The Chosen One - Carol Lynch Williams Page 0,6

at us. Mother Victoria wraps her arms about Emily, who says, “The Prophet. The Prophet. See him?” and lets out a laugh full of joy.

“Quiet the girl, Sister Victoria,” Uncle Hyrum says. His eyebrows meet right over his nose with his unhappiness.

“Hush now, Emily,” Mother Victoria says. She looks nervous, the way she glances at Uncle Hyrum and then at Brother Fields and Brother Stephens and last of all at the Prophet.

“Duck, duck, duck,” Emily says.

“Shhh, shhh,” Mother Victoria whispers. “Shhh for now, my sweet girl.”

Emily goes quiet. But she looks me right in the eyes and grins full on. She gives me a thumbs-up sign, and if I weren’t so worried about everything, I would laugh.

“Brother Carlson,” Prophet Childs says to Father, at last.

Father nods, hands clasped. His face is still pink, but there’s worry near his mouth.

“I have joyous news.”

Laura, sitting so still beside me, takes in a breath of air. Now she grabs my hand and squeezes.

“I’ve been in the belly of the Temple for some time. Thinking, praying”—he points his finger toward the lightbulb—“and talking with God. It has been revealed to me that your oldest daughter, Sister Kyra, is to wed Apostle Hyrum Carlson. She will be his seventh wife in the Lord.”

The room goes dead quiet. Not one sound. I think, Father hasn’t been called after all. And then Prophet Childs’s words sink in, sink in, sink in.

Me? What? Me to be married? I think I have no blood. I think I have lost the ability to breathe.

“Is this not a joyous occasion?” Prophet Childs says, and Brother Stephen lets out a “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”

Uncle Hyrum looks right at me.

I feel my face burn.

“The ceremony is in four Sundays, after ser vices,” the Prophet says.

It’s at that moment I find my tongue. Before my mothers, before my father. Laura’s hand is squeezing me tight and I smell body odor. I think it’s me.

“What?” I say.

“In a light bright as the sun the revelation came,” Prophet Childs says. He stares over our heads like he’s seeing things all over again. “The two of you at the stone altar, wearing the ceremonial dress, Brother Hyrum standing, you kneeling at his feet. I saw it all. I saw it all. You have been saved for him.”

Uncle Hyrum nods. “I will treat you well, Sister Kyra,” he says. “We will raise children unto the Lord.”

“I can’t do that,” I say, sick just-like-that to my stomach. I stand, Laura holding my hand so tight my fingers have gone purple. When I look into her face, I see her eyes have filled with tears. I glance at Mother Sarah. She sits up straight in her chair.

Father says, “Prophet Childs, I think there must be a misunderstanding. This man is my brother.”

I shake free of Laura. Step over my brothers and sisters whose faces are pale and seem like floating balloons.

“Duck, duck, duck,” Emily says.

Mariah lets out a bit of a cry. Does she feel what I feel? I turn and she reaches for me. But it’s like I look at a photograph, one that changes. I see her face collapse when I back away. See her little mouth open wide. Hear her start to cry.

Brother Fields reaches for me as I try to run, grabs the sleeve of my dress, but I slap his hand away and run out into the darkness. Mariah’s voice follows me.

“Wait,” someone calls. Mother Claire? Then, “Hush, baby. You hush now.”

How can this be? Is it for my sins? I have punished us all for my thoughts? For the books? And Joshua?

Just like that I’ll be marrying my father’s brother.

Just like that I’ll be marrying my own uncle.

MOTHER CLAIRE MARRIED FATHER when she was fourteen and he was seventeen.

Mother Victoria married Father when she was thirteen and he was nineteen.

Mother Sarah married Father when she was thirteen and he was twenty-one.

And now me. Me. Marrying my uncle who must be sixty, at least.

Saved for him?

OUTSIDE THE SKY has gone all dark except for the half-moon. All is quiet except Mariah’s wailing—a piercing cry that causes my heart to skip a beat. I almost turn back. The air is crisp, cool, though heat still rises from the desert. My uncle! I run from my family. At first, I start toward my tree. Then I think better of it.

“I don’t need a tree,” I say into the dark. “I don’t.”

So I turn around. I head back, past my trailer, past where my family