The Rule
Illness is a sign of sin. Do not seek to alleviate pain. It is in suffering pain that the soul will be cleansed of sin.
AS WE APPROACHED the nursery, I gave Kezia a small shove. ‘You go in first. If anyone asks where you’ve been, tell them you needed some fresh air.’
For once, she didn’t argue. She was even walking with her shoulders straight.
Please Lord, help her.
I waited for about five minutes before I followed her inside.
‘You took your time,’ Sister Grace snapped at me.
‘I apologise, Sister Grace. Shall I take your baby? She might settle if I walk with her.’ I held out my arms, looking at the crying baby and not at grumpy Sister Grace.
She just about pushed her daughter into my arms.
I heard Damaris say to Kezia, ‘Is all well with you, Sister Kezia?’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Kezia said. ‘I have been finding life difficult, but I am also finding comfort in prayer.’
‘Praise the Lord,’ Damaris said. ‘I will pray for you.’
I hoped Kezia’s comfort came from the wicked prayer I’d spoken. Please Lord, keep her safe. Keep Mara safe.
I poked my head out the door to wave to Rachel. The strain eased from her face. ‘All is well?’
‘I think so. But keep her in your prayers.’
THAT EVENING, RACHEL SAID, ‘The paper bag has gone?’
‘Yes.’
She let out a breath. ‘It was the right thing to do. If they find out, I’ll share the blame.’
I hugged her. ‘No. Please don’t. Think of Saul. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Let’s both pray they won’t find out.’
‘She didn’t tell you why?’
I shook my head. ‘No. And I couldn’t ask her. It felt like she’d break if I said the wrong thing.’
My thoughts went round and round.
I’d broken the Rule most dreadfully. My duty was clear — I should have told Father so that he could report Kezia’s terrible intent to Elder Stephen. What madness had possessed me?
I didn’t sleep well that night, and when I did I dreamed of Elder Stephen’s sorrowful eyes following me. I dreamed of his voice crying that I was damned and dead.
Rachel and I were on edge in the morning, waiting for Father to tell us Kezia had gone — to ask us if we knew anything about it.
Instead, he made a solemn announcement. ‘My family, Sister Jerushah needs your prayers. Her health is causing Elder Stephen grave concern.’
THERE WAS NO NEWS of Kezia the next day either. ‘Maybe she’s decided to stay,’ Rachel whispered.
There was, though, news of Sister Jerushah. She had cancer. The hospital said there was nothing to be gained from treating her — the sickness had spread too far. Elder Stephen had brought her home.
That night, Father told us we betrothed girls would sit with her after school finished each afternoon. Talitha would care for her in the mornings. A nurse was to visit every day.
Abigail was absent from the Circle of Fellowship on Wednesday. It was her turn to sit with Sister Jerushah. No one mentioned Kezia.
On Thursday morning Father said, ‘Rebecca, you are to sit with Sister Jerushah this afternoon. Go straight there when you get off the school bus.’
‘Rachel, it is your duty tomorrow.’
‘Yes, Father.’
At school, Sister Anna, our replacement supervisor, began lessons with a prayer for Sister Jerushah. Her eyes were red, and all day she struggled with tears.
That afternoon Talitha met me at the door of Elder Stephen’s house. ‘Come this way. Sister Jerushah is sleeping at the moment.’
It was the first time I’d been inside Elder Stephen’s house. It was a sombre place. The walls of the hallway were painted dark brown. The kitchen was grey. The surfaces of the benches gleamed pale in patches from years of being scrubbed clean. I’d never been in a house as dreary as this one was.
Talitha pulled out a chair for me. It was rickety, with the back coming away from the seat. She set our lunch on the table — bread, butter and sliced meat. There was no pickle to liven the taste.
She watched me as I looked around, taking in the old stove, the ancient fridge, the skimpy curtains. I leaned towards her to whisper, ‘Sister Jerushah deserved better than this.’
It was a miracle to me that she’d been able to bring up her eight children in this drab house, but more than that, she’d done it with grace and loving kindness. She was a godly woman. It was an honour to help care for her.
‘Tell me what I need to do,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit nervous about all this, Talitha.’
She smiled. ‘There’s no need to be. All we’re really doing is keeping her company when she’s awake. We have to make sure the drip is working too. See this? It’s a pump — it gives her the pain medication. Press it when she gets restless.’ She showed me how to use it. ‘Don’t look so worried. It’s set up so we can’t give her more than she should have.’
I sat on the hard chair beside Sister Jerushah’s bed in a room as gloomy as the rest of the house. To occupy myself I worked on the tablecloth Rachel and I were embroidering to give to Mrs Lipscombe. Sister Jerushah mostly slept. When she woke, she was thirsty. I poured water into a glass and was shocked to discover she was too weak to hold it herself. I helped her, but she waved it away after a couple of sips. She lay with her eyes closed, but she was frowning and her lips were pressed together.
‘Sister Jerushah, are you in pain?’
‘It is nothing. It will pass.’
It would not pass. I pressed the pump, releasing a dose of the pain medication, and gradually her face relaxed.
Two of Sister Jerushah’s daughters called in during the afternoon. I left them alone to sit with their mother. After ten minutes they tip-toed out of her room. ‘She is sleeping again,’ Sister Tamar said.
The nurse came at four o’clock. ‘All well here?’ She checked the drip. ‘Did Talitha show you how to use the pump? Good. She’d make an excellent nurse, that one.’ The woman put her hand on Sister Jerushah’s forehead. ‘Sheer force of will kept her going. She must have been in dreadful pain. If she’d gone to the doctor sooner, she could have been helped. God knows how she managed to stay on her feet as long as she did.’
Elder Stephen’s voice made me jump. He was standing in the doorway, looking extremely displeased. ‘I do not permit any person to take the name of the Lord in vain in this house, woman.’
The nurse flicked him a glance, pressed her lips tight, picked up her bag and said to me, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. Call me at any time though.’
Elder Stephen stepped into the room. ‘One moment, woman!’ His large presence made the room shrink. I expected the nurse to cower before him, for he was truly terrible in his rage.
She looked him in the eye. ‘Mr Righteous, you may call me Nurse Katherine. Or Mrs Salford.’ Her voice was level. I got the strong feeling she didn’t like him.
‘Mrs Salford, you will remove that abomination at once.’ He pointed at the drip bag.
She let the silence grow between them before she asked, ‘Why don’t you want your wife to have pain relief? Why do you want her to suffer?’
Lord, please let me vanish, fade away and disappear.
Elder Stephen said, ‘That is not your concern. Remove it.’
I felt sick with fear, but the nurse didn’t seem afraid of him. ‘No. I will not. If you remove it I’ll get a court order to hospitalise her. Is that clear?’
Nobody ever challenged our leader’s will. His face went red, then paled. ‘You are an evil woman to go against the will of the Lord. My wife’s suffering will cleanse her soul of sin. Yet you — you — an ignorant, worldly, sinful woman, seek to prevent her from achieving salvation.’
Stop! Please don’t fight. Sister Jerushah needs calm.
Nurse Katherine closed her eyes. Was she praying? ‘Mr Righteous, your wife has already endured months of severe pain. She does not need to suffer now. The law won’t allow it. You’ll have to choose. Does she stay here with the pain medication, or does she go to hospital?’
He didn’t answer, just turned and walked out, closing the door after him.
Nurse Katherine stood where she was, her eyes shut. I could see she was trying to calm herself. Finally, she said, ‘I just don’t understand how anybody could be so cruel. And all in the name of God.’ She came over to me and whispered, ‘You watch out for him — he’s a randy old goat. He’s worn her out with baby after baby. And just as bad, in my humble opinion — I gather from what she’s let slip that he’s a critical old sod. Never a loving word or a smile.’
She saw my shocked face and touched my cheek. ‘Sorry, Rebecca. It’s true, though. Don’t shut your eyes to it.’
‘Please,’ I whispered. ‘You must not speak of our leader like that.’
She sighed. ‘Just make sure that drip stays in place.’ She handed me a card. ‘Ring me if there’s a problem.’
I took it but said, ‘We do not have telephones.’
She pulled a face. ‘No. Of course not.’
There was so much I was tempted to ask her, but I couldn’t, especially not in this house, so said only, ‘Surely eight babies couldn’t have worn her out? Many women have bigger families than that.’
She just looked at me.
‘What? What have I said?’
‘Eight children? What about the ten he won’t let come near her? The ten he chucked out?’
She walked away, leaving me staring after her.