Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(69)

Jorjina would nod without a smile, and encourage Leandra to prepare herself for marriage. After all, by the age of sixteen, many women in their community were doing just that—becoming wives. Becoming the glue that held families together.

When she was seventeen, Leandra and Lehi were married in a small ceremony. She beamed and couldn’t keep her eyes off her new husband, the man who was going to give her purpose, give her standing in the community . . . right alongside the prophet.

For over twenty years, Leandra and Lehi had a strong partnership, one not based on love, but appreciation. He respected her abilities in running a household, her unique ability to make the other sister wives fall in line with her wishes.

Until Brinley, that is.

Brinley stuck out like a sore thumb from the very beginning. She was nineteen, older than many of the others had been when they’d joined the family. Lehi dismissed it, insisting she was a sweet girl who was eager to please the prophet and to join them all in the celestial kingdom. But Leandra wasn’t convinced. Something was off about the seventh wife of Lehi Cluff. Leandra just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Until, that is, the day she convinced Rebecca to share her story with Clarence Black, their current prophet. She was hoping the prophet would hear Rebecca’s story and reassign Brinley immediately. Perhaps she’d be sent to another compound, maybe one in Texas where many of the prophet’s siblings resided. The logistics didn’t matter to Leandra.

She just wanted Brinley gone, and she was determined to see it through.

No matter the consequences.

? ? ?

And so, she’d walked with Rebecca to the house of Clarence Black. One of his many wives answered the door and allowed them to enter, escorting the two women to the prophet’s office where he delivered his sermons via loudspeaker. It was also the place where he conferred with Heavenly Father, as well as church elders.

The prophet welcomed the two women into his office, but expressed his surprise that Lehi had not accompanied them, as was customary.

“I apologize,” Leandra had begun. “He’s at work and won’t return until this evening. And I’m afraid this is urgent.”

“Oh.” His head snapped back slightly. A pen balanced between his two index fingers as he leaned back into the soft leather of his armchair. “And what is the emergency at hand?”

Leandra turned to Rebecca, who then cleared her throat. “It’s Brinley, our sister wife.”

“And what about her?” the prophet asked, his brow furrowed. There was nothing dismissive about his body language. Once he’d heard the name, he’d sat up straight in his chair, his eyes boring into Rebecca’s. Leandra knew they had his full attention.

“I saw her speaking to Burt.” Rebecca cleared her throat again and corrected herself. “I mean, Elder Jameson.” He was no longer her husband. It was no longer appropriate for her to refer to him in such a casual way.

“And what were they saying?” the prophet asked, crossing one ankle to rest on his opposite knee, that pen still balanced between his fingers. He moved it toward his mouth, back and forth . . . slowly, ever so slowly.

“I-I couldn’t hear them,” Rebecca stammered. “But Brinley was visibly upset. I can’t help but feel as if they are planning something.”

“Why do you say that?” the prophet pressed.

Leandra knew this was his way. He didn’t say much but asked many questions, allowing his subject to connect the dots, place the pieces of the puzzle together, make the connections for him.

“Because, he . . . .” Rebecca hesitated for a moment before closing her eyes and continuing. “He wrote me a letter. And Brinley delivered it.”

“What did the letter say?” The prophet pursed his lips tightly, and Leandra drew in a heavy breath, feeling weighed down by the tension in the air.

“He wanted me to leave with him.”

Rebecca hung her head and Leandra gasped. She did not know the extent of Brinley’s history with Burt.

The prophet placed both his feet on the floor and slammed the pen down on his mahogany desk.

“And abandon his wives?” he snapped.

Rebecca flinched. “Yes,” she whispered, staring down at the floor.

“I see.”

The room was silent for several seconds. Leandra shifted in her seat. She didn’t regret bringing Rebecca here, not for a second. But she was uncomfortable with the tension in the room. She was used to controlling the tension, and this time the control was out of her hands. She didn’t like feeling powerless. Not one bit.

“I am going to confer with Heavenly Father in this matter,” the prophet said, leaning back in his chair and regaining his composure, his voice modulating into his usual monotone. “But rest assured I will follow through. It may take some time. I need to investigate the situation more thoroughly. And I’ll need to see that letter.”

The two women glanced at each other. Leandra was unsure of what that meant. She knew it was not her place to question the prophet, but the words left her mouth before she could stop them.

“Will Brinley be reassigned?”

“Miss Leandra, I hesitate to take such drastic action, especially since the Cluff household has already been altered these past few months.”

Leandra nodded, biting down on her lip. She knew she was being scolded, no matter how nonthreatening his words might have been. Leandra glanced at Rebecca, who had several tears rolling down her cheeks. For a moment, Leandra felt sorry for Rebecca and for the upheaval she and her sons had endured. But her faith was undeterred and she knew it was for the best. Rebecca would heal and the boys would benefit from the influence of the Cluff family’s standing within the community.