The Wedding Dress (25 page)

“Becky! We're surviving and creating homes. We're having big families and doing what is necessary to become gods in the next world. We're creating a beautiful place for Jesus Christ to return to.” Cora got up. “All our talking and asking questions just makes us doubt and wonder.”

“I think I'm going to read some in my Bible,” Rebecca said. “You know, for a fact, I couldn't tell you what it really says.”

After walking part way with Cora, Rebecca returned to her lonely cabin. As hot as it was, she was glad to build a fire to chase the shadows. She busied herself making a pancake for her supper, when she knew she could have been satisfied with a scrap of cold bread and a sip of milk.

When her supper things had been cleared away, Rebecca lighted the china lamp and settled down to read the Bible. She had finished the third chapter of Genesis when she heard the crunch of footsteps on her path. She was trembling against her chair wondering whether she had latched the door, when she heard her name called.

Before Andrew reached the steps, she was out of her chair. “Oh, Andrew, Andrew!” His beard bristled against her cheek, and she discovered how foreign his hard body seemed to her. “Oh, it's been so long. I've nearly forgotten the feel of you.”

She drew him into the cabin and quickly prepared a meal for him. “That spring house is doing its job. You shall have cold buttermilk and fresh-churned butter. I'm glad I didn't eat this scrap of bread.”

As she watched him, she was reminding herself, as she always did after days of denying her heart, that this tired, dusty man was hers and for these few days she needn't share him with anyone. Caressing his arm, she pushed the plate of bacon closer to him and began, “I've been thinking, hoping—”

He looked up quickly. “I've missed you too. If the water isn't as cold as this milk, I'd like a quick scrub in your washtub.”

She asked, “Are you on your way to Great Salt Lake City?”

He nodded. “Brigham's wanting a report on the Indian affairs.”

“There's troubles again?”

“No. Jacob Hamblin's doing a fine job. It's disappointing, though. There's not the quick change we've wanted. Joseph Smith prophesied their dark skins would begin to lighten after they were converted. Right now a bunch of us would be happy if they'd quit stealing cows.”

“There was a family murdered over by Beaver.”

“Well, they're still savages. We've got to convert them and live with them, but it pays to be cautious. Hamblin's gone to great lengths to settle them down and make farmers out of them. Now he's talking about the Washington rumbles; says it's making the Indians edgy. One strong word and they'll be more'n glad to dispatch any white man who steps into their territory.”

As Rebecca watched her husband bathe in the light of the china lamp, her mind was spinning off on its own. With a tingle of shock she realized how separated they were. For a moment she tried to imagine her conversation with Cora taking place between the two of them.

She handed him a towel. As he embraced her, a corner of her mind and emotions clamored for a touch that went beyond the physical.

Later, when they were moving toward sleep, the words slipped out and Andrew asked, “What did you say?”

“Spirit touches spirit.”

“What have you been reading?”

“Not reading, just thinking. That's the way it is.” Her voice was tired.

It was several days after Andrew left before Rebecca again thought of her Bible. When she lighted the lamp and lifted the Book, a sensation of foreboding slipped over her. “Why?” she whispered. “No possible harm can come from reading this Book.” The quietness of the room held her.

On the doorstep the crickets chirped. From the creek came the chorus of frogs. She looked from the Book to the fire and thought about herself.

She smoothed her hair and rubbed at a dandelion stain on her hand. There was this feeling of approaching God. Hadn't something ought to be done to overcome the sense of unworthiness when she picked up the Book? What if He were to communicate with her as others claimed had happened? As she stared into the fire she forgot her uneasiness. A tingling sense of anticipation crept over her.

The last embers of the fire were winking out when she said, “God, I think I need to know about You. I think I'm ready, but I'm as naked as bare bones and afraid to have You see me.”

Cora pushed open the door and stuck her head in. “The mister left?”

Rebecca turned, “Come in, Cora. Here's the middle of August; you know he hasn't been here for weeks.” She caught the expression on Cora's face. “Why do you look like that?”

“Oh, nothing.” She extended her cup. “I've come begging a pinch of soda. I've got to sweeten some milk before I can stir up a batch of biscuits.” Her gaze slid quickly beyond Rebecca as she handed over the cup.

“Cora, you're as guilty as sin this morning. What's the trouble?”

“Oh, Rebecca. I'm sorry. I've never hidden anything from you for long. Your eyes haul out the deepest of secrets. I should have watched my tongue.”

“You thought Andrew was here.” Shame washed over Cora's face, and she dropped into the rocking chair.

“I was really thinking that you knew his intentions. Becky, I could cut my tongue out before hurting you. I know how it goes. You've never been as easy about it all as I have. I've seen it in your face when you look at him. Don't torture yourself, girl. The only way to live with it is to cut it out of your heart; otherwise it'll drag you down to your grave.”

Rebecca was understanding. Through stiff lips she whispered, “You're talking about my selfish loving, aren't you? This clinging to Andrew. I can't help it. When I married him I was completely given to the idea of loving him. I never dreamed he didn't feel that way about me.”

Cora's face was twisting. “Don't be that way. None of us can, or it'll cut us to pieces. Why should you have anything better than the rest of us? You've got to cut the feelings out of your heart. There's no place for feelings in the principle.” Cora's eyes were reflecting the misery back to her. She muffled her voice against the baby's chest. “Get your chin up. Not a one of us will respect you for blubbering about it.”

Rebecca was saying slowly, “She's about to die—his other wife. The thought is like expecting to be let out of prison. I was even thinking about how I could take those young'uns and raise them. I'd do it gladly, gladly.”

Cora filled in the thought as if the same thoughts had crossed her mind hundreds of times. “If you could be the only wife.” With a guilty glance at Rebecca, she suddenly stood and restlessly began pacing the room.

“Who is it?”

“Priscilla Yost.” Rebecca's head jerked. She felt as if her face were turning to stone as Cora watched. “Yes, her. Every young fella in the country's been sparking her. Sixteen, pretty as a princess, and your husband's been sparking her like a young fool, taking her fancy hankies and settin' on her folks' porch.”

“They're not married yet?”

“I understand she's going to Great Salt Lake City with you two.”

“Oh no, she isn't!”

“Rebecca!”

“Cora, I'll hear no more about it. Marry her, he probably will, but I'll have my say first, and she's not going with us.”

Cora was still shaking her head when she left. Rebecca flew about her house and garden. During the two weeks she waited for Andrew, she cared for the garden produce and cleaned her house. When time hung heavy, she mended the chicken house and corral—chores she had been saving for Andrew.

As she stretched wire and rope, pounded nails and stacked hay in her crude barn, her fury grew. Even the capricious cow calmed before her storm, and the chickens flew before her swishing skirts. Weeds were pulled and a new shutter fashioned. She was ready for Andrew.

Had he come conquering and arrogant, she would have cut him to ribbons, but this was her hungry, tired bridegroom. She felt his humble yearning in his first embrace.

For three days there was peace and contentment. Cora's face and words faded while Rebecca was Andrew's wife.

Andrew puttered around while Rebecca finished trying to sew the new quilt to take to the city with them. It would be a good warm cover for those cold autumn nights.

“Andrew, why are we leaving so long before the conference begins in October? We'll be there at least two weeks beforehand.”

“Brigham has a bunch of us coming in for meetings with him and the twelve. We'll be standing in line for our turn.” He touched her cheek. “Besides, you'll be seeing your friends and emptying every store in the city.”

“I only wish,” she said wistfully. “There's so much we need. Andrew—”

He laughed, “You'll have your fair share to spend.”

“Share,” she echoed, her mind busy with the implications.

“Rebecca.” He took a deep breath, and suddenly Cora's words dropped on her.

“Yes, Andrew?” She lifted her chin. He turned restlessly, unable to meet her eyes. Was he remembering these nights just past? Could he possibly open his arms to welcome another into the intimacy that was hers? Even as she was thinking, feeling her body respond to the memory of his arms holding her close, the sharp picture of Sarah intruded. Must she again be reminded that Sarah suffered too?

“Rebecca, I'm planning on taking another wife. I have asked Priscilla Yost to marry me, and I'll take her along to Great Salt Lake City. You can be with us in the Endowment House while we take our vows.”

Rebecca said sharply, “Andrew, don't forget, I haven't consented.”

“I don't need your consent!” he snapped. “I've given you the privilege of going to Great Salt Lake with us. I could take only Priscilla.”

“You're to get our consent, mine and Sarah's, before taking another bride; but if that's not easily won, you'll have your passion in Zion regardless.” His quick hand caught her across the mouth, and she felt warm blood.

“Rebecca, my dear!” She swayed dizzily against him, seeing his horrified eyes. “I've heard tales, but I never dreamed I'd be driven. My darling wife!”

Rebecca's mouth was still sore and swollen, but she must speak again. She dropped the shirt she had been folding and closed the lid of the trunk. “Please, Andrew, may we have this trip alone?” She clasped her hands to keep them away from her swollen mouth. “You know I've counted on it. Please? I understand about your taking another wife, but can't this be our time alone?”

He was studying her face. “If only you would have a child.”

“Andrew, I can't understand God. Why does He give us this principle and yet, even while we cooperate with Him fully, He won't allow us to have a child?”

Andrew was shaking his head slowly. “I keep thinking it's our fault. Maybe it's secret sin.” His eyes were questioning.

She shook her head. “No, Andrew, you know there's been no sin.” Suddenly guilt washed over her. There were those questions she held in her mind. Reading her Bible was starting to feel like a guilty quest for knowledge that was being withheld from her. She had been told to question was sin, lack of faith.

“What is it?” His voice was rough.

“Andrew,” she whispered, “I must confess.” She struggled with the lump of fear in her throat, seeing only the thundercloud expression turned down upon her. “Please, my love, I've been reading my Bible, and I—”

He threw back his head and laughed. “For a minute, I thought you were going to confess to sleeping with Brother Gardner!”

“Andrew, how horrible!” She clasped her hands to her face. “Never, why he's terrible! Besides—” She stopped, and he swept her close.

“Reading your Bible? Is that bad? You know we believe it's inspired too.”

“Once I was told to read the Book of Mormon and stop asking questions.”

“Well, you read the Bible all you want. If that's all it takes to make you happy, I give you my permission.” He kissed the fingers cupped against his face.