Righteous02 - Mighty and Strong (12 page)

“Somewhere else, maybe with family or something. Surely you have some relatives or friends in the area, somewhere you could go.”

“No, nobody,” Fernie said. “I don’t even have a car, I can’t get our things out and my husband is out of town and I…and I promise, I’ll get the rent as soon as I can. You just have to give me some time, that’s all I need.”

“This isn’t about rent, it’s about whatever you’re doing in that apartment. I know what you people do, and I didn’t say anything because I thought I’d help you out, and now look where it’s got me.” He ran a hand through his white, thinning hair. “Now, just go, I’ve got to think about this. And call my attorney,” he added in a mutter as he shut the door in her face.

#

The move to Salt Lake City had torn Fernie up by the roots. No family, no friends, just acquaintances.

The FBI had torn through the Church of the Anointing like a rototiller, ripping apart families and relationships. Men landed in prison, the elderly prophet died within a year, no doubt thanks to the stress of the trials, both literal and figurative, suffered by his people. Someone said the entire east side of Blister Creek lay abandoned, with tumble weeds piling against front doors and gardens returning to sage brush.

Jacob’s father was in charge of the church and normally, she’d be on the phone with Abraham Christianson. If he wouldn’t help, she’d call one of her old sister wives. But the church was bankrupt, and with their former husband in prison, her sister wives had nothing. They sometimes asked
her
for money, in fact.

She had a half-sister in California somewhere—an apostate—who had sent a couple of letters, telling Fernie to get out of polygamy, and away from her abusive husband. As if the woman had any idea what kind of man Jacob was or was not. Briefly, it crossed Fernie’s mind to call the woman and make up a story about needing to leave in the middle of the night.
I’ve got to get out, can you send money?

She couldn’t do that, no, never.

As she thought about her problems, one subject became the focus of her attention and anger. The Attorney General, Parley McKay. Good Mormon name, wasn’t it? There were McKays in the Church of the Anointing; the man and his senator brother were probably even relatives of hers on some line or other. So why did Parley McKay have it in his cold heart to stomp on Fernie Christianson and her little family?

Fernie scrounged grilled cheese sandwiches for the older children, mashed up banana for Nephi, and then sat with the phone book. The Attorney General’s office was at the capitol building, about a mile and a half from here. Would he be working? Probably. He’d called Mr. Hoover just that morning.

She went into the kitchen. Daniel and Leah were doing more chattering than eating. Nephi had finished, was nodding in his high chair. Nap would have to wait.

“Come on kids, go to the bathroom and get your shoes on.”

“Where we going?” Leah asked.

“For a little walk to the capitol building.”

Chapter Thirteen:

Fernie was tired, frustrated, and angry by the time she reached the capitol building, found the Attorney General’s office and pushed the stroller into the reception.

The baby had fallen asleep during the walk, and she rolled into a waiting area in the corner. The older two immediately set to playing with a wooden peg puzzle.

Fernie made her way to the receptionist. She was hot, sweaty, and panting. The woman frowned behind a big, official looking counter. Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her computer and she took calls through a headset.

You’ve got to do this. For your children. For the new baby.

“May I help you?” the woman said in a bright voice. Her eyes remained narrowed, suspicious.

“Parley McKay, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll have to—”

“Sorry, it’s very important. Can you please tell him that Fernie Christianson is here to see him?”

“With regards to…?”

“He’ll know what it’s about. Please, call him.”

“I’m afraid Mr. McKay is in a meeting at the moment, but I’ll be happy to take a message.” The phone rang and the receptionist pushed a button on the switchboard, then spoke into her headset. “Attorney General’s office. One moment, please.” She turned back to Fernie. “Now, what did you say your name is?”

“I’m not leaving until I see him.”

“And I told you, that’s impossible.”

“Then I’ll find him myself.” Fernie turned from the reception and started toward the back offices.

“You can’t go back there!”

She stopped. “Why, because then I’ll see that Mr. McKay is not in a meeting?”

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, I’m going to call security.”

“That’s going to look good on the evening news,” Fernie said. “Because you’ll be carrying me out, screaming for my children. They’ll be crying, begging for Mommy. And there’s even a news crew downstairs interviewing legislators. They’ll be sure to hear the commotion.”

“Nobody wants that,” the woman said. “Look, why don’t you give me your name and I’ll tell Mr. McKay that—”

“Just tell him I’m here. Please. He’s taken an interest in my family, I’m sure he’ll want to meet me in person. You know he called my landlord and now I’m about to be evicted? I have nowhere to go.” She gave a significant look at her children. “We’re going to be in a homeless shelter and all because your office told them I might be doing something criminal. What? I have no idea, so I need to talk to him. It’s got to be a mistake.”

The woman looked uncertain. At last she pulled off her headset and made her way into the back offices. The phone started to ring. Fernie hesitated, and then followed. She rounded the corner just as the woman made her way into a room with a plate on the door saying it was the attorney general’s office.

She heard raised voices.

“Yeah, I’ll see her,” said a man’s voice. “And I’ll have a DCFS social worker with me. Let’s see how she likes that.”

Fernie pushed open the door. “Mr. McKay?”

He stood behind a huge desk. Plaques, degrees, and other honors and official, intimidating papers and pictures covered the walls

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

Fernie found her courage. “I’m a mother. I’m trying to keep my children fed and off the street. You seem bent on making sure they’re hungry and homeless. Just leave us alone, Mr. McKay, that’s all we’re asking. Leave us alone.”

“Excuse me,” the receptionist said, and ducked out.

“Leave you alone? Your entire lifestyle is illegal. It’s wrong and immoral. Maybe if someone had told you that at some point, you wouldn’t still be living in these nasty little cults.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you from the Ebeneezer McKay family? You’re like first cousins with polygamists. So why are you persecuting us?”

His face turned red. “I’m not singling you out. My job is to enforce the laws of the State of Utah, and to make sure people like you don’t steal taxpayer money.”

“Just wait until my husband comes back. You’ll be sorry when he finds out what you’ve been doing.” She regretted the words at once. They made her sound weak, dependent.

“Your husband? Well, then, where is he? Do you even know?”

“Out of town, but he’ll be back soon, and then you’ll see.”

“What does that mean, out of town? Out looking for another wife? Some teenage girl, no doubt. Yeah, I’ll wait for him, and then we’ll nail him with statutory rape.”

Fernie opened her mouth to snarl a response, but caught herself just in time. This contention was of the devil, and more than that, it would be stupid and counterproductive.

“You people make me sick,” he continued. “You’ve been milking the taxpayers for too long. Not to mention welfare fraud, cheating on your taxes, the whole lot.”

“I’ve never done anything like that, and neither has my husband.”

“Your daughter out there, is she already promised for someone? Some old guy with a bunch of other wives? How old is she going to be when he takes her to bed? Thirteen, fourteen?”

Fernie was shaking with rage now. She wanted to rebuke him, wished for the first time in her life she was a man, with the priesthood. Then she could call on the Lord to smite this wicked, evil man. She tried to open her mouth and say something, anything, but her mouth was dry, her throat tight.

“Mommy?”

She turned to see Daniel with the stroller, and Leah a step back. They must have grown nervous waiting. Nephi was awake and squirming to be picked up.

“Did we get you in trouble, Mommy?” Daniel asked.

“What? No, you haven’t caused any trouble.”

“It’s just grownup stuff,” McKay added. “Here, I’ve got something for you kids.”

Fernie turned, stared at him, blinking, as he went to his desk and rummaged for something. He returned with two hard candies, which he handed to the older children. He took a tissue and bent down to the stroller, wiped the baby’s nose. “Looks like you’ve got a cold, little guy.”

“It’s allergies,” she said before she could stop herself.

He stood up and his face hardened. Fernie took a step back, bewildered at the transformation from bureaucratic ogre to kindly uncle, back to ogre.

“Now get out of here,” he said in a hard whisper, “before I call DCFS. They’ll get here so fast your head will spin. And we’ll find
good
homes for your children, where they won’t be raised in some filthy cult.”

She fled.

The receptionist, for all her obstruction earlier, gave a sympathetic shake of the head as Fernie passed back through reception. “Sorry, he can be a real jerk sometimes. You know, if you call back later, I can put you in touch with—”

“Please, no, you’ve done enough already.”

She pushed her way into the hall with the kids in tow. Only one thought passed through her mind, to get far away as soon as possible.

#

Another nasty surprise waited when Fernie got home. Maybe she could have talked them out of it if she’d gone straight home, but she came down the hill toward Temple Square first.

She’d been afraid McKay would send someone to follow her, or even send social workers directly to the house. And she had the vague idea she could find Eliza on Temple Square, and that Jacob’s sister could help.

But no, Eliza was on a mission, with little money. Jacob had even been sending her a few hundred dollars every month. And what was she going to do, walk away from her mission? Fernie stopped herself as soon as she got downtown.

She rested just north of the intersection of South Temple and Main, next to the bronze statue of Brigham Young. Was there anything she could sell to raise money? Not really; they had no television and no computer. The furniture was second-hand, and Jacob had the car. Selling that might have been worse anyway.

How long would Mr. Hoover give her? Surely it would take a week or two to evict her. He’d have to go to court, right, get an order? Then the sheriff would come. And none of that could happen until she was a few days behind in the rent. In the meanwhile, she might think of something, or Jacob might return, or at least call. For now, she should go home, not panic.

Fernie was wrung out by the time they reached the Avenues, arms aching from pushing the stroller up and down hills between home and the capitol building. Daniel was dragging; she had to stop several times for Leah, who turned whiny. The baby was desperate to eat. Messy diaper, too. At least in the Avenues big mature trees draped over the sidewalk, providing relief from the late afternoon sun.

There was a commotion on her street. People coming and going, what looked at first like a yard sale. When she got closer, she saw that it was in front of her building. Men carried out furniture and clothes and piled them on the front lawn. Who was moving?

She was so tired, shaken from the confrontation with Parley McKay that it wasn’t until she saw Mr. Hoover directing the workers that she felt a twinge of alarm. She quickened her pace.

That was her couch on the front lawn, her dresses they tossed in a heap. It was her bed frame, broken down, maneuvered out the front door by a pair of workers. Boxes, presumably loaded with her things, stacked next to the curb.

“Mr. Hoover!” she cried. “What are you doing?”

He turned, grimaced. He’d changed out of the bathrobe into a single-piece leisure suit. “You know, I didn’t want any trouble. I never wanted any of this.”

“But what are you doing? This is our stuff, you can’t just move it out of our house.”

“It’s really
my
house though, isn’t it. And if you can’t pay the rent, I have no choice but to—”

“Rent isn’t even due until Monday. And I’m not stupid. Even if I’m late, you can’t just break into my apartment and throw my stuff to the curb. That’s against the law and you know it.”

“I never wanted any trouble.”

“You keep saying that. What does that mean, anyway?” Her voice rose higher with every sentence. “If you don’t want any trouble, why are you doing this? You’re the one causing trouble, not me!” Two men started to come out of the building, grunting and trying to maneuver the dresser through the doorway. “Stop that!” she shouted. “Put that back in there, you have no right.”

Nephi’s cries turned to screams. His face reddened and snot trickled down his face. The commotion had drawn neighbors onto their porches. A kid on a bike pulled up and watched.

“But the Attorney General called,” Hoover said. “And they said I should cooperate if I didn’t want any trouble.” He looked at the men standing in the doorway, now setting down the dresser and wiping at their faces. “Don’t stop, you idiots.” He waved his hands. “Get it out. All of it.” He turned back to Fernie. “Look, maybe there’s something I can do for you.”

“Absolutely, there is. You tell these men to move my stuff back inside. And you give me a few days. I’ll get your stupid rent money. I don’t know what’s going on with the Attorney General, but it’s a mistake, it has to be.”

“I was thinking about a shelter. My wife’s sister volunteers at this place downtown. You might look into it.”

“We’re not going to a homeless shelter. I
have
a home. It’s right in there. I’m not even late with the rent, you jerk.”