.
I hardly recognized myself anymore.
? ? ?
When we entered my mother’s home, I was disturbed by the eerie quiet of the house. Where were all the children? My brothers and sisters?
“Mother?” I called out.
She responded with a fit of coughing. Aspen narrowed her eyes and we jogged upstairs to the bedroom. My mother was on her knees, leaning on the mattress of her unmade bed.
“Mother.” I knelt down next to her and placed my hand on the small of her back.
“I-I’m fine.” She coughed again. “It’s just the flu. You should go, I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Where is everyone?”
“I sent the kids next door with your Mother Peg.”
“Oh, of course.”
My mother was lucky enough to have her own small home in the compound, which she shared with the rest of my brothers and sisters. Jessa and Winnie were both married and lived with their husbands, but five children remained in the home.
“Come on, Mother, into bed with you.”
Aspen and I supported my mother’s frail body and eased her under the covers of her bed.
My mother winced, trying not to cough, then gave Aspen a wan smile. “Hello, Aspen dear.”
“Hello.” Aspen slid her hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Tell us what we can do to make you more comfortable.”
“A cup of tea would be nice.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Aspen said, smiling down at my mother and leaving the room.
Mother turned her worried gaze to me. “You shouldn’t be here, Brinley. You could catch this.”
“I had no idea you were so sick.” I placed the back of my hand on her blazing forehead. “I would’ve come here sooner. When does Father get back?”
“A few more days. The worst part is Jessa needs me. She needs me and I can’t be with her.”
An alarm bell went off in my mind. When Jessa and I had spoken last, she was elated to be pregnant with her first child. It was new, but she was excited to start her journey into motherhood.
“What’s the matter with Jessa? Why would she need you?”
“Oh.” Mother bit her bottom lip. “She hasn’t told anyone yet, no one except me, that is.”
I grasped Mother’s hand and squeezed. “What is it?”
“She lost the baby.”
“Oh no.” My heart sank.
My mother nodded. Miscarriage happened often in our community, along with stillbirths and life-threatening birth defects. Family trees inevitably crossed and became muddled through marriage, and the babies we lost were reminders of that.
“She’s devastated. Feels she’s being punished.”
“For what?”
Like Aspen, Jessa was a devout follower of the prophet and our faith. She’d been married for six months to a kind man named Curtis. She was the fourth of his wives and had been happy since committing her life to him and his family. When we were younger, Jessa was always rocking the little ones to sleep or volunteering to give them their bottles. She was a natural caregiver and mother. No one deserved to be a mother more than my sister Jessa.
“I’m not sure,” Mother said. “Missing prayer sessions, raising her voice to Curtis, something minor. I told her to pray on it. She needs to find a way to move on.”
“Maybe she’s not ready. Losing someone can be difficult.”
Mother narrowed her eyes. “Who have you lost?”
She knew the correct answer.
No one.
But she didn’t know the real answer. The man I was forcing myself to lose.
I walked to the end of her bed and smoothed out the bedcovers, avoiding her eyes. “No one, of course. I just—I can imagine is all.”
“Ah,” she said, but I knew she wasn’t convinced. Despite having eight children, my mother knew me all too well. Which was why I needed to leave her house as soon as I could.
“Here you are.” Aspen rounded the corner and placed a bed tray over my mother’s lap. Tea, butter cookies, and an apple sliced into wedges had been artfully arranged on it.
“Thank you, dear.” Mother reached for the ancient teacup adorned with painted roses. “But I insist you two leave. You have responsibilities back at home. I’ll be fine.”
“Mother, I don’t—”
“I insist.”
Her tone was sharp and I dared not question her further. Disrespecting your parents was completely unacceptable, and that included questioning their judgment in any given situation.
As I stared down at my mother, so frail and small, her graying brown hair arranged into a loose bun, I realized the irony of the situation. No matter how tiny she was, no matter how weak, I had been taught that there was a line, a line that could not be crossed. And my tiny mother was, in all ways that mattered, ten feet tall rather than the five foot one she truly was. If she gave me an order, I was to follow it without question.
“All right,” I said reluctantly. “But I’ll return in a couple of days. How does that sound?”
“That will be fine.” Satisfaction crossed her face as she sat back, sipping her tea.
I kissed the top of her head and walked to the door.
“Oh, and Brinley, dear.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t say anything to Jessa. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.
Aspen glanced at me curiously, but said nothing. I waited until we left my mother’s home before telling her about Jessa, and she let out a sad sigh.
“Poor thing.”
“Have you ever . . . lost a baby?” I picked at the pocket of my dress, unsure how Aspen would respond. With anger? Embarrassment? Disgust? We weren’t encouraged to discuss such things. It was hard to keep sweet when you were wallowing in past disappointments.
“Yes,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Just before you married Lehi.”
“Oh no.” I froze, my hand raised to my mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was sad, yes. But it happens.” Her voice had softened, and I felt safe asking my next question.
“What was it like?”
She cleared her throat before answering. I knew I was making her ridiculously uncomfortable. But my heart was breaking for Jessa and I needed to know what she was going through.
“Scary, mostly. And painful.”
“Did you—did you bleed?” I asked, feeling intensely uncomfortable with the conversation, but pushing ahead anyway.
“Yes, a lot.”
“Did Lehi take care of you?”
Aspen pulled me to an abrupt stop and turned to me. “Brinley, you can’t be serious?” Her words were sharp, cutting.
“What?”
Aspen crossed her arms in front of her and her nostrils flared. “Do you honestly think he would do that?”
I searched my heart for the answer. And it didn’t take long.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“Did anyone help you?” The thought of Aspen doubled over in pain, clutching her abdomen, broke my heart. The idea of her going through it alone brought tears to my eyes.
“Ruthie helped me.”
Aspen’s firstborn daughter, Ruthie, was only eight years old now. So at that point, she would have been only . . .
“But . . . she was barely five!”
Aspen shrugged, her eyes welling with tears. “She’s all I had.”
I bit my lip, willing my tears to stop, but they wouldn’t. Several slid down my cheeks.
“Stop,” Aspen said, closing her eyes and waving her hands wildly in the air. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”
Despite Aspen’s insistence, I knew my questions had caused her grief to resurface. Without thinking it through, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened at my embrace, but slowly she wrapped her arms around my lower back, allowing me to comfort her.
I pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, “I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.”
I rubbed my hands up and down Aspen’s back, and soon felt her muscles relax at my touch. I couldn’t make the past go away, but I could do my best to assure her that I would be there for her in the future.
“Now stop,” Aspen said, pulling away and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Let’s not make a spectacle of ourselves.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, and turned to resume our walk home.
“May I ask something else?”
“Oh goodness, Brinley. You are determined to have me sob, aren’t you?”
“No, nothing sad. I promise.”
“All right, then,” she said with a reluctant chuckle.
“When you, when you have intercourse . . . do you enjoy it?”
Aspen kept her eyes focused on the dirt road ahead of us. We were still several blocks from home. She knew it was safe to answer, but that didn’t convince me that she would.
“What do you mean?”
“With Lehi. Does it . . . Do you . . . I mean, do you have an org—”
“Brinley!” Aspen said, her eyes wide, her cheeks as red as plum tomatoes. “You’ve been talking to Rebecca, haven’t you?”
“I just—”
“I lay with Lehi for procreation.” Her voice raised. “I lay with him to make babies for Heavenly Father’s celestial kingdom. That is all.”
“But Lehi has them,” I argued.
“Listen to me. Men have to have them. It won’t work if they don’t. Everyone knows that.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, stop it.”
“I just—”
“No! Ever since Rebecca came into our family, you’ve been odd and I don’t like it, Brinley. I don’t like it one bit.”
“But I—”
“She loved her husband, and look where that got her. Don’t let her lead you into false fantasies.”
Her eyes were flinty in a way I’d never seen from her, fierce yet protective. Much like she’d look at her own children.
“Be smart,” she told me. “Our duty is to produce children for our husband, for Heavenly Father. It is not to fornicate or indulge our desires.” Aspen turned on her heel and quickened her pace, heading directly for our home.
“Yes, Aspen,” I muttered, following several paces behind. And wishing I’d never opened my mouth.
I’d lost Rebecca. I couldn’t be foolish enough to lose Aspen.
I had to be smart.
When we reached our block, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Samuel. He was waving at me, swinging his arms in a subtle attempt to grab my attention, and he succeeded. But acknowledging his gesture would be the most foolish thing I could possibly do. There was only one reason Samuel would want to speak with me.
Porter.
I couldn’t handle that. Not at that moment. Possibly not ever.
So I ignored him and obediently followed my sister wife to our home, all the while pinching the skin of my wrist until it bled.