Lena Jones 02 - Desert Wives

sister wife displayed no impatience or temper. Her mind held no thoughts for anything other than the Lord, her husband and her children—in that order. She was a breeding machine, nothing more.
    Gritting my teeth, I stuffed my feet into my Reeboks—for some reason not forbidden—and headed toward the kitchen.
    Ruby waited by the stove, her dress and hairstyle mirroring my own. She did, however, look less pale today. Her cheeks were pink. “Sister Lena, how come breakfast wasn’t ready a half-hour ago? The Lord hates sloth!”
    Unless my radar had gone awry, Sister Ruby simmered in a jealous snit. I looked over at Saul to see if he’d noticed.
    He sat at the head of the table with his back to her, oblivious. “Oh, Sister Ruby, our dear Sister Lena has lived on the Outside all her life, so she has much to learn.” His voice carried enough conviction to scare me, but then he winked. “Now Sister Lena, I want three eggs sunny-side up, three strips of bacon, two slices of white, buttered toast, and a big glass of milk.”
    Cholesterol heaven. I doubted if a Godly wife corrected her husband even when it was for his own good, so I said nothing.
    I did my best, but breakfast, after Saul led us in an obligatory prayer from Solomon’s
Gospel
, proved disgusting. Cooking by myself with little assist from Ruby, I had somehow contrived to cook the egg yolks granite hard while keeping the whites runny. I burnt the bacon and cremated the toast. Even the milk seemed to curdle in my inexpert hands. Saul, obviously the possessor of a cast iron stomach, ate most of it, albeit with a pained expression. Ruby pushed the runny eggs around on her plate with all the enthusiasm of a full-bore anorexic, while I confined myself to a pear I’d found on the window sill.
    “Fruit is good for you,” I said. “It has a lot of fiber. Keeps you regular.”
    “Fiber?” Ruby knitted her brow as if the concept of a healthy gastrointestinal tract was altogether alien. “Our husband likes eggs and bacon. It’s what he likes that counts around here, not what you think.”
    Meow
. But I decided that the woman, who probably saw herself as shunted aside in her husband’s affections, deserved sympathy, not sarcasm, so I didn’t tell her that pleasing a husband by blocking his arteries was an odd way to show affection. Aloud I said, in a respectful tone, “Perhaps you can teach me how to cook, Sister Ruby. When I lived in the outside world I never cooked, other than to heat up TV dinners.” No lie there.
    She gave me a quick glance, then in a studied return to her former meekness, said softly, “Sorry, Sister Lena. The Lord told me my family duty is the laundry.”
    I blinked. “Huh? You mean
God
told you to do the laundry?”
    Saul came to the rescue. “Before the Lord spoke to Prophet Solomon and gave Sister Ruby to me, she served as sister wife in a large family where each woman was given one specific duty. One wife cooked, one cleaned, one sewed, and Sister Ruby did the laundry.”
    A sly smile crept across Ruby’s rough features. “Yes, Sister Lena, the Lord spoke unto my husband and told him that I was to wash clothes, and whenever necessary, help with the cleaning. But He didn’t tell me to cook.”
    It irritated me so much I forgot myself. “Aw, c’mon, Ruby. The
Lord
didn’t tell you to do the laundry. Your husband did!”
    The sly look disappeared, replaced with one of genuine confusion. “Husbands speak for the Lord, so what difference is there?”
    I felt a kick on my shin and looked over to see Saul’s disapproving frown. My first morning in Purity and I’d almost blown it already.
    Saul cleared his throat and addressed me in a stern voice more suited to a televangelist than a retired contractor. “Like any good sister wife, Ruby speaks the truth. The Lord quite rightly communicates with the husband, who then conveys the message downward to his wives. Why should this surprise you, Sister Lena? Prophet Solomon assured us no thing on Earth is too small for the Lord. He knows who’s best suited at tilling the fields and who’s best suited for the laundry. Because He can see into our hearts, the Lord never makes mistakes. Therefore, it’s a terrible sin not to obey the Lord’s message.”
    I glared. “You mean the Lord’s message according to Prophet Solomon.”
    Saul glared back. “Damn straight I do.”
    I felt another kick.
    Having duly chastised me, Saul turned to Ruby. “Ah, the Lord just reminded me that