Down from the Mountain (5 page)

“I’m not saying that Eva shouldn’t be punished,” Rachel says. “But you know that the punishment will depend on how great the loss is to the community, and we won’t know that until after the next flea market. If we had to buy expensive beads and can’t sell the jewelry made from them, it will be a different matter than if we sell them easily and instead of losing money actually make money.”

Esther is silent for a moment.”I guess we could wait and see,” she says. “It will give me time to pray about it.”

Rachel and I exchange smiles as Mother Esther gets out of the front seat. Rachel’s never done anything like this before—protected me from consequences. I sure appreciate it.

It’s only four p.m., so we have time to do some beading before dinner. But I want to see if Mother Martha ever made it to her chore assignment. So I tell Rachel that I have an idea and will be right back. Mothers Cecilia and Rebecca sit mending socks when I burst into the sewing room. Mother is not there. I say that I need three feet of their heaviest thread for a jewelry project. As they’re getting the thread for me, a chill ripples through me. When did it become so easy for me to lie like this?

November

Six

Annie and Jacob peek through the window of the bead room and make faces at me. I suppress a giggle because I don’t want Rachel or Mother Esther to see their antics. They manage to duck down just as Mother Esther finishes looking over my creations.

“My dear,” Esther says after a few minutes, “I don’t think you need to worry about me reporting you to the Community Concerns Committee for your disobedience last week at the bead store. You’ve made some lovely pieces, and if they sell the way Rachel claims they will, I’ll consider your actions nothing more than an inconvenience, and one that ultimately will benefit the community.”

“Thank you, Mother Esther. Thank you so much!” I’m so relieved I could cry.

“But know this. If you disobey again or if your pieces don’t sell, I will still report you next week.”

“Yes, Mother,” I say, bowing my head. When I look up, I see her hobbling out the door.

Rachel grins. When Mother Esther is out of earshot, she reassures me. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. We’ve never had such a beautiful array of jewelry. If we sell half of these tomorrow, we’ll have more profit than ever before.”

“I hope you’re right,” I say.

“You hope who’s right?” Ezekiel says from the doorway.

The necklace I’m working on slides through my fingers, but I catch it before it falls to the floor. It always throws me off balance when Reverend Ezekiel shows up unexpectedly.

“Good afternoon,” Rachel and I both say at the same time.

“I was just telling Eva that this was some of the nicest jewelry we’ve ever made,” Rachel said.

He points to a pair of earrings. “Who made these?” he asks.

“Eva did,” Rachel says.

He points to a necklace. “Eva,” Rachel says. He points to a bracelet. “Eva again,” Rachel says. He picks up another pair of earrings. “That would be Eva.” Rachel laughs. “She’s so good, I’m beginning to get a complex.”

Ezekiel nods, thinly masking how pleased he is. “So how much will you sell these for, and how much profit will that bring?” I’m not sure if he’s talking to Rachel or me. He paces back and forth in the small space, continuing to examine everything—even a few of the old plastic beaded necklaces, which he tosses to the side. He picks up the earrings and bracelet set I made this morning.

Finally Rachel answers his question. “We’re just going to have to see how much we can get for them—but I think they’ll sell for much more than any we’ve made previously.”

“They’d better,” he says. “The materials look to be far more expensive than we’ve had before. If the new style sells well, it could make all the difference this winter.”

I know his eyes are on my face, even though I’m focused on the necklace I’m making. I slowly look up to see him beaming down at me. “I’m proud of you, Eva,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say weakly.

He starts toward the door, and then as if remembering something, he turns back. “God is good!” he says.

“God is good!” we repeat.

Rachel and I exchange surprised looks. It is so rare for him to say the coveted words “I’m proud of you.” I don’t know if he’s in a sunny mood to match the beautiful weather outside, or if he really thinks my work is that promising.

“It feels good to be on the right side of him, doesn’t it?” Rachel says.

“Yes. Oh yes,” I say, relief washing over me.

I look down at the necklace I was working on when Ezekiel came in. Without realizing it, I’ve been making a necklace much like the one Daddy gave me all those years ago—two pearls, a silver spacer, a rose quartz heart, silver spacer, and the pattern goes on.

It was the first or maybe the second day after Mother and I arrived at the Arizona compound that I lost my necklace. I don’t remember the trip from Chicago, but I remember a laughing, singing Mother instead of the crying and angry person she had been before Ezekiel.

We sat in the chapel listening to a forever sermon. I had to go to the bathroom, but each time I tried to tell Mother this, she would press hard on my leg with her hand—a motion I knew meant “be quiet.”

It got more interesting when Ezekiel started calling members up to the altar one by one. He thanked several for all that they had given Righteous Path. Everyone clapped. Then he called up persons he thought were holding back. He thought they could give more, and each one did.

He called, “Eva.” I thought he was talking about someone else at first, but when Mother pushed me forward, I remembered that Eva was the new name he gave me right when we got here. But I liked my real name, Lily. I hid my face in Mother’s dress, but she pushed me away from her. “You must obey,” she said.

I was afraid, but when Ezekiel smiled so big at me, it was easier to go to him.

“Eva, do you understand that you are chosen?” he asked when I got to the altar. “And because of that, you will live with God in heaven when you die.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“And God wants you to give up your toys and clothes to follow Him.”

I could see that he was staring at my necklace—the one Daddy gave me with the little pearls and rose quartz hearts. I expected him to tell me that it was pretty but he didn’t.

“All of these are things people have given to Jesus,” he said, pointing to the big basket that held rings and watches, necklaces and bracelets, even a few fancy pens. “Now it’s your turn.”

I covered my necklace protectively. “I
can’t
,” I whined. “My
daddy
gave this to me.”

All of a sudden, Ezekiel’s face got dark and his voice turned angry. “You must forget your daddy,” he said. “Your daddy was not chosen by God for salvation, and he won’t be welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven.”

This was too much. I plugged my ears and my stomach suddenly hurt. “Daddy’s not bad. Daddy’s not bad,” I kept saying. But Ezekiel firmly pulled my hands down.

I searched for Mommy’s face in the crowd. When I found her, I reached out my arms so she would come and take me away from this man, but she just shook her head no and lowered her head.

In a flash I realized something important. She was no longer in charge. This man was the boss of me now, and Mommy’s boss too. He was the boss of everybody.

“Now you will obey me and give me that necklace,” Ezekiel demanded.

He paddled me hard until I gave it to him. That’s when I wet myself in front of everybody.

I could cry all over again thinking about it. It was a powerful lesson, one that I needed to learn—that God comes before any material possessions.

The craft room that seemed so sunny just a few minutes ago is now oppressively heavy. Somebody sucked out all the air.

Rachel must feel it too because she stands up and opens a window. “Do you know that it’s almost seventy degrees out there? In November too!” she says. “Annie and Jacob are out collecting wood for a bonfire tonight. Why don’t you go help them—get a little air? You won’t see another day like this until spring.”

I love the idea. “Okay, as soon as I finish attaching this clasp.” In my hurry I prick my finger on a needle. The darned thing bleeds like it’s a knife wound or something.

“Out!” Rachel says. “You’ll get blood all over our jewelry.”

I race to the kitchen where the Band-Aids are kept. In the dining room, a solitary figure sits at a table. Miracle of miracles, it’s Mother nursing a glass of milk. Alone, finally.

When she sees me, she holds out her arms. I practically leap to get the hug I’ve wanted for so long. I hope no one comes around because I hug her for a long time, drinking in her love.

“You’re bleeding!” she says. I stick my finger in my mouth and plop down on the chair next to her.

“It’s nothing. A pinprick. The important thing is how are
you
? I never see you anymore—not even at mealtime.”

“Hurry and take care of that finger, then we’ll talk, God permitting.”

I stay put. “Tell me.”

“I’m supposed to be on bed rest.”

“Why?”

“To keep the baby healthy, Mother Martha says.”

She’s hiding something. It makes me so mad. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’ll be fifteen in May. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, honey.” She sighs. “I started bleeding several days ago. It could mean that I am having a miscarriage. But with bed rest, I have a better chance of keeping it.”

“So, why aren’t you in bed?”

In answer she holds up the glass of milk. “I can’t get enough of it.”

“But, Mother, even before you started bleeding, you didn’t seem happy about the baby. I know the doctor said you couldn’t get pregnant again, so this is a miracle, right?” I notice the dark circles under her eyes, and it seems that her face, even her fingers, are puffy.

“No, Eva, the doctor didn’t say I
couldn’t
get pregnant again. He said I
shouldn’t
because my body can’t handle it. It’s dangerous for me.”

“But Reverend Ezekiel said it’s a miracle,” I say.

“Yes,” she says. “It’s a miracle because with all these wives, no one has been able to bring a baby to term. And God told Ezekiel that I will have this baby.” After a few seconds she puts a smile on and gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ll just have to trust that if God wants me to have this baby, he’ll keep me safe, won’t we?”

I nod.
Please God, please keep her safe.

“I heard that Ezekiel pulled you out of school. It makes me sad.”

The way she avoids my eyes doesn’t look like sadness, though. It looks and feels like guilt—as if there is something she should be able to do to change Ezekiel’s mind.

“I know, but I get to go to Boulder and make pretty things.”

She looks around to make sure no one is listening. “Eva, don’t ever let anyone know that you like going to Boulder. You know better. It’s like saying, ‘I like being around heathens and temptations toward evil.’”

“I
know
!”

“I wish …” she begins.

We both hear it at the same time—footsteps in the hall. I grab Mother’s empty milk glass and head to the sink so that we’re not together when the person comes in or passes by. I pull the Band-Aids from the top shelf above the sink, though my finger stopped bleeding a while ago.

The intruder is Mother MaryAnne, here to begin the evening meal. We each greet her casually, and she doesn’t seem at all concerned that we’re together, especially after Mother explains her need for milk and I wave the finger I’ve just bandaged in front of her.

“You can have as much milk as you want,” Mother MaryAnne says, winking at Mother Martha.

When MaryAnne begins to take out pots and pans, I sneak a quick kiss on Mother’s forehead. I try to make my face say that everything is going to be all right. But I’m not convinced of it myself, and I know she’s not either.

When I get outside, I find that Annie and Jacob have gathered enough wood for three fires. But we keep gathering anyway because it’s fun to be out on this sunny day and special for me to have time with them again. I try to forget my conversation with Mother Martha and enjoy the moment. But I keep coming back to the sentence she started and didn’t finish. “I wish …” How would she have finished that sentence?
I wish … I wasn’t having a baby. I wish … you could get more education. I wish we could leave here.

My own thought stops me cold. No! That’s blasphemy. She would never say that.

One thing I remember is how happy Mother was when she decided to join Righteous Path. It was like night and day. Before she was angry with Daddy all the time, but after she met Reverend Ezekiel, she would sing songs of praise with so much joy.

I force myself to stop thinking of Mother and put all my attention into getting ready for the bonfire.

After dinner, the campfire seems to lift everyone’s mood. Annie sits on one side of me and Jacob on the other.

“We could make four campfires,” Jacob says. Annie and I can’t stop laughing when we hear this because Jacob’s voice keeps cracking and he shifts between a familiar high voice and an emerging low voice in the same sentence. At first it looks like he’s insulted, but then he laughs too.

Mother Rose tries to reassure him with
her
squeaky voice, which makes Annie and me laugh so hard my belly hurts. It feels good to laugh, though. It really does. Everyone around the circle is smiling with us. Except Reverend Ezekiel.

He looks at Jacob as if he’s seeing him for the first time. As he watches Jacob, an awful coldness fills his eyes. I’m puzzled by his reaction to Jacob. When Jacob sees this, he seems to fold in on himself like he wants to disappear.

Jacob catches my eye. His look is a question. I give him a warm smile and shrug my shoulders as if to say, “Who knows what’s going on with him?”

Everyone is quiet now, waiting for whatever will happen next.

Mother Helen hands Ezekiel his guitar, and as he starts to tune it, I begin to relax.

This may be the kind of bonfire night we used to have before the big split. We would praise God through song for hours, and sometimes Ezekiel would even encourage us to sing solos. Sometimes we even got to roast marshmallows on a stick.

“Who wants to hear a parable?” Ezekiel asks, his mood improving already.

“I do,” we all say.

It’s one of Ezekiel’s gifts. He can take any parable and set it to song, complete with a good melody and refrain.

“What parable would you like to hear?” he asks. I look around for Mother but she’s not here.

“The projigle son,” Daniel says.

“Yeah, the projigle son,” David agrees.

“It’s
prodigal
,” Reverend Ezekiel corrects. “So what does that mean, boys?”

The twins look at each other to decide in their silent language who will do the talking.

“It’s about brothers. One is good and one is bad,” Daniel says.

David chimes in. “Yeah and God loves both of them.”

“Hmmm, I wonder why you two want that story,” Ezekiel says.

Everyone laughs. The six-year-old boys are so cute with their matching blond cowlicks, light skin, and freckles. Mother Miriam has her hands full with them all day, especially with that left arm of hers. It hangs limp at her side. She can’t bend or extend it since she broke it during the move.