And It Came to Pass

by Laura Stone

  Adam nodded. It was how the Church could keep track of those who might be breaking rules by discussing “non-spiritually uplifting topics” like dating and movies and current events.

  “But if you’re writing home to your folks or brothers and sisters, it’s not that big a deal. Well, clearly there were a bunch of letters going out. That raised May’s suspicion, and when Sorensen was in the shower, May snooped and read one, saw it was for a local girl, and I guess they were pretty racy. Long and short of it, May ratted him out to the old Missionary President, Brother Jensen, a week ago. Jensen didn’t want anything on his record so he left it for your dad to deal with.”

  Adam looked horrified. “What are they going to do? I mean, they were just letters, right?”

  Brandon shook his head. “He’s being sent home. They had a court set up for this morning, evidently. He’s probably been disfellowshipped; your dad didn’t say. I can’t imagine them ex’ing him over some letters, though.”

  “You don’t know my dad,” Adam replied, horrified to think of Sorensen, bright, funny, dedicated Sorensen being dishonorably discharged, but he feared that was exactly what happened. “Maybe, maybe if he’d been writing to his girl back home, they would just give him a dressing down or something. But knowing my dad, he would have assumed Sorensen was acting on whatever is in those letters if she’s here in town, especially since he’s been over to her flippin’ house so many times. Oh, my gosh. What a stupid… When is he leaving?”

  “Left. Just after lunch today. Your dad and another church leader showed up out of the blue early this morning and told him to pack up then and there, then had the court.”

  Adam grabbed a nearby lamppost. His stomach may have been twisting before, but now it was in absolute turmoil. That reaction over romantic letters?

  Brandon worried a loose paving tile in the road with the toe of his shoe as the bus pulled into their stop. Sighing heavily, he said, “Come on, we better head back. He gave me a list of things to do as long as my arm.”

  * * *

  Over the next several days, Brandon had so many responsibilities thrust upon him that he was unable to go door-to-door tracting with Adam, who instead went by himself on “splits” with another group of missionaries. Everyone had blackballed May. No one would talk to him beyond common courtesy, not even Guymon.

  “So the thing I want to know,” Gardener asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he rocked back and forth, “is what kind of companion just goes straight to leadership instead of keeping it within ranks?”

  “Look,” May said, getting visibly heated.

  “No one asked you to speak, Greenie,” Guymon spat. Adam got the impression that Guymon was glad not to be the source of everyone’s derision. “And yeah, Gard. That’s a real good question.”

  “I have lots of questions,” Gardener continued, his voice vibrating with anger. “And honestly, I think I might write LaSalle and ask him how long it had been going on.”

  “That’s a good one,” Guymon said, the boring little sycophant that he was.

  “Because if I wasn’t allowed to so much as talk to that hot chick from Amsterdam who kept finding us at Las Ramblas, then how the heck is Sorensen being allowed to freakin’ hook up with Spanish girls and in their dang homes, too?”

  “Wait, what?” Guymon shoved Gardener’s shoulder. “That’s not—”

  “Please, like you don’t want to suck face with Cook.”

  “Guys,” Adam said, raising his voice. “You’re not helping.”

  “Yeah, well we can’t all be perfect little Peter Priesthoods like you and Christensen, can we?”

  Adam’s face flushed. He definitely wasn’t the poster boy for perfect behavior.

  “Look, I did what I was supposed to do, okay?” May said, trying to push his way into the knotted group the others had made. “Don’t be mad at me for following the rules.”

  “How does it go?” Gardener asked. “Exception to the rule? Rules were made to be broken? You didn’t have to be such a freaking narc about it, May. You have to assess the situation. If he was just writing letters, who the heck even cares? He was a good guy, and you wrecked his whole life. Did you even think about that? About his mom waiting to have a big welcome home party? About how everyone in his ward is going to know he got sent home because hey, what’s that? Where’s the Return Missionary Sacrament Service? Oh, right, can’t have one, because he’s been freaking disfellowshipped.”

  Adam feared that punches might start to fly, so he redirected May to the other side of the square, where some older men were using the checkerboards on picnic tables, and tried to get the words “you wrecked his whole life” to stop reverberating in his head.

  “You should have come to Brandon,” Adam muttered, shoving May onto a bench.

  May looked him up and down, snorted and looked away. “Yeah, okay.”

  Adam’s skin crawled with the barely-hidden disgust on May’s face. May was a little jerk, a rule-abiding, thoughtless creep, mad that Adam was siding with the others. He was sure of it.

  Because President Young expected so much of Brandon, the only time that Adam saw his companion now was at night and for breakfast. Adam was constantly teamed with the others. After that first incredibly busy and disorienting week, Brandon sighed into his breakfast. “We’re going to have to be smart about things, Adam. About what we’re doing.”

  His spoon paused halfway to his mouth, Adam looked up, unsure where Brandon was going.

  “I don’t know if your father or any other of the guys might show up here without us being prepared. We need to put everything back.” He tossed his head toward the bedroom door.

  Oh. The beds. Adam nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He glanced up to see Brandon sitting there with an unhappy look on his face. “Gonna miss it, though.”

  Brandon smiled at that, looping his ankle around Adam’s under the table. “You know the rule: ‘Only sleep in the same bedroom as your companion.’”

  Adam laughed, delighted at the mischievous glint in Brandon’s eyes as he stated the next rule in the old missionary handbook, “‘But do not sleep in the same bed as your companion.’ Oops.”

  That glint Adam had enjoyed watching winked out as Brandon’s face turned somber. He didn’t move his leg, though.

  The feeling of being connected to something larger than himself, the fire that had been lit inside Adam was slowly being extinguished. Word about Sorensen had spread fast, and everyone was on their toes. The missionaries he now spent his days with were dull and mindless. Everyone was scared of messing up and now did everything by the book with no discussion. Even Ketchup was somber and less irritating.

  Adam stopped paying attention to the things he was required to say to strangers and began operating on rote; he stopped hearing the steady stream of “No me gusta” and “Gracias, no” when homeowners opened the door and saw the familiar white shirt and black name tag.

  Brandon was becoming so stressed by all the extra work he had—not to mention the stress of spending so much time with an increasingly demanding President Young—that he was barely eating, and he certainly wasn’t able to get to bed at the same time as Adam. Days began passing into one another with nothing to distinguish them.

  One night while lying in bed listening to Brandon talk in the living room on his mission-appointed cell phone to one of the northwestern region’s branch presidents, Adam realized that he wasn’t committing anything that the Church would consider a sin, now. How funny that he wasn’t feeling any renewed sense of the Spirit or happiness, no greater connection to his religion or to his Heavenly Father as a result. Now, feeling disconnected from it all, he moved through his mission untethered and unsure—the way he had when he’d first arrived at the MTC.

  Adam lay in bed at night watching Brandon toss and turn and mumble in his sleep. His experience now was almost exactly what he’d feared h
is mission would become before learning what it could be. Now the remaining seventeen months stretched long and wearisome before him. Where was the joy? Where was the connection to something greater than himself?

  A few weeks after the change in personnel, Adam and Brandon had a surprise break. They woke to heavy rains and electric storms rolling off the ocean—storms that were expected to pummel the city all day. There would be no leaving the house; there was no point.

  They looked at each other over the empty breakfast dishes. Hints of smiles formed on their faces.

  “Better make a quick call to Sister Guell and let her know we aren’t making the meeting with their contact today.” Brandon was on his feet and at the phone in a split second.

  Adam opened the front door and, through the narrow opening of their building’s courtyard, looked at the bruise-colored sky. A jet of electricity sparked and crackled across the clouds. “Whoa.”

  Brandon came up behind him, slid a hand up his back and buried his fingers in Adam’s hair just above his nape. Adam grabbed the door handle and swung it shut, and there was Brandon. Their lips were together, their hands struggled to pull off their suit jackets without losing contact, their feet tripped over each other to find something to lean against.

  “Missed you,” Adam breathed, his hands working on the front of Brandon’s slacks.

  “Didn’t think,” Brandon gasped, stopping to pull his half-buttoned shirt and G’s over his head and tossing them to the floor, “that I’d get to be with you again, thought he’d transfer you or something.”

  They both stilled at that. Brandon cupped Adam’s cheek and drew his thumb softly over it. Adam turned his face and kissed Brandon’s palm, sucking on the fat pad at the base of Brandon’s thumb, reveling in how amazing if was to know the entire day stretched in front of them with nothing to do but to be together. Adam braced his elbows against the wall, bracketing Brandon between them and traced Brandon’s lower lip, exhaling into his mouth when Brandon gripped him and pulled their bodies closer.

  Adam understood the urgency building in Brandon; it matched his own. While deepening their kiss, he impatiently ground his body into Brandon’s; he was almost mindless from the heady sensation of their bodies connecting so intimately through the soft fabric of their remaining clothes. With an impatient noise, Adam stepped away and tugged his dress shirt and G’s off, then helped Brandon do the same before pulling Brandon back into arms, leaning their weight against the wall as he went back in for another deep kiss. As they touched and loved one another, Adam couldn’t help how his body sought the heat of Brandon’s, nor how his hands gripped Brandon’s soft, dark hair, as pressure, wonderful, fulfilling pressure built inside him, and he finally felt right and whole now that they could be themselves, be together in each other’s arms.

  As they got their breathing under control, chuckling softly and peppering one another’s faces with kisses and murmured words of love, Adam was overcome by want, but it was beyond something base, something physical. He wanted so much: wanted to spend all day with Brandon at his side; wanted to dress in regular clothes and explore the city, hand in hand. But more than that, he wanted them to proudly affix their name tags and search until they found an investigator, someone who was in need, and find a way to share this overwhelming joy and happiness he felt when he and Brandon were together, the sense of completeness he had when he and Brandon tackled a difficult problem and came out on the other side feeling stronger and more connected. He wanted to pour into that person the peace and love and righteousness he felt for his Heavenly Father, that feeling that was so amplified when Brandon was at his side. He wanted to watch Brandon in his temple clothes baptizing that someone, wanted to stand at Brandon’s side as they confirmed that person with the Holy Ghost, making them a true child of God, and then he wanted to lie down every night at Brandon’s side, wake to him every morning, tackle every problem, the two of them, together.

  Adam didn’t know how to ask for that, didn’t know if he could, and it was all too much.

  Brandon caught his breath, too far from where Adam’s heart was racing. He pulled Brandon into his hold and kissed him, murmuring, “Don’t go away again, okay?”

  Brandon dropped his forehead on Adam’s shoulder. “I don’t ever want to.”

  Adam pressed kiss after kiss onto Brandon’s temple, breathing him in, and sighing happily as Brandon’s arms snaked around Adam’s waist more tightly. “I missed that so much.”

  “Me, too,” Adam replied.

  “Can, can we try something?”

  “What? What is it?”

  Brandon drew the edge of his teeth along the tendon in Adam’s neck, making Adam’s skin break out in shivers. He sucked a wet spot high on Adam’s neck under the hinge of his jaw and said, “It’s just, I missed you so much. I didn’t know if we could do this again.”

  “Brandon, I want to do everything with you. Just ask.”

  “Will you let me inside you? Be inside you? I’ll totally stop if you want me to, okay? I just want to try, if you’ll let me. Or, the other way? I’m okay with that, too, I think. I-I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  Adam, lightheaded and breathless, swallowed thickly. It was something they’d never done, hadn’t even talked about. He chewed on his lower lip, prompting Brandon to soothe, “No, I’m sorry. Forget I said it. It’s too much.”

  “I… Brandon, I didn’t say no.” Pulling back a little, Adam pressed the flat of his hand to Brandon’s bare chest, just over where Brandon’s heart was beating. Brandon covered Adam’s hand with his own.

  “You can say no,” Brandon said. “I’ve just wanted… I really want you. Like that. If you want. We can do it the other way, if you’d rather?”

  Adam almost lost his footing at the image that brought to mind. He shivered and drew Brandon back. “I don’t want to say no, though. I’ve been thinking about it, too, I just couldn’t… Yeah, I really want to, Brandon. It’s just… I’m not really sure how it all works.”

  Brandon’s face went red. “Before my mission I may have seen some, um, websites that explained how to do it.”

  “Yeah?” Adam said, face heating. His body was rapidly showing interest again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to force himself to calm down and think; both fear and excitement coursed through him. When Brandon continued to wait for an answer, he knew what he wanted: not to wait a moment longer, not when it seemed like ages since they’d been able to be together. “Show me, then.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Adam.” Brandon swiftly covered Adam’s body with his own, nuzzling his cheek along Adam’s thick shoulder. “I promise,” he said. “If you don’t like it, don’t like anything, just say it, okay?”

  “Brandon,” Adam said, turning to hold Brandon’s face. “It’s okay. I want you to. I want you.”

  “Yeah?” he asked as his hands massaged lower and lower. A thrum of energy raced up Adam’s spine as Brandon kneaded and massaged his backside. “You sure?”

  He couldn’t help but drop his head forward, nodding a yes, nor could he help the moan that escaped when Brandon’s fingertips trailed all the way down Adam’s spine. He hadn’t realized how many nerve endings were there, how sensitive his body was, as Brandon continued to gently touch him in an attempt to get Adam to relax fully.

  After several moments, Adam realized something they’d forgotten. “Wait,” he said. Brandon immediately pulled away so that Adam turned to give him a kiss. “No, it’s just that we need… like, lotion or something? Oil?” Adam blushed at using the word “oil;” it sounded so licentious, so tawdry. So sinful.

  “We don’t have any more olive… oh. Um, hold on.” Brandon left, went into their bedroom, and came out a few minutes later looking sheepish. He had what looked like a large, golden bullet on a keychain in his hand; Adam decided hearing the word oil wasn’t as blasphemous as seeing where Brandon would be getting it.

 
“It hasn’t been blessed yet, this isn’t my normal one,” Brandon quickly explained. “I would never—” Brandon cut himself off, looking nervous.

  If Adam wasn’t in trouble before, he certainly thought he would be now—using unconsecrated holy oil as… Well.

  That didn’t mean he wanted to stop. Not at all. For now, however, he wanted the security of Brandon’s arms around him as they experienced this together. Adam wanted to chase the excitement building, wanted to feel how different being with Brandon like this could be.

  When Brandon drew Adam back into his arms, sighing with evident relief, Brandon said, “I love your deep voice, have I said that yet?”

  Adam’s heart stuttered at the use of “love.” It was still so new, this understanding of what his feelings really were, but the word was so right, the perfect expression for the way his body came alive when close to Brandon. It was the perfect word to describe the overwhelming need to share everything from his day to his thoughts to his life with his companion.

  Companion… Brandon was that in every way, too. Considerate, tender, funny, uplifting, challenging. He was everything Adam envisioned for an eternal partner, and now, now they were sharing that one last act that other couples whose relationships were sanctified by God and their Church were allowed, and it was everything beautiful and wonderful and overwhelming, their bodies coming together in the most intimate of ways, and Adam trusting Brandon completely.

  And that was how he knew this was love, and that it was good. He trusted Brandon with his heart and this moment and beyond, all that it meant, and knew Brandon was trusting him, too. He was overcome with emotion, a feeling larger than he thought his body could even contain as he marveled at how this was love, this was the two of them learning how to say with their bodies what their hearts had been feeling for so many months, now. Adam was struck all over again with the knowledge that there was a reason this was considered a holy sacrament, that this joining of bodies was something beautiful when shared between two people who loved each other. And he did. He loved Brandon with all his heart, and it was more than the carnal pleasures of the flesh, which, as he gasped and groaned, held safe in Brandon’s arms, was wonderful, more than he had imagined it could ever be.