The Wedding Dress (23 page)

“Andrew.” She tried to move close and found she dared not. “I'm not trying to cause trouble; it's just that—” she stopped. Her thoughts flew back to Cora and she remembered her saying,
They don't listen to anything against the first wife. You waste your time talking; they don't see it. I guess it's because there's a romance, a kind of love in the first marriage that isn't in the others. One word of complaint and they get the wrong idea. I hear him saying I'm trouble, so I keep it all to myself.

She turned away from him. “It seems life runs better when there's a little joy. I've had mine because I snatched it. They needed theirs.”

He moved impatiently, “I want you to be more careful of Sarah. She isn't as young as she was and this birthing could be hard on her. I'd say another two months and she'll be on the bed.” He hesitated, and his face melted. She flew at him.

“Oh, Andrew, please,” she begged, “let's not quarrel. I need you so badly.”

“Rebecca”—he studied her face—“you've got to realize there's a difference in this kind of marriage. It can't be all honeymoon; there's too many feelings to be considered. I make a pet of you and there's no living with Sarah.”

She closed her lips tightly to stop the torrent, but the words burst through. “Andrew, it wasn't that way in the beginning. We were as close as it was possible. I did think you were a lover in love. You acted the part. Now this. Why? Why didn't you tell me this was to be a plural marriage?”

“Because you would never have married me.”

Quietly she said, “That is true. I had refused better positions than this. True, I didn't love the man, but I love his family and that, I do believe, is where the real marriage is anyway.”

He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her, forcing her face upward. “But you are mine. That ceremony at the Endowment House sealed it for time and eternity. You are mine.” He bent to kiss her. When he lifted her in his arms, Rebecca couldn't dwell on the love. She knew he was thinking of the child that must be.

Rebecca was part of the group around the quilt frame. It hadn't taken her long to discover the Relief Society meeting was the best place in Fort Harmony to get acquainted with the women of the community.

“Sister Jacobson, I do believe that you've not heard a word I've said to you. You're doing that section all wrong. See, there are the lines you're to be following. I declare, you must be in the family way to be so absentminded. Never you mind. After six or seven, it ceases to be a wonder and becomes a way of life.”

Rebecca was shaking her head, and Sister Wilkes said, “That's the problem with these plural marriages; sometimes there isn't enough husband to go around.” Over the titters she continued. “Never you mind, you'll get that way soon enough, and then there'll be no rest.”

“But after a year and a half.”

“Yes, even then. Don't give up.”

“You could trade off favors,” saucy little Cindy exclaimed. “There was a woman in Cedar who did that. It was whispered around that the first wife didn't care all that much for the nighttime activity, and so between the two of them they managed the mister just fine. The second wife had a passel of young'uns.”

Rebecca's trembling fingers tried to manage the needle as she listened. “There's advantages to not living in the same house.”

“I don't know about that,” came a voice from the far end of the quilt. “I wear myself to the bone just trying to keep up with the first wife. Sometimes I wish we did live in the same house; then the difference wouldn't be so noticeable. She changes the sheets every time he steps in the house. I believe in making him feel like a king in his own home, but there's limits, especially when she's got only one half-grown son, and I've five little ones.”

“Sadie, quit your worrying. Surely he knows how busy the little ones keep you. I'll bet she just scrubs to make up for not having children to keep her busy.”

Cindy continued, “I hear tell that Miz Duncan's oldest gal ran her pa out to the barn the last time he came to visit. The little snip told her pa to go sleep in the barn because they had too many mouths to feed already, and every time he visited they got another.”

Rebecca awakened during the night. The day's events moved through her mind, and she tossed restlessly. Beside her Andrew stirred. “Rebecca, are you having another bad dream?” His arms drew her close, and his beard tickled her face. “Seems you've been a restless sleeper lately; I'm guessing you have something on your mind. Is it about not being in the family way?”

Rebecca fastened her arms around him and relaxed against the warm hardness of his body. “No, my dear husband, I was not thinking about babies. Do you suppose God uses nighttime quiet to make us think?”

“About what?”

“About Him and living like He wants. Andrew, do you sometimes feel that no matter how hard you try you just aren't really getting better—progressing?”

“Well, I've noticed you've been a little hellion lately. Both Sarah and I know once you get your own little one it'll be different.”

“But it hadn't ought to be,” Rebecca murmured, still troubled with the guilty feelings that had awakened her. “You can both be patient with me, but that doesn't do anything about changing me inside.”

“You've got to live your religion, lady.” He bent over and tweaked her nose.

“I guess my problem is that I don't really want to live it except in the middle of the night when I see how terrible I've been, and I don't like the guilt. Why don't I want to change when I'm screaming at the children?”

His lips moved across her chin and found her lips. After a moment he murmured, “You're going about this all wrong. I know you need to love and get along with people; but, Rebecca, concentrate on producing your kingdom instead of perfecting it. You're not doing the big sins, so don't be such a fuss.”

“It isn't the sins so much as the ugly way I am inside.” He slid his arms around her, and she sighed heavily. Now was the time to start practicing her religion. She tried to shut out Sarah's face as Andrew bent over her.

Even though it was late March, it had begun to snow heavily while Rebecca was at Relief Society. As she walked home, she bowed her head to the storm and pulled her shawl close, but it was impossible to hurry her feet. She was thinking about the lesson Sister Lee had brought. It was about Hannah, the mother of Samuel.

Recalling Hannah's prayer, she muttered, “If I had a prayer to pray, it wouldn't be for a child, but I'd pray to be away from here and for these last six years to disappear.” She thought of the turmoil that was home. Daily it was becoming more unbearable. She must acknowledge it was her fault. For a second she closed her eyes and saw herself warped into an ugly creature of darkness. The picture pressed upon her, and she knew that one of these days, her spirit would refuse to be lifted.

She shivered at the thought, feeling her powerlessness. There were the sleepless nights when the slightest whisper from Sarah's baby, or even Andrew's snoring drifting to her through that adjoining wall, would be enough to send the tears cascading down her cheeks. To say she despised the trembling mass of emotion she was becoming was to accept one more defeat.

Sister Lee had painted a word picture of Hannah as a beautiful, childless, plural wife with never a complaint. Rebecca rejected the picture, and anger burned through her rebellion. She stormed down the path, kicking puffs of snow.

At the door, her anger vanished. Andrew was home. She crushed her impulse to fly into his arms as she glanced quickly at Sarah.

Andrew's face was gray and lined with fatigue. He moved restlessly about the room while Sarah held her baby and rocked.

His nod was curt, and he went on with what he was saying. “It isn't good. There's a bad feeling brewing across the territory. I'm certain God is leading us, but nothing seems to be going right.” He wheeled and paced to Sarah's chair. “It's like Zion is about to be snatched from our hands. The government won't grant statehood—they don't want us to be self-governing. These territorial officers will continue to be a thorn in our flesh.”

Sarah sighed and shifted the sleeping baby to her lap. “I don't understand why they won't give us the right to practice our religion the way God tells us to.”

“If this is God's will for us,” Andrew said slowly, “then God will permit it.”

“If—” Rebecca cried. “How can you question? Don't the revelations Joseph Smith received instruct us to live that way? If God isn't fickle, then we're stuck with it forever. I can't believe God would change His mind.”

Andrew thoughtfully studied her face. He turned to Sarah. “I'm leaving now. I'll ride as far as Hyde's place and spend the night. He's going with me.”

“You're leaving.” Rebecca's voice was flat, and Andrew looked at her. For just a moment she caught a glimpse of the old tenderness, and her heart responded. “In the worst of weather you must go; doesn't that man have a heart?”

“There's work to be done and a kingdom to be kept in order. It's my job, and there's no sense in fussing.” He moved past her, and on impulse she reached out.

“Andrew, you spend so much time on the road. It would make sense for you to have a home up the way. Least you'd spend more nights under your own roof.”

He studied her closely. “You're right. No matter the reason, you're right.” He took his bundle and pulled on the heavy coat. With a brief wave he was gone. Again Rebecca's heart sank to its slow dismal beat, and with a sigh she turned away.

Sarah lifted the baby and got to her feet. Her steps were heavy as she carried the child into the other room. As Rebecca watched her go, she was wondering if Sarah could be feeling as she felt, missing the closeness and love.

It was well into the new year of 1856 when Rebecca had her urge to put her house in order. With Andrew gone so often the household seemed to lack purpose, and, at best, the house reflected indifference.

While straightening her bureau drawers, she found the little bundle of towels which Ann had given her. The memory of that day and the trip to Great Salt Lake City overwhelmed her, and she choked back tears as she remembered the happy, carefree people she and Andrew had been. She fingered the towels. There was Ann's coolness. The letter. She had tucked it away unread.

Rebecca began searching the contents of her drawer. At the bottom was her Bible. Of course! She had carried the Bible to the Endowment House and later placed the letter in it. She found the letter and pushed it into her pocket to read after the children were in bed.

Later Rebecca watched Sarah shoo her children upstairs and settle the baby on her shoulder. She nodded curtly to Rebecca and closed her door behind her. Rebecca had long since ceased to be disturbed by Sarah's silence. Always Andrew would stand between them. She understood. She fingered the letter and whispered, “No matter what, Rebecca, you're learning.”

With a sigh of relief Rebecca took Sarah's rocking chair beside the fire. As she looked at the letter, she felt a strange reluctance to open it. Finally she slipped her finger under the flap.

“Dear Rebecca,” she read, “I've been so ashamed of myself. I determined in the beginning to never tell you this, but now I must. My conscience won't give me rest. Last fall a young man, he said he was Joshua Smyth, came through the valley looking for you. Everyone was loath to give him any help with information, since we'd already concluded that he was a Gentile. I just let him know that you were gone out of the territory and didn't tell him that I knew your whereabouts. He said he was on his way to Illinois to pack up his family, and they were all moving to Oregon. Seemed very disappointed, but I hardened my heart. I had visions of you throwing off all you've worked for and apostatizing because of this young man. I told him for all I knew you'd headed for Oregon territory on your own.