The Wedding Dress (32 page)

When Rebecca was able to venture from her house, she found herself drawn irresistibly to the mountain. In daylight, while the insects buzzed and the sun distilled pine perfume, she picked her way through the bushes and into the trees.

From up here she could see the little settlement of Pinto. Life seemed to move in miniature, and she said, “Is that all it is? God, do You see us this way? You are so far removed. Are our struggles, our pain and even the effort of living just little specks before Your eyes? Seems cruel to think You've given us such painful struggles. We're like pathetic bugs dropped in the creek. We struggle while You watch. Yes, You've given us all we need to progress, but must every breath we take be spent in a struggle that takes us one step before we slide back three? How I wish I could be reduced to the level of wanting nothing more than my daily bread and the chance to keep Sarah's kitchen clean. Why do I have this unending hunger to burst something that will allow me to be free of myself? God, how I hate me, how You must hate the little worm that is me.”

She walked on. Part of her was terrified at her vulnerability, her empty humanness as she wandered through the forest where she had been rescued. But there was also a part of her alive with curiosity, seeking the unknown.

When she stood, panting, on the highest slope, she said, “The worst part of being human is in not being able to escape human thought. I am a prisoner to all I see and feel. I am a prisoner to a me that I don't like.”

Almost she wished she could meet her Indian benefactor again. Was the calm that surrounded him a part of the forest? The sun seared her, and the pine needles pricked, and the peace she sought eluded her.

As often happened in her quiet times, snatches of the Bible verses she had memorized at Kanesville slipped back into her mind. Her lips moved with the words, “…my peace, not as the world gives…” She looked around. Was there a peace deeper than this peaceful spot, deeper than the tranquillity in the Indian's face?

Those were Jesus' words. John had called Him “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” Now she was remembering the school play at Great Salt Lake City. She was seeing the flames engulf the set, hearing the screams.

She rubbed damp palms together. “Why did I think of that?” she murmured. Lamb. The first covenant. She frowned again, wondering why Jesus was called “Lamb.”

The wind keened through the tops of the trees, showering Rebecca with last year's pine cones. There were other words surfacing from that long-ago time and she quoted: “John 3:3, ‘Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.'”

She traced her initials in the soil with a pine needle. She couldn't recall the bishop talking about being born again. There was another verse farther down the chapter; she quoted it slowly: “That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” Born again, born of the Spirit.

“Why, that's talking about a spirit birth taking place after the flesh birth, but that's not what—” she stopped again. There was that funny upside-down feeling.

A cool breeze touched Rebecca, and she shivered. The afternoon was nearly gone. Getting to her feet, she hurried down the hill.

Cora was just leaving her gate as Rebecca approached. “Oh, there you are. I left a bit of new bread for you and some quilt scraps. You feeling poorly?”

“No, just a little tired. I've walked to the top of the hill.”

Cora shook her head. “Come home and sup with us; the Mister will be along late. I declare, these meetings of the Legion are cutting into everything.”

Rebecca was shaking her head and Cora asked, “Why not? You can't be doing anything important. I'd be glad of your company. You don't eat but a speck.”

“I'm—” she swallowed; it would sound strange coming out. “I want to read.”

“What do you have to read? There hasn't been a new
Deseret News
, has there?”

“No. Tonight I'm going to read in the New Testament. Cora, all that studying I did with David Fullmister must have gone right over my head. I'm remembering verses we learned, but I don't recollect really finding out what the Book says.”

Cora's gaze was steady, questioning, and Rebecca looked at the ground. “Becky, all those things you were saying the last time you were over—don't you think you'd be better off just forgetting them? Seems to me a person can get too much book learning, and I feel you're right next door to being in that spot.”

“Not when you're churning around inside like I am,” she replied. “Cora, something tells me I'll never settle down to accepting life until I find the answers.”

“About what? Who Jesus is?”

She stood silent, and Cora turned away. “Well, the tads will be disappointed. Don't stay away long.”

“Even if I bring my questions?”

Cora paused, bent her head. Without facing Rebecca, she said, “Well, I guess I can handle them better'n anyone. Least, I know you so's it don't bother none.”

Rebecca built up the fire and lighted the lamp. In its glow she studied her home. In the single room, the quilt on the bed was the one bright spot. The window was letting in the soft glow of moonlight, and she went to pull the scrap of cotton across it. Her pans gleamed from their hooks on the wall, and a row of dishes made pale circles above the table.

She saw there was plenty of room between the end of the bed and the wall for the cradle. Already kind friends were bringing diapers and bits of clothing.

She dreamed, filling the room with Andrew, the child and herself. He would be holding the little one, cuddling him close in the rocking chair, content to stay by their fireside. She sighed and rolled another log toward the fire.

Curiously she thumbed her way into the Bible, looking through the book of John to find the verses she had quoted that afternoon. There was John 3:16. Love—strange, she wasn't thinking of love in connection with God. Wrath, yes—that thought never left her. She stopped to read the last verse of the chapter, speaking the words into the silence of the room: “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not on the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.”

Slowly she continued to turn pages, “I wonder where it talks about the second covenant.” Finally, she let the Book close as she watched the fire.

Her thoughts drifted, and she found she was recalling more verses. One after another proclaimed that Jesus was God, and she hugged the book to her as she thought of all the implications involved with the idea.

If He was God, then it was God loving those children, healing those people. She thought about the dying. “If He was God, He didn't have to die. Why did He say on the cross that it was finished? What was finished?” There seemed to be no answer to that.

As she prepared for bed and drew the quilt close, she remembered her afternoon on the mountain. “Then if He did come to earth, if that was God, then He's been through it all. He knows what it's like to be a man and be cold and hungry.”

During the days that followed, Rebecca found herself caught up, unable to go on with life. She saw her house and garden and the tasks that waited for her, but she found herself unable to lose herself in them. The Bible became a compelling tryst. From it she snatched time to milk the cow and mix a loaf of bread.

Into the circle of quiet in her soul, the words she read fell clear as bells, tolling their measure of meaning into her heart. She puzzled no longer; instead, she stored up truth in her mind.

With childlike enthusiasm and curiosity, Rebecca discovered that the Bible said redemption is only through the blood of Christ, and that keeping the law would not make her acceptable to God. She needed to accept Christ's one-time atonement by faith, repent of her sins, and live by His power flowing through her life. It seemed too simple, somehow…

She found the book of Hebrews and read the eighth and ninth chapters. The words spread their richness around her. Jesus was the perfect sacrifice for sin and the ever-living High Priest. The first priests worshiped and sacrificed in a tabernacle which was only a copy of the original in the heavens; now Jesus was finished with His final, complete sacrifice. She paused, remembering the words,
it is finished
.

She placed her finger on the section and said aloud, “So the first covenant was only a pattern to point the people to the real one—to the one that God planned all along for His Son to fulfill.” She was filled with awe as she said, “Salvation is in the blood of Jesus Christ.”

Slowly she closed the Book. “How can it be possible that another covenant is necessary? This says that Jesus Christ died for all sins, for everyone—forever.”

Now she became aware of what was going on in her mind. It was as clear as if she were seeing vividly a signpost pointing along the road she had been following while another sign pointed out a clearly divergent path. At the beginning the paths were together; now they must part. Just ahead she knew that they cut sharply away from each other.

It was a lonesome path down which she looked. Filled with all she had read, seeing the differences in the two paths, she knew she must choose; clearly, she couldn't stay on both paths. “Oh, Andrew,” she whispered, “how I wish you were here to talk some sense into me.”

It was June. The fires of reformation had dimmed; the months of deprivation and misery were past. The baptisms had been redone, and the fever of new marriages had subsided. Life returned to a more earthbound existence.

Fields greened with grain, and the kitchen gardens were filled with peas, carrots, and tiny new potatoes. Corn was knee-high, and the cows freshened, while new lambs, piglets, and downy chicks lent a promise of prosperity to the territory.

In the shuffling back to normalcy, there was a new element that spread more quickly than the
Deseret News
. The Washington problems were coming home to roost, and Brother Brigham was making no bones about his feelings.

“Mercy!” Sister Gardner exclaimed. The sisters were clustered outside the meetinghouse on this Sabbath, waiting while their husbands counciled inside. “I do wish Brother Brigham would just tolerate the situation a little longer. Seems like he was calming down nicely until this spring; now he's spouting words that won't set easy in Washington.”

“Where did you hear about this?” Rebecca asked.

“There's been a bit in the newspaper, but mostly it's the men coming back from council with him. After that nice Colonel Steptoe fixed things with Washington so's he could be governor, I figured that would take care of the matter. But, law, Brother Brigham has things fixed so's the federal marshall can't do a thing without him and the twelve agreeing to it. Seems we ought to be working at being extra nice until we get to be a state; then Brother Brigham can have his way.”

“I hear that Drummond is claiming we have a secret organization to resist the laws of Washington. Fussing about the Legion and the blood atonement. I wish Washington would learn they can't interfere with religion.”

“They're saying that when Judge Stiles ordered some matters brought into his court for jurisdiction, the Mormon lawyers declined to obey him. Then it turns out Drummond and Stiles hot-footed it to Washington with charges, saying secret organizations are resisting the laws of the country. President Buchanan's fussin' because federal officials left Utah. Now there's no federal officials in Utah except an Indian agent.”

“We've got to make up our minds to live our religion or die.”

While Rebecca walked home, her thoughts moved away from the conversation and became busy with the morning's sermon. “So Brother Brigham says we all must have the certificate of Joseph Smith before we can go into heaven. And Joseph Smith is holding the keys to the kingdom in the spirit world, and he's reigning there now. I recollect them saying the Prophet was foreordained to preside over this dispensation, just as much as Pharaoh was foreordained to be wicked and Jesus was foreordained to be the Savior because of the fact that He's the oldest son in the family.” She stopped. “The Bible said Jesus Christ is God. There are verses in the Bible that say Jesus Christ has been set as head over all that's in this world and also the one to come.”

As she continued to walk, she reminded herself, “If I were to believe that instead of what they're teaching, then no matter, there's no way that what Joseph Smith has said can touch me.”

She prepared her meal and sat down to eat. While she lifted the spoon, the words rang through her mind. “All things under His feet.” Jesus Christ had everything under His feet—all the black frightening things. In Jesus the wrath of God is escaped. Neither the principle nor the blood atonement would have power over her if she believed in Him.