Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(68)

“Eight hundred and seventy-three dollars?” I screeched.

“Yes.” She hung her head. “It’s all I had.”

I placed the bills on the counter. “No, I can’t.”

Jorjina lunged for the counter, snatched up the money, and stuffed it back into my pocket, her nose just inches from my own.

“Yes, you can and you will,” she snarled. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Let me help you, Brinley, please.”

My hand wrapped around hers, squeezing hard. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

“Peace of mind? Redemption?” She pulled from my grip and waved her arms wildly in the air.

“Redemption? Why do you need to be redeemed? You’re the mother of the prophet!”

Jorjina stepped back, took in a deep breath, and wiped the sweat from her forehead before she spoke in a calm, soft tone. “I’ve sinned against the women of this community. My behavior was beyond wicked and I need redemption, Brinley. I need it more than you could ever understand. Please, take the money. Take the money and let me rest at night knowing I did all I could to help instead of hurt . . . for once.”

“For once? But—” My jaw dropped as I flashed back to the scene in the kitchen two days prior. Leandra yelling at Rebecca burning the eggs.

Everything was starting to make sense. Everything.

The girl who burned the eggs. The one Jorjina mentioned months before.

It was Rebecca. Rebecca was reassigned after working here, after helping Jorjina.

She was being watched.

Gut instinct told me that Jorjina was telling the truth today. Her confession was clear. Her trembling hands, her tear-soaked face told the story of her regret, but obviously that had not always been the case. She’d been the prophet’s informant for months, perhaps years.

“You’re safe here,” Jorjina whispered. “I swear it. Please, Brinley. You have to believe me. You’re safe.”

“I believe you,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “I do.”

She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed into the crook of my neck, her wails loud enough to wake her cat who slept in a ball on one of the kitchen chairs. He stood, yawned, and glared at me.

I shrugged at the cat as I held Jorjina close to me, murmuring soft words and running my fingers up and down her back in soothing motions. No matter what story her past might tell, I knew she was taking a stand, changing her direction and fighting for me. And I respected her for that. But there was no way I’d reveal my secrets.

I was going to leave the compound. This much was true.

But I was going to do it on my own terms. No one else’s.

Just mine.




Chapter 24

It was Leandra’s idea.

Months earlier when Rebecca had returned to the Cluff house with puffy eyes and balled-up fists, Leandra had pulled her aside to the fabric room and insisted that she share what was bothering her.

It was Brinley. And Rebecca’s former husband, Burt Jameson.

Rebecca had seen them talking on the street corner. She said that Brinley had looked upset, and although Rebecca couldn’t see Burt’s expression, she told Leandra that she no longer trusted Brinley and her intentions toward Burt, herself, or anyone in their community.

Leandra was surprised at how easily Rebecca could be convinced to talk about what had happened, especially since it was taking quite a while for Rebecca to initially warm up to her. Leandra had blamed Brinley for that, and now she was feeling justified in her intuition.

She was a bad seed, and now Rebecca saw it too.

“You must tell the prophet. It’s your duty as a member of this family.” The anger in Rebecca’s face turned to intimidation and fear. Leandra wasn’t surprised by that reaction; many responded that way to the prophet. But not Leandra.

Yes, to Leandra the prophet was a smart, powerful man who could make or break the lives of those in the community. But she knew that she could use that to her advantage.

Leandra had a history of staying on the good side of the prophet. Her mother had been the original housekeeper of the Black household. For years, Leandra had watched her mother serve the prophet. When she was fifteen, Leandra had begged her mother to allow her to assist her at the large home of the prophet. Her mother had rejected her requests several times, until one day she was too tired to resist. She’d allowed Leandra to join her on Saturday mornings, and soon they became a team, scrubbing, mopping, and dusting the home of Walter and Jorjina Black.

Her mother was grateful for the assistance, and Jorjina Black was impressed with the young Leandra, often saying that she felt she’d make an excellent wife to one of the many men in the community. Leandra didn’t want to be just any wife, however. She wanted to be a first wife. To her, there was no other rank more supreme than the first wife of a man of substance, a man with close connections to the prophet himself.

When she was sixteen years old, Leandra knew she wanted to marry Lehi Cluff. He was just a few years older than she, and his father was a close advisor to the original prophet, Walter Black. She studied Lehi, knew he was in good standing with the prophet, and knew that he had the potential to become an important elder of the church. All he needed was an exceptional first wife.

While in the company of Jorjina Black, she found ways to drop hints about Lehi. How handsome he was, how resourceful he was in his role as foreman of the prophet’s construction company on the compound, and what a devout follower he was of Heavenly Father.