Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(27)

“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.”