“Excuse me,” I said, needing a break from the tension of the theological argument and the strange scene with Sarah. “Do you mind if I go get a drink from the kitchen?”
“Oh, I can do that for you,” said Rebecca, standing up.
I waved her back down. “I can manage on my own. I’d hate to put you to any trouble,” I said, and stood up before she could protest.
Kurt followed me to the door. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I wasn’t even sure what I was most upset about. The revelation about polygamy going on in the official history of the church for so much longer than I thought? The way Stephen and Sarah interacted? Or just my general suspicions about there being something deeply wrong here under the surface?
“Not really,” I said, finding it impossible to try to explain to Kurt.
He held the door for me politely, then stepped into the kitchen after me.
“What a piece of work he is,” said Kurt.
He meant Stephen Carter, but the egomaniac wasn’t my only problem here. I wished I could honestly talk to my husband about all the church issues, but he’d just dismiss me and I’d get angrier. In any case, this wasn’t the time or place for us to have it all out. “It’s all so exhausting,” I said, which was true. I rubbed my temples, but it didn’t help me relax at all.
“We could just leave,” Kurt suggested. “I don’t think Naomi or Kenneth would really blame us, considering.”
Maybe Kenneth wouldn’t, but Naomi would. “I have to see what’s going on with Talitha. I promised Naomi, and we haven’t even met her yet,” I pointed out.
He sighed and shook his head. “You can’t let that go?”
“No, I can’t,” I said, annoyed.
Kurt tensed, but didn’t argue. “All right,” he said, and left me to go back to the other room.
I drank a tall glass of cold water, enjoying the moment of delicious quiet and privacy, since none of the Carters’ children came in and interrupted me, as I half-feared. I considered praying for calm and discernment here as I tried to find out about Talitha, but the words wouldn’t come. I found I was angry at God as much as Stephen Carter at the moment. How could everyone claim God was on their side, no matter what evil they were doing? It seemed like some good old-fashioned Old Testament smiting with lightning might be in order, but the sky outside the kitchen window didn’t have a cloud in it.
So instead I did some quick meditation and focused on breathing in and out. I hadn’t done that since my atheist days. I hadn’t needed to.
When I went back to the living room, Stephen called the children in from outside for an official introduction.
Finally, a chance to see Talitha and put away my other concerns! But I had to pay careful attention. Even from up close, the children all looked remarkably alike, Stephen’s strong features stamped on every face.
Stephen Carter put his hands on the shoulders of each of his young sons as he introduced them. The older two, Joseph and Aaron, whom Rebecca had mentioned, weren’t there, since they were at the U. The ones still at home were Nephi, Lehi, Brigham, and Ezra. All good Mormon names from The Book of Mormon or after modern prophets. Nephi was a little older, but the other three looked all around the same age of eight, and very much alike. I recognized Brigham as the young boy we’d met at the gate, who had opened it with the key for us and then disappeared.
The girls were Esther, Leah, Rachel, Talitha, Madeleine, and Hannah—biblical names, since so few women were actually named in The Book of Mormon. Ruth, whom Rebecca had mentioned before, wasn’t here. The others ranged in age from toddler (Hannah) to what looked like nearly fully adult (Esther and Leah). But they must still be in their teens, or they’d have gone off to college, wouldn’t they? Were some allowed to go and others not?
But I set aside my other questions to focus on Talitha. She was blonde, but not as fair as the others, and her smaller cheekbones and darker eyes set her apart. I noticed she seemed to pay very careful attention to her father, but I could see no visible bruises or signs of injury. She clung to a mangy striped cat, which was missing patches of fur and looked like it had seen much better days.
“What’s his name?” Kurt asked Talitha, bending down to offer the cat a hand to be sniffed. He was hissed at instead, and he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender I doubted the cat understood.
“It’s a vicious thing,” said Stephen.
“It’s not an it. She’s a cat and her name is Lucy,” Talitha said pertly.
If I hadn’t had Naomi’s prompting, I couldn’t help but think I would have gravitated to Talitha of all the children in any case. She was bright-eyed and I loved that she spoke back to her father. But it also might be a reason she among the children drew his particular wrath—if she did.
“Well, Lucy seems to like you a great deal,” Kurt said to Talitha. “And that’s a hard thing to manage with a cat. They’re usually pretty standoffish.” I appreciated that Kurt was paying attention to the girl.
“Not Lucy. She loves me,” Talitha said. “We’re family.”
“An animal can’t be family,” Stephen said shortly, interrupting the exchange. “If you don’t mind coming to see the other wives,” he said, beckoning for me and Kurt to follow, “they’d all like to meet you.”
I gave Talitha a smile as her father led me and Kurt away—we had many people still to meet, but I would seek her out again as soon as I could. She returned my smile shyly, hugging Lucy to her chest.
From one high point on the property, Stephen pointed out all four of his houses rather grandly: the main one on the gravel road; the flat rambler on a green hillock where I learned Carolyn, the musician, lived; the small blue house, almost entirely obscured by a thick curtain of trees, which was Jennifer’s home; and the unfinished house in the gully, where the newest wife, Joanna, lived with her children.
It was a relief to be out of doors in the beautiful summer sunshine, especially this close to the mountains where there was a breeze, but I felt a little guilty leaving Talitha behind. I told myself that I needed to see the whole picture here, not just one household. But the truth was, I was also hoping to regain some sense of balance before I could focus on the task Naomi had set me.
We went to meet Carolyn next. I estimated her to be somewhere in her thirties. She had lank, strawberry-blonde hair that fell into her face and she made no attempt to hold it back. Her skin was tinged with gray pallor, and she held her hands over her bulging pregnant belly.
“This is Linda and Kurt Wallheim. They’re to be Naomi’s mother- and father-in-law,” Stephen said.
“Nice to meet you, Carolyn,” I said, and offered my hand.
Carolyn moved closer to Stephen, as if for protection. Her handshake to me, when prompted by Stephen, was limp. She wouldn’t touch Kurt at all, however, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the story was behind that.
“Carolyn is our musician,” Stephen said. “She brings the song of the angels to our whole family. Though she was never formally trained, I think it’s amazing how much she has learned through her sheer commitment.”
“We’d love to hear you play sometime,” I said, trying to sound kind and encouraging.
Carolyn shook her head and made a dismissive sound.
“She becomes a little emotional when she’s expecting,” Stephen said. “It’s hard for her to play and not to hear all the tiny mistakes she makes. But in a few months, all will be well, won’t it, my love?” He patted her shoulder and left his hand resting there.
He hadn’t called either Rebecca or Sarah “my love.” What did it mean that he’d used it with Carolyn?
“Tell them about our children together,” Stephen prompted.
Carolyn spoke in a quiet monotone, as if reciting. “Elizabeth is thirteen. She plays piano, like I do. Jonathan is eleven and I think he’s going to end up on a French horn, but right now he’s learning trumpet.”
“He needs to practice more before we invest in another instrument,” Stephen said.
Carolyn tensed at this. “I know that. We already have so many instruments and of course, you can’t afford another one for no reason.”
This made me consider Stephen’s financial situation. Even a well-paid OB/GYN would struggle to pay for four homes and twenty-one children, wouldn’t he?
“It’s not about the cost,” Stephen said. “It’s about teaching Jonathan that hard work means reward. I wouldn’t want him to have an instrument he hadn’t earned through practicing.”
“And of course, you’re the musical expert,” said Carolyn, her voice trembling a little now. She looked away from Stephen.
Something about her nervousness made me think that a physician would know how to hurt people without leaving visible signs. It was a cold thought, but I wondered more and more about whether Stephen Carter used violence to control his wives.
“And what about the other children?” Stephen encouraged.
“Noah is nine and he plays the oboe. Judith is seven and she plays the violin.” Carolyn seemed to struggle for a moment.
Stephen squeezed her shoulder. “Go on,” he said.
Eventually, she did, but her tone was more subdued. “Little Martha is three and she doesn’t play anything yet, but I think I’m going to try her on a flute when she’s ready. She seems like a flute player, I think.”
“A flute is a good instrument for a young girl,” Stephen replied, nodding in approval.
“Instruments aren’t for boys or girls,” said Carolyn, the first open disagreement I’d seen her show Stephen. “Music is for everyone. Isn’t that what the scriptures say? Make a joyful noise.”
Stephen’s eyes flickered, but he patted Carolyn’s hand and said, “The stress of your pregnancy is making you fractious today, I’m afraid. You must remember how much you are loved and cared for. Anything you need, you have only to ask for it.”
Carolyn took a breath and murmured, “Yes, Stephen.”
What was going on with her? She seemed weak-minded or possibly even brainwashed. So unlike Sarah, although their ages were close. What was the difference in their situations?
As Stephen led us down the steps and away from Carolyn’s house, he said, “Carolyn had a very difficult childhood and teenage years. She assumes that everyone is ready to hurt her. Even after fourteen years living safely here with us, surrounded by loving family, I think she flashes back sometimes to those bad old days.”
“She had a difficult childhood?” I repeated. Maybe her neuroses were the products of childhood trauma, and had nothing to do with Stephen at all.
“Yes,” said Stephen. “Terrible years.”
“Her parents were abusive?” Kurt asked.
“Abusive, yes. But worse was their neglect. She had to sell herself to stay alive. She was on the streets for many years until she found her way home to us here.”
I was shocked at the honest way Stephen simply stated that Carolyn had been a victim of sex trafficking. Did they talk about it openly in the family? I supposed that could be a good thing, considering how often I complained about Mormons never being open about their sex lives, but openness was one thing and re-opening trauma was another.
“You found her on the streets?” Kurt’s tone was mild and inoffensive, but I could hear the judgment underneath. He had to be wondering the same thing I was, which was what age Carolyn had been when she married Stephen. Had he taken advantage of a young woman in distress?
One of Stephen’s smiles again. “No, no. I skipped an important step in there. When I met Carolyn, she’d already made the decision she wasn’t going to sell herself anymore. She was working at a local piano store. They didn’t pay her much, but they let her practice after hours, and it was the beginning of a new life for her. I offered to pay her to give lessons to my children up here when it fit into her schedule.”
“And then you asked her to marry you?” Kurt’s tone was still critical.
“Not for several years, though she fell in love with me after only a few months.” He grinned in some kind of shared masculine pride at this.
I wanted to slap him. Had Carolyn fallen in love with him or with his money and the security she thought it might bring her?
“But it was the Spirit that spoke to Rebecca and told her Sarah was to join us. Jennifer agreed, and so I added a third wife with God’s grace in 2002,” he assured Kurt.
Kurt rolled his eyes toward me at this. I too was beginning to hate the way Stephen used that pseudo-scriptural language in everyday conversation.
We walked down to the rambler next and met Jennifer, who was in her forties and wore stylized cat-eye glasses with jewels on each point. She was enviably trim, perhaps a bit too thin, or so I told myself. I neither saw nor heard children in this house, and there were no signs of toys or other child-related objects. It was also pin-perfect, not a bit of dirt anywhere, no clutter, everything in its place.
Stephen introduced us as Naomi’s future in-laws.
“It’s good to meet you,” Jennifer said, as she offered her hand to shake. “Stephen, I must speak to you privately.”
“Right now?” asked Stephen.
“Yes, now.”
It was the first time I’d seen any of the wives override Stephen’s script for the morning or successfully demand any semblance of privacy, but she pulled him away toward the spotless kitchen. I desperately wanted to tiptoe toward them and see if I could hear anything, but Kurt held my arm.
“Linda, this is not the time for your snooping,” he admonished me.
Well, why wasn’t it? Didn’t he want to know what they were talking about as much as I did?
Jennifer’s voice was raised in what sounded like anger, although I couldn’t make out any words through the door. Stephen responded with a firm bass.
“Can you believe what we’ve seen here?” Kurt said softly. “Poor Naomi, having to grow up in this confusing place. No wonder she left the church if it was connected to that for her.”
I appreciated his new sympathy for Naomi, but was annoyed that he thought polygamy explained everything about her resignation of her membership. How did he explain Kenneth’s?
Kurt started to say something else, but I shushed him as I heard Stephen coming back into the room, trailed by Jennifer, who looked like she had swallowed something very large.
“Can I help?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s none of your business,” Jennifer snapped. Stephen gave her a sharp look and she let her shoulders drop, as if she was putting on some mask right in front of us. “Ah, actually, we were talking about Naomi’s upcoming nuptials,” she said, then gave us a small, expectant smile. “She was always such a special child. I’m happy that she’ll be joining your family and sharing her brilliant mind and sweet heart with you, as well.”
The abrupt switch in her behavior was too much for me to take in.
“We’re very happy for our son,” Kurt said politely.
“Of course. Weddings are a wonderful time for family, aren’t they?” I couldn’t help but think her tone seemed just a bit condescending.
What was going on here? She was definitely not a cowed, controlled woman, though she was making nice now. Or trying to. Why in the world had Rebecca chosen her as Stephen’s second wife?
“Jennifer is an investment genius,” Stephen said, as if to divert our attention from the argument they’d had and Jennifer’s brash manner. “She helps manage my accounts, as well as those of a few friends. We’re very lucky she is so savvy.”
Maybe this was the answer to the question about why Jennifer had been his second wife. And also to the question about how Stephen paid for all of the houses and children. But what a cold, calculating way of looking at polygamy—as an institution that needed to be supported financially first and foremost.
“And the children?” Kurt said, who had not, apparently, noticed the lack of toys, though he was staring around the room, as if waiting for children to descend.
Jennifer gave Kurt a sour look. “I don’t have children of my own,” she said.
Kurt had obviously touched on a sore spot. Maybe he deserved the shortness of her response.
“We have prayed most fervently, but our prayers have not been answered,” Stephen said, reaching for Jennifer’s hand, though she pulled away as soon as she could. “We must accept God’s will for us, whatever it is.”
Jennifer’s expression as she stared at both Kurt and me was unreadable. “Yes, God’s will,” she murmured.
“And you’re a second mother to the other children, of course, helping them with math homework and such,” Stephen added.
“I can help make sure that their futures are secure, which is something their own mothers can’t manage,” Jennifer said. Her words were disdainful even if her tone was neutral.
“Well, let’s move along to the other houses,” said Stephen.
“Yes, make sure you visit Joanna in particular. I’m sure she will be delighted to see you after last night,” Jennifer said, as she walked to the door and held it open.
“What happened with Joanna last night?” I asked after we had walked outside.
“Nothing,” said Stephen, though I could see his fists clench. He wasn’t as good at putting on a mask as Jennifer was, I thought. He was angry at Joanna, which only made me more curious to meet her.