Heidi and Melissa liked my plan, and Ramona worked tirelessly to make it happen. She didn’t require any work from me that day, except for helping with her girls, which felt more like play to me.
That night as I lay in the hammock, I reflected on turning ten in Mexico, far from my mother and my home. I didn’t have many possessions, but I had many things to be thankful for, such as the love of my sister and her kids. Ramona had sacrificed and planned ahead to pull off a special birthday celebration, despite our poverty. Though I worked hard every day, I didn’t live in fear or shame. I didn’t worry about some evil person kidnapping me as I trudged from house to house selling painted rocks or cakes. I didn’t worry about Rafael’s sexual advances and what might lie in my future, such as being married off to one of my dad’s followers. I didn’t have to put up with Antonia’s cruelty. By contrast, Ramona lovingly taught and nurtured me. It had been a good day. I knew this year would bring greater joy.
“Be-at,” Melissa said again as she held up a different book, as though she could entice me by suggesting something besides The Cat in the Hat Comes Back.
“I will in a few minutes, but I need to finish this first.”
Her bottom lip quivered, though I couldn’t tell if she felt true sorrow or was working extra hard to manipulate me.
“Here,” I pushed a chair away from the table so she could climb onto it. “Want to watch me? I only have one page to go.”
“What are you doing?” Heidi asked.
“I’m copying the Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a book by Joseph Smith. He was a prophet, just like your grandpa. Joseph Smith led God’s chosen people and taught them all about God.”
“Why are you copying it?”
I stared at the page, half scribbled with my childish writing. Somehow, despite moving so frequently, I had managed to keep with me my notebook, pen, and the Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith book I had started copying. Ramona’s praise for my work encouraged me to keep doing it regularly and studiously.
“It helps me learn more about God and His kingdom.” That answer seemed to satisfy Heidi, and she sat quietly while I continued copying the remainder of that page. But her questions kept replaying in my mind. Was I doing this to become a better disciple, or was I just craving the praise that I received?
As if on cue, Ramona entered the kitchen and surveyed the scene. “Ah, I see you’re hard at work copying again. Heidi, you can learn a lot from Aunt Anna. She’s a good girl; she’s working hard for God.”
I pressed my lips into a tight smile and tried to block out the conversation while I finished. Finally, I held up my notebook. “All done.”
“Let me see.” Ramona compared the book to my scribbles. “Very nice. Want me to put these away for you?”
I nodded. Ramona always hid my book, notebook, and pen under her mattress, along with her other Mormon books and my dad’s writings. She worried about the landlord stopping in unexpectedly and seeing the religious books and Dad’s writings. Sadly, when we eventually moved from the beach house, we forgot to take those items. We were miles from Mérida, being whisked to a safer place, when we realized we had forgotten them. I mourned the loss of those priceless treasures. From time to time, I wondered what the next residents thought when they discovered everything tucked away underneath the mattress.
Living with Ramona and her girls in a safe and loving environment was a gift to me. In addition to her kind words and encouragement, she made me feel like I was needed and contributing to her family by helping in whatever way I could. I took seriously my responsibilities of shopping and running other errands. Each time I ran errands for her, Ramona paid me a single peso. Though not significant in terms of actual money, her gesture meant a lot to me. She recognized and rewarded my hard work. I saved as many of those pesos as I could during the several months I was there, and when Mark told us one weekend that it was time to move again, I realized I had saved up about seventy pesos.
As moving day drew closer, Ramona decided to take everyone shopping. We all dressed up and took the bus to the market in the larger town nearby. I took my pesos with me to buy a hammock. I had enjoyed sleeping in one during my beach stay, and I wanted one to call my own. I carefully compared all the colorful hammocks on display in the market, and a purple hammock with white vertical stripes on each end caught my eye.
“I’d like the purple one, please.” I grinned at the vendor.
Ramona stepped up and asked the man, “?Cuánto?” (“How much?”)
“Fifty pesos, se?ora.”
I glanced up at Ramona, thankful that my savings would be enough.
Before I could hand him my pesos, Ramona took out her small leather change purse and counted out fifty pesos.
I stared at her, mouth wide open. “But Mona . . .”
“I want to pay for it, Anna. It’s the least I can do —for all you’ve done for me, and especially for my girls, since you moved in with us.” She gestured toward the hammock. “Even this is not enough for all the help you’ve been to me.”
The vendor rolled up the hammock and placed it into a cardboard tube for me to carry. I couldn’t believe it. Not only did I have the exact hammock I wanted, but I felt like a rich kid with all those pesos still in my pocket. That abundance helped lessen the blow of having to move yet again.
Not too long after our shopping excursion, Hyrum was dropped off at the beach house with his belongings. Lorna showed up again in her orange pickup truck with a camper shell on the back of it. Her children rode up front with her, which meant my brother and I rode in the camper. Most of the sister-wives gave preferential treatment to their own children, understandably so. Lorna was no exception. We traveled like that all the way from Mérida, Yucatán, to Houston, Texas, a three-day journey.
We couldn’t open any windows in our enclosure, and the lack of fresh air made it difficult to breathe in the stifling heat. I found it impossible to get comfortable sitting or lying on the uneven bed of the truck. There were a few boxes in the back, along with some large garbage bags filled with everyone’s belongings. I wished a thousand times that I had thought to grab a pillow or two to bring along. We leaned up against the garbage bags in an effort to get comfortable.
Several hours into the trip, one of Lorna’s kids slid open the tiny glass window between the cab of the pickup and the camper. “We’re going to stop soon for a potty break. Make sure Hyrum is awake.”
A few minutes later, Lorna pulled to the side of the highway and we all got out. She and Natasha, one of Lorna’s daughters who was close to my age, held up ratty towels to give me a little privacy while I peed. Still, I felt extremely exposed as cars sped by. A few drivers honked their horns at us, which made me jump. We took turns holding up towels for each other on the side of the road as one by one we relieved ourselves. After everyone finished, Lorna asked, “Is anybody hungry?”