The Book of Ethan

By Russell J. Sanders

Ethan Harker is the son of The Prophet, the stern, demanding leader of a small Southwestern polygamous community. Ethan has been groomed to one day take his place as the leader of this isolated cult.

But things happen that compel Ethan to flee his stifling community and find his way in the world beyond it. Totally out of his depth, he is sheltered by a remarkable group of people from a loving and accepting church. From them, he learns what family truly means and begins to construct a life free from the restrictions he’s grown up with. Little by little he dismisses the assumptions he was taught about the “evil” people in the outside world.

Amid all this, Ethan realizes something about himself when he meets rapper Kyan, a boy his age. Although he’s been brought up to fear and hate members of Kyan’s race, he can’t help falling in love with Kyan. Fueled by a new understanding and new friends, Ethan gains the strength and courage to conquer the confusing world he has been thrust into.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Apr 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781634760065

Book preview

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CHAPTER 1

ETHAN SWIPED the sweat from his brow. It could get so hot here in the summertime. Today it had to be at least a hundred degrees. Eternal Father was testing him. Working in this heat was exhausting. He loved his work, here in the garden, but the sweltering summer was a trial he wished Eternal Father didn’t put him through.

The Prophet, his earthly father, had assigned him this task. Ethan supervised all the gardening work, ensuring there were plentiful vegetables for the Family. The Family strived to be self-supporting, and Ethan’s garden was a big part of that. Ethan’s work was a blessing to be offered up to Eternal Father.

So the heat was only a trial, a test he must endure and triumph over so he could one day be included in Eternal Father’s Heaven. Ethan smiled, thinking of eventually joining Eternal Father, and that gave him the strength to go on. The heat was bearable, knowing of his ultimate prize: Heaven.

He was thankful Eternal Father had provided the knowledge of the irrigation system, and The Prophet earned enough for the Family to provide the irrigation. Water was the essential blood of the garden, and The Prophet’s construction crews in town earned sufficient income to not only provide the irrigation but to also provide the things needed by the Family that could not be grown or made in the community. He offered a prayer for the long sleeves and denim trousers he wore, for they protected him from the brutal, penetrating rays of the sun. He thanked Eternal Father for the construction jobs that paid for them.

As he joyfully toiled, he heard the faint sound of singing. Watches were forbidden in the community, so he had lost track of time. Ethan fleetingly thought some worldly conveniences could be useful, but The Prophet forbade watches, telephones, televisions, and computers. It was not for Ethan to question The Prophet. He had his reasons, and those reasons were most often directly revealed to The Prophet by Eternal Father.

But if Ethan had not been absorbed in his gardening, he would not now be late for Evening Prayers. He dropped his spade, vowing to return after prayers and put it away properly. Right now, he must hurry.

When Ethan rushed through the doors of the Meeting Room, his father The Prophet was speaking, praising Eternal Father and his goodness. Ethan was careful not to slam the door or even to breathe heavily, for he could not interrupt his father.

He felt, then saw, the penetrating gaze of Martha, his father’s second wife. It was no secret Martha was jealous of Ethan’s mother, Hannah. Hannah had been the first bride of The Prophet, and Martha felt inferior to Ethan’s mother or felt slighted somehow. Ethan was not totally sure of the situation, but he knew two things: Martha was not nice to him, and he prayed for her daily. The disapproving look said it all. Martha would most definitely use his being late to prayers against him.

He sought out his mother. Hannah sat, beautiful and serene. She was a jewel in Eternal Father’s Crown. Even clothed in a pink calico dress covering her from head to toe, like all the women and girls wore in the Family, Hannah was a vision. Her golden hair glowed like an angel’s as it sat atop her head, never cut and awaiting its use in Heaven, the bathing of the feet of Eternal Father’s faithful men. Yes, Ethan thought, my mother is an angel here on earth. Then Ethan shuddered, fearing his thoughts were somehow blasphemous. Was he worshipping his mother? Only Eternal Father was to be worshipped.

Ethan slipped into a chair in the back row, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his mother. Lately, she seemed wearier. She coughed much too often. He worried for her, but she simply claimed she had a slight cold. That was his mother—no time for herself when there were children to look after. And children there were. His mother alone had birthed eight. He was the eldest, followed by two brothers and five sisters. Hannah, though, was also charged with helping his father’s third wife care for the children of all three wives, and in addition, she was a skilled seamstress and was constantly sewing clothing for the Family.

The Prophet was prolific. He’d given Martha six children and his third wife, Leah, two thus far. Leah was only eighteen months past Ethan’s own seventeen years, for his father had married her when she was but sixteen. She sat there, next to Ethan’s mother, holding her youngest, Adam, barely a year old. And it was announced at breakfast yesterday Leah was once again with child.

Ethan let his mind wander, wondering what it would be like to be that young and have the responsibility of raising children. But he knew he would soon be faced with just that. The Prophet had allowed Ethan to postpone marriage for the past year, but only because he wished to spend the time grooming Ethan. If Ethan was to succeed him one day, he must be schooled in the Family’s businesses without distraction.

So Ethan, unlike other boys his age, was not yet betrothed. His childhood friend Gideon was to marry soon. His bride, Mara, had already been selected and the banns had been read. But Ethan had not thought of marriage. He was far too busy with his gardening and his father’s lessons.

He saw Bethany cut her eyes around to him and smile. Bethany, too, was his age. She’d managed to escape betrothal. Nothing had been said to him, but Ethan suspected Bethany was meant for him—that The Prophet had chosen her to be Ethan’s first wife. It was all too obvious Bethany certainly wished it. She was constantly finding moments to do what—in the outside world—would be called flirting with him. Her conduct was beneath her. It could only bring dishonor to her in Eternal Father’s eyes. But Ethan truly was in charge of only his soul here on earth… at least until he assumed leadership and became The Prophet himself.

He sincerely hoped that eventuality was far, far away. He was not ready for such a task, having so much self-doubt. His father brought the prayer service to an end, and everyone filed out. The men and boys had evening chores to do; the women and girls must prepare dinner for their families. Ethan hurried back to his garden to return the dropped spade to the shed.

You were late again, Ethan.

He turned to see Gideon approaching him. Ethan, in a moment of vanity once, had wished he were as handsome as Gideon. With his shy smile, his silky brown hair, and his clear, bright topaz eyes, Gideon had been pursued by every girl in the Family at one time or another. His marriage would be mourned by many of the girls, although Ethan was sure many of them would continue hoping they would be chosen to be Gideon’s second, third, or fourth wives, fervently praying The Prophet hold off on their own marriages, so they might one day be Gideon’s.

Ethan said a silent prayer for these girls. Then he chastised himself for remembering his own vanity, knowing vanity is a sin.

Where are you headed, Gid? Ethan asked.

I must see the cows and chickens are fed, so I’m off to the barn. Your garden is looking healthy. Eternal Father should be pleased.

The remark produced a pleasant sensation in Ethan he quickly dismissed. He’d already been reminded of his vanity; he did not need to feed it.

I only supervise. We have many acres, as you know. They require more attention than one man can provide. The others toil far more than I in the garden. It is they who should be praised.

Still, it is you who was late to prayers, no doubt because of your devotion to this garden. And I also have no doubt your father, The Prophet, is not pleased with your tardiness.

I shall have to once again apologize. I pray to Eternal Father to banish this fault I possess.

And I’m sure he listens, my friend. Has The Prophet spoken to you of Bethany?

Ethan was puzzled. Did Gideon know something he didn’t?

No. She is indeed persistent in her pursual of me, but my father has said nothing. Have you heard something?

Gideon laughed. No. I’m not in The Prophet’s inner circle. I’m just well aware that Bethany has had her mind fixed on you since we were children.

Ethan laughed at that remark. The laughter with his friend felt good. There was far too little laughter in the Family. Perhaps laughter, too, was a sin. But Ethan could not believe it. Eternal Father was too loving to banish the goodness that fills one when laughter explodes.

Bethany wishes desperately to marry—and only to marry you. I wish her luck in her quest, for you are a magnificent catch.

That took Ethan by surprise. He looked at Gideon, probing his eyes, searching for meaning in the last sentiment. But he couldn’t discern what Gideon was really saying.

Gideon, however, burst into raucous laughter. You should have seen the look on your face, Ethan. Have you forgotten the fun we two used to have? Have we grown so far apart since we’ve reached majority we can no longer tease each other?

Gideon reached over, grabbed Ethan, and enveloped him in a strong, encompassing hug that lingered a bit longer than Ethan would have liked. Eternal Father be blessed. Our friendship is a covenant. Father is singing in Heaven because the two of us have remained friends and shall remain friends for life.

Gideon released Ethan, then said, Well, I must see to the feeding. He walked away.

Ethan was left bewildered by Gideon’s behavior. True, they had been the best of childhood friends, but in later years, they’d drifted apart, mostly seeing each other at prayer meetings and Bible studies. They shared an occasional greeting when passing in the yards, but this outpouring of friendly affection was unprecedented. The men in the Family were not demonstrative. Ethan’s father had never spoken of that, so Ethan was unsure if Gideon’s hug was a sin or not. Since physical contact between the male Family members never happened, Gideon’s move left Ethan in a quandary. He retrieved the spade, went to the shed to put it away, and then went to wash up for dinner.

There were many houses on the community’s twenty acres, modest dwellings, large enough to hold enormous families. But only one home was befitting The Prophet. The home Ethan headed toward was three stories, magnificently towering over the community. Each of the wives had their separate bedrooms with baths. The younger children slept in dormitories on the third floor, one for each sex. Those who had gone through puberty shared bedrooms on the second floor, three girls to a room, two boys to a room. Ethan, being The Chosen, had his own bedroom and his own bath. He sometimes felt his position in this family—and in the Family—contributed to his prideful bouts with the sin of vanity.

As he came through the back door, he saw his mother, Martha, and Leah busily preparing food, with six of his sisters—three of Martha’s girls, three of Hannah’s—carting serving dishes from the pantry.

Hannah looked up and smiled.

Ethan went to her, kissed her on the cheek. I see you’re keeping my sisters busy. Suzanna looks happy with her chores. He smiled at his sister.

She’s a treasure, love. Growing like a weed and looking like a lovely flower. She’ll make one of the men a beautiful wife someday.

Yes, she will indeed. Another three or four years, she’ll no longer be a girl. You’ll be helping with diapering her firstborn, I’m sure.

Please, enough with your projecting. We’ll let her be the little girl she is, for now.

Then she turned to Leah and said, Watch my pot for me, Leah, dear. I must speak with Ethan in private.

At that, Martha turned and sneered. But she was smart enough to hold her tongue, Ethan thought.

Hannah led Ethan into the hallway that separated the living room from the dining room. When they were safely outside the range of prying eyes and ears, she shook her head, staring lovingly into his eyes.

She coughed lightly, then said, Oh, Ethan, my love, when will you ever learn? You simply cannot be late to Evening Prayers. Your father is very strict about that. You are aware of it, yet you persist in angering him. And you well know angering your father is also angering The Prophet and angering Eternal Father. After her long speech, Hannah coughed once again.

Ethan wanted to be contrite, to promise it would never happen again, but his contrition was stopped by his concern for his mother.

Mother, are you all right? You are coughing more and more. I fear there’s something terribly wrong.

Nonsense, dear. As I’ve told you, it’s just a lingering cough from a summer cold. Eternal Father will take care of me. She coughed yet again, and this time, it was prolonged.

Ethan led her to a chair, then pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open and barked at one of his sisters, Quickly. Bring Mother a glass of water.

He hovered over his mother, shouting Water, water. When his sister arrived, he took the glass from her.

Here, Mother. Drink. It will clear your throat. He held the glass to Hannah’s lips, and she sipped. The coughing subsided as she swallowed.

I’m worried, Mother. Won’t you let me take you into Alma to see a doctor? Only Ethan, of all the young men in the Family, was allowed to drive the truck alone into the nearby town.

The Prophet would never allow it. You know we do not believe in doctors and medicine. Healing comes only from Eternal Father. And besides, I’m fine, child. You must have faith Eternal Father will take away this cough like he’s taken away all the other coughs I or you or your brothers and sisters have ever had. We are cradled in his arms.

Ethan wanted to believe. He’d been brought up to believe. But this was his mother, and if the town’s doctors and the town’s medicine could help her, then he wanted to seek that help. The look in her eyes, the serenity, the faith, though, made him say a silent prayer for his own redemption. He could not go on doubting Eternal Father and find his way to Heaven.

Enough about me, Ethan. Your father wants to see you in his study after dinner.

A summons to Father’s study was never good. Ethan loved but feared his father. And now he had to get through dinner before he could find out just what his punishment for being late to prayers would be.

Dinner was served. Father and his wives, with Ethan, gathered at the main table, which was placed at one end of the enormous room so Father could see and speak to everyone. The others sat at several tables under his father’s gaze.

The Prophet asked one of the youngest to say grace. Ethan’s little brother stood with everyone as they clasped hands, then, in his six-year-old way, blessed the food. Ethan’s father praised the child, smiling lovingly, and then they sat to eat.

Ethan was always puzzled when he observed his father dealing with the children. Jacob Harker was sort of roly-poly in build, with heavy graying eyebrows and hair, wire-rimmed glasses (one of The Prophet’s few concessions to town medicine), and a smile that could light a room, which it often did when children were involved. He could even turn on his charm when he preached, although the edicts he gave were often somber.

But with Ethan, his father was never the jolly man he now saw sitting near him at the table. Ethan could not remember the last time his father had treated him as he treated the others. Jacob’s dealings with Ethan were always stern and demanding. His father had never been physically hurtful to him, but his words stung.

Ethan tried to enjoy his dinner, the threat of the study audience with his father looming over him. Meals were very good always. So good, in fact, Ethan wondered if his enjoyment of them was sinful. The wives were excellent cooks, and almost all the food was grown or raised right there. Ethan often had to atone for the pride he felt that it was thanks to him enough vegetables were raised to feed the entire Family of Eternal Father. Tonight, dinner was delicious and plentiful, but Ethan was not hungry.

As the final prayer of thanks was given, Ethan dreaded what came next. He dutifully followed his father into his study.

Jacob Harker left Ethan standing in the middle of the room, walking away to sit at his desk, facing him.

You know why I’ve called you in? There was steel in his father’s voice, ice in his eyes.

Yes, Father. I know you are angry at my being tardy to Evening Prayers, Ethan answered quietly, adding nothing else. An apology at this point would most likely incur the wrath of his father.

I am not angry.

Ethan stood, dumbfounded. How could this be?

The Prophet is angry. His father let that hang in the air.

Ethan trembled. He felt the strength in his body leave. This was a new tactic—for his father The Prophet to separate his two entities like that. His mother frequently did so, but never had his father tried this on him. And Ethan quivered, trying desperately not to collapse.

Eternal Father is angry.

There was no benevolence in his father’s voice. He used the name of the Eternal Father as a sword.

Eternal Father has decreed those who turn away from him will suffer for all eternity. His teachings tell us when one of his servants sets himself on the path away from him, that servant must be schooled back into the Faith. He must endure Blood Atonement. Do you know what that is, Ethan?

The words brought terror to Ethan. He’d heard of Blood Atonement, but he’d never known it to be inflicted. He’d always felt it was the ultimate, reserved for those who truly sinned against Eternal Father directly and wished to be reestablished in the Faith.

Ethan, your continual disregard for the rules is an insult to Eternal Father. And I, as The Prophet, cannot allow this to continue. There will be no more flagrant abuse of prayer times. You will arrive on time. Do you understand?

Ethan stood, terrified, praying to Eternal Father for forgiveness. His father sat, staring him down. Ethan did not know what came next. Would The Prophet speak? Would he dismiss him? Was he expected to give a spontaneous apology?

The Prophet opened his desk drawer, removed a roll of something from it. He stood, walked over to Ethan.

Remove your shirt.

With dread, Ethan did as he was told, confused as to what would happen next.

For your sins, Eternal Father has decreed you must be taught, taught his prayer times are sacrosanct and must not be violated.

At that, Jacob unrolled the roll in his hand. It was a leather strap, about three inches wide.

Do you wish to say anything, Ethan?

Ethan did not know what to say. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to speak at all. Fearing what was to happen, he said, I’m sorry, Father, his voice trembling.

Don’t apologize to your father. I love you no matter what. Offer your contrition to The Prophet and to Eternal Father.

Tears began to flow. Ethan whispered, Forgive me, Prophet. Forgive me, Eternal Father.

He had not finished the last word before the first blow hit. Jacob was lashing him with the strap, over and over and over. Ethan had never felt such pain. He willed himself to stand, but he truly wanted to double over in agony.

He prayed to Eternal Father to stop this. Then he realized Eternal Father had ordained this. So he prayed for forgiveness, first silently, then aloud. His repeated prayer started quietly, but as the blows continued to rain upon him, his voice rose. The excruciating pain fueled his cries.

Shout it out! Shout out your pleas! Let Eternal Father hear you! Loud and clear!

Ethan shouted louder and louder until his yawps drowned out the thunderous claps of the strap. His alarm was a mixture of intense pain and the emotions welling up inside him that signified his disgust at himself for dishonoring Eternal Father and the disbelief his own father could administer such a punishment to his son.

And then it stopped. No more lashes. No more prayer. Only the lingering smell of blood.

Silence. In a room that had so recently been a torture chamber. The total absence of sound. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. Eternity.

At last: Let the memory of this be your alarm which alerts you to evening prayer time from now on, son. Jacob’s voice was still, eerily kind. Almost as kind as when he spoke to Ethan’s brothers and sisters.

Now, son, have your mother see to those wounds.

Ethan turned to go.

And son, take the truck into Alma tomorrow to gas it up.

Yes, Father, Ethan said, going through the door, closing it behind him.

How could he be so cruel? And how could he sound so benevolent after administering a beating like that? He lashes me twenty or more times with a leather strap, and then his final words are gas the truck?

Ethan knocked on his mother’s door. When Hannah opened it and saw her son, she took him into her arms. He screamed when she hugged him.

What happened, my love?

Ethan couldn’t answer, couldn’t find the words to describe what had just occurred.

Ethan, speak to me. She swung him around and moaned. How did this happen? she cried.

Father.

Your father did this to you?

His words were beginning to come again. Said it was Blood Atonement.

Hannah yelped.

I needed to be punished. For my tardiness. An insult to Eternal Father.

Hannah coughed, then said quietly, Your father didn’t do this to you. The Prophet did it.

Ethan looked at her. He was too much in pain, too exhausted after the beating, to even try to understand her. The Prophet. His father. One and the same. Perhaps The Prophet ordered the beating, but it was his father who administered it.

The Prophet only follows Eternal Father’s Decrees. If Eternal Father commands, his wishes must be carried out. His mother sounded so devout, so reasonable in her beliefs.

Ethan wanted to understand. He wanted desperately to accept his mother’s words. But the pain was blocking his reason. The best he could muster was forgetting this happened.

Let me clean you up, his mother said as she went into her bathroom. She returned with swabs and iodine. Eternal Father allowed over-the-counter drugs, and the wives also grew medicinal herbs. Ethan was glad his mother could apply her loving touch to his back.

Gently, she applied a paste of calendula leaves. I know this hurts, but the wounds aren’t deep. They are superficial, and they will heal. Why, I would say you won’t even feel them by morning.

He winced. She was only trying to ease his pain with her ministrations, her words. This pain would endure. He was certain of that.

I’m sorry, love. Just a few more. As she continued dressing his wounds, she comforted him. You are fortunate, love. Eternal Father guided The Prophet to use a light touch in his lesson this evening.

Light touch? It surely didn’t seem that way as he stood there, barely able to remain upright, feeling each blow as it cursed him. His mother was saintly in her comforting. His father, however, had been brutal, and Ethan would not forget, no matter his mother’s entreaties.

Ethan, I hope you have learned from this. Eternal Father spared you from serious harm tonight. All because he loves you. Truly? Ethan found it hard to accept.

She dabbed one more cut, then said, There, we’re all done here. Get a good night’s rest, and come morning, all will be renewed. She kissed him on the cheek. Sweet dreams, dear.

He went to her door but was stopped from opening it by her voice.

And remember, Ethan: everything is for a purpose. This was not punishment, it was a lesson, a lesson ordered by Eternal Father and carried out by our Prophet. Do not blame your father for this.

CHAPTER 2

ETHAN AWOKE and showered, letting the water run cool. The gentle drops felt good on his wounds from the night before. As his mother observed, the wounds were not deep. There was much discomfort but not the excruciating pain he had expected. He was thankful. He could forget the pain; it would be difficult to forget his father administering it.

As the water cleansed his body, he willed his thoughts to cleanse his soul.

Perhaps The Prophet was right to do what he did. Ethan had been lax lately, letting his self-centering overtake him. As he lathered, he prayed to Eternal Father, humbly asking his forgiveness and making covenant with him. Never again would he be late for Evening Prayers, nor would he allow his thoughts to wander. He would honor Eternal Father at all times, but he would also avoid his earthly father’s—The Prophet’s—wrath.

As he dried, he caught himself looking in the mirror. Thinking of how he had sized up Gideon’s features the day before, Ethan assessed his own. He really was not bad-looking. He was tall, had wavy chestnut-colored hair, green eyes the color of jade, and a smile he thought would appeal to any of the girls in the Family. After all, Bethany surely seemed smitten with him. He knew all the girls were commanded by Eternal Father to procreate, but liking your partner had to be a powerful incentive. Ethan was pleased he might one day be a welcome sight to all his wives.

He lingered a moment in front of the mirror. A long moment. Much too long. His gaze turned into his father’s gaze. The Prophet stared back. His disapproval shone. Ethan was keenly aware he had sinned once again. His vanity would do him in. Only moments ago, he’d made a vow to himself and Eternal Father, a promise he’d broken quickly. Being so vain was certainly not, in any way, honoring the Father. Fervently, he asked Eternal Father’s Forgiveness as he draped his towel over the mirror, blocking his image.

He dressed and considered skipping breakfast. He was fearful of seeing his father. He knew, however, he was expected at the breakfast table. His steps slowed as he journeyed downstairs, thinking of his recent bout with sinful pride. His father would not approve. And he might get another beating. The thought brought a weakness to his knees.