The Rule
All life is sacred.
THE FIRST SUNDAY in August was our first day of working in the nursery instead of the kitchen. It was close enough to the temple building for us to hear the singing but far enough away for the people not to be disturbed by the noise of the little ones.
‘Ready?’ Rachel asked as we walked up the path.
I pulled a face. ‘Can’t wait. Screaming babies. Stinky nappies. Sounds like heaven.’
‘But such good training,’ my sister whispered. Then in her normal voice she said, ‘Good morning, Sister Grace.’
Sister Grace sniffed. ‘Another set of girls who do not know one end of a baby from the other.’ She shouldered the door open and stomped inside. She carried her baby — her seventh child — and shooed her toddler ahead of her.
‘The very gracious Sister Grace,’ I muttered. ‘Good morning to you, too.’
She was one of several older nursing mothers who had a new baby and a toddler. She plonked herself down beside Sister Judith who was feeding her tenth child and watching her four- and two-year-old sons as she did so. There’d be no escaping Sister Judith’s sharp eye — especially at lunchtime when our betrotheds would come to eat their meal with us.
Talitha arrived soon after we got there. ‘It’s good to see you,’ we said.
‘I am happy to be here.’ She spoke carefully to warn us not to shorten our words in front of the older women.
Kezia sat in a corner by herself. She fed little Mara but stayed beside her when she fell asleep. I went over to her. ‘Kezia, would you like to go to worship now? We will come for you when Mara wakes.’
She just turned away from me without answering. Later, when Mara cried, Rachel offered to change her, but Kezia ignored her, stomping off to the bathroom to do it herself.
We didn’t try to talk to her again. The day was busy — babies cried, they dirtied their nappies. It wasn’t all bad, though — the toddlers loved being outside on the swings and slide. I’d have loved to have a turn on the climbing frame myself.
At dinner that night, Father said to Abraham, ‘My son, your sisters missed hearing the word of the Lord. Tell them what Elder Stephen preached about.’
Abraham never listened to Elder Stephen. Did Father know that? There was a moment of horrible silence until I gathered my wits. ‘Father, we were fortunate enough to hear what the sermon was about. Sister Judith was able to be present while Elder Stephen was preaching. She helped us understand the importance of obeying the word of the Lord.’
I hadn’t really listened to what she’d said, but it was a fairly safe guess Elder Stephen would discuss the need for obedience at some stage in the sermon. If I was wrong, it would be the discipline room for me tomorrow.
But Father inclined his head. ‘It is well. Sister Judith is a godly woman. Praise the Lord.’
Later that night, Abraham poked his head into our room. ‘Thanks, sis. I never listen to the old guy.’
Magdalene giggled and I couldn’t help laughing too, but I was a little shocked by him speaking so irreverently about our leader. I prayed it wouldn’t get him into trouble.
The next Sunday, Sister Damaris was in the nursery with her new baby, a little boy. He was unsettled and we took it in turns to walk with him so that she could get some rest. Kezia sat alone in her corner, watching over Mara. She didn’t even try to speak to Damaris, though the two of them had known each other well in Wanganui.
The following Wednesday afternoon at the Circle of Fellowship, Abigail was looking stunned. ‘It’s Kezia,’ she said when we were free to go outside. ‘Drusilla’s mother told my mother about it. She went back to her parents last night. She told them she was leaving Ira.’
I felt sick. ‘Her father made her go back?’
But we didn’t need to ask. The Rule was clear: a couple are married in the sight of the Lord. The marriage bond cannot be broken. A wife may not leave her husband, nor a husband his wife.
‘Do you know why?’ I asked. ‘Why she left, I mean.’
Abigail shrugged. ‘No.’
We were quiet until Tirzah said, ‘We could say a prayer for her.’
We did so, but I knew none of us had any hope our prayer would be heard. That was the Rule: Kezia must live out her life with the man the Elders had made her marry.
Altogether, it was a miserable week. Sister Jerushah wasn’t at school on Thursday. On Friday we heard she was in hospital. We prayed for her too.
MARKET DAY ON SATURDAY was wet and windy. Enoch was curt with us and then apologised. ‘The children haven’t been well. But I should not take my lack of sleep out on you.’ He lay down in the cab of the truck and didn’t surface until midday.
Mrs Lipscombe brought us hot chocolates again. ‘Get these inside you. Wretched weather. Never mind — it’s meant to clear tomorrow. Here’s hoping.’
‘We should tell her we’ll be leaving soon,’ Rachel said.
But we wouldn’t, not yet. I didn’t want to think about how much we’d miss her when we had to stop coming to the market.
The next day at the nursery, Kezia was back in her corner. She looked awful. Mara started crying, but Kezia didn’t seem to hear.
I was nearest, so I went to her. ‘Kezia? Here, let me give her to you. She’s beautiful.’ Except at that moment Mara was red-faced with the effort of trying to get her mother’s attention.
Kezia took her but made no move to start feeding her. She looked at her daughter and murmured, ‘Who will care for you?’
I knelt down beside her. ‘Kezia! What are you talking about? Look, your baby is hungry. Please — feed her.’
Kezia’s eyes seemed to come into focus. ‘What? I’m all right. Stop fussing — and stop looking at me like that! Go away, I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.’
She wasn’t all right. I hesitated, but she ignored me and got on with feeding her baby.
I was frightened. What had she meant? Who will care for you? All through the morning, I stayed inside where I could keep an eye on her while I played with the children too small to go out to the playground.
Talitha came in to take a child to the toilet. ‘Rebecca, you have been indoors all morning. Go out for a bit. The sun is glorious.’
I looked up from where I was sitting in the middle of a jumble of blocks, rattles and balls. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. I’m not in an outside mood today.’
I was probably worrying about nothing. Kezia seemed to have got herself together. Mara had started to cry a couple of times and each time Kezia had picked her up immediately.
Mid-morning, Sister Judith’s baby woke and howled his fury at a world that didn’t feed him instantly. I stuck my head out the door. ‘Abigail, can you get Sister Judith? Little Shiloh wants her right now!’
When I turned back, Kezia was gone. Mara, wrapped in blankets, was lying on the floor under the bench where her mother had been sitting.
I ran to check the toilets. She wasn’t there, as I’d suspected she wouldn’t be. In my heart, I’d known it. What to do? Don’t make a fuss. Find her.
I grabbed a soiled nappy from the bucket, dripped it down my skirt, smeared it on my apron and sleeve. Out in the main room, I went to Sister Grace, the most senior of the women present. ‘I must go home and change. Please excuse me. I will ask one of the other girls to come inside.’
She sniffed. ‘Careless girl.’
Outside, I called Rachel over. ‘Kezia’s missing. I’m going to look for her. If I’m not back by lunchtime, you’d better tell the Elders.’
All sorts of understandings flickered over my sister’s face. ‘Go. Quickly. I’ll tell them why you’ve gone home.’ She gestured to my clothes.
I broke the Rule by running. Lord, keep Kezia safe.
She couldn’t have been gone long. She couldn’t have got very far. If she intended to take her own life … it was a sin to even think such a thing. The Rule was clear: life was sacred.
I had to think of it. Where would she go? I stopped running to look around me, to try to put myself into the soul of a desperate girl. The sea? Would she just walk out into the sea until it pulled her under?
The thought of her wading out beyond the breakers was enough to make me start running again. She wouldn’t have got there yet — it’d take her at least half an hour to reach the water.
I kept looking around me as I ran, but even so it was only by chance that I caught a glimpse of her white blouse. She was off the road, huddled in a tangle of scrub at the foot of a tree.
I pushed through the bushes. ‘Kezia? Come back with me. Please. You’ll be in such trouble.’
She gave a wild laugh. ‘Trouble! What do you know about trouble, Rebecca Pilgrim? Get away. Leave me alone.’
She had something in her hand, either a knife or a razor blade.
I knelt down beside her. ‘I’m going to pray for you. Listen to my words, Kezia. Listen for your life.’ I stared into her eyes, wanting to force her to listen.
She turned her face away. ‘Leave me alone. Push off. Go and tell the Elders. Tell them I’m a rotten sinner. See if I care.’
I reached out with both hands, grabbed hold of her head and turned it so she had to shut her eyes if she didn’t want to look at me. I kept my eyes on hers and said, ‘Lord, I pray your daughter Kezia will have faith that there are people who will help her. I pray she will have the courage to speak to a worldly woman, to ask her for help. I pray she will have the courage to ask a stranger to call this worldly woman on the telephone. I pray she will have the courage to tell the woman Rebecca from the market told her to ask for help.’ I stopped. It wasn’t working. I hadn’t reached her.
She jerked her head out of my hands. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I haven’t finished. Listen to my words, Kezia. For the love of your daughter, listen to me.’
She put a hand over her face but I felt a flare of hope. That was surely better than the determined blankness of a moment ago. I repeated, ‘Listen to me. Listen to my prayer. Lord, I pray you will forgive me for speaking of those who have been cast out, for telling Kezia that such people can still lead good and godly lives. I pray for forgiveness for telling her we saw Esther at the market. I pray for forgiveness for telling her Esther said Daniel and Miriam are well and happy in their worldly lives. I pray for forgiveness for telling her they still love us and they pray for us every day.’
She didn’t move, didn’t speak, and I was too frightened to do anything other than stay crouched at her side. Had I gone too far by telling her it was possible to be godly and happy in the world?
Lord, help us both.
When she did speak, she kept her hand over her face. ‘You’re sure she’ll help me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’
‘I have to go home to get her phone number. I had to hide it.’
At last she lifted her head. ‘You’ll be in trouble if they find out you helped me.’
‘I know. Will you wait here? Promise you’ll wait.’
She sighed and leaned against the tree. ‘All right.’
I held out my hand. ‘Give it to me.’
She kept her fingers closed and said, ‘You can trust me.’
‘Kezia, you’re desperate. Don’t take the chance of holding on to temptation. Please.’
She muttered a swear word and slapped the knife into my hand. It was small and lethally sharp. I made her look at me. ‘Wait for me. I’ll be about twenty minutes. Stay here.’
She hunched a shoulder and turned away.
I ran, asking forgiveness for breaking the Rule yet again. My long skirt bashed against my legs. I hauled it high to my knees. That was against the Rule too. What should I have done? What would Father say? Tell the Elders. And they would force Kezia to go back to Ira; they would shame her in front of the whole community. They would kill her.
Evil thoughts. I shook them away.
I tore up the path to our house, let myself in with the hidden key, shed my dirty clothes, snatched up clean ones. What if the paper bag with Mrs Lipscombe’s address and phone number was gone? All was well — it was still there, tucked under the lining paper in my apron drawer. I cut out the small square of writing. I’d throw the rest of the bag and the knife into a bin on my way back.
Rachel, we’re coming. Don’t tell anyone. Not yet.
Please Lord, help Kezia. Keep her safe.
She was still there. I grabbed her hand. ‘Come on. We need to hurry.’
Her steps dragged. ‘They’ll know by now. It’s all too late.’
I gave her a sharp tug. ‘Come on. If we get back before lunch, Rachel will make some excuse. Hurry.’
I put the small square of paper in her apron pocket. ‘She’s a good woman. Trust her.’
Maybe it gave her hope. Her steps became firmer, quicker.