Chapter 2
Elder Crowther opened his door halfway through my knock, as if he’d been standing right there waiting for me. The apostle’s smile was even, if a little severe, when he motioned me inside and clicked the lock shut behind me. His eyes looked painfully like Elijah’s.
“Sister Russon, please have a seat.” He took his place across from me at the expansive oak-painted desk.
“Thank you.” I sat back into the surprisingly stiff seat. Its plush padding had long since lost its comfort—or perhaps the lack of reassurance was by design.
The office was both orderly and devoid of personal touches, save for the photograph of his sizable family hung on the wall behind him.
Even the air tasted stale. Books of Mormon and other sacred volumes lined the brown shelves, but everything in the office pointed your attention back toward the man occupying the desk.
Elder Crowther propped his fingers beneath his long, peppered beard and stared as if drinking me in. His penetrating gaze never wavered.
I hated this part of interviews. Church leaders gave me the distinct impression they could see into the very essence of my soul. It was as if I’d been stripped naked while he probed the depths of my mind and spirit. A bead of sweat dripped down the small of my back.
“Do you wish to speak about Elijah?” I blurted out. “I mean, is my friend all right? Or is he hurt, or—or—” The image of Elijah’s broken body crumpled and blood-soaked in a dingy London alley conjured again in my mind.
“No, nothing is amiss.” Elder Crowther finally blinked. “Elijah is still faithfully serving the Lord.”
A wave of relief pulsed inside me. Elijah was safe. “Yes, of course. How silly of me.”
Silence beat for more excruciating moments. I wished he would cast his eyes somewhere, anywhere else.
“May I ask why you called me here?” I asked.
“To deliver a message.”
“From Elijah?”
“And the Lord.”
God had a message for me? Only apostles and prophets could speak for Him, and I never imagined a high priesthood leader would ever deliver such an important call to unimportant me.
Elder Crowther went on in his solemn tone. “It’s come to my attention that you and my son had a private attachment to each other.”
Heat burned in my chest. “We’ve always been the closest of friends, as you know.”
“Yes, but it appears you two weren’t simply friends before he left.”
I saw myself leaning against the old apple tree behind my house, Elijah’s arms around my waist. His lips whispered his confession—he loved me, he’d always loved me—and I answered him with a kiss.
I wanted to be his wife—his only wife. Our secret desire would be a sin before his father and perhaps God Himself, but we held fast to it in our letters back and forth across the ocean.
We didn’t want a life in polygamy. We only wanted each other.
“Sister Russon.”
I snapped back to the apostle, the joyful memory interrupted.
“The first message I must deliver is that my son no longer wishes to pursue such an arrangement.”
The floor dropped from beneath me. “He … he … what?”
“He’s informed me of your prior promises by letter and no longer wishes to continue them.
He desires to follow God’s commands to live the Principle and so will find companionship elsewhere, as you’re not amenable.
He asked me to speak to you of this so he would not have to send such a distressing letter to your family, exposing your rebellion. ”
His words cut straight through me and I wrapped my arms around my waist to stop myself from splitting open. I dropped my eyes to the floor, blinking back tears I knew I shouldn’t cry. Emotional women were unseemly, according to the Brethren.
“I’m sure this is difficult to hear, but all is not lost.”
How could it not be? I’d loved Elijah since we were children.
He made up such a large piece of my existence.
And now he asked his father to tell me that he wished to end our attachment?
That he wanted a life in polygamy with someone else?
Nothing added up. My mind beat with too many thoughts out of rhythm, each filled with self-loathing.
“But why did he change his mind?” I tried fervently to keep my sobs from escaping.
Elder Crowther’s penetrating stare returned. “Because he’s been converted with full purpose of heart.”
“What if I change? What if I pray more? Perhaps I could be converted as well.”
“I believe you could.”
A miserable, desperate kind of hope clutched at my chest.
“But not with Elijah,” he continued.
I shrank back.
He seemed to lean closer over the desk. “I’ve been praying about this and I have another message to deliver. The Lord needs me to give you a commandment.”
“A commandment? For me?”
“Have you ever thought of the things the Lord may be calling you to do?”
“My calling is to be a wife and mother in Zion,” I responded on cue, as if called on in a Sunday school class. My legs refused to stop shaking beneath my petticoat.
“This is good, Sister, and pleasing to the Lord. I will speak freely then. There is a man in the Twenty-First Ward by the name of Brother Manwaring. Jacob Manwaring. He’s a good man with a generous income who honors his priesthood.
I’ve spoken to him about you, and I wish to counsel you to accept him. ”
“Accept him for what?”
“As a husband.”
The walls seemed to collapse in on me. I couldn’t breathe. Elijah didn’t love me anymore and my consolation was to be called to marry a stranger?
“I’ve never met Brother Manwaring. Why would he want me?”
“The only thing that matters is that the Lord told him to marry you. Such arrangements are not unusual. I’ve counseled many couples to be sealed together.”
Sealing. The highest form of marriage that brought a couple together not only for this life but after death into the eternal life beyond. The most important religious rite that was required for our eternal salvation.
But I was supposed to be sealed to Elijah.
Anger gushed through me, hot and piercing. How could he be telling me this? What had I done to earn Elijah’s scorn so suddenly? The fervent ire hollowed me out; I felt like nothing but an empty shell.
“Are you certain?”
The apostle sat up straighter, giving him the appearance of growing larger in his chair. “As certain as the Lord lives. Brother Manwaring is a loyal man of God and he deserves such a reward. He’ll be called to much higher positions very soon. Together, your blessings will increase a hundred-fold.”
I tried not to wince, knowing well enough the meaning behind his words. A reward was a plural wife.
“How many wives does Brother Manwaring have already?”
“Three,” he said with an air of indifference. But that number made all the difference to me.
A sob escaped my lips. I’d been called by an apostle to become the fourth wife of a man I’d never met.
Me. Useless, worrying, sinful Hazel Russon with impossible music and ambitions hiding in her sinews.
Me, who was deeply in love with Elder Crowther’s son.
A son who’d written beautiful letters of promise and longing for years, only to smash it all to pieces suddenly.
A hundred questions ran through my head, along with a rather violent urge to be sick. Once more I sensed the weight of the Devil pressing on my chest, the panic rising.
“Come now, it’s not so hard. Pray for faith, Sister Russon. You’ll understand God’s will and see that this is what will refine you. Remember, to obey is better than sacrifice.” Elder Crowther’s words sounded as if they were miles away.
Tears escaped down my cheeks.
But Elijah, my heart beat back. He’d been my support and confidant for as long as I could remember.
He never berated me for my errant wishes or moments of defiance.
He was the only one who saw me for not only who I was but all I could be.
He even supported me through my panics without judgment.
But now, I didn’t have Elijah and never would again. He didn’t want me. I was alone.
And what good was a woman alone in a world that required a man for safety and eternal blessings? Without a sealing to a righteous priesthood man, I couldn’t be saved in God’s Celestial Kingdom and receive the highest degree of eternal glory.
“Sister Russon. Think carefully about your future. You can’t marry Elijah.
But you can marry a good man. Brother Manwaring will take care of you.
He told me he has an elegant, large home prepared only for you.
Couldn’t you imagine yourself presiding with your husband over such an estate?
I know you’re fond of the piano. I’m sure he would be happy to let you play for him and his guests. ”
A performance. My throat tightened. And yet, I hated how easily I conjured up the image of myself seated at a grand piano, wearing elegant skirts while a small audience clapped at my music.
A husband who actually wanted me at his side, in a magnificent home.
A home only for me. My head dizzied. It was all too real.
All I had to do was say yes and become a plural wife.
I tried to swallow my tears. “This is the Lord’s will for me?”
“Yes. Forget Elijah and be faithful.”
As if I could forget the man I’d carved into my own flesh.
But he had forgotten me and left his father to break my heart without explanation.
Fury pulsed in my blood now. If he didn’t want me, then I would purge him from me.
If Elijah didn’t want my heart, then what did it matter if I became a fourth wife or a hundredth wife?
If I did this, perhaps everyone would finally accept me.
Maybe the torturing worries and guilt would finally subside.
Perhaps the panics would disappear at last.
The apostle looked at me expectantly. I could demand more time to seek my own revelation from God on the matter, but I sensed that asking for His sign would only lead to more heartbreak. I knew I had to give Elder Crowther the right answer, to obey immediately as I was taught.
“Yes, I will accept him.” My words lanced through my heart. Perhaps it would never truly beat again.