Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(20)

“I hope you will forgive me, you know, for that day.” My words hung in the air, so thick with tension in the silent room.

Rebecca sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, curling her fists in tight balls. Sister wives weren’t encouraged to have one-on-one discussions when conflict arose. Instead, we were encouraged to keep sweet and share our concerns or complaints with Lehi, who would then mediate with the other wife. No arguments, no heart-to-hearts. The problem would be resolved and no one’s feelings would be hurt.

But I’d held Rebecca as she sobbed just a few short months before. I thought our relationship was different.

“Are you going to see him? Is that what this is about?” She frowned, causing her forehead to crease, and her nostrils flared.

“No, I promise. I just—Lehi asked me to visit the drugstore. I thought you could join me.”

“No, sorry.” Her words were short, biting. Avoiding my eyes, she hurried from the room, her shoulder brushing against mine as she passed.

Dejected and feeling very alone, I walked to my closet, retrieved my purse, and walked into town.

? ? ?

I dreaded walking past Burt Jameson’s construction project. Somehow I knew he could see me through the unfinished lumber that framed the house. I’d managed to dodge him for weeks, picking up my pace whenever I drew close to the site. Luckily, aside from the sound of a few hammers banging, the work site was quiet, as if most of the men had taken a break for lunch.

I sighed with relief that I was able to avoid him. For now, anyway.

When I reached the guard post, Samuel gave me a nod. He hadn’t spoken to me in weeks, either. My world was getting smaller and smaller within the confines of the compound. I’d lost my only true friend in the Cluff household, and one of the few men I trusted in the compound wanted very little to do with me, not wanting to be dragged into anything involving Porter Hammond.

My stomach gave a little flip.

Just the thought of Porter caused a physical reaction. Thoughts of his fingers against my skin, his smirk when he hinted at my subversive nature, and the way his words made me think.

Could I ever leave this life?

I’d be lying to myself if I pretended the thought didn’t cross my mind. But deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn’t a brave girl. I was a dependent girl, a naive girl, a silly girl for giving in to notions of an outsider stealing me away to build a new life.

A silly girl to think that Porter Hammond had thought of me the way I’d thought of him.

Lost in thoughts of Porter, I didn’t notice the footsteps behind me. When someone touched my shoulder, I spun around, my eyes widening in fear.

“I’m sorry to startle you.”

Burt Jameson looked haggard. His face had not been groomed, his shirt was untucked, and he smelled of grain alcohol. His eyebrows resembled large caterpillars on his fair face. As unattractive as they were, all I could remember were Rebecca’s words about how much she loved his eyebrows when he’d let them get a little too long.

How would she feel about those eyebrows now?

“Elder Jameson.”

“I know I shouldn’t be bothering you, Brinley, I know, but I’ve been watching you walk past for weeks and I just couldn’t resist anymore.” He paused, shaking his head and looking down at his hands. “I just have to know—”

“Know what?” Tears built in my eyes as I anticipated the question.

“My letter.” He swallowed hard. “Did you give her my letter?”

I nodded as tears filled my eyes.

“Oh.” Slowly, he licked his lips before gripping his bottom lip with his teeth. He turned away from me slightly and swiped at his cheek as he studied the ground at his feet. A moment passed before he raised his tortured eyes to me and asked, “Should—should I try again?”

I raised my shoulders in a helpless shrug as I shook my head and whispered, “I can’t answer that.”

“Of course not,” Burt said, wringing his hands.

“I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to yell at him, Go see her, convince her, tell her you love her. Don’t give up! But I couldn’t. There was nothing left for me to say to Burt Jameson.

When I turned to continue my walk into town, he startled me yet again. “Do you love your husband?” he called after me, his voice sounding desperate. But that didn’t absolve his question of its obvious inappropriate nature.

I paused for a moment but didn’t turn, just stared straight ahead, knowing that if I turned to look at him, he’d know the answer.

When I didn’t answer, he choked out, “I hope not. So much easier that way.”

Overcome with emotion, I ducked my head and hurried away. The man’s obvious pain and distress at losing his family tore at me. His words played over and over in my head as I walked to the pharmacy.

So much easier that way.

So much easier that way.

Sure, maybe it was easy . . . but maybe I didn’t want easy.

Maybe I wanted to be challenged, to be pushed, to be seen.

Burt Jameson saw Rebecca in a way that Lehi Cluff never would. How could she not see that? And if she did see it, how could she possibly abandon it?

? ? ?

Tiffany’s face relaxed with relief when I walked through the door of the clinic.

“I was starting to worry,” she said as I approached the desk. “You must be almost out.”