Chapter 3
Two weeks later
The wagon creaked out of the city, moving toward the mouth of the canyon in the distance.
I glanced once more over my shoulder at the receding view of Salt Lake and its sprawl of businesses and homes.
Farms and fields of green and grain stretched around us now, and with every passing mile the homes grew fewer.
Soon we’d be on the farthest edges of the valley, huddled against the towering mountains.
Jacob Manwaring shifted closer on the bench and the space between us lit up.
I could sense every inch of him, heating me through.
This morning, we’d knelt across the altar from each other while Elder Crowther performed our marriage and sealing.
We murmured covenants before God and angels binding us together for time and all eternity. Not even death could separate us now.
Even though I was now his wife for this lifetime and the next, he was a mystery to me.
My husband wasn’t the bearded, aging man I’d first conjured in my mind.
He wore fine suits tailored perfectly to his trim physique, and his boots were polished as a regal army general.
His hair, though graying at his temples, was full and dark blond with a matching thick mustache.
His deep blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his hair.
Everything about him radiated respectability. His entire person was somehow unearthly. Elijah had been heat, with rocky and jagged edges, solid and real. But my husband was cool, removed, silken like a character from a forgotten storybook. I found him painfully intriguing.
I couldn’t help the twitch of hope stirring inside me.
I married a stranger, but at least he was kind.
Love grew from marriages. All the women who spoke in Relief Society of their husbands did so with conviction and strong testimony of plural marriage.
To speak ill of the Principle was akin to blasphemy itself.
Surely, that meant they loved it and their husbands.
They wouldn’t lie about their happiness.
I thought about the first time I met Jacob, less than two weeks ago.
Pink rose in my cheeks. We’d gone for a walk together, the late-spring breeze picking up stray white blossoms from the nearby apricot trees, which oddly reminded me of floating popcorn.
I recalled how he kept his pace slow and steady, always walking between myself and the street.
He offered his arm over puddles and did his best to keep the conversation lively even as I stayed as neutral and pleasant as possible.
Mother’s teachings hounded me; men didn’t want women who were too forceful or inquisitive.
That could be seen as divisive and disobedient, so I held in all my probing questions to do my duty to please him.
Besides, the men in my life had already offered what I needed to know.
Elder Crowther spoke of his lovely home reserved for me and his piano I could entertain with.
Father had inquired through his connections and told me of his wealth and rising status in the community, rumored to be called soon to higher priesthood offices.
Anything more of importance to share Jacob would surely tell me.
I wasn’t raised to doubt or question those who held the sacred priesthood.
I learned that he liked licorice candies and reading thick volumes on scripture.
His favorite color was inexplicably black, or perhaps he was only teasing me when I asked such a silly question.
His voice was a rich baritone, and he hummed snippets of hymns under his breath whenever the conversation lulled.
“Come, Come, Ye Saints” was his favorite, just like mine.
After some coaxing, I shared my love of music and piano, my dislike of baking, and my secret annoyance at being patient. To my surprise, he didn’t scold me for such thoughts, only laughed playfully.
“I find you quite fascinating,” Jacob said. He replaced an errant lock of hair behind my ear. “And absolutely beautiful.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You don’t need to flatter me.” I tried to force from my mind the way Elijah had looked at me when he called me beautiful, and the anger and longing the image stirred up.
“I assure you, I’m not an idle flatterer. You’ll always get the truth that you need to know from me, Sister Hazel. Life’s too short to be mucked up in weariness and dramatics, don’t you think?” He reached his hand out tentatively toward my arm. “May I?”
My lungs felt squeezed too tight. “Of course.”
I gripped his offered elbow and allowed myself to be pulled against his side. His body was warm. Solid. It hummed against mine. For once, a surge of confidence struck me. Here I was, peculiar and often wicked Hazel, on the arm of a respectable, worthy man.
Jacob grinned as we neared my house again. “There’s a lovely smile now. I hope to see it often. Heaven knows a husband needs the cheerfulness of his wife.”
“Are your other wives not happy?” The words came out faster than I could recall them.
His gait slackened for a moment and embarrassment rattled through me. The biggest rule of polygamy, as my mother taught me, was to mind your own business, and I’d broken it already. But almost as soon as he’d slowed, Jacob picked up his pace again, squeezing my fingers in the crook of his arm.
“My greatest occupation is to bring you happiness, my dear Hazel. Anything you ask of me that I can give is yours. I’d give all my worldly riches away to bring out that alluring smile of yours.”
We reached my porch and he stopped. Carefully, he took my hand from his arm and shifted to face me, drawing my hand against his chest. My heart beat faster as I felt his own pulse beneath my palm. Elijah’s heart had beat like this once in time with mine.
He leaned down until his lips brushed against my ear. “You’ve positively bewitched me already.”
I froze. Jacob’s honeyed words weren’t like Elijah’s fumbling ones, but what did that matter anymore? Perhaps that’s why they were so intoxicating to hear and filled my chest with a sticky hope that maybe soon the Elijah-shaped gash in my soul would heal.
With a brush of his lips against my knuckles, he bid me good night.
But as I went to open the front door, my hand rested on the doorknob unmoving.
My chest lurched. No, please, not now. Why did it have to be now?
My head swam with images—Elijah. Jacob. A faceless row of wives. My heart burst out of my chest.
As hard as I tried to muster the strength to push open the door and disappear, I couldn’t find it. Air sucked from my lungs as the panic rose. Devils clawed at me. Sinful, stupid me. I sank to my knees on the doorstep.
“Hazel?” Jacob said.
No, he couldn’t see this. He couldn’t see the manifestation of my unworthiness. I didn’t turn around, wishing I could sink lower into the porch and disappear altogether.
“Are you all right?”
His hands took my shoulders, and he pulled my back against his chest. The contact was a rush. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. Tears leaked down my cheeks as I tried desperately to force air into my lungs, to breathe evenly before I drowned.
“I’m here, it’s all right,” Jacob repeated over and over. Each time his words solidified in me. He was a pillar, a rock, allowing me to cling to him even as a storm tried to destroy me. Slowly, my breaths steadied, my heartbeat slowed, my sobs softened.
After what felt an eternity, he let me go. I turned, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Hazel.” Jacob’s tone was certain. I dared to look at his face. He didn’t frown or scowl like I expected. Instead, his forehead was creased with worry. Care. I swallowed the last of my frantic tears. “Does this happen often?”
I nodded. “I understand if this changes your intentions.”
“Change them? Certainly not. It only endears you to me more.”
I searched his eyes for a sign of deceit, but he only watched me with sincerity. That sticky heat returned to my chest. “It does?”
He stood and offered his hand to help me up. “It means you need me to protect and help you. I will do that, I promise. If this is your storm, then I’ll be your anchor.”
My heart jumped again, but this time not from panic. It was … hope.
That same hope moved through me now as the wagon carrying us jostled across a hole on the dirt road. I studied Jacob as he clicked his tongue at the horses, a sense of anticipation shuddering through me. My husband. My anchor.
“It sure is lovely out here. You can get away from the bustle of the city and be your own person.” Jacob’s face met mine and I blushed.
“I’m sure you’re eager to see your new home and begin our life together.
I know I am. It’ll be wonderful to finally have you all to myself.
” He gave a low chuckle, sending warm shivers down my neck.
“I could tell you were eager,” I said.
He tilted his head, questioning.
Embarrassment gripped me. “I mean—I only meant, we left so quickly after the wedding luncheon instead of staying in town. I didn’t … I didn’t expect that.” I gripped the board beside my knees and prepared for my reprimand.
Again, to my surprise, he only smiled. His mustache twitched like he was holding back another laugh.
“Can you blame me for being in a hurry with your beauty?” His palm rested on my knee and a flush moved through me. “The luncheon wasn’t particularly extravagant or crowded, in any case.”
Plural marriage was God’s law, but not man’s. Though the government tried to fight it, make it illegal, even threaten arrest and prosecution, the Principle continued on, if only clouded in more silence.
“Well, plural wives don’t typically receive much fanfare. Especially now with persecutions rising. I know my place.”
The wheels of the cart crunched over a fallen branch.