Chapter 5
The bed tucked in the corner of the room seemed enormous with its thick wooden headboard and four tall posts. Its blue and yellow patchwork quilt shone like a beacon, reminding me that in marriages, beds were not only for sleeping. I tore my eyes away to assess the rest of my room.
The neatly made bed appeared to be the only piece of furniture that had seen any cleaning in quite some time.
A delicate vanity table encrusted with dust sat along the wall beside the window.
Its ornately carved mirror was covered in a film of dirty smudges.
On the opposite wall, an armoire covered in faded green paint sat empty, its door ajar.
I turned toward the hearth, at least expecting a bit of life there, but the mantel displayed only more dust, the fireplace a pile of forgotten ash.
The brass clock in the center would certainly be no help with its hands stuck at midnight.
The room was large and empty enough that the sound of my boots echoed as I walked. Cobwebs stuck in the corners of the ceiling. A chilled draft blew through me and I shuddered. I fought an overwhelming urge to cry. None of this was how I’d imagined my wedding night.
I crossed the room and pushed the curtains aside, desperately needing a view of something else.
The darkness of night stared back at me, but I could tell my room faced out toward the valley and I imagined my entire universe—every corner I’d ever known—stretching out before me.
An ache clenched in my chest. In my mind I saw the corner store, the bricked walls of the newspaper office, the silvered dome of the Tabernacle.
And my family. Somewhere out in that great distance my family gathered for dinner with one less chair at their table.
The realization hit me that it’d be many months before I’d pass another meal with them.
Desire for their familiar presence suddenly clawed at me.
Be good, my girl. My mother’s final words as she embraced me one last time came back to my mind. Be an obliging wife as I taught you and all will be well. Even if it’s hard, you must do what God commands.
I would write her right away, assure her that I was doing my best. Perhaps she’d be proud of me in her response. The thought of her intimate handwriting and kind words was suddenly of desperate importance. How could I survive this strange place without something well-known to buoy me?
The floor creaked behind me, sparing me the ruin of thinking further on such saddening things, and I spun around.
Jacob stood in the doorway, his arms full of my case and hatboxes.
He flashed me a smile like a well-trained porter and shut the door with the heel of his foot.
My stomach lurched in anticipation. Without taking his eyes off me, Jacob crossed the room and placed my things by the vanity.
He ran his finger across the surface and examined the dirt that came off with a click of his tongue.
“I apologize for the state of the room. I didn’t realize it’d gotten so bad.” He brushed the offending dust off on his trousers.
“Oh no. It’s fine. It’s a lovely room.” I turned back toward the window, my hands pinching tight together. Though my earlier panic had subsided, I still sensed it simmering inside, my body a string pulled too tight. “Besides, now I’ll have the chance to make it up as I see fit.”
Jacob smiled as I studied his reflection in the window glass.
“This is what I love about you, my Hazel. Always so obedient and cheerful. You look on the pleasant side of life.”
I smiled back. If only he knew the secret horrors always crawling through and staining my mind.
He drew a step closer, growing larger, distorted, in the glass. Behind us, a sole candle flickered by the bedside, though I couldn’t remember lighting it.
“But I also have my struggles.” I tried to keep my voice steady as he stopped close enough for his shallow breaths to raise the hair on the back of my neck. Warmth gathered in my center.
“You saw them yourself,” I said, silently praying he’d repeat his words from before. I would need his promised shelter in this storm.
His gaze raked down my neck, his mouth slightly agape, his breathing growing heavier. “We all have our troubles, my dear. And the Lord will try us until they are refined. But don’t worry yourself more on it. Everything will work out in the Lord’s time.”
Behind us, the candle flared.
Jacob cleared his throat as if to end the subject, but his righteous counsel didn’t bring relief as it should.
I watched his eyes trace me up and down in the window’s reflection, unable to linger in any one spot for too long.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. I needed to ignore my discomfort and focus on better things, like the warmth of his body hovering against my back, scant inches between us now.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel more at ease?” His breath brushed my ear as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Name it, and it’s yours.”
“I would like something.” Could I truly make demands of my husband on our first day of marriage?
“And what is that?”
Jacob didn’t sound upset, so I continued. “I want to make sure my letters to my family reach them quickly. We’re so far away out here. Will you deliver them the next time you ride into town?” I imagined Mother’s letter, brought back in only a few days to encourage me.
“I think that could be arranged. …” His words drifted off as his hands wrapped around my waist, locking me firmly against him. My heart pounded out of time, unsure of which rhythm to follow. I could feel his own heart hammering faster against my back.
We were as close now as we’d ever been. The embrace was inviting, warm, everything I imagined a husband’s touch would be.
I forcefully shoved the hope for familiar reassurance from my head.
I needed to be here now—to be a true wife to my husband.
Though the thought intimidated me, I sunk back into him and felt our bodies connect against each other.
A new momentum built inside me. Part of me wanted to softly moan like I had when Elijah kissed me that first time, but it seemed a strange inclination so I bit my tongue.
“Hazel, are you all right, darling?” Jacob brushed kisses against my shoulders. Each touch of his lips sent fire down to my toes.
“Yes, perfectly fine,” I said.
My hands trembled as his roved lower down my sides. Only Elijah had touched me this intimately before. I sensed we stood on the edge of a forest, ready to set it ablaze. Fingers twitched below my waistline.
“Don’t be frightened, my dearest. Trust me.”
Jacob’s words dripped in my ear like soft rain.
I nodded in silent agreement as he spun me to face him.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tugged us close.
But in the back of my mind, Elijah embraced me.
Heat zinged and splattered in the tiny spaces between our pressed bodies.
Jacob’s mouth searched for mine, eager and trembling.
My lips found his, sparking against the darkening room.
In my memories, Elijah’s tongue bid my lips open. I sagged against Jacob’s chest.
Deep in my center, primal need awoke and swelled and consumed. I was here in my husband’s arms, but I couldn’t contain the unbidden thoughts that moved through me. In my head, Elijah’s body held me close, his honeyed words trickled in my ears, his lips worshipped my skin.
Lord, forgive me my sins.
Jacob snored. His shoulders rose and shook with every noisy breath as he lay beside me on the bed.
I held back a snicker. Shifting away from my husband, I stared into the darkness.
Unlike my bedmate, I couldn’t sleep. My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind refused to silence itself.
The day relived itself over and over through my head—the binding promises, the dilapidated house, the unknowing wives, the blistering passion.
Cold air seeped through the crack of the windowsill and, even beneath the covers with my husband’s warm body so close, I shuddered. Only the occasional groans of the old house interrupted the midnight stillness. But instead of feeling tranquil, the quiet closed around me in an oppressive vise grip.
My body seized, every weight of the long day constricting around me. I’d fought it since I dressed that morning for my wedding, but now the panic finally overtook me.
My head felt heavy against the pillow. A force unseen was pressing down on me. It sat on my chest, threatening to cut off my air. I would die in this bed by invisible hands if I couldn’t find my breath.
I opened my mouth wide, gulping at the cool air. The Devil couldn’t defeat me, not now. Not when I was at last married and my life had truly begun. I sparred with the unseen monster on my chest; my frantic heart struggled to slow.
A loud creak echoed across the room. My eyes flew open. A distinct groan forced life into my limbs and I shot up. Now my heart beat out of time for another reason.
I peered around the room. In the darkness, lit only by the faint moonlight from the window, everything was the same as it had been when I’d first entered the room. A shiver climbed my back. My eyes traced the dark walls and blackened shadows to the door.
A muted brightness pierced through the gloom—a thin line of light illuminating from beneath the door.
I clutched the blankets in my fists, dragging them tighter against me.
Someone lurked in the hallway. They’d come to spy on me.
Perhaps even to see if they could hear any sounds coming from our marriage bed. My stomach twisted into a knot.
I listened for footsteps, a knock, a murmured voice, but there was nothing. The silence stretched on. Eventually, the light flickered, then faded gradually from sight. I heard no footsteps, not even a rustling. The midnight visitor as good as a ghost.