Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(4)

Leandra’s eyes never met mine. She reached across the table for a white envelope and handed it to me without looking up.

“Get the items on the list. There’s cash in the envelope. Don’t be gone too long. We have supper to prepare.”

“Yes, Leandra.”

On my way out the door, I stopped into my bedroom to grab my purse. The frayed denim bag that I hid inside an old shoebox in my closet desperately needed to be replaced, but it served more than one purpose for me. The secret compartment of the bag held something precious, something that must stay hidden at all costs. No one in my family knew, and I intended to keep it that way. It was my secret and would continue to be.

Placing the envelope in my tattered bag, I grabbed a couple of fresh cookies from the kitchen and walked out of our house and through our small gate. The white stone wall that surrounded the property might seem attractive to some, but to me it was ominous, a reminder that I was living in a cage. And even though I was able to leave from time to time when the first wife deemed it so, this was the cage in which I would eventually raise my children, grow old, and in due time, die.

All within the confines of the Cluff property of the compound.

When I reached the edge of the compound, I found the only two men I interacted with on a regular basis: our daytime guards. Samuel and Daniel were a few years older than me and were each on their way to being an important part of the priesthood. They spent their days guarding the compound, making sure outsiders did not peep into our property or break into our temple. Whenever I ventured into town, I brought them fresh baked goods. In return, they were friendly and never asked me where I had been if I didn’t return home before sunset.

Even at a young age, I knew that our temple was grandiose. A large, white, hulking structure, it intimidated those outside our compound. But intimidation can still lead to curiosity. Outsiders were fascinated by our hair, our clothing, our way of life. And although it didn’t happen often, Samuel and Daniel would sometimes be forced to escort snooping outsiders off the property.

Because of this, many of the homes in our compound were surrounded by walls just like the one that surrounded the Cluff house. It was all I’d ever known, so to me, it was perfectly normal. When I ventured out into the outside world, it fascinated me how people would build their homes so close to a road where thousands would pass by. Didn’t they want their privacy? Didn’t they feel on display? Perhaps not.

I’d been taught that all outsiders, even those who followed the mainstream Mormon church, would burn in hell when they died. We were the chosen people who were truly living as God commanded—within the doctrine of plural marriage. Our husbands would become gods themselves and rule over planets of their own. They would live an eternal life of paradise. But when I ventured into the outside world, I was always surprised at how friendly and kind the outsiders seemed to be.

When you were raised to think that everyone outside your community was bound to an eternity of punishment and misery, it shaped your expectations. I’d always expected to see misery upon their sinning faces. I’d always expected hatred to spew from their mouths. I’d always expected shriveled skin, bags under their eyes, anything that would indicate misery of the body, of the vessel God had created.

But when I went into town to run errands or visit the free clinic, that wasn’t at all what I saw. I saw kindness and common courtesy. I saw children holding the hands of their mothers, just as I’d always done. Only these children were wearing different clothes and had shorter hair, styled in all sorts of ways. Some of the girls wore their hair down so it spilled over their shoulders. Some wore clips or bands around their heads. They looked beautiful.

Makeup was forbidden in our community. What you saw was what you got. But in town, the women had lush pink lips and gorgeous lashes that curled seductively from their eyes. They possessed a confidence that I couldn’t quite understand.

The prophet’s words echoed through my brain, reminding me that all of what I was observing was sin. I knew this. But I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, even for just a day, to live like they do. To wear makeup in public, to choose my own clothing, to cut my hair short or curl it with an iron. I was fascinated. If Leandra or any of my sister wives knew of my obsession with the outsiders, I wouldn’t be allowed to go into town any longer. So I hid it.

Once I’d purchased everything on Leandra’s list, I checked the hidden compartment of my bag. Only three days left. It was time.

The free clinic was only a few blocks from the grocery store. As always, my heart raced when I walked through the revolving door of the utilitarian building. I could only hope Tiffany was working today.

Four years ago, my cousin Tiffany left our community to live on the outside. She had become my confidante, the only person in the world who knew what I had been keeping from Lehi since we married. She knew what I needed and made sure I received it. Every single month.

My pulse slowed when I saw her, sitting behind the front desk of the clinic, explaining to a young woman how to fill out the forms properly.

When our eyes met, she smiled and held up one finger. This was our drill. We didn’t say much to each other these days. She knew my reason for visiting. When I first started visiting the clinic, she had all kinds of questions about her siblings, her friends, and the boy she’d had a crush on from afar. But not anymore. She’d immersed herself in the outside world and her curiosity had dissipated. But she continued to help me, and for that I was grateful.