Carolyn Jessop; Laura Palmer by Escape

her stepfather. Claudel had been living with her mother in Salt Lake City for several years. Her mother, who was no longer married to Claudel’s biological father, treated her like an indentured servant, forcing her to do all the cooking, cleaning, and babysitting. Claudel feared that if she was forced to marry her stepfather, she would become her mother’s slave for life and resigned to a life of bitterness—a living death.
    Linda and Claudel began making plans to escape after they turned eighteen. Claudel had made a friend in Salt Lake City who was not in the FLDS and knew about her despair. Having one friend on the outside, one number to call, was huge, especially since Claudel had returned to Colorado City to live.
    I had been working at my father’s construction company that summer and was being paid $1.25 an hour. But I was saving every dime I made. Mama had gone on a business trip with my father, and Rosie was taking care of the family. Linda had been acting strange for several days, which baffled me.
    Elaine, one of Linda’s best friends, had come over, ostensibly to help Linda clean out her room. Linda was giving a lot of her things away, which didn’t strike me as odd until I realized that she was unpacking her hope chest. Most of us started hope chests in our early teens. Hope chests were status symbols in the community. We filled them with things we’d need in our marriages: pots, pans, linens, and blankets. Some girls made quilts for their hope chests. I did not. But often at birthdays we’d give one another things for our hope chests.
    I asked Linda why she was giving away the treasured items she was saving for her marriage and many of her clothes. “I’m sick of everything, so I’ve given it to Elaine. I don’t want to wear these clothes anymore. I’ll just make some more.”
    She wasn’t very convincing; her behavior was like jagged pieces of a puzzle that I couldn’t put together.
    Linda knocked on my door at nine o’clock that night. I was getting ready for bed and was surprised to see her fully dressed at bedtime. Her face was pale. She clutched a large garbage bag of things she hadn’t given away.
    In a whisper, she said to me, “Carolyn, I am leaving. Some of my friends are taking me to a neighboring community. From there I’m going to disappear. Some people are going to help me escape.”
    I was stunned. Never, ever would I have guessed that Linda was running away with total strangers. I started to tremble.
    “Why are you doing that? How can you trust people you don’t even know?”
    Linda shrugged again. “Even if they are bad people, I don’t have anything to lose. If I stay here, my life is over. I’m not going to do that. Carolyn, do you think I can borrow twenty dollars from you?”
    I was numb. I didn’t want to lose my sister. I walked over to the dresser drawer where I kept my summer money and handed her the envelope. “Take all of it, Linda—you’re going to need it.”
    Linda resisted. “I only need twenty dollars—that’s enough. I can’t take all your money.”
    I refused to take the envelope back. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. “Take it. You don’t know where you are going or even who you are going with. Take the money. Please. It will help me feel better about what you are doing.”
    Linda grabbed me and we hugged. “Thank you, Carolyn, thank you.” She could barely whisper.
    Our bedrooms were in the basement, next to the outside door. Linda went into her room to gather her things. Rosie heard her when she opened the outside door and came to see what was happening. When she saw Linda with the black garbage bag she asked her where she was headed.
    Linda’s voice was as strong as the unshakable will behind it. “Rosie, I am leaving, and there is nothing you can do to stop me because I’m eighteen now.”
    “Yes, I can,” said Rosie. “You are not going to leave.”
    Linda did not flinch.
    “I’m done with this religion! I’m not going to