Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [74]
“Oh, Lesie, you’re beautiful!” Mom exclaimed, trying to be positive. This line, spoken by so many mothers to their daughters on countless wedding days throughout history, did nothing to comfort me or bring a smile to my face. Like Allen’s mothers, mine had selected her finest dress and my favorite of hers—a gorgeous pale blue silk. Kassandra had styled Mom’s long brown waves for the occasion, and even through my tears I could see that she looked lovely.
In a daze, I trailed the group to a covered patio off the main office, where I waited for my ceremony to begin. I was relieved that I didn’t have to go first. My eyes scanned the space around me, falling inevitably on Allen. He tried talking to me, but I kept my lips firmly sealed.
“Mom,” I urged again, “this is going to be the biggest mistake of my life. I can feel it and I know it.” I didn’t care that my sister Rachel was standing right there next to Mom. It pained me to see the two women with their bright smiles, even though I knew my mother’s was fabricated.
“Just be strong,” Mom said. “The Lord knows what he’s doing.” As Mom and Rachel exchanged pleasantries, I wondered what was going on behind the doors of the small side building where one couple had been taken. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voice of Uncle Rulon’s son Nephi summoning me: “They’re ready for you,” he said. “They’re waiting.”
I froze and he promptly asked, “Are you coming?”
The wobbly feeling I always got when I’d been summoned to Uncle Warren’s office at Alta Academy suddenly returned tenfold, and I could barely make my legs work. The headache I had been nursing for days from all my crying grew more intense with every heavy step I took.
The building where the ceremony was to take place was set off from the rest of the motel. It had been cleared of its bed, and a few rows of chairs had been arranged for the weddings. I could almost feel my mother, worried that I might try to run, hovering right behind me as I tried to maneuver the gravelly terrain in my high heels and long, encumbering dress.
I paused in the threshold of the room to see what awaited me. Tears streamed from my eyes as I took in its tacky pink motif. It felt foreboding and grim. A thin layer of dirt covered the bottom edges of the walls, and every corner seemed to hide unfamiliar shadows. There were three short rows of seats for the wedding, two rows with three seats each and one with two. The two seats at the front were for Allen and me. My mother sat in the middle row alone with Allen’s two mothers and his father directly behind her. Her face didn’t offer me much comfort, but I was glad that she was there.
The prophet was at the center of the room, sitting in a big La-Z-Boy like the one Uncle Fred had in his living room. Uncle Rulon had the two next most powerful FLDS men on either side of him. Uncle Fred, serving as my father, sat to his left. Uncle Warren was on his right, signifying his role as Uncle Rulon’s right-hand man.
While the prophet was just a few feet from where I was standing, I felt unsure I could walk the short distance to shake his hand, as was customary. I felt Uncle Warren’s icy stare egging me on, and despite my urge to turn and flee, I managed to make my way over and greet them. Everyone was watching me as I moved from Uncle Rulon’s outstretched hand to Uncle Warren’s to Uncle Fred’s.
Uncle Warren directed Allen and me to take our places in the front two seats. Feeling overwhelmed, I obeyed. After about a minute, Warren stood to receive the power to conduct our wedding from his father, who had authorized him to seal us in his name. He began reading a passage from In Light and Truth: Raising Children in the Family Order of Heaven. As he droned on,