Lena Jones 02 - Desert Wives

hands on the work table. “Sister Lena, you’re new around here but that don’t excuse your ignorance of God’s laws. You worry too much about feelings, but feelings are for the weak, not the Godly.”
    A harsh philosophy not worth arguing about, so I said nothing more, just busied myself with the mashed potatoes. The tension in the kitchen made it a more unpleasant place to work than usual. The day’s heat, added to the full-bore ovens, had everyone sweating and snapping at each other like caged rats. No one dared to snap at Ermaline, though.
    Sister Ermaline’s casual attitude toward her daughter’s welfare troubled me, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Just to be sure, I decided to find out what she’d done, if anything, to see that her hellfire-bent daughter at least remained safe.
    “Sister Ermaline, did you call the sheriff’s office about Cynthia? It’s pretty hot out there today and maybe she didn’t take enough water.”
    Here Ermaline surprised me. “Of course I didn’t, but when the men couldn’t find her right away, Brother Earl came back and called the sheriff himself. There are patrol cars out looking for her right now.”
    I frowned. The deputy had pretty much told me that since I wasn’t Cynthia’s mother, I had no right to file a missing person’s report. What made Earl Graff so special?
    After that, we lapsed into silence, working quickly, if not cheerfully. Just when I thought I couldn’t take the tension any longer, the household’s older boys, led by Meade Royal, returned from the fields where they’d been working, and we carried the dinner to the table. After Meade led them all in prayer, I noticed with pride that no one refused my mashed potatoes.
    When I finally left Ermaline’s kitchen, loaded down with Salisbury steaks for Saul, I couldn’t help but think that something obvious had slid under my radar while I worried about Cynthia. But what?
    As I crossed the yard to Saul’s house, I saw the men’s pickup trucks were still gone, which meant they were still out looking for her.
    Go, girl! Whatever you do, don’t let them catch you.
    Back at Saul’s house, Ruby wolfed down her meal but refused to be drawn into a discussion about Cynthia. Saul said little, too, and I decided that his earlier anger at my suspicions of him had returned. When he finished dinner, he pushed himself away from the table, went into the living room and began recording another letter to his son. After finishing the dishes, Ruby stalked down the hallway and locked herself in her room, leaving me to listen to Saul tell his son about his current real estate problems. I felt totally alone, and for the first time that I could remember, didn’t like it.
    Then it struck me. I’d only been here a week, and yet I—a woman who’d always valued her privacy—now felt uneasy with solitude. How much more extreme would that unease be if I’d lived all my life in a house populated by at least fifty people? Did the simple fear of being alone factor into the women’s odd acceptance of their fate?
    Leaving Saul to his tape recorder, I stepped out onto the porch and collapsed into the swing. The sun set in its usual glory, tinting the Vermillion Cliffs with great splashes of red, orange and violet. But as pretty as it all looked, the compound remained eerily quiet. The men were still gone, and for once, few children played in Prophet’s Park. Even the doors and windows to the homes were closed, as if by battening down the hatches, the occupants could keep Cynthia’s rebellion from touching them. Not for the first time I suspected that the people of Purity were so locked into denial that they would probably never break free. It was as if they’d adopted the philosophy of “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” Just the right environment for evil to flourish.
    Just then I heard a rumbling from down the road, then saw a flash of headlights as the first truck topped the ridge. The men were back. Across the compound, a door slammed and Ermaline came out on the porch, followed by several other sister wives. Like me, they stood watching in silence.
    I hoped Cynthia remained free and had made it to safety. In fact, I hoped so hard I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the pickups finally pulled into the yard and one of the men called out to Ermaline, “We couldn’t find her!”
    Then I finally exhaled.
Thank God,
I whispered to the Being I still wasn’t sure I believed