Eleven

The Rule

Worldly education is evil, exposing as it does the mind to the pollution of the world.

SCHOOL STARTED FOR THE YEAR the day after the January Meet. In the morning, I put on my usual ankle-length skirt and longed for the freedom of the uniform we’d worn at school in Wanganui.

‘Rachel, d’you ever wonder why the Elders decided to move us all down here?’

She fastened the top button on her blouse before she answered. ‘To give us more people to marry. That’s what I think, anyway.’

I leaned over to whisper in her ear. ‘I reckon it was Elder Stephen’s idea. He wanted more people to rule over.’

She gave me a shove. ‘That tongue of yours will get you into trouble one of these days, Rebecca Pilgrim!’ But she was smiling.

‘You know, it’s really weird to still be going to school,’ I said. ‘How are we meant to study while all we can think about is who will marry us?’

‘Tell me about it! But I’m glad the holidays are over. It’ll be good to see our friends every day instead of just on Sundays. That’s about the only good thing about that stupid school.’ She twisted a hair tie onto the end of her plait, then checked to make sure nothing was wrong with my clothes. If you weren’t allowed mirrors, then a twin sister was a useful thing to have.

I sighed. ‘Father would tell us to give thanks we don’t have to travel as far as many of the other kids.’

My sister said, ‘Well, I won’t, because I’m not. Thankful, I mean.’

Abraham wasn’t happy to be back in the classroom either. ‘It stinks,’ he said as we walked to our bus stop. ‘It’s so boring. We haven’t even got computers.’

‘Ask Father if you can help the men in the workshop at the hire centre in the afternoons,’ I said.

He spun around, holding up a hand for a high-five. ‘Yes!’

‘I want to go too,’ Luke said.

Rachel ruffled his hair. ‘You can ask, but don’t be disappointed if Father says you’re too young. Abraham might be too young as well.’

But judging by the determined look on his face, Abraham wasn’t going to give in without trying to persuade Father. Abraham would endure school if he knew he could go to the workshop for the afternoons. Luke would follow him if he could.

Brother Joseph was waiting with the bus. He drove us to the drab cluster of school buildings. The bunch of pre-fabs was unimproved from when we’d arrived in the middle of the previous year. The ground they’d been dumped on was still just a rough patch of paddock at the edge of Brother Demas’s organic farm where Malachi worked.

My chest felt tight. Malachi was one of the boys on the list. He’d be deciding which of us girls to marry.

Magdalene and our brothers trudged off to their classrooms. Rachel took my arm. ‘Come on. Let’s find out if we’ve still got the dragon to supervise us.’

Last year we’d had Sister Leah. She was a yeller and a rapper of knuckles. I knew it was against the law to do that, but Elder Stephen gave her permission, or so she told us, and that meant she could rap all she liked.

Drusilla held up crossed fingers as she opened the door. ‘Sister Jerushah! Are you our supervisor this year?’

What a blessing. All we’d have to do was work diligently and never forget that she was Elder Stephen’s wife because he would ask her for a report on our behaviour each day.

The morning passed peacefully. Not a knuckle got rapped and no cross words were spoken. I could come to like school with Sister Jerushah supervising us.

Lessons ended at midday. Almost before Brother Joseph was able to stop the bus, our brothers were off and racing home to speak to Father. By the time we arrived with Magdalene, Abraham was alight with excitement. Luke, as usual, was quiet, but we could see his happiness. They hurried through their meal but then had to wait for Father to finish his.

Several times during the meal, our father’s eyes rested on Abraham with something like approval. I wondered if he was thinking about Daniel and how he’d chosen to be expelled from the Fellowship rather than work in the car-hire business.

A WEEK WENT BY and we heard nothing about our possible betrothals. If Father had been approached by one of the young men, he didn’t tell us.

On Tuesday afternoon, Rachel asked, ‘Mother, do you know if anyone has asked Father about marrying us?’

We knew it was useless to ask. Sure enough, she said, ‘My daughters, your father will tell you when the time is right.’

That night, Rachel said to me, ‘There’s no rule that says we’re not allowed to know. Why doesn’t he tell us?’

I shrugged. It was just the custom that a girl wasn’t told anything about who might want to marry her. She had to trust her father to accept or reject a young man on her behalf. But we’d heard from other girls about a sort of secret code a young man might use to let a girl know he wanted to take her for his wife. Such knowledge didn’t help calm our nervousness.

‘I’ll tell my daughters,’ Rachel said. ‘I won’t ever forget how awful the waiting is. I won’t let my girls suffer like this.’

But I suspected that if she were married to Laban, he would behave exactly as Father was — and, like Father, he’d be most displeased if his wife took matters into her own hands.

‘We might find out something tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Abigail and Tirzah will tell us if they know anything.’

The next afternoon the women read from the Bible as they always did at Circle of Fellowship gatherings, but they seemed to take much longer to explain the word of the Lord. We children sat patiently and endured.

There was only one topic of conversation when at last we were free to go into the garden and talk.

‘Don’t ask,’ Tirzah said. ‘Father won’t tell me a thing.’

Abigail shook her head. ‘Same here.’

‘D’you think they’ll tell us before the actual weddings?’ I asked. ‘Will we get to Temple on the day still not knowing who we’re going to get?’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Tirzah snapped.

Dove put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Forgive her. She finds the waiting difficult.’

‘We understand,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s driving us nuts too.’

None of us said who we’d like to marry. There was no point, and it would only make life difficult and embarrassing if another girl got the boy we’d wanted.

SATURDAY CAME AROUND WITH still no hint of whether any of the young men had approached Father. We packed our lunches for the market, said goodbye to the family, and walked down the road to wait for Brother Saul.

Rachel said, ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘Save it till we get to the market,’ I whispered. ‘Tell Saul you’re not feeling well. Tell him you need to go to the bathroom.’

She looked even more terrified. ‘But what if he doesn’t say anything?’

We walked on and I was thinking hard. Finally, I said, ‘It’s probably best to know if he’s chosen somebody else.’

She stopped to look at me. ‘What if he chooses you?’

I was horrified. Had she been worrying about that as well? ‘No! He couldn’t! I like him, he’s a good man. But I don’t like him the way you do. I’d be happy to marry any of them — David or Malachi or Barnabas, I mean. Not Laban.’

We fell silent, watching the truck come around the corner with Saul at the wheel.

He leaned across to open the door for us. ‘Sister Rachel! You are very pale. Are you ill?’ He sounded worried — that had to be a good sign.

Rachel just shook her head. I said, ‘She has a sore stomach, but she did not want to stay home. She says she is well enough.’

None of us spoke for the rest of the journey. What can you say to a man who might be deciding whether or not to marry you?

When we arrived at the market, Saul said, ‘Sister Rachel, stay in the truck. We will manage without you.’

He worked swiftly, helping me set up the stall, then said, ‘Sister Rebecca, will you be okay for a moment? I will get her some water.’

I smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I will be fine.’ I watched him hurry away, then opened the truck door. ‘He’s so worried about you. Ask him to take you to the bathroom. Give him the chance to speak to you.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m too scared.’

A customer was heading our way. ‘I’ll tell him myself if you don’t. You’ve got five minutes and then I tell him.’

I heard her moan as I shut the door. I served a woman who wanted six dozen eggs, then another who wanted two chickens. ‘No chemicals? No antibiotics?’ she asked. ‘These really are organic?’

‘They really are,’ I said as I handed her the pamphlet about the community’s organic farms.

Saul came back with a bottle of water. Rachel slid out of the truck, thanked him, then whispered that she’d like to go to the bathroom. He was so concerned about her that he forgot to ask Mrs Lipscombe to keep an eye on our stall.

Several more customers had bought eggs by the time they returned. My sister was looking even paler than before, but she was smiling and Saul was holding her arm to support her. He gave me a grin. ‘Who knew it? A walk to the bathroom is an excellent cure for sick stomachs.’

We couldn’t say more — customers arrived in a bunch, and then another lot before we’d served all of the first. During a lull in the rush, I said, ‘I wish you well. Both of you.’

Saul leaned out of the cab. ‘We have your blessing, Sister Rebecca?’ He was teasing me, but I didn’t mind. He would be a good husband for my sister. I shut my mind to the question of who would choose me. Maybe none of them would. Talitha might not get her wish to remain unmarried.

I put off going to the bathroom for as long as I could. It was selfish, but I didn’t want Saul strolling along beside me — he was happy. The girl he’d chosen wanted him too. He could have no idea about the dark weight hanging over me.

But I could wait no longer, and eventually asked him to accompany me. He had the tact to stay quiet while we walked, but when we got to the bathrooms, he said, ‘Sister Rebecca, I have a message for you.’

‘Oh?’ Then I understood. It could only be from one of the other young men. ‘Oh. Tell me. Please.’

‘Brother Malachi sends you his good wishes. He says to tell you he wishes you well.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’

I scuttled off out of his sight, my mind tumbling and whirling. This was real. A message like that — it meant Malachi had chosen me. I sat down shakily on the toilet seat. Malachi. Yes, I could imagine myself as his wife. He worked for Brother Demas on the organic farm but everyone knew it was Malachi who had the knowledge, who did the study.

You will be a wife, I told myself. Your husband will be Brother Malachi Goodman and you will be Sister Rebecca Goodman.

Saying it didn’t make it any more real.

I went outside into the sunshine. Saul shrugged himself away from the post he’d been leaning against. ‘You okay, Sister Rebecca?’

‘Yes. Thank you. Just a little …’

He nodded. ‘I understand, but do you have a message for Malachi? He’ll be chewing his fingernails too, waiting to hear from you.’

Why hadn’t I worked out what to say? Saul had given me the chance to think. I rubbed my face. ‘Please tell him … I’m happy to receive his good wishes. Very happy. And tell him I wish him well too.’ I looked at Saul. ‘Is that all right? Is that enough?’

‘It is enough. He will understand.’ He smiled at me. ‘You are terrific girls, both of you.’

‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

We said no more. If an Elder asked any of us if we’d discussed marriage with a prospective partner, we could truthfully say no. But when I got the chance, I whispered to Rachel, ‘Malachi.’

She squeezed my hand. ‘You’re happy?’

‘Relieved, mainly.’ I tried to explain. ‘It all feels so — I don’t know — unreal, but real at the same time.’

While we were packing up, Saul bought chocolates from Mrs Lipscombe with his own money. ‘We will have a celebration on the way home,’ he said. ‘And there is enough here for your brothers and sisters too.’

He was kind. He’d be a good husband to my sister. I didn’t know Malachi well, but I thought he would be kind too. He was patient when I’d seen him with his small nieces and nephews. That was a good sign.