Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(77)

“Don’t promise me,” I insisted. “Promise yourself. Do it for yourself, not me.”

“All right,” he said, and nodded.

“And I’m leaving for me. I don’t belong there. I see that now. Finally.”

“Thank God. I’ve been waiting for this day,” he said. “Seriously.”

“Me too,” I said with a smile. “Me too.

? ? ?

Walking home, I was in such a daze and lost in my own thoughts that when I reached the front door of the Cluff house, I didn’t even recall how I arrived there. I thought of lazy mornings with Porter, my legs resting in his lap as we read the morning newspaper while we sipped orange juice and feasted on pastries from the local bakery. No screaming children, no sister wives barking orders. Just him and me. Together.

My mind was so occupied with thoughts of peaceful days away from the compound, that I didn’t notice the sullen faces of my family. The house was quiet, eerily so. But I didn’t notice that either. Not until later when I heard the dreadful news.

When my shoes hit the tile of the entryway, Rebecca yanked on the sleeve of my dress and dragged me to her bedroom, jerking me inside the room and slamming the door behind her.

“What did you do?” she demanded. Her cheeks resembled the skin of two plump tomatoes. They were damp with tears, but I had no idea why.

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s gone,” Rebecca choked out.

“Who? Who’s gone?”

“Burt,” she spat out, her nostrils flaring. “He’s gone.”

Admittedly, Burt Jameson hadn’t taken up my thoughts in quite some time. I’d accepted Rebecca’s choice. I’d accepted her swollen belly and her ambivalent attitude toward my presence in her life. But seeing her body language, her agony, I knew something horrible had happened.

“He left?”

She shook her head vigorously, her lips twisted as more tears fell from her puffy eyes.

“No, you foolish girl.” She sneered. “He’s dead.”

Dead. Gone. Buried.

Visions of Burt with lifeless eyes permeated my brain, and I scrunched my eyes tight to make them stop.

“What?” I cried out in shock, then reached for her hand. Despite her cold exterior the past several months, I still yearned to comfort my sister wife and former friend. But she yanked her hand away, holding it close to her chest.

“W-what happened?” I stammered.

“They found him hanging from the beams.” Her tears overpowered her vocal cords and she began to sob, sitting on the edge of her bed and hanging her head in her hands.

“I don’t . . . I don’t understand.”

“He killed himself, Brinley!” she screeched. “He hung himself in the house he was building! The workers . . . they found him.”

“Why?” I asked. But it was a question that didn’t need to be asked. We both knew the answer.

“Because he couldn’t be with me! He left a note. He couldn’t go on . . . wouldn’t live his life without me.”

“Oh no.”

My entire body felt as if I’d been hit by a speeding train. I knew he was miserable . . . I did. But what more could I have done? Could I have saved him?

“He knew I was pregnant. How did he know that, Brinley?”

A gasp left my lips. Was she blaming me for Burt’s death?

“I-I didn’t . . .” I stammered, “I didn’t say a word! I promise you!”

“I don’t believe you.” She was seething, glowering at me, but I didn’t understand her wrath. Yes, I’d spoken to Burt when he’d approached me. But I wasn’t deceitful, nor did I seek him out to share information regarding Rebecca’s new life with Lehi. And I didn’t understand why she thought that I had.

“Leandra showed me the note! He knew I’d moved on, that I was pregnant. And he couldn’t go on.” Rebecca stopped, stared off into space, and whispered words, presumably from the suicide note. “I can’t go on without you. I’m a pathetic man.”

“He wasn’t pathetic,” I argued.

“I didn’t used to think so. But to be willing to leave his wives, his children? I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“You said Leandra gave it to you? How did she—”

“Burt’s other wives gave it to Lehi. They were hoping he’d help pay for funeral services, but he refused. So, there’ll be nothing but shame and embarrassment for them.”

“Why would Lehi pay—”

“Because,” she screamed, “they said it’s my fault! It’s all my fault. And Lehi’s responsible for me now.”

“Oh.”

Rebecca paced the floor, her words cracking as she walked. “You’ve done nothing but meddle since I joined this family. Why did you have to push?”

“I swear to you, Rebecca, I didn’t tell him anything. Yes, he pulled me aside a few weeks ago. But he just wanted to know about his boys, that’s all. I promise you.”

“Weeks ago? How many times have you spoken to him?”

“I-I don’t know. He’d approach me, ask me questions. I didn’t know what to say—”

“He knew! He knew I was pregnant.” She pushed herself up from the bed, threw her hands up in the air, and stormed toward me.