Any semblance of decorum was gone. What there were of aisles filled with weeping women and pacing men. They fell in and out of embraces, their shouts fueled equally by accusation and rousing affection.
Somewhere in the midst of all this, Nathan let loose my arm, and when I felt him stir, I held out hope that he would lead us out. Instead, he stood beside me, his eyes and hands and arms lifted high.
“Heavenly Father!” His words sounded clear amid the din of the crowd. “Forgive me!” Then his hand was on me again. Through the layers of coat and clothing I felt each of his fingers digging into the flesh on my upper arm as he tugged, forcing me to stand beside him. “And forgive the sins of my wife.”
Shifting Lottie to my hip, I attempted to wrench myself from his grip. My actions called his attention away from heaven, and he looked down at me with a glare stoked with the fire of celestial authority.
“I told you to stay.”
“You will not confess my sins for me.”
“I don’t trust that you’ll confess them for yourself.”
“And how do you know I have anything to repent?”
The way that he looked at me answered my question. There in the chaos of this babbling crowd, everything stripped away.
A stirring beside him caught my attention, and I looked down to see Melissa clinging to him, her face buried in his sleeve. She was trembling.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not. Stay.”
One hard tug, though, and I was free. “The girls are going with me.”
I began to shoulder my way through the crowd, violently shrugging off the well-meaning hands that tried to detain me. The wall of noise surrounding me sounded no more like the utterances of worship than did the voices raised at the tower of Babel. In my heart I knew God did not look down on this with favor, and even then I knew much more would be required of me than simply walking away from this meeting. But it was a step, and at the moment, it was all I knew to do.
Once outside the stifling confines of our little church, tears spilled freely, making stinging, hard rivulets on my cheeks. I still clung to the girls, one small hand clutched in each of mine.
“Are we going to go back inside?” Melissa asked.
“No,” I said. “Not today.”
I lingered long enough for Nathan to come after us, but he didn’t. The volume within the walls increased, leaving doubt that any other Saint would dare to wander from the fold. So, with the promise of rabbit stew and dumplings awaiting us in the warm house, my daughters and I made our way down the frosty road to home.
Chapter 13
For two weeks after that Sunday, the chill of winter blew just as fierce within our home as it did outside. We did not speak, Nathan and I. He continued to tend to the morning chores, though now there was no pretense that he did so out of consideration for my feelings. I woke up each day to an empty bed, spent the day moving in wide circles around him when we found ourselves in the same room, and nearly ruined my eyes stitching by lamplight waiting for him to come in from his workshop in the evenings.
It didn’t take long for me to learn that he would not come in until I’d extinguished my lamp, so on especially cold evenings I blew it out early and climbed into bed, counting the minutes until I felt his weight beside me.
This silence, thankfully, did not extend to the girls. During those moments he was with them, he was as jovial as ever, engaging them in story and song like a self-appointed jester. I knew, of course, exactly what he was doing. He told stories of the Mormon heroes, sang hymns I’d never heard before coming here.
And I steeled my heart.
Somehow, the revelations of Joseph Smith took on a maliciousness I could never have recognized the first time I heard them. After all, these were not the warm summer days of our new love. This was a bitter, dark winter, one child in a grave.
One day as Kimana and I washed up the breakfast dishes, the sound of bells danced on the midmorning air. I looked out to see a beautiful cutter, shining black with blood-red runners, drawn by a team of four matching horses. I didn’t have to wait until the driver came into view for me to know who held the reins. I’d wrapped my shawl around my shoulders and was outside calling, “Rachel!” before she brought the team to a jangling stop.
She was dressed in fur from the top of her stylish hat to the trim on the skirt peeping out. Hopping out of the cutter, she hugged me close in a grip every bit as strong as the bear that once wore the coat she did now, then abruptly let me go when the girls flew out of the house and threw themselves against her.
“Where is that worthless brother of mine?” she said once the squeals had died down. “Someone needs to tend to the horses.”
After dispatching Melissa to fetch her father from his workshop, I linked my arm through Rachel’s and led her into the house. Kimana offered a quiet glimpse of a greeting before taking Rachel’s hat and coat to hang on a hook behind the door.
“I’ve come to take you away,” Rachel said, settling down at our kitchen table.
“Oh, have you?” I paused at the window to watch Nathan emerge from his workshop. As always, his cheeks took on bright red blotches in the cold, yet he wore only shirtsleeves. He did, however, put on his gloves before taking the horses’ reins and leading them into the barn. Melissa and Lottie skipped in circles around him, and he eventually stopped and gave a deep, princely bow before helping them clamber into the sleigh for a quick ride into the barn.
“Camilla?”
I didn’t turn around until I heard my name called again, this time accompanied by Kimana’s gentle tug on my arm.
“Goodness, sister,” Rachel said. “Your eyes are at the window, but it seems your mind is on the moon.”
“It’s a beautiful team,” I said, taking a seat next to her. “And how lovely to have such a nice surprise visit.”
“It’s not exactly a visit.” Rachel tugged her gloves off finger by finger and dropped them on the table. They were made from beautiful fur-lined calfskin with dainty pearl buttons. Without thinking, I reached out to touch them, wincing at the roughness of my own chapped skin. “I’ve come to steal you away for a while.”
“Oh, really?” The second glove landed on the table, and I ran my finger across its palm.
“It’s been so bleak and dreary, I thought I’d come whisk you away to spend a few days with me in town. Keep me company.”
“I hardly picture you lacking company. In fact, I imagine your household is fairly crowded.”
“True, but I thought you might come and stay a spell with Evangeline. Poor girl. Even if her father couldn’t speak, he was at least someone to talk to. I dropped in the other day, and she hadn’t even combed her hair. Imagine that. Ten o’clock in the morning, and barely dressed.”
“I don’t think I’m the person to cheer her up,” I said, thinking I knew well how it felt to spend hours in a house with no one to talk to.
“Nonsense. It’ll be just like the old days back on the trail. Just us girls.”
“What about Lottie and Melissa?”
“Bring them. They can stay at my house and play with their cousins. All of them,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“I’ll have to ask Nathan, of course.”
“Of course.”
Kimana set a cup of water in front of Rachel, who lifted it daintily, sipped, and set it down again, never taking her eyes off me.
“Well?” she asked expectantly. “Are you going to talk to him?”
“Now?” I stammered, trying to cover my hesitance. “I thought you and I might chat a little first.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to chat on the drive.” She made a shooing motion. “Now, go.”
I attempted to match her playfulness as I rose from my seat. Before going outside, I asked Kimana to pack a bag for the girls, including one nice dress for each and their warmest nightgowns, and to lay out a few things for me as well. Then, shawl wrapped tightly about me, I opened the door to brace myself against
the cold.
I could hear the rhythmic jangling of the sleigh bells accompanying the girls singing some silly tune. Nathan chimed in with an echoing baritone, and it pained me to think of how abruptly the music would stop the minute I stepped through the barn’s door. That thought alone kept me standing on the other side, listening, until a resounding, quasi-harmonious final note signaled the end of the song.
“Mama! Sing with us!” Lottie had herself ready to launch into another tune, but I held up my hand.
“Girls, go inside.”
“Did Aunt Rachel bring us something from town?” Melissa asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” I said, tugging her braid. “She brought herself. Now, go visit with her.”
Lottie and Melissa resumed their song, singing it all the way from the barn to the house. Nathan and I remained in our now customary silence. He had unhitched Rachel’s team, and now each horse stood, covered with a blanket, nibbling at the hay in the manger.
“They’re beautiful horses,” I said, laying one tentative hand on a chestnut flank.
Nathan said nothing as he hung the harness over a hook on the wall.
“She’s not planning to stay long.” My words lingered as steam in the silence. “In fact, probably just an hour’s rest for the horses. She aims to go back today.” He settled the pitchfork in its place. “And she wants me to go back with her for a visit.”
That captured his attention. His back was to me, but I saw the stiffness in his posture, the twitch of his shoulder blades as he squared himself to face me.
“You should go.”
They were the first words he had spoken directly to me since he fought to keep me beside him. And now he was sending me away.
“Are you sure?”
“Might do you good.”
He walked past me, back outside, where he began to inspect the sleigh from all angles, running his gloved hand along the runners. I was on his heels.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that maybe some time spent with Rachel will teach you a little bit about how to be a proper wife.”
Back into the barn he went, and again I followed. Perhaps I imagined the curiosity in the horses’ glances. On the far side of the barn was the door to Nathan’s workshop, and when he got there, he spun around and leaned against it, arms folded across his broad chest, creating a second barrier.
“I don’t want you to go in there.”
“I don’t care about your workshop.” And at the moment, I didn’t. “How can you say I’m not a proper wife?”
“You haven’t been, since the baby—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“You’ve shown no respect for me as the leader of this home.”
“How—?”
He rose up huge before me and pointed in my face. “You’ve abandoned any spiritual instruction for the girls. You haven’t been back to church. And you’re keeping me from being the man Heavenly Father wants me to be.”
“Nathan.” I reached out, touching him for the first time since I’d wrenched myself from his grip. “Don’t—”
He brushed my touch away; then, taking a deep breath, he gripped my arms, fingers digging into my flesh.
“All my life—” my neck snapped as he shook me, emphasizing each word—“all my life, I thought of nothing but the day I would have a family. A home. A wife. Children.”
“You have all that.”
“It’s not enough to have it here. I want this forever. And you’re taking that away.”
“I’m not—”
“We can never build a family in heaven if we can’t build one here.”
He loosened his grip then but did not let me go. I could have stepped away, but I stood, part of me grateful to hear his voice—no matter how ugly the words—and the rest of me longing to comfort him, despite his accusations. Slowly the brick wall of a man started to crumble; his grip grew to an embrace, and he pulled me to him. He whispered my name, and I had the distinct feeling that he was not merely holding me but clinging to me. I wrapped my arms around him and braced myself for strength.
“We have a fine family, Nathan.” I breathed deeply the scent of sawdust and winter. “And who knows? In time . . .”
“What? More children?”
“Maybe.” I rose up on my toes and kissed the warm hollow of his neck. “But if that’s what you want—”
Oh, how little it took to thaw the ice that had built up between us. His mouth was on mine, and I fell hard against him as I melted under his kiss. I felt like I was fifteen years old again, experiencing for the first time what it meant to be loved by a man.
“My wife, my wife . . .” He repeated the phrase as he dragged his mouth along my jaw to my ear, my neck.
“Yes,” I whispered, fully given over to his touch.
He took my hand and led me to the back corner of our barn, where fresh, clean hay formed a sweet-smelling hill that climbed halfway up the wall. From a shelf nearby he produced a thick wool blanket, and with one swift snap, it settled, crackling.
“Oh, Nathan. We can’t—your sister is in the house.”
“She can wait.” He pulled me close once again and, ignoring my protests—weak as they were—drew both of us down. “Long time since we’ve had a straw ticking.”
“And now I know why.” I fidgeted against the poking straw, longing momentarily for the thick feather mattress of our bedroom. But soon I could feel nothing but the touch and breath of my husband.
“And I love you, Camilla.”
“I know.”
“Have since the moment I saw you.”
I responded with a girlish giggle, still in awe that he chose me to love.
“Remember that.”
“I will.”
“No matter what happens.”
A tiny, dancing chill knotted itself around my spine. I opened my eyes wide and braced my hands against his chest, pushing him away. “What could happen?”
“I told you. I mean to have a family.”
“You have a family.” The hay rustled beneath me as I scooted away. “You have a wife and two daughters. And a son in heaven. And more, Nathan.” I reached out and touched his face, forcing him to look at me. “All the more that you want. All that I can give you.”
“That’s not enough, and you know it.”
“It’s what God has given us.”
“You and I alone can never fulfill the wishes of Heavenly Father, Camilla. How can one man and one woman ever do enough to build his church?”
We were both sitting up by now, side by side. I twisted a strand of golden straw around my finger, watched the fingertip turn violet, then let the straw go slack. Three times I did this in the silence that followed, all the while pondering—one man, one woman—all the while feeling the heated passion of the last few minutes dissipate, until I was nothing but a cold shell.
“How can you ask me to share what we have?”
“You already share me, darling. I belong to God first, then to you.”
“God began with just one man and one woman,” I said. “And we seem to have grown just fine.”
“But I don’t answer only to God,” he said, picking up a handful of hay and wrapping it into a cord. “I must uphold the teachings of the prophet as they were given by God. And he commands—”
“He has no right to command.” My outburst was loud enough, harsh enough to warrant a corresponding reaction from one of Rachel’s horses, who stamped her hoof in response. Instinctively I lowered my voice. “Joseph Smith was only a man. And Brigham, too. They cannot compel you to betray your very heart.”
He looked at me, his eyes steady. “And what makes you think they have?”
The tiny chill niggling at my spine exploded, filling me with a kind of cold that takes the breath away. Indeed, it had, as I fought for words. “B-because you love me. You said you love me. And if you do, how could you ever love—”
“I am the man God created. Could Jesus Christ love only one per
son?”
“But you’re not Jesus Christ!”
“No!” He stood up, and this time the horses did startle, lifting their forefeet off the floor and snorting in concert. “According to the Gentiles in this world, I’m nothing more than a worthless orphan. Tossed on the street, left to grow up with the rest of the trash. But Heavenly Father tells me I can be more. I’m made of the same stuff as our savior. And can be what he is. If you love me, how can you not want me to fulfill what my God wants me to do?”
Not caring about the bits of straw that clung to my skirt and back and hair, I stood up slowly, reaching one tentative hand out to touch him, my fingers barely resting on his fist-clenched arm.
“Have you ever thought,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “that they might be wrong? The prophets. About marriage.”
He recoiled, burned from my touch, and lifted his hand as if to strike me. I didn’t flinch because at the time, the thought that Nathan would hit me was such a foreign idea, my body would suffer no such reaction. I merely held my gaze steady and matched my breath to his until, slowly, he lowered his arm, leaving it dangling harmlessly at his side. “They cannot be wrong.”
“They are not God.”
“Listen to me.” A look came over his face then—one I’d never seen before. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, his mouth somehow managing its full range of motion despite the clenching of his jaw. “Do you know what it means if they’re wrong? It means I have nothing.”
“You have me! You have the girls!”
“For now. And that makes me like every other Gentile out there slaving away through this life, living just to get through to death. But I’ve placed my soul in their hands.”
“But that’s impossible. . . .” That’s when I realized he was speaking to me not out of anger, but out of fear. It was one of those moments when I could well imagine him as a little boy, equally full of hope and hurt.
“You made a vow to me, Camilla. To be my wife for all of time and all of eternity.”
“Of course I did.”
“Then go now, with Rachel. And see how Heavenly Father intends for us to live. The power he’s given us in our Zion.”
In light of all that had happened since I walked into the barn, though, the thought of leaving him alone posed a bigger danger than anything we could do to each other if I stayed. My fears must have somehow registered on my face, because to my surprise, he burst into a smile like I hadn’t seen since before the birth of our son, threw his head back, and laughed.
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