Being Magdalene (10 page)

ZILLAH AND I SAW
nobody other than our family and Talitha’s during January, except at worship on Sundays when it was almost impossible to have a proper conversation with my friends. Zillah, Luke and I watched the people, and listened when we could do so without being noticed, but the mood of the Faith seemed to have settled again. We picked up no hint of unease, although Mother still preached at us and was always ready to suspect the worst of us.

‘Why does she keep doing it?’ I asked Luke one evening. ‘She wasn’t like this with Rachel and Rebecca.’

But he didn’t know, and I couldn’t ask Father, though he always looked at her with concern. I wondered if he talked to her about it or if he just prayed for her to be calm in her soul.

Abraham’s wedding was the final Sunday of January. The sewing was finished. Mother, Zillah and I spent the Saturday before the wedding baking cakes, as was the custom for families whose sons would be
married the following day. Zillah made a marble cake, her face all concentration as she mixed the colours to a pleasing pattern. I baked an apple cake. It looked good, but I couldn’t remember if I should have used baking powder instead of baking soda. I didn’t try to taste it. Maybe every single Elder would eat a huge slice and die.

As always on a Sunday, Abraham drove us to church. Father was in a happy mood, for he said to Luke, ‘My son, soon you will be old enough to drive the car for us.’

Mother was excited too but she showed it by talking and talking about the Rule, immortal souls, salvation, and how Abraham and Talitha would need to spend their Sundays on their knees praying to be spared from the worldly contamination they would be exposed to by living away from the Faith community.

Carmel was again waiting for me at the door. She pulled me away to whisper, ‘If Talitha doesn’t turn up, you have to tell Abraham to wait for me.’

I gave her a push. ‘Don’t be horrible! Of course she’ll turn up!’

Carmel shrugged. ‘You don’t understand. Don’t go off at me.’

Talitha did turn up. She looked happy too, even though she kept her eyes modestly lowered as seemly girls had to do. Elder Stephen stepped forward to conduct the service. As always, he made us wait for his words. Talitha bowed her head while Abraham stood, relaxed and easy, his gaze never leaving Elder Stephen’s face. I knew, almost as if he shouted it
aloud, what his thought was.
Mess this up, you old devil, and I’m off
.

Before I could worry about whether my brother would abandon his bride, Elder Stephen began the ceremony. ‘Abraham Pilgrim, who is the woman you take for your wife?’

Abraham looked at Talitha, not him. ‘I take Talitha Trueman to be my wife. I promise to take care of you. I promise to raise our children to love the Lord and obey the Rule.’

Elder Stephen actually gave a sniff — of disbelief, I think. He waited a few moments before he went on with the ceremony. ‘Talitha Trueman, do you promise to be an obedient wife to Abraham Pilgrim? Do you promise to love the Lord and obey the Rule?’

Talitha broke custom by smiling at her bridegroom. ‘I give you my promise.’

Abraham slid the wedding ring on to her finger. ‘I give you this ring as the symbol of my promise to you and to the Lord.’

‘I wear this ring as the symbol of my promise to you and to the Lord.’

They held hands, waiting for Elder Stephen, but he didn’t lift his arms to give them his blessing. We waited for him to say, ‘The Lord smiles on this union.’ But all he said was, ‘Brother Abraham, Sister Talitha, you are now man and wife from this day on until the end of time. Brother Abraham, you may kiss your wife.’

He didn’t ask the Lord to bless them.

Father was pale with shock. Mother looked as if she’d been slapped. Then Talitha’s father called out,
‘The Lord smiles on this union. We ask for his blessing. Praise the Lord!’

A ragged response followed as only a few of the people dared to speak the words our leader had left unsaid.

It was the custom for the newly married couple to go around the circle of people to receive their good wishes. Many looked troubled, their voices barely more than a whisper. None of them knew what to make of Elder Stephen’s behaviour. Why hadn’t he given Abraham and Talitha his blessing? I heard the question murmured by those around me.

But a few of the people — those who were brave, or who were close to Abraham and Talitha — spoke loudly enough for the whole room to hear. ‘I promise to pray for you and support you. I wish you well.’ Talitha’s uncle added his own blessing in ringing tones that Elder Stephen couldn’t ignore. ‘May the good Lord bless you both, Brother Abraham, Sister Talitha.’

At last it was over. All the people filed out into the sunny day to farewell my brother and his wife as they left for their new lives. Father was driving them to the airport. He had given Luke permission to accompany him to say goodbye, but denied it to Zillah and me. Mother hadn’t asked to go, not that we heard anyway. I wondered if she didn’t like the idea of farewelling them at the airport where worldly eyes would stare at her. As it was, she had to wipe her eyes several times.

The car disappeared. We hung back to let the people go inside ahead of us. It was good to linger in the sunshine, even for a few moments. But back we had to
go and sit through an hour of scripture readings and hymns. Elder Stephen always chose angry readings, but after each one we would stand to sing a hymn. We could endure the readings only because of the singing that broke them up.

Today he didn’t follow the usual programme, although he began as always. ‘My people, I read to you from Ephesians.’ His voice had more power today, so that the microphone sent his words shooting at us from all around the huge room. ‘
For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of God
.’

My mind tripped up on the word
whoremonger
. It came up often in his preachings but he never explained what it meant. I knew the meanings of other difficult words in that reading —
covetous, idolater, wrath
and
obedience
. He always explained the meaning of those.

As he always did, he explained the scripture, but now he spoke with such fury that veins popped out on his head. The sight so fascinated me it took me several moments to realise he kept looking at us — at Mother, Zillah and me.

It’s time to sing. Please — let us sing
.

But today there was no singing between that scripture and the next. ‘My people, be warned by the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah for it is written in the Book of Jude that such cities and all who dwell in them shall perish. The Lord will not be mocked!’ He was glaring at Mother, Zillah and me, his dark eyes burning each of us in turn.

The people were deeply silent — not a shuffle or a
cough. What had we done? How had we brought his wrath down upon us?

With a sigh, he continued, speaking more moderately now. ‘Two of our young people have chosen to live for an entire year in a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. They have chosen to live in a godless, defiled city seething with moral corruption.

‘I urge you, my people — examine your hearts! Are you content to let such contamination enter our congregation when the year is up? It will come by stealth — an idea here, a question there. And lo! I say unto you that very soon we too shall suffer the vengeance of eternal fire that the Lord visited upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.’

Now people shuffled their feet, they coughed and they looked at us, because it was plain he was talking about Abraham and Talitha. He was saying they shouldn’t be allowed to return to us. He was talking about banishment and death and damnation. Zillah squeezed the blood from my fingers but all I could do was breathe and pray not to faint. Mother’s breaths rasped in her chest as if she had to fight for each scrap of air.

Through the haziness in my head, I heard a strong voice speaking. It was Brother Ebenezer, Talitha’s brave father. ‘Elder Stephen, with respect, I ask you to remember that it is you and the Elders who have given permission for this young couple to marry and live in Auckland for the year. Let us trust in the guidance the Lord gave you about this matter.’

I couldn’t look up, could do nothing except strive
not to bring attention to myself.

Nobody said a word and the silence dragged on and on until at last Elder Stephen’s voice cut through the fogginess in my head. ‘Stand. We will sing the final hymn.’

Zillah jerked my arm. ‘Stand up. We have to stand up.’

The world swirled as I struggled to my feet. I held the back of the seat in front of me, digging into it with my fingers.
Dead and damned
. The words from Daniel and Esther’s banishment beat in my brain to the rhythm of the music.

Worship ended half an hour earlier than usual.

THE ROOM EMPTIED AROUND
us. People filed out. Nobody spoke. The dizziness faded from my head. I put my arm around Zillah and turned to Mother. We had to get out of here or Elder Stephen might take it into his head to come and preach at us. ‘Mother? Are you well enough to walk? Let’s wait for Father out in the sunshine.’

But she sat where she was, her hands over her face and her shoulders heaving from the effort of staying silent. ‘Get Rachel,’ I said. ‘Hurry, Zillah.’

Before she could move, though, Sister Priscilla and Brother Ebenezer arrived. I slid out of my seat to give them room. ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!’

Sister Priscilla pressed my shoulder. ‘You are such good girls, both of you.’

Between them, they helped Mother to stand. She hardly seemed to know where she was. Brother Ebenezer said, ‘Peace, Sister Naomi. The Lord is good. Our children will be safe. They walk in the light of the Lord. Let your heart be at ease.’

The words calmed her enough so she was able to walk. Once we were outside, Sister Priscilla said, ‘Girls, we will take our sister home. I do not like to leave you here by yourselves, but your father will worry if he gets back to find nobody around.’

‘We’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘Thank you for helping us.’

We watched them shepherd Mother to their car. ‘Where’s Rachel?’ Zillah asked. ‘She should be here. She should be helping.’

We couldn’t see her or Saul among the departing throng. I caught sight of Carmel — she gave me a small wave and pulled a face. I got the message — her parents didn’t want her talking to me.

‘Their car’s still here,’ Zillah said.

We went to go back inside the temple, but hadn’t gone two steps before Rachel and Saul came out. He had his arm around her and he was talking to her, soothing her the way Brother Ebenezer had done for Mother.

‘Rachel? Are you all right?’ Zillah and I rushed to her, stopping dead when we saw the tears streaming down her face.

Saul said, ‘Magdalene, can you help me to get her into the car, please?’

Zillah darted forward to open the car door, and between the three of us we eased our sobbing sister into her seat.

As Saul closed the door, Zillah seized the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Saul, she’s crying because Elder Stephen said Abraham would be damned. That’s why she’s upset, isn’t it?’

He briefly put his hand over hers. ‘Yes, that is why. I will take her home. We will discuss Elder Stephen’s words. There is much to think about.’

‘Don’t forget to collect Hope,’ I said.

A look of horror crossed his face. ‘I did not give her a thought. What father forgets his own child? Thank you, Magdalene.’

‘I’ll get her.’ Zillah ran off towards the nursery.

Saul opened Rachel’s door again and squatted down to speak to her. ‘My dearest wife, our daughter will be here in a minute. Can you be calm for her sake?’ He took out his handkerchief, pressing it into her hand and removing her sodden one.

She blew her nose, nodding at the same time. ‘Yes. Of course. Thank you, Saul. I am sorry for …’

He put his arm around her bent shoulders. ‘Hush, now. We have nothing to be sorry for. We will talk about this, I promise you.’

She gave him a wobbly smile and leaned her head against his.

Zillah came running back with Hope. We watched as both of them stopped to hop over the cracks in the surface of the empty car park. They were laughing.

Saul picked up his daughter, swinging her high to make her chortle before he strapped her into her car seat. We waved as we watched them drive away.

Zillah said, ‘Do you think Father ever did that with us?’

I shook my head. ‘No. He never played with you. I’d have remembered. I don’t think he played with me or the others either.’

Zillah ran off to the nursery playground. I moved to where I could watch her and keep an eye out for Father’s return. He would want to know exactly what Elder Stephen had said. I rehearsed it all in my mind — our leader glaring at us, the scriptures he chose, the way he warned the people against letting Abraham and Talitha come back.

I shivered in the sunshine.

I was right. Father wanted to know every word our leader had spoken. Between us, Zillah and I had to tell the story three times. Father didn’t say we’d discuss it. He didn’t say anything.

Luke kept silent, but turned sideways in his seat to watch him. Zillah and I held hands, expecting him to tell us we’d pray for our brother the moment we got home. Instead Father said, ‘Your mother — she is unwell?’

Zillah said, ‘She was sad. She cried and cried. Rachel did too but Saul said they’d talk about it. Will we talk about it, Father? Why did Elder Stephen say all that?’

‘We will pray,’ Father said.

I slumped back against the seat. Zillah sniffed back tears. The prayers would last the rest of the day.

But Luke said, ‘Father, with your permission and blessing I would like to read a different scripture when we get home. I believe our hearts need comfort and strength at this time. After that, with your permission, I will take my sisters for a walk and we will discuss the meaning of the words of the Lord.’

Father didn’t answer. I truly believe I held my breath all the way home. When he stopped the car, he
said, ‘Very well, my son. It shall be as you suggest.’

We had to wait while he spoke to Brother Ebenezer — who told him exactly the same as we had. Sister Priscilla came from Mother’s bedside, saying, ‘Our dear Sister Naomi is sleeping. It is the best thing for her right now.’

Father walked with them to their car. He looked like a man who had been shaken to his very soul.

As we watched, Zillah asked, ‘Will it be a long scripture, Luke? I don’t want to listen to the word of the Lord. I don’t like the Lord.’

He gave her braid a tug. ‘It’s not very long, so you’d better pray Father doesn’t ask for ten more. It’ll help if you say
Praise the Lord
when you hear a part you like. Okay?’

‘All right. That’s better than praying and praying. Isn’t it, Magdalene?’

A million, countless times better.

Father came back as if he was still walking in a daze. Luke took his arm and led him to a chair. ‘Sit, Father. Would you like tea before we begin?’

‘No. I thank you, my son. Please give us the scripture.’

Luke had chosen Psalm 28. He didn’t read it — he recited it by heart. When had he learned it? I couldn’t remember him ever being sent to the discipline room. Zillah was all frowning concentration, listening for a line she liked, but the verses seemed to have nothing to make her want to praise the Lord. But the boldness of my brother’s choice took my breath away.

Draw me not away with the wicked, and with the workers of iniquity, which speak peace to their neighbours, but mischief is in their hearts
.

Would Father believe Elder Stephen was a worker of iniquity with mischief in his heart? I didn’t dare look at him.

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him
.

‘Praise the Lord,’ Zillah and I said together.

Father said nothing until Luke had recited the final words: ‘…
and lift them up for ever
.’ He didn’t even say
Praise the Lord
, and we always said that at the end of any scripture. We waited, not knowing what else to do, not daring to move.

At last he sighed, then said, ‘Those are timely words indeed. You are a good son, Luke. You have given me much to pray about. Leave me now.’

We crept out of the house, hardly able to believe we’d escaped the long hours Father would normally have made us spend on our knees in prayer.

When we were far enough away, Zillah threw her arms around Luke. ‘You saved us, Luke! Let’s go to the park. I want to swing and swing, right up into the sky.’

As we watched Zillah fly into the air, I said to Luke, ‘You want Father to think about the mischief, don’t you?’

‘Well spotted, sis.’

‘Do you think Elder Stephen’s like that? That he’s got mischief in his heart?’ It was so wicked to say that about our leader. A sinful, wicked thing even to think.
I’d surely go to hell for saying it out loud.

Luke didn’t seem bothered by thoughts of hell. ‘I think he got worried because several of the men supported Brother Jedidiah when he challenged him about education. He must be absolutely steaming mad that Abraham has found a way of doing that course. He’s still furious too about Rebecca running away. It was a pretty strong message when you think about it — she’d rather go to hell for ever than marry him. She made a fool of him, and he can’t punish her. Then that newspaper article appeared — he probably wants to murder the lot of us.’

‘Father won’t believe he’s being mean to us because of all that though,’ I said.

‘He might,’ Luke said. ‘He’s not stupid. This has rattled him. We’ll see. But come on — race you to the slide.’