Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [67]
It was dinnertime when I arrived back at Uncle Fred’s house that Saturday evening. Everyone was assembled around the tables. I’d been crying for four days straight, I hadn’t eaten, and I’d barely slept. My life had become so full of drama, and it felt like people were constantly stopping in the middle of meals to focus on me whenever I entered the house. Racing upstairs to my room, I assumed what had become my new position—facedown on the bed in a puddle of tears.
Mom followed me upstairs and sidled up next to me on the bed. “Are you gonna be okay?” she asked, gently stroking my hand.
“No, Mom. I would rather die right now than ever have to go through with this.”
“Lesie, maybe being that it is the Lord’s will, this will work out. Allen can’t be that bad.”
“There is no way I could ever marry Allen and have it work out,” I told her forcefully.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I would rather die than go through with this wedding.” I could see that my words upset my mother, but at that moment I didn’t care. All I cared about was saving myself from this horrible fate.
I’d been home for less than thirty minutes when there was a knock on the bedroom door. One of Uncle Fred’s wives was there to deliver the message that Uncle Fred wanted to see me. I knew what he was going to say, and I dragged my feet all the way to his office. Another mother was on the couch in his office when I arrived.
“Can’t I just do this alone?” I thought to myself as I assumed my seat.
“Well, how did it go?” Uncle Fred asked, looking out at me from behind his heavy wood desk.
“Well, I was able to see Uncle Rulon, and he told me to follow my heart.”
Uncle Fred grinned. “So, can I tell Warren that there has been a definite yes?”
“No!” I shot back in alarm. “I don’t know. I won’t, I can’t. My heart—everything in me is just screaming no.”
“Are you defying the prophet’s words?”
“No, I’m not trying to defy the prophet, I am just trying to do what is best for me.”
“Well, I just want you to know that if you turn down the prophet’s offer, it’s very likely you will never get married—”
“I cannot,” I interrupted.
“And I could not have you welcome in this house anymore,” Uncle Fred said.
Tears began to pour from my eyes. In all the times I had met with Fred since this mess started, I had always tried to maintain my composure, but now, exhausted, hungry, and defeated, I broke down in front of him. Seeing this opening, he took the chance to exploit it. I felt the world closing in on me. I hated Uncle Fred, and Uncle Warren, and even my mother for putting me in this position. I was fourteen years old with no money and nowhere to go. When my brothers and sister had tested the boundaries of rebellion, they had been shipped off to reform. While that was hard for them, at least it wasn’t permanent. Marriage to Allen wasn’t just permanent, it was infinite—a punishment that would continue through this life and into the next.
If I didn’t marry him, I’d be left with no other options. For a fourteen-year-old girl with no family and no place to live, it might as well be a death sentence. I had always been an optimistic person, but as I stared the possibility of this bleak future in the face, I realized that even I was unwilling to push the limits of hope that far. I couldn’t go to the local police; I feared they would just bring me back to Fred and report me to Warren. I contemplated going outside the community, but my fear of that evil world was overpowering. I thought back to all my mother’s stories about law-enforcement officials chasing her in the middle of the night, trying to throw her father in jail. Who knew what the evil forces on the outside might do to me if I came to them with this story?
“Do you have a wedding dress made?” Uncle Fred asked, breaking the discomfiting sound of my quiet sobs.
“No!” I announced, rising to my feet. “Even if I was getting married, I would never wear a wedding dress.