The Polygamist's Daughter



WITH THE DEPARTURE OF THE OTHERS back to Denver, the home-based ACE school was disbanded. Lillian and Mark, only in their twenties, were now in charge of my education. They enrolled me in a Christian school just down the street from their home. They considered Spring Branch Church of God Academy to be the lesser of two evils, the worse option being public school.

I woke up late the first day of school, probably because I’d had such a hard time falling asleep, imagining every possible bad scenario that could happen to me in the cafeteria at lunchtime. When I tried to get ready, my frazzled nerves kept me from doing anything right. I dropped lotion on the bathroom floor, and it splattered everywhere. Then I struggled to get a brush through my thick mane, eventually giving up trying to tame it into submission.

I hurried into the kitchen, ready to choke down a bowl of cereal. To my surprise, Lillian was standing behind a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for me to take a seat. She had prepared sausage-and-egg breakfast burritos, one of my favorites. As if sensing my anguish, she said, “Don’t worry. You have plenty of time. I can drive you to school this morning.”

I ate every bite of that delicious breakfast. It helped calm me as well as fuel me for the coming day.

Fifteen minutes later, Lillian dropped me off at school. As I reluctantly approached the school entrance, I realized how alone I was. I had no one —not Celia, not my mom. I wouldn’t even have the familiar comfort of passing Hyrum in the halls between classes. Thinking of everything that Lillian and Mark had done for me to be here, I resolved to find the adventure in this new chapter.

Thankfully, several students embraced me, the new girl —so much so that they became the first real friends I’d ever had outside the cult. I would come to treasure their genuine love and acceptance.



One sunny day in November, I arrived home from school to an empty house. Lillian and her girls must still be at Reliance Appliance. I plopped my backpack onto the floor and went to make myself some peanut butter crackers. When I reentered the living room, I saw two figures outside the window. I put my plate on the coffee table and stealthily crept closer to the window, careful to stay out of sight. I got there in time to see my mother walk around the corner and up to the back door.

My throat constricted, and I broke into a sweat. What was Mom doing back here? My hands began to shake, and the motion spread until my entire body shook uncontrollably. I couldn’t move. Thank goodness, Lillian had a phone sitting on the built-in bookcase next to the window where I stood rooted in fear. I called Lillian as fast as my shaking fingers could dial the numbers.

“Reliance Appliance, how may I —”

“Lillian, it’s Anna. I need your help!”

“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“My mom is here.” My breath came in shallow pants.

“What? What is she doing there?”

I could hear rustling on her end of the line, then a door closing. There must be someone in the store. Lillian knew the importance of keeping our conversation private.

“I have no idea. I was hoping you might know something.”

“No, no one told me she was coming.”

“What should I do? I’m afraid to let her in.”

“She’s still outside?”

“Yes, I locked the front door behind me as soon as I came in. I don’t even think she knows I’m here.”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Stay where you are. Don’t answer the door, regardless of what she says or does. I’ll be right over.”

I placed the phone receiver back in its cradle and stayed where I was, squatting between the bookcase and Mark’s easy chair. My legs, which had been falling asleep, tingled. A few moments later, I saw Mom’s shadow pass by the front window that was covered with gauzy drapes that Lillian kept closed. I heard the click-click of Mom trying the front doorknob.

When she peered in the sidelight, I tucked my legs back up underneath me. I didn’t know if she could see well enough from that angle to notice them sticking out from behind the chair, but I couldn’t take that chance. I remained frozen. I waited for what seemed like hours, although it couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes.

I finally heard the truck come screeching to a halt on the street out front. Both doors opened, then closed. Voices —one especially deep —called out from the street. Mark had come with Lillian. Relief flooded through me. I knew they would protect me. I knew they respected my decision to leave, and they’d do everything in their power to keep me with them in Houston.

I stood up, went to the front door, and opened it. “Hi, Mom.”

Shock, then hurt and disappointment crossed her face in a matter of seconds. I knew she felt betrayed. I’d been in the house the entire time but hadn’t let her in. I would have been hurt too. Still, I hugged her —an awkward, rather one-sided hug.

“Why didn’t you open the door? Surely you heard me knocking.” Mom followed me into the house, with Mark and Lillian right behind her. Lillian turned on the lights, and the four of us sat in the living room.

“She’s scared, Anna Mae. She’s afraid you’re going to try to talk her into going back to Denver with —.”

“I want to hear it from Anna.” Mom’s eyes bored into me.

“Lillian’s right. I don’t want to go back to Denver. I don’t want to work for Dan Jordan again.” Just the thought of it brought a bad taste to my mouth. I swallowed it down and sat up straighter.

It was Mom’s turn. “But that’s where your family is. We miss you. Celia misses you, more than I can even tell you.”

“I miss her and you, too, Mom, but I’m not going back. I like it here with Mark and Lillian. I like my new school, all the teachers and the friends I’ve made. I want to stay here.”

“Do you think I don’t love you?” Mom dropped her gaze, then wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Not at all. I know you love me, and you do the best you can. But Dan is so mean. He doesn’t care about us. He didn’t while Dad was alive, and I can’t imagine how much worse things will be now that Dad is gone . . .” My voice trailed off as I recalled that last summer in the warehouse when we slaved away. Dan had yelled at us to work harder and faster, his face turning beet red and the spit flying from his mouth as he called us every ungodly name in the book. We knew then that the children of Ervil LeBaron were less than worthless in his opinion, except for his own gain. How did Mom convince Dan to let her take time off and spend so much money on gas to drive to Houston just to see me? She must have used her own money.

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