Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [111]
The moment we drove into the Salt Lake Valley, homesickness enveloped me. A fresh snow had fallen, and the majestic Wasatch mountains were blanketed in white powder. The wintry scene was a welcome relief from the red clay that dominated the landscape of Short Creek. Even though I’d come to appreciate the rugged panorama of arid land, I missed this place that I had once called home.
Being back in Salt Lake reminded me of all the good times I’d shared with my family, the snowball fights with my brothers in our front yard, sledding in the mountains with Dad, and skating on the homemade ice rink we created every winter from packed snow and a garden hose in our backyard. The crisp sound of blades on ice rang clearly in my mind as we drove the city streets en route to my brother’s apartment. I couldn’t help but wish that I could go back in time to when things made sense and Dad was there to love and protect me, and I wondered whether I would be married and pregnant at sixteen if the priesthood hadn’t split us up. I was sure that Dad never would have let this happen, that I’d be at home sipping a cup of hot chocolate and enjoying my true family instead of desperately trying to get space from the husband I didn’t love.
As we made our way to Jacob’s house, I wondered how it would be for me to meet his girlfriend, Whitney. The mother of his child was African-American. Hearing this came as a huge shock to me, although today I am embarrassed to admit it. All I could think of were Warren’s words from Alta Academy that nonwhite people were the most evil of all outsiders. His racist remarks and hate-filled bigotry were a routine part of the classroom experience at Alta Academy, and from them, I had developed a prejudice about anyone whose skin looked different from my own. I had been told that my brother was damned to hell for even associating with Whitney.
When I met Whitney that day, it was the first time I’d ever been introduced to an African-American. I didn’t know what to expect or whether Warren’s words would be true, but within minutes, my unease dissipated as I instantly liked Whitney and their baby. Whitney was so different from what I had pictured in my mind. She was clearly not the evil person that Uncle Warren had described. She was kind and welcoming to my siblings and me, despite our differences. She even let us hold the baby. Jacob had named his daughter after our sister Michelle, whom he’d loved as much as I had. Their baby was gorgeous and—like her mother—different from anyone I’d ever seen. She had milky caramel skin and exotic bright brown eyes. Even though she was only a few months old, I could tell that she would grow into a radiant beauty.
As I sat there talking to Whitney, I found myself thinking that all it took was contact with the outside world and the barriers of fear that Warren had constructed came tumbling down. It was becoming much harder for me to view outsiders as evil when they were my family. Jacob was a good person and he was creating a good family. I could not stomach the idea that he, his wife, or his daughter were somehow wicked just because they were not a part of our church.
I was happy to see my twin brothers reunited. As for me, I was overcome with a mix of emotions when I climbed back into the car for the next leg of our journey north. Being back in Salt Lake City and seeing this unit of my family gathered together reminded me that there was a whole world out there beyond Short Creek that I had all but forgotten.
We traveled a less direct route than we normally took in order to meet Kassandra at a convenient spot for her and Ryan. My sisters had agreed upon the parking lot