Chapter One Chapter One No one else wanted the job, so they gave it to me. Up at five to relay the morning road reports, and back again late in the evening to call in the weather forecast to the off-road truck loggers. It was vital information for the men who hauled raw logs through the treacherous Rocky Mountains to our sawmills in southern BC and across the border in Montana and Idaho. My work was lonely and isolating, but it was my daily pass to the outside world. I flicked a switch and watched the ancient shortwave radio snort and rumble to life, like an old man''s struggle to wake from his nap. I spoke into the mic and heard the eerie echo of my own voice. "Hey, Stan. Daisy here.
No snow on the Kicking Horse, but six inches expected on the Crowsnest, if you''re heading up that way. Back roads on logging section twelve are clear. Some ice by the river, though." I stood up to face the large map of western Canada and the northern United States thumbtacked to the wood-paneled wall. Its edges were curled and the print faded, making it hard to see in the early evening light. I ran my forefinger along the route I guessed Stan was taking and thought about the weirdness of snowstorms in June. While it wasn''t summer here yet, I could feel its warmth just around the corner. Butter-coloured black-eyed Susans were bursting out in the meadows and ditches.
Static filled the tin-roofed hut and then the words, "Ten-four." I was supposed to finish up, hurry back to my assigned family, and help the mothers put all the toddlers to bed, but instead I dimmed the lights so no one would know I lingered there, slipped on my headphones, and turned the dial to FM radio. I watched the needle dance until it landed on the station I was looking for: KREM FM out of Spokane, Washington. "This is Wolfman Jack coming to you live, and who''s this on the Wolfman telephone?" "Cindy in Portland." "Cindy in Portland, tell me who you''re lovin''." Cindy giggled. "Hi, Wolfman, I''m lovin'' that new group from England, the Beatles, and I want to hear ''I Want to Hold Your Hand.''?" Wolfman howled his trademark as the song came on.
The golden glow of radioland wrapped around me, and I sank deeper into my chair--and another dimension. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let the magic sweep me away. My mind, dancing with the melody, filled with the image of a boy with dimples and rumpled dark curls reaching for my hand as I looked longingly into his warm, caring eyes. Lost in a forbidden world, I didn''t hear or see the door to the hut open, didn''t sense the movement across the old plank floor, didn''t feel the warm body beside me until a hand touched my shoulder. I gasped. And my chair dropped forward with a bone-jangling jolt. I yanked off my headphones and blinked up at the person standing beside me. Relief poured through me at the sight of my friend.
"Brighten! You scared me so much I thought I''d have kittens." Brighten''s eyes were big, round, and a little worried. "Keep your hair on, Dais. I didn''t mean to. I just need to talk." Brighten was my absolute best friend--my only friend, really. Together, we were the daughters of the undeserving: men and women who did not hold the Bishop''s favour, either because they didn''t give enough money to the church or because they disobeyed the Bishop''s teachings. When I was a toddler, my father stopped believing in the Bishop--stopped believing that he was the True Prophet and received messages directly from God--and he quit the church.
There is no greater sin, so he was excommunicated. My father lost everything when he left, including my mother and me. Brighten''s situation was different. For some reason we didn''t understand, her father had never been asked to join the priesthood. She lived with her mother and father--and three other mothers and their children--in a two-bedroom house down by the creek. It was small and run-down with a chicken coop out back and rusted old cars in the driveway. All the other kids had bunk beds in the basement, but as the oldest, Brighten had to sleep on the second-hand couch in the living room. We found each other at recess on our first day of grade one, the only two girls standing alone in the playground while the others cut us out of their games.
But our similarities ended at our unpopularity. Whereas Brighten was tall and beautiful with auburn hair and amber eyes, I was small, thin, and blonde. Completely unremarkable. The good news, though, was that I had actually grown quite a lot lately and had put on some weight in the right places. Boys noticed me now. Even though it was a sin. I switched off the radio and gestured for Brighten to sit on the only other chair. "What''s wrong?" "I''m freaking out about the Placement.
I''m starting to have doubts." I shook my head. "Don''t. You''ll be chosen as the new celestial sister, I know it. Bishop Thorsen practically promised you." The Bishop''s older sister, Charity, had been the first celestial sister years ago. When mothers started having babies at age fifteen and went on to have ten kids or more, our community grew like crazy, and we needed someone to organize it properly. Managing all the businesses the men owned and procuring and distributing food and supplies to all the families was a full-time job.
Charity had been unable to have children, so she had what no other woman in Redemption had: spare time and energy. She did a great job running things. Not long after she started, the Bishop had a revelation: that all scheduling, ordering, payroll, and accounting was now women''s work, and would henceforth be the domain of celestial sisters. When it all became too much for Charity, the Bishop had another revelation: that there would be a total of four celestial sisters at any one time. The sisters would remain chaste before God, but once a sister reached the age of twenty-five, she would train her replacement and then be married and have children. She would heed womankind''s highest calling and become a mother of Zion. Because celestial sisters handled the money and doled out the groceries and pretty much everything else, they were powerful. Girls competed for the jobs, but only the smartest and most capable were chosen.
Brighten wanted it bad. "I was so sure before, but now? I don''t know. I don''t like the way Brother Earl looks at me. He makes my skin crawl. He watches me when he thinks I''m not looking. Others have noticed too, so it''s not just me being vain or proud. Blossom told me that being married to an old fart like him would serve me right for being ''Little Miss Perfect.''?" I smiled as I looked at my lovely friend with her long thick lashes and flawless skin.
"Blossom''s just jealous. You''re prettier and smarter than she is. She doesn''t mind not being the prettiest, but it kills her that you''re smarter. So there''s always going to be bad blood. Don''t worry, you''re a shoo-in for celestial sister." Blossom, on the other hand, was awful. She was the twentieth daughter of Brother Fred and the first daughter of his seventh wife, Flora, and because her father was a senior man in the priesthood, she had loads of status. She had curly brown hair, a turned-up nose, and her father''s build.
He was a big burly man who liked to throw his weight around whenever he got the chance, but especially each year at the Placement. People said that Blossom was a chip off the old block. If she became a celestial sister in charge of food distribution, Brighten and I would starve to death. Brighten pulled a piece of her hair from her long braid and began twisting it into tighter and tighter coils. "It''s just that Brother Earl always seems to get what he wants, and I''m scared he wants me. As one of the deserving, he does everything that the Bishop demands and gets rewarded for it." "Yes. But Bishop Thorsen gets his revelations directly from God, so he''ll do His bidding.
Right? Not just what Brother Earl wants. God sees how good your heart is." I reached over and gave her hand a little pat. "I''ve worked so hard for this, Daisy. Fifteen is too young to be a wife and mother. I want a chance to have a job first. If I get placed with an old man, I don''t know what I''ll do." Brighten dropped her hair and began to stroke the wrinkles out of her skirt.
"I don''t like what it''s done to my mother--the in-fighting, the bullying. Mom''s always so down and worried. I don''t want that life." It was true. Brighten''s mom seemed overwhelmingly sad whenever I saw her, which wasn''t often. She didn''t leave the house much. Brighten admitted that her mom was unable to help care for her large family. She slept a lot, and the other mothers couldn''t trust her to look after their children.
The Bishop explained that there was something in Brighten''s mom that prevented her from feeling the glory of God''s blessings. Though she struggled and prayed for guidance, she was not the recipient of God''s heaven-sent light. She was undeserving. I tried to console Brighten. "You''ve got nothing to be worried about. Celestial sister is all yours." "Maybe. But what about you? Are you worried the Bishop will marry you to someone you''ll find hard to love? Are you hoping to become a celestial wife?" My heart beat an unsteady rhythm.
For girls like Brighten, girls with intelligence and ambition, becoming a celestial sister was the only way to avoid early marriage and motherhood until their twenties. For girls like me, adventurous and romantic--or so I like.