OCR Text |
Show in my father's house/ 102 hovered over me, sprinkling more brown sugar on my oatmeal. "Just taste it darling. See how good it is." My father telephoned that it was safe to come home. The raid was over. But our complacency faded all at once when we got home and saw the newspaper. On the front page of The Salt Lake Tribune was a picture of Sister Black, weeping as a matron led her along. I knew Sister Black from our Sunday meetings before the group split. "Oh no!" my mother breathed. "They've taken her children away!" She turned to Aunt Helga. "I never thought they'd do such a thing!" As usual, I was listening. "Took them away? Where?" My mother stared down at me, then glanced at Aunt Helga's grim face. "Might as well tell her," Aunt Helga shrugged. "She's bound to find out anyway." "They took her nine children away from her and put them in foster homes," my mother said, her eyes reddening as she spoke. "They put each child in a different family, with people they don't even know so that they couldn't be taught about the Principle! How can they treat people this way just because of what they believe? As if the Principle was hurting them! It isn't right for them to do this to us! It just isn't fair!" She broke into tears and left the room. Horror reverberated through me. My knees shook back and forth and my fingers and arms and stomach trembled. |