Down from the Mountain (2 page)

When we get to the classroom, Mother Cecelia looks at her watch nervously. “We have less than two hours to cover four subjects,” she says. “We’re getting behind.”

The classroom is more like a closet than a real room. Located on the second floor of the old house, it has just enough room for the four desks, one each for Mother Cecelia, Jacob, Annie, and me, along with a single bookshelf that holds the same twelve textbooks we’ve had forever. Who knows where the twins will fit when they start school next year.

When class starts, we’re allowed ten minutes to study the blackboard where Mother Cecelia has placed a map of the world. Then she covers the blackboard with an old sheet and has us draw from memory. We are to show the continents and fill in as many countries as we can remember.

I quickly make the shapes of the seven continents and focus on Asia. The country I pay most attention to is China. I put in the major rivers and mountains and place Beijing, Hong Kong, and Shanghai where I think they belong. Those were the cities I used to hear Daddy talking about when he left me to do research there. Mother says he took off two years from teaching so he could study in China. But I’m sure he’s back now, teaching Chinese at the university.

I shouldn’t care. Not only is it wrong to think or talk about people from the past, but he divorced Mother and didn’t keep his promise to write me every week and call me, even though it’s long distance. He went away and I never saw him again.

When Mother Cecelia asks why I’m so interested in China, I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’m going to have to lie if I don’t want to get in trouble.

A sharp knock at the door brings everyone to a halt. Mother Cecelia opens it, and for a second I hear whispers in the hall. I am drawing as fast as I can. I spent too much time on China and have to hurry to get more down before the time is up. Mother Cecelia taps my shoulder, bringing me out of my reverie. She motions me to come with her.

Once we get to the hallway, she says, “Ezekiel wants to see you, dear.” Her face looks concerned. So does Mother Rachel’s.

“But I’m not done with the test,” I say. Then it clicks.
Ezekiel
wants to see me. Ezekiel wants to see
me
. He’s never asked to see me before.

Three

As I follow Rachel, my legs feel like jelly. She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be okay, Eva. You’ll make it through this.”

My shoes squeak as I stop dead.

“Through
what
?”

She pulls on my long-sleeved shirt. “Just come along. You can’t keep Ezekiel waiting.”

My feet obediently move forward, but my brain is stuck. What could he possibly want from me? Just before we get to his trailer, a terrifying thought crosses my mind and I stop cold. Surely he isn’t going to tell me that God wants him to marry me. Not when I’m only fourteen.

I follow Rachel right into the trailer. I’ve never been in Ezekiel’s trailer before. His wives have, of course, but there’s never been a reason to let us children disturb his sanctuary. I’m surprised—awed really—by how beautiful everything is, how my feet sink into the soft carpeting, and how I’m suddenly bathed in the rich colors of the painted walls, so different from the dull off-white of the rest of the compound. I’m tempted to sit on the fancy couch or one of the matching overstuffed chairs just to see what it feels like, but Rachel pulls me down a hallway to an open door that must be Ezekiel’s office.

I take in a sharp breath when I step inside. Ezekiel is pointing a gun right at our heads.

He gets a big kick out of our shock, laughs, and uses the gun to motion us in. “Relax, girls. It’s not loaded.”

“But why do you have a gu …” I begin. Ezekiel’s sharp look stops me in a flash. I drop my eyes, realizing that, once again, I’ve been a poor disciple. I have no business asking questions. It’s inappropriate for any of us to ask questions of Ezekiel, but it’s doubly wrong because I’m a girl. I need to learn to be more feminine: silent, speaking only when spoken to, obedient, and patient.

“Forgive me, Reverend Ezekiel,” I say, hoping to avoid a lecture. But I wish he could see that I pray about these faults, and I do try. I stop my questioning brain a dozen times a day. It’s just that my efforts don’t always show.

Ezekiel focuses his attention on Rachel. “Thank you, Mother Rachel. You’re excused,” he says.

When Rachel turns to leave, I have an impulse to grab on to her skirt and hide behind it. But I keep still and silent.

Ezekiel motions for me to sit. I have a choice between two overstuffed chairs, one in dark green leather and the other in a plaid that has that same green in it. I choose the cloth chair.

“So what do you think of my trailer?”

“It’s beautiful! I love all the colors and how soft these chairs are. I had no idea …”

He laughs. “Okay, Eva, and now that you’re becoming an adult, you’ll soon be in my home more often.”

Something closes up inside me. The mothers only come in to clean or bring him food when he chooses to eat alone, but mostly they come for their marital nights with Ezekiel.

He leans back in his swivel desk chair, wearing a puzzled look. “You do realize that you’re almost an adult now, don’t you?”

I hide my hands inside my folded arms so he won’t see that I’m shaking.

“Look at me, please.” He must sense my panic because his voice is softer now. But I learned a long time ago that when he says “please,” it’s really a command.

I look at him.

Wearing a half smile, as if indulging a small child, he takes the matchstick out of his mouth and sticks it behind his ear. I don’t dare look away.

“You’re almost fifteen.”

“Well, yes,” I say, feeling a rush of heat flood my cheeks. “But not until May 23, and that’s”—I pause to count on my fingers—“seven months from now. So I’m really fourteen and a half.”

“That’s really just around the corner.” He flaps his wrist dismissively.

I nod. Maybe he’s tricking me. We don’t celebrate birthdays at Righteous Path. Maybe he’ll think I’m vain for knowing mine. Just in case, I add: “The date of my birthday isn’t important, though. Celebrations belong to God.”

Oh God, please don’t let marriage be on his mind. He’s married all the adult women and Rachel when she was only sixteen. Isn’t that enough? Plus, he’s old, God. Please have mercy on me.

“What’s the matter, Eva?” His voice sounds irritated.

Here I go again, shaking. This time he’d have to be blind not to notice. “I don’t know,” I say. But it’s not true. He has complete power over me and my life. And I’m terrified. Suddenly I’m teeth-shatteringly cold.

“I called you in here for a reason, Eva.” He leans back in his chair, swiveling it just a little. “Now that you are almost an adult, God has called you to do a very important job. He has given you a gift, and that gift will help us through these lean times.”

I’m puzzled. What’s he talking about?

“It’s your jewelry. The pieces you made for the last flea market did quite well. In fact, they sold better than everyone else’s combined. Even when Mother Rachel doubled the prices, they still sold. You are to continue making jewelry—not just in your spare time, but as the main jewelry maker.”

“Oh,” I say. Because it’s such a surprise and relief that I can’t think of anything else. It sounds so responsible, so grown up.

“We need to make as much money from the flea market as possible. Until God sees fit to bring more of the 444 people he’s promised to save, it will be our primary source of income. This is God’s will, Eva.”

“Okay,” I say again. And it is okay—it just sounds like everything is on my shoulders, and that’s scary. “So I’ll be making jewelry instead of doing other chores.”

“No, you’ll be able to do chores too. You’ll make jewelry during school hours and, if necessary, during free time.”

It takes me a minute to realize what he’s really saying.

“No more school?”

Ezekiel looks at me as if daring me to argue. But I’m not going to argue. I’m not even sure how I feel. As much as I love learning, I’ve gone through the textbooks at least three times each. What I need are different books, more information to answer all the questions I have.

“You’ve had plenty of schooling.”

He sounds like I’m arguing with him, and I’m not.

“When the end times come, schooling won’t make a difference. But even if the world wasn’t coming to an end, you’re a girl, and the only thing girls need to know is how to read so they can read the Bible.”

My mouth opens, all on its own. But I manage to stop myself from saying anything. I’m thinking, though. Thinking about how God has changed his mind about when the end times are coming. It may be tomorrow or a hundred years from now. So it doesn’t make sense to live like life is ending soon.

I scare myself with my own thoughts.
Thank you, God, for helping me not speak so boldly. Ezekiel is your voice on earth, and I have no right.

He continues looking at me for a minute, then pushes himself out of his chair, stands, and motions me to leave. “Mother Rachel is waiting for you. You can get started right away.”

I’m almost out the door when he stops me again.

“Eva, do you remember the rules for being in the presence of heathens?”

“Ye … yes,” I say.

He drums his fingers on his desk. “Repeat them.”

It’s been so long, I have to search my memory. Mercifully it comes back. “No speaking to the heathens except when absolutely necessary.”

He nods.

“Stay with your partner at all times.”

He nods again.

“Keep custody of your eyes.”

This time his lips move into a partial smile when he nods. I begin to gain confidence.

“Do not give personal information or any information about Righteous Path to anyone under any circumstances. Get your business done as quickly as possible, and don’t let anyone touch you.”

Now his smile is full-on.

“Stay pure in thought and action.”

“Yes,” he says, a stern look on his face. “You will be working with worldly goods and the heathens who buy them. I’ll be watching you to make sure you stay pure and sweet.”

I feel the heat rise in my face, and I know I’ve turned red.

“You never know what God has in store for your future.”

He smiles in a strange way I’ve never seen before. It makes me feel like running.

“Can you tell me
now
?” Annie asks for the third time tonight. We are on our way to our trailer where the two of us have shared a room for the last three years. She wants to know about the meeting with Ezekiel and why I didn’t return to class. But I can’t tell her now. Mother Rose is behind us, gaining speed. She probably already knows. Word spreads like the measles among us, and I need a little bit of time to adjust before I talk to anyone. I also have to make sure to have a good attitude about it or someone will report me at the Community Concerns Meeting.

“Later,” I return.

Annie and I sit on the bench outside to pull off our muddy boots. It takes us a minute because they lace up to mid-calf. Annie is always faster than me. We place the boots on the landing and walk inside in our stocking feet. We both wear the same clothes—long-sleeved shirt and long skirt, all in gray. We have to help each other undress because the sixteen buttons on our blouses are in the back. Ezekiel says this is to help us remember that “no man is an island” and that “interdependency brings about harmony.”

When we get to our little room at the back of the trailer, I unbutton Annie first. With her back facing me, I can unbutton while whispering in her ear. “I can’t go to school anymore.”

Annie swings around. “But why? You love school!”

She is much too loud, so I place my index finger over her lips. I let her hug me briefly, hiding the hurt and anger Ezekiel’s decision ignited in me. I turn her around and finish her buttons.

“I have to earn money for the compound.”

“How can you do that?”

“By making and selling jewelry.”

“Can’t you have school too?”

I turn my back to her so Annie can begin on my buttons.

“Ezekiel says no. He says I’m an adult now, and I have to start contributing. He told me that the only reading I should be doing is the Bible.”

“But why does it have to be you?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It just is me.”

“I’ll miss you so much at school. You know how much I hate change.”

I nod. “I know you do.”

Unbuttoned now, I reach for my nightgown. I can hear Annie wheezing. Selfishly I pray that she doesn’t have a full-blown asthma attack because then I’ll be taking care of her all night. I try to be cheerful to help her calm down.

“I love making jewelry,” I say brightly. “And I have to admit that I am good at it.” I lower my voice to a whisper again. “Remember that wooden bead bracelet I let you try on?”

Annie beams. “The blue and green one. It was so pretty! I wish I could have kept it.”

I cringe at the idea of someone hearing her say this. “Shhhh! You can’t talk like that. You know you could get paddled.”

“That’s why I only tell you.” Annie smiles impishly.

Creeping to the door, I peer down the hall to make sure that Mother Rose is nowhere near. She’s not. I hear the twins reciting their evening prayers and know that she’ll be tied up with them a little longer.

“I wish I could make pretty jewelry for the heathens and get out of school,” Annie says.

“Don’t say that, Annie. You should appreciate school as long as Ezekiel will let you.” I sigh.

“I don’t know why school’s so important to you anyway. We have the same old books we’ve always had and the stories Mother Cecelia comes up with,” she says.

“You’re right. I do learn from Mother Cecelia’s stories, though.” When Mother Cecelia teaches, she brings up things from the outside world that pique my curiosity. I don’t want to live with the heathens, but I’m curious to know about how they think and how they live. I don’t say this to Annie, though.

“Anyway, I hope I make us a lot of money,” I say.

“Me too. Then we’ll have enough to eat this winter.”

She slips into her sleeping gown and unravels her braids for the nightly brushing of her waist-length hair. Hers is black, shiny, fly-away. Mine looks about the same length as hers, but it’s auburn, thick, and wavy, and if you stretch it out, it’s actually much longer than hers. It’s usually snarled too, because I insist on wearing it down.

We can hear Mother Rose’s squeaky voice before we see her in the doorway. She can’t help it. She always sounds like she has laryngitis. “You girls have ten minutes till lights out. You better hurry and get washed up.”

Annie and I grab our towels from the hooks next to our beds and head to the bathroom. To my relief, Annie’s wheezing has stopped. But by the time we’ve said good night to Mother Rose, finished our prayers, and climbed into bed, I hear her struggling to breathe again.

“Are you okay, Annie?” I ask. I hate to see her suffer so often.

“Yeah,” she answers. “But I’ve been thinking.”

Right. That’s what usually brings these attacks on.

“If Ezekiel sees you as an adult, all the mothers will too. And that means they might want to move you to one of the adult trailers.” Her voice gets whiny. “I’m gonna be left behind.”

“Oh no they won’t. The mothers love being the elders—even Rachel—and they won’t want to share that with me. They’ll still see me as a kid.”

I decide to change the subject. “Guess what I get to do tomorrow? Rachel plans to take me to Boulder to the bead store!”

Annie sits up in bed. “Where is this store?” she asks. “Is it far from here?”

“Well, it’s farther than Grand Hill,” I say.

“Oh, it’s far then,” Annie says.

Neither of us has been outside the compound since we moved to Colorado three years ago. The town closest to us—like three miles away—is Grand Hill.

“I think the bead store is in Boulder,” I say.

“Wow,” Annie says wistfully. “Be careful that you don’t get polluted with wrong thinking, but I do want you to tell me everything you see and do.”

I laugh. “Everything.”

Annie laughs too.

We’re silent, but I can tell that Annie is thinking about something serious.

“Wait,” she says. “How come you’re allowed to go into Boulder? Ezekiel said that it’s dangerous for us to be seen in public because one of the betrayers might see us and follow us back. Or nosy people might want to find out more about us, and we’d end up with Social Services nosing around.”