by Judith Pella
When Benjamin slipped the large ring on her finger and Elise closed her hand around it so it would not slip off, she felt she was grasping more than a ring of gold.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Benjamin said with quiet intensity, “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
I have little to give you, Benjamin thought, not even a sense of who I am. My future is uncertain, and my past an indictment. The only gift I have is loyalty and commitment. But these I give freely.
“And now, having heard you make these pledges and take these vows of fidelity,” Murphy decreed, “I do, by the authority of the Church of Christ and by the laws of the state of Mexico, pronounce ye husband and wife, no longer twain, but now one, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
I don’t know what being one will mean to us, Elise. Something different perhaps than we ever expected.
I always thought love and physical joining made a husband and wife one, but I think that which will make us one is surrounding us—five sweet children. We are united in love for them. Elise smiled.
Now with a full grin on his round face, Murphy dropped his formal bearing and said, “There we have it! Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” Still grinning, he added, “Now, me boy, ye may kiss your bride!”
There was only one instant of awkwardness, then Benjamin bent down and lightly kissed Elise’s forehead. She smiled to assure him he had done the right thing.
Then the room erupted into motion as the Hunters offered congratulations and the children, who had been so cooperative for the last fifteen minutes, began their usual squirming, crying, and jabbering. Elise thought it was a better recessional than any traditional wedding march.
As evening approached Benjamin expected the routine of life to continue unhampered. And indeed it seemed to do just that at first. Unimpaired by the rain, the Hunters and Father Murphy had departed shortly after a fine wedding meal prepared by Mrs. Hunter with Elise’s help.
Following a supper of leftovers from the midday meal, the children were put through their going-to-bed paces. It was only as Micah blew out the candle by his bed and Benjamin turned down the lamp on the table that he fully realized this was his wedding day. He’d known all along that the usual significance of the wedding night would not be happening. He had never wanted it. The marriage had never been intended for that. Yet he could not ignore the sudden awkwardness he felt as the cabin quieted and the subtle shadows of night prevailed.
Straightening his back, he took a covert glance to where Elise stood over Oliver’s cradle, tucking in the quilt around the child. The baby had been asleep for a half hour, and Benjamin had already checked the covers. But he sensed that Elise, too, was feeling a bit disconcerted. Deciding it was best to confront the matter head on, Benjamin strode to her side.
“It’s been quite a day,” he said softly. “It has even worn out the children.”
“Yes . . .” She gently fingered one of Oliver’s soft brown curls.
It surprised him how deeply her small gesture stirred him. It was as if she truly were the mother of his child. It confused and flustered him and made him want to flee from the cabin, forgetting all attempts to deal with anything. He tried to steady himself by conjuring up an image of Rebekah in his mind, but all that did was stir up angst and misery. Licking dry lips, he was about to turn and make a hasty retreat when she touched his arm.
“Benjamin, I know this is difficult for you,” she said as if she had read his mind. “In marrying me, I am afraid you have given up your home.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I just don’t feel right that you should be relegated indefinitely to the barn. It is cold and drafty in there. Not fit for the man of the house.”
“Are you suggesting . . . ?” he could not voice what he was thinking.
“I am suggesting that it is only right for me to stay in the barn.”
He burst out laughing. But when Oliver stirred, he choked back his amusement to a silent snicker.
“What—?” She reddened. “Oh, dear me! You didn’t think . . . ?”
“Elise, this has easily been the strangest day of my life.” His laughter calmed, but he still felt an unaccountable lightness, though it was vying against all the other raging emotions warring inside him at the moment. “I don’t know what to think about it, or what to do. Marriage has always been a deep and solemn matter for me. I can’t just brush aside what occurred here today. I thought up until the moment we stood before the priest that that’s what we would do. Then everything . . .” His mind was in such disarray he could not think of the proper words.
“Went haywire?” she supplied just the right words.
“Yes . . .”
“I felt it, too. Perhaps it was wrong to have tried to make a celebration of the wedding.” She sighed. “I thought it would be good for the children. I never considered how confusing it would be to me—”
“To us.”
She stared at him, and he wondered by the way she looked if she was seeing him for the first time.
“We are married, Benjamin! I, too, hold the state of marriage in high regard. We made vows today, commitments. And it was only as I uttered them that I realized I meant them. I truly intend to abide by them.”
“I do, too.” Benjamin walked to the table and sat on the bench. Elise joined him. “Part of me feels that I am being unfaithful to Rebekah. Our marriage was far from perfect. I’m convinced now that she did not really love me, not that I deserved her love. In fact, I doubt I loved her in the way I should. But I was always faithful to her. I never even thought about other women. Ah, but I’m sure my faithfulness was not so much in honor of her, rather it was really because I had to look good. I had to maintain the appearance of a godly man and minister of Christ. Nevertheless . . .” He idly fingered a spoon left on the table.
He didn’t know what he was trying to say or how to express it if he did.
“It’s . . . been a strange day,” he repeated.
“Perhaps all will seem normal by the light of a new day.”
Did she truly believe that? Nothing would ever be normal again.
Benjamin’s true struggle was in deciding whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He studied her by the tiny flame in the lamp, shadows dancing about her face and occasionally flickering in her eyes, causing light to sparkle in them like moonbeams.
She was his wife, for better or worse. Instinctively he sensed it would be for better, that they had done a good thing today, though it scared him, confused him. Suddenly he rose.
“Thank you for listening to me.” He knew he had to leave, because everything inside him was telling him to stay.
“Where are you going?”
“To the barn.” When her brow knit, he added lightly, “Don’t feel sorry for me. Actually, it is I who feels twinges of guilt. I am going to the child-free haven of the barn, leaving you to fend off the hordes.” He smiled down at her. “I think it is an even exchange.”
PART FOUR
MAY 1835
CHAPTER
42
QUIET MOMENTS WERE NOT MANY in the tiny cabin, thus Elise had not been free to read her New Testament for some time. Having read only the first three books and part of the fourth, she wasn’t even halfway through the book. There was so much more to discover, to learn. So one spring afternoon shortly after her wedding, while Oliver and Leah— easily the two most time-consuming of the children—napped and Isabel was entertaining herself with her doll, Elise took Hannah in her lap, sat in the rocking chair, and opened the book.
She turned to chapter seven of the book of John and began reading. Much of it was confusing, but the gist she caught was that there was much disputing among the people about who Jesus was. Some people, especially the leaders, were angry at Him and wanted to kill Him. She remembered all this from the previous books and knew, of course, that
they eventually did kill Him. She marveled at why they would want to harm Him. Couldn’t they see what kind of man He was, so good and decent? Even if they could not see that He was God, surely they should have known He meant only good for them.
She started the eighth chapter and was immediately taken up in the account of a woman caught in adultery. She’d already noticed how Christ freely associated with people whom the general society looked down upon—beggars, tax collectors, lepers, even harlots. Now the leaders who were angry at Christ were trying to use one of these people to trick Him. The leaders wanted to stone the adulteress as their law commanded. They wanted Jesus to break the law by freeing her.
Elise’s heart raced, clearly picturing the scene. The accusers with stones in hands and leering, ugly looks on their faces. The woman, alone, trembling, knowing death was but minutes away. Jesus, caught in the middle.
Elise laughed with glee when she read Christ’s answer. He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.
But it was what she read next that truly moved her. Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord.And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.
Having felt so recently the powerful presence of God’s love herself, Elise knew what the woman must have felt. She knew what it was like to feel so dirty and shamed she could hardly look at herself. Then here, to have someone look past all that, to see it, to see the filth—and to love you anyway!
Elise looked at the list she had been making of favorite passages. As soon as she found a pen, she would add this to it. In the meantime, she flipped back to others she had written down. It was a long list! But touching on only a handful, she saw one thing clearly stood out: God’s love. She also had written a list of questions, and there were many of these as well, for a lot of what she read was confusing. Yet the reality of God’s love rang through like the most pristine chime imaginable. Yes, men like Benjamin could study the Bible their whole lives, write books, and preach countless sermons. They could debate theology forever, but all that would never change the precious truth of love. Nor could years of study make it any more comprehensible. It was simple enough for a child to grasp, or a fallen dove such as she. Elise understood that the love of God was at the core of this thing called Christianity. All else was . . . well, she didn’t know what it was. It was perhaps like the difference between a fabulous plantation manor and this tiny cabin. The cabin provided all one needed. The rest could come or go as long as one had the solid little room for basic warmth and protection.
Jesus could have showered the woman with all the reasons why what she had done was wrong. He certainly could have pointed out all the legal ramifications. But no, He had said simply, “Neither do I condemn thee. . . .”
When He added “Go and sin no more,” Elise was certain the woman did just that, not because she had learned all the reasons why she was a sinner, but rather because this man Jesus loved her, and she could do no less.
Oddly, Elise thought of Benjamin. Yet the passage was obviously intended for her, an adulterer and a fornicator. How could it relate to a man like Benjamin who had been a religious man all his life, a spiritual leader who understood the Bible perfectly and no doubt had much of it memorized?
That was it, of course! In all the depths of Benjamin’s study, and in the course of living according to Christian rules, had he perhaps forgotten the simplicity of love? Could that be why he was having trouble believing now? Was it possible that all he needed was to be reminded of these things? An excitement welled up in Elise. She reread the passage, and it confirmed to her that what she had come to know about God was indeed true. And she was certain Benjamin had not yet discovered it.
Her heart fairly galloping over this discovery, she rose from the rocker.
“Isabel, would you mind Hannah while I talk to your father?” She set Hannah on the bed as Isabel came over with her doll. The two immediately engaged in a game of some sort as Elise left the cabin.
Benjamin was in the field east of the cabin trying to plant corn. He’d borrowed a plow from John Hunter, hitched it to one of the horses, and was trying to make a furrow—not too successfully. The horse was not a plow horse and apparently was intent on making that clear to its inexperienced master, the results of which produced furrows that were rather askew. Micah walked alongside the horse, his hand firmly gripping the bridle.
Elise had paused before leaving the cabin to fill a pail with jerked venison and biscuits from breakfast along with a jug of fresh water. She was glad she had done so because Benjamin looked exhausted. She paused a moment to watch his progress. It was a fine day in early May with a clear blue sky overhead. The sun was unusually warm, evidenced by the streams of sweat Elise could see pouring off Benjamin’s head, unimpeded by his wide-brimmed hat. His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his chest and shoulders.
Riding a circuit was a physically demanding job, and Benjamin had always given the impression of being quite fit. But he was pushing himself harder than ever trying to plant the field with corn. It was a couple of acres in size and had already been cleared by former residents, but the field had lain fallow for some time and was now covered with weeds and brush. Benjamin and Micah had been plowing for two days, and Benjamin had hoped to finish today, but there was still some ways to go.
Elise hesitated to interrupt the work. Telling of her discoveries could have waited until evening, but her enthusiasm had overtaken good sense.
By chance Benjamin paused in his work, removed his hat, and wiped a sleeve across his damp brow. In the process, he detected Elise’s presence. He raised an arm and waved.
“Is everything all right?” he called.
“Everything’s fine.” She hadn’t thought that her appearance might raise an alarm. “I thought you might like some refreshment.” She held up the pail as if in confirmation.
Signaling for Micah to take the plow handles, Benjamin hiked across the clotted earth to where she stood at the edge of the field.
“You are making good progress,” she said.
“John Hunter expected his plow back yesterday.” He seemed discouraged. “The earth was much harder packed than I thought. I am determined to get this done today, though.”
“Then forgive me for interrupting. I’ll leave the pail and get back to the house.”
“It was very kind of you to come.”
“You’ve been working so hard.” Shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand, she gazed out over the field. “I’ve never realized what an accomplishment it is to cultivate a raw piece of land.”
He chuckled dryly. “At least it is for an inept ex-preacher. I’ve never even so much as planted a garden.”
“Ex-preacher?” She couldn’t help picking up on the phrase and being concerned. He’d never stated it in such final terms before.
“For the time being.”
“You’ve decided to be a farmer, then?” She studied him momentarily with the same scrutiny she had given the field. In a way, he was like that field—hard and raw, in need of a tender but firm hand to work out the rough places. She doubted she could be that hand, yet she felt compelled to try because like the field, he was full of potential. His yield would be richer than the sweet corn, perhaps only to his family, perhaps still to the settlers who so needed a spiritual leader. How sad it would be if he let the earth of his life lie fallow. Yet he was doing just that.
“If I don’t fail at that, too,” he answered as if to mock her very thoughts.
Sighing, she said nothing in response.
“I best get back to work.” He took the pail from her hand. “First, I wouldn’t mind some of that water.” Uncorking the jug, he lifted it to his lips and took a long drink. He then set jug and pail on the ground. He headed back toward the field, paused, and called over his shoulder, “Thank you, Elise.”
She watched a few minutes longer. Benjamin sent Micah to the jug, and as the boy had a drink, Elise gave him a f
ew words of encouragement before he, too, returned to the plow. Elise headed back to the cabin, uncertain what to do. She had been so enthusiastic about sharing her Bible reading with Benjamin, yet she could not see how her words would do any good. He had to find his own way. He’d be as wary as any man to be preached at, especially by a woman who was a complete novice in such matters. Perhaps if she found a way to approach him with a question.
He returned for supper appearing more discouraged than ever. The horse had gone lame, and since he feared risking the other horse, the rest of the work would have to be done by hand until he could get into Cooksburg and have Albert Petty, who was also a blacksmith, repair the animal’s shoe.
Elise had worked hard to make a good meal. Nell Hunter had shown her how to make johnnycakes, a staple here where corn was the main food. It was amazing what a little salt and water added to cornmeal could do. The pot of soup to go with the johnnycakes was culled from a recipe in one of Rebekah’s books. It had called for beef, but Elise used venison since that was all she had. It also called for a cut-up lemon for flavor but, since lemons in Texas were as rare as paved roads, she substituted a variety of spices she found in Rebekah’s larder—summer savory, sweet marjoram, and a dash of pepper. Several onions completed the soup and made it fill the cabin with a delightful aroma.
Elise tried not to be disappointed when Benjamin hardly noticed her culinary success and merely picked at his meal. Micah, at least, had three bowls of soup and several johnnycakes.
Shortly after supper, the process of bedtime preparation for the children began. They had by now fallen into a nice routine, but since work in the field had begun, Elise insisted that Benjamin and Micah didn’t need to help to the extent they had. Elise really managed quite well on her own with some help from Isabel. However, tonight Oliver was a little fussy and needed more attention than usual. But in just over an hour, the older children were in bed, and Oliver was settling down as Elise rocked him in the rocking chair.