Secrets In Texas

“So you’re starting to see me as a person? Good. I like that.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I impress you as a laugh-a-minute kind of guy?”

“You’re a lot funnier than you give yourself credit for. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the things that surprised me.”

“Other than my charm and good looks?”

Angel made a noncommittal noise.

“What’s so surprising about my having a sense of humor?”

“Well, I’ve seen photos of the polygamous sects, and life seems pretty serious. You don’t often see someone crack a smile.”

Matthew stiffened. “I haven’t lived at Zion’s Gate since I was fifteen. I’ve lived most of my life outside.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a part of you. In the way you carry yourself, your word choices, the way you see the world.”

“Maybe. But my father had a wonderful sense of humor. Gentle but observant. He could always make my mother laugh.” There was a wistfulness in his voice.

Angel sat on the bed and curled her legs beneath herself, making sure the robe didn’t gap anywhere critical or reveal scars. “I guess I assumed all polygamous leaders would be about power and dominance.”

“My uncle, certainly. He leads by intimidation. My father led by example.”

“Your father and mother were a love match?”

He nodded. “Approved by their parents, of course.”

“It must’ve been hard on your mom, then, sharing your dad with other women.”

He frowned. “She never complained.”

“Would she? Complain about the system in which she’d been raised?” A system in which dissenting opinions were actively discouraged.

“I think she accepted sharing him as best she could. She was his favorite, his legal wife, sealed to him for eternity. Maybe that was enough.”

Angel shook her head. “No way. From what little I’ve read about your mother, she’s a courageous woman. I can’t see her settling for a small portion of the man she loved.”

“She’s a strong woman. You remind me of her in some ways. But she did what was best for the brethren. My father was a wonderful man, but he was still the leader, and my mother respected that.”

“Or else?”

Matthew set his suitcase on the floor. “Or she would have had to leave and never come back.”

“That sounds very final.”

“It was. Always.”

“Except now your uncle has invited you back for a visit.”

“I imagine he has his reasons.”

Angel removed the game board from the box, opening it and placing it on the bed. “How’s your mom feel about you going?”

“She never would have suggested it. But once the government approached me for my cooperation, the idea took hold. I have—or had—two sisters. One died in childbirth.” He hesitated, picking up a tile holder and rotating it in his hands. “My mother’s afraid her cancer is terminal, so she wants to make sure her surviving daughter is happy. And, though she doesn’t belabor the point, I think she’d like to see Rebecca one more time.”

“Of course she wants to see her. Why would that be so hard to admit?”

“Because there’s little chance for it to happen. My mother made her choice when she left Zion’s Gate. My uncle made it very clear she would be severing all ties to her daughters.”

“Why didn’t they go with her, like you did?”

“I was…a liability.” He set out a holder in front of Angel and kept one for himself. “My sisters, on the other hand, were beautiful, like my mother. They begged my mother to stay. You see, there were several elders vying for consent to marry each of them, and their futures were assured. My uncle told my mother she and I could leave but my sisters had to stay. It ensured my mother’s silence about anything the authorities might have found unsavory.”

“Such as?”

“Plural marriages are against the law.”

Angel mixed the tiles and set them out facedown. “But the authorities have looked the other way for years. Probably still will with the threat of another Waco.”

“Since Arizona and Utah have become more aggressive in pursuing lawbreakers among the brethren, I imagine Texas will follow suit. It’s not as easy to look the other way these days. I don’t like to see people persecuted for their beliefs, but I also don’t like people to get away with crimes against children in the name of religion.”

Angel refrained from voicing the zillion other questions she burned to ask. She could tell he was shutting down. As it was, he’d opened up to her more than she’d anticipated.

From what she’d read, the children in polygamist sects were taught to distrust outsiders, to deflect any untoward interest, lest their families be torn apart by raids and persecution.

Matthew sat on the bed a few feet away from her. He selected his letter tiles. “You know my story. Now it’s your turn.”

Angel shrugged. “Not much to tell. I had a great childhood. I went to college and graduated with a degree in criminology. I’ve been with the Texas Department of Public Safety for five years and I love what I do.”

“Why law enforcement?”

Normally Angel would have answered with a well-rehearsed spiel. But she knew it wouldn’t fly with Matthew. He was too perceptive. “A cop helped me once when I was in trouble. I guess I admired her and I wanted to help other women like me.”

“What kind of women would that be?”

Angel refused to allow anyone but very close friends and her superiors to know she’d ever been that vulnerable. A victim.

“You know all you need to know about me, Matt.” She stood and headed for the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. “Except that you really don’t want to get in my way. Now I need to dry my hair.”

“What about the game?”

Angel wasn’t sure if he referred to the Scrabble game she’d abandoned or the dangerous personal game developing between them.

“Later.” Her answer was sufficiently vague to cover the subtext.

When she’d finished blow-drying her hair, Matt was packing his suitcase, placing his neatly folded shirts over the boxed Scrabble game.