Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(2)

Rebecca, her skin ashen, sat on one of the several couches in the large room. My sister wife Leandra, the first wife of Lehi, patted her knee in an attempt to comfort her. Rebecca, whether by choice or affliction, ignored it as she kept her eyes downcast, her body visibly trembling.

Lehi’s graying hair was disheveled, exposing the bald skin of his expanding forehead. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes as he scratched the back of his neck.

I wasn’t the best at reading people, but I knew Lehi was overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure how to act in a reassignment situation. He was taking on another wife—an unplanned one—and four young children. Those children would now call him Father or Daddy, and would look to him for guidance and approval. His new wife would now share his bed, even though earlier this evening she went to sleep with the only husband she’d ever known.

Rebecca was about thirty years old and was the third wife of Burt Jameson. They had been married for twelve years and Rebecca seemed to adore him. All plural wives in our community were expected to be obedient, loyal, and loving to our husbands, regardless of how we felt behind closed doors. But Rebecca was different; she was one of the few truly in love with her husband. And for that, I mourned the reassignment. I mourned that she had lost her love.

Leandra, the small and demanding first wife, glanced at me as I entered the common room, then returned her attention to her charge. “Rebecca, you’ll be staying with Brinley for a few days, dear.”

Rebecca nodded at me, her hands quivering in her lap. “Thank you, Miss Brinley,” she whispered.

“It’s no trouble,” I replied. “Aspen has made room for your things in my closet, and the bed is big enough for the both of us.”

Except when Lehi was to join me tomorrow evening. But somehow I knew my place on the schedule would be moved. A fluttering in my stomach surprised me—I usually looked forward to my time with Lehi, but knowing Rebecca would be with me instead was a relief I hadn’t expected. It was a break from the ordinary. To be honest, I was excited at the possibility to build a friendship with my new sister wife.

Carefully, I sat next to Rebecca on the couch and took her hand in mine. “You will be a wonderful addition to our family.”

I said what was expected of me, choosing my words carefully. Much like I did anytime I was surrounded by my sister wives.

? ? ?

An hour later, Rebecca and I were alone in my bedroom. Her children had fallen asleep easily, not entirely grasping their situation. They didn’t know they were being reassigned, only that they were at our home for a sleepover. Rebecca was apparently delaying telling them the truth.

She probably didn’t want to tell them that our prophet acted according to what he felt was God’s will, and no one in our community could question him or what was “revealed” to him by our Lord. It would be difficult to tell them that they’d lost their father, that they would never return to their home, and that their lives had changed forever because the prophet deemed it so.

“I-I understand that this was a revelation, but . . .” Rebecca sat on the edge of my bed, her hand covering her mouth, the skin surrounding her eyes red and puffy. “I love him. I love my husband.”

“I know,” I whispered, rubbing her back softly with the palm of my hand, attempting to soothe her as best I could. “I could see that you did.”

She wiped her nose with a tissue. “He’s kind and loving, and . . . and I just can’t imagine not being with him.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” I shrugged. I didn’t have children yet. And I could certainly imagine a life without Lehi . . . so did I? Did I really understand her? Perhaps not.

“I don’t know Elder Cluff. I don’t know him at all. And now . . . he’s to be my husband?”

Reluctantly, I nodded and said what I should say. “Lehi’s a good man.”

She gasped, looking startled. “Have I offended you? I hope I haven’t. I just—I don’t, I mean—”

“No, no. I promise.” I patted her on the shoulder. “I just wanted you to know that you’re safe here. That Lehi will take care of you and your children.”

She pursed her lips and stared at the carpet beneath our feet. “But I don’t love him.”

I knew what I was supposed to say. I knew I should tell her that she’d grow to love Lehi, that she’d have a warm and loving relationship with our husband, that she just needed to give it time. But I couldn’t.

I spoke the truth.

“Neither do I,” I whispered, shaking my head slowly back and forth.

Her lips parted and her chin began to quiver. She collapsed against me and sobbed into my shoulder. She grasped my sleeves as she held on for dear life, revealing her pain, distress, and despair.

A single tear slid down my cheek as I attempted to comfort Rebecca, even though I couldn’t quite grasp the idea of losing someone I loved. I’d never been in love. But instead of being comforted by this realization, it caused a knot to form in the pit of my stomach.

As I mourned her broken marriage, I found myself mourning the love that I would never have. Eventually her breathing evened out, and for one small minute, I was jealous of my soon-to-be sister wife. Jealous that she’d shared twelve years with a man she adored.

I’d never adored Lehi, and was pretty certain that I never would.