RACHEL, SAUL AND HOPE had dinner with us that night to celebrate Abraham’s betrothal. Rachel held our brother’s hands and her face was glowing with happiness. ‘I am so pleased for you, Abraham. Talitha is such a good choice for you. She was always kind to us when we worked in the kitchen.’
She didn’t notice she’d said us and we. Usually she was careful not to refer to Rebecca in any way.
Saul shook Abraham’s hand. ‘We are pleased for you, brother. May the Lord bless you both.’
Rachel began to help us prepare the meal, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Sit down, daughter. You are well? What does the midwife say?’
Zillah and I went about our tasks quietly, hoping we might hear something real. But married women seemed to speak in a code that meant nothing to us.
Rachel said, ‘She says the baby is growing as it should. But the scan showed I will need to have a Caesarian section.’
‘Oh, Rachel! What is the reason? How can she tell? You still have six weeks until the baby is due.’
Rachel looked serene. ‘Do not worry, Mother. I am in good hands. It is called placenta praevia. The Caesarian is necessary to keep both of us safe.’
Zillah ignored my warning head-shake to ask, ‘What does that mean, Mother? I don’t … do not understand.’
‘You do not need to know, Zillah,’ Rachel said. ‘Will you pray to the Lord to keep the baby and me safe? Will you do that for me, little sister?’
‘Yes, I will pray,’ Zillah said in the dead, defeated voice she used when her life seemed hopeless. But I was angry. I wanted to slap people — Rachel, Mother, every single one of the Elders and Father. I was certain he hadn’t supported Brother Jedidiah in his quest to get proper education for his children.
Neither of us talked during dinner. Abraham was cheerful. Saul helped Hope with her meal so Rachel didn’t have to do anything except eat. Every now and again the two of them exchanged a private smile. They loved each other and I knew I should feel glad for them instead of furious. Marriage put up a wall, and if you weren’t married you got shut out. Doors got banged in your face.
Something half-remembered niggled at my mind. It was to do with the time Daniel and Esther got banished. No, it was before that. With no warning, the entire memory smashed into focus and I flinched.
‘Magdalene! What is it now?’ Mother asked, frowning at me.
‘When Zillah was born — you had to be cut open, Mother. Rachel, do you have to —’
Father silenced me. ‘That is most unseemly, Magdalene. Go to your room. You will spend tomorrow in the discipline room, repenting for your sinful immodesty.’
I went to get up, then I stopped. ‘Father, how can I know what is unseemly if I have no knowledge? I did not understand it was a transgression.’
‘Your good sense should have guided you. Go and pray to the Lord for forgiveness. At once, Magdalene.’
I went to my bedroom, but I didn’t pray. I wondered if Father truly believed I would. I sighed. Yes, he’d expect me to obey him because the Rule said children must obey their parents. If we didn’t obey we would be damned to go to hell where we would burn for eternity.
I went to the window. There were no clouds in the sky now. I wished Mother loved me and Zillah. Rachel had become so like Mother that it was useless even to think about asking her for answers. She’d looked truly shocked by my question.
I picked up my pillow and smashed it against my bed, over and over again until I felt calmer. Damn the discipline room!
Swearing was a wicked sin. I would go to hell for sure.
Zillah would have to get through tomorrow on her own. I huddled into a ball on my bed. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about our lives was fair. In a few days I’d be thirteen. In six months’ time I’d be working in the kitchen on worship days — I’d be one of the kitchen girls. Elder Stephen would read my name out and he’d read out the names of boys who could ask to marry me when I turned sixteen.
I wished Zillah and I could live with Abraham and Talitha in Auckland. We could all live there for ever and I wouldn’t have to get married and turn into Mother the way Rachel had.
It seemed a long time before Zillah came to bed. She leapt at me and wrapped me up in a hug. ‘Father’s mean. It’s not fair.’
But I was calm now. ‘Zillah, I’ve been trying to remember. Shall I tell you about when you were born?’
‘Yes!’ She wriggled so she could lean against the wall. ‘Father would be so angry!’ She grinned at me.
Yes, he would. I didn’t feel even a speck of guilt. ‘Okay, I can’t remember everything. It all got mixed up with Daniel and Esther being banished.’ I pushed away the memory of them both stumbling down the aisle at worship — Daniel bleeding and limping from where the Elders had beaten him, and Esther with her arm around him, helping him. His blood was on her white blouse. ‘I’d just started school.’
Zillah nodded. ‘Yes, because you were five and school starts in February and my birthday is the second of February.’
‘Mother was sick. She stayed in bed one morning and Esther said she shouldn’t be by herself, but Father prayed and said the Lord would keep her safe.’
‘Did Esther defy Father?’ Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it. ‘Did she disobey him?’
‘It’s lucky for you she did. She called an ambulance and they took Mother to hospital. They had to cut her open to get you out.’ I picked up the hem of my apron and held it out to show her. ‘I’d just learned how to sew like this.’
She pulled a face. ‘Herringbone stitch.’
‘Yes. I asked Mother if the doctor sewed her up with herringbone stitch.’ I couldn’t remember what her answer had been.
‘What was I like when I was that little? Was I like Hope when she was new?’
I shook my head. ‘You were tiny, much littler than Hope was. They had to keep you in a sort of glass case and you had tubes stuck in you. You were pretty sick and we didn’t know if you’d live.’ I grabbed her and tickled her. ‘But you’re tough. You survived.’
She turned it all over in her head for a bit, then asked, ‘Is that what Rachel was talking about? Will they have to cut her open to get the baby out?’ She frowned and I knew what she was going to ask next.
‘I don’t know how babies get born if they’re not cut out. And if you ask Rachel she’ll just say you’ll find out when the time is right.’ And Mother would punish her for being unseemly.
We were quiet — so much to think about. So many questions.
My birthday was just before the New Year. The Children of the Faith didn’t celebrate birthdays. When I came in to breakfast, Mother only said, ‘Now you are thirteen, Magdalene, I hope you will be more responsible.’
I sat down. Her comment hurt my heart. What did she want of me that I didn’t do already?
Something kicked my ankle and I looked up to see Abraham rolling his eyes. I was comforted.
When Zillah and I were doing the dishes, she said, ‘You are responsible! It’s not fair. Father never growls at Abraham and he speaks unseemly all the time.’
I put the final dish in the rack. ‘Daniel got growled at. He had to learn lots of psalms. But he didn’t want to work with Father. That’s the only reason Abraham doesn’t get growled at.’
She threw cutlery into the drawer. ‘I want to work with Father too, but I get growled at and prayed at.’
Mother called from her sewing room. ‘Hurry, girls. We need to leave or there will not be time to sew Talitha’s dress.’
Abraham drove us to Sister Priscilla and Talitha’s house, with Mother lecturing him the whole way. ‘My son, you and your wife must make sure you spend Sundays worshipping the Lord. Your father will send you a scripture to study each week.’
‘Good of him,’ our brother said, but Mother didn’t hear the wryness in his voice, or else she chose to ignore it, for she went on about the evil of worldly churches and how the people who went to them would be damned for worshipping false gods. He must have been relieved it was a short car ride — if he happened to be paying her any attention, which I suspected he wasn’t.
She preached the same thing to Talitha the moment we began sewing, but Sister Priscilla put her hand over
Mother’s and said, ‘Be easy, Sister Naomi. I believe we may trust in the good hearts of our children.’ Mother said no more, but I knew she was offended at not being allowed to speak her mind. I tried to feel compassion for her. I failed.
All morning, I sewed buttonholes. Mother sewed the wedding scarf with tiny stitches. Talitha used the machine to sew the long seams. Her mother worked on the petticoat and Zillah had the task of doing its hem.
Rachel came to help the next day. Mother and Sister Priscilla talked with her about the baby, but we didn’t hear anything more about the operation to cut the baby out.
It took us several days to finish the dress, petticoat and scarf, but that wasn’t the end of the sewing. Zillah and I would have to spend hours each day for the rest of January stitching all the things Faith girls had to have when they got married — table napkins, tablecloths, tea towels and table mats. There was no escape for Zillah — she was a girl and this was what girls were born to do.