Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(80)

Tears slipped from my eyes and landed on the shoulder of Aspen’s dress. Her words made me pull away, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “Sorry, I—yes, I guess I am.”

“It’s fine.” Aspen stiffened once again, pulling away from my arms.

I released her, rose to my feet, and wiped my eyes once again. “I-I’m going to be late. I’d better go.”

“Have a nice day and remember what I said.” Aspen turned away and wiped at one of her eyes.

Even though I knew she would never admit it, she’d been touched by our moment together. She cared for me immensely, of this I was certain.

? ? ?

Jorjina was especially mild mannered that day. She said nothing when I was fifteen minutes late. She shrugged off the toast I burned and didn’t blink an eye when I forgot to put the teakettle on.

My mind was racing and my thoughts jumbled, planning my escape since it was imminent. I’d pack my suitcase; the eight hundred dollars was already tucked inside the front pouch. The trinkets from Aspen’s children were necessary, as well as my undergarments and toiletries. I’d considered taking my wedding band from Lehi, knowing that I could possibly trade it in the outside world, either for money or some other goods. But I’d never get past my guilt. The ring belonged to Lehi and any wife who might come after me. So, it would be left on my dresser. When Lehi inevitably discovered I was missing and had left my ring behind, he would know that I was gone forever.

Packing my room would only take a few moments. But to leave without suspicion would require my waiting until everyone had gone to sleep. That would give me ample time to contact Porter with my phone, and it would ensure that Tiffany would be at her apartment after a long shift at the free clinic.

“Your head is in the clouds,” Jorjina said, yanking me from my thoughts.

We were standing at the counter. The pot roast we’d prepared for dinner steamed from the ceramic dish. I shook my head, trying to startle myself back into the present moment.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Her crow’s feet were extensive, and when Jorjina was concerned, it only magnified the creases in her skin. At that moment, Jorjina’s wrinkles seemed to travel past her temples to cover her cheeks. She was worried about me. About me and my thoughts.

“It’s best if we don’t talk about it.”

“I’ve told you before, you can trust me. I’ve done terrible things in the past, but you’re special to me. I’d never do that to you.”

“I know, I just—it’s better if we don’t . . .”

“I see.” Jorjina nodded, stabbing slices of the roast and placing them on a plate. The sadness of her expression sent a stabbing sensation right to my heart. I’d miss her, and quiet moments like this. Normally I’d assist her in preparing her supper before leaving to eat with the Cluff family. But today I was compelled to alter my plans.

“May I . . . um, may I eat with you tonight?” I reached for the cabinet, but waited for her permission before retrieving a plate.

“Yes, of course. I’d be delighted.” Jorjina waved me away from the cabinet, grabbed a plate and placed it on the counter, then scooped a heaping portion of the roast. A giant, giddy smile crossed her face as she dug with the serving spoon. “Carrots, my dear?”

“Yes, please, but let me help—”

“No. Not today. You’re my guest and you must let me serve you.”

“All right.”

I enjoyed this feeling; it was as if I were her guest of honor. No one in the Cluff household cared if I was present for a meal or not. No one wanted me near them. But Jorjina, she was different. Slowly, I was starting to trust her. And I knew that if given more time, I would have shared my secrets with her, but there simply wasn’t time to do that.

I had to be smart. I needed to leave the Cluff home in the middle of the night, and be sure to leave no clues behind. If she’d already shared my secrets with the prophet, so be it. But deep within my heart, I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew it with every fiber of my being.

Jorjina and I laughed and talked as we feasted on the pot roast, Jorjina praising my skills in the kitchen, especially considering my young age. She knew I had paid attention during my younger years, and appreciated my efforts. When our plates were scraped clean, I offered to wash her dishes before leaving. Oddly enough, even though I was excited to make my exit, I was dreading saying good-bye to one of the only friends I had.

“No, don’t be silly. Like I said, you’re my guest. Besides, if I’m too tired to do it, you’ll have something to keep you busy in the morning.” She pursed her lips together, biting down on her lower lip. Her eyebrows shot up toward the ceiling as she stared at me.

I swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond. But I didn’t have to. Jorjina placed her hand over mine and squeezed. “Thank you for having dinner with me.”

“You’re welcome,” I managed to choke out. My voice was hoarse, my throat dry.

“You know,” she said slowly, then released my hand. She perched her chin in her hands and gave me a sad, but tender look. “If you were to ever take my advice and leave this place, I’d pray for you.”

I paused and embraced her hypothetical topic of conversation. “You would?”

“Of course. You’re a treasure of a girl, Brinley. I see bright things in your future.” Her crow’s feet seemed to diminish, her smile taking over the landscape of her worn, yet still beautiful face.