Chapter 21
Our wagon rolled down the dirt street toward an unoccupied park to lunch and prepare for the journey home.
Only thinking of home filled me with dread.
Once more, I wished I could see my family, but I knew they didn’t want to see me.
I belonged to Jacob’s family now, not theirs, and their silence spoke volumes.
Even though the meal prepared should have been delicious after a long morning, I barely tasted it. I twitched at the slightest groan of the branches above in the breeze, unable to keep my thoughts off the memory of the Tabernacle and the echo of the hymn rattling through me.
I watched the rest of the family as if through a window.
From the outside, it was picturesque. The girls sang and played a jumping game while the older boys wrestled, with the littlest trying their hardest to tag along and join in.
Jacob himself even rolled up the sleeves of his fresh white shirt and joined in the tumble, staining the back of his shirt green.
“I better be careful,” Jacob teased as he plopped an apple slice into his mouth. “People may see my green gown and it’ll cause a scandal.”
It was only a joke, but didn’t he see this wasn’t the time? Our house was a nightmare, our lives a game with an unknown force pulling the strings. He’d gifted me a piano he swore he didn’t know of, so what else could be hiding in his house?
Was Abby in danger, as the nightmares seemed to prophecy? Or was I?
I pushed off the picnic blanket Flora had so neatly packed for our lunch, desperate for distance. I would never be able to escape this life, my wedding covenant made that certain, but perhaps I could have a single moment of solace.
I stumbled to a bench at the far end of the park. My legs sank onto the wooded seat, which had warmed beneath the rays of the summer sun, and I dropped my head into my hands to stare at the grass between my feet.
Two feet stepped into view. “Hazel?”
Slowly, I drew back to sitting. His voice, that hesitant voice cut through me.
Elijah.
Elijah. He’d returned home!
He stood before me alive, solid, real—not a phantom, memory, or daydream.
His dark brown curls were longer than I’d seen them over two years ago, framing his face.
His delicate features always reminded me of a painting by some Renaissance master.
And his eyes. His eyes were the same honeyed brown that I saw every night before I closed my own to sleep.
His gray suit was threadbare and hung off his already slender form like it was meant for another man, or he’d lost weight too fast recently.
But he was whole and the same as ever. He studied me cautiously, his smile small as he took me in.
Elijah. Here.
I could scarcely breathe for the shock of it. His presence stirred thrill and fury within me.
“I thought I saw you in the Tabernacle,” he said at last, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Did you follow me here?” I asked curtly, wincing at my own tone. Though it was probably earned unconscious ire. If this false man hadn’t thrown me over without explanation, this wouldn’t be my life. I wouldn’t be trapped in this nightmare of secrets and lies.
“I only wanted to inquire and see how you were doing. Perhaps speak to you some.”
“Why?” I ignored the prick in the corners of my eyes. “What would we speak of?”
“Well, I mean, my father told me of your choice to marry—”
I scoffed. Was it truly a choice? I’d never thought of such before.
Elijah bit his lip, trying again. “I wrote you—”
“You don’t need to lie to me,” I said, swallowing down the burning hurt. “I’ve received not a word from you since before my marriage.”
He appeared stung. “What?”
Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed Jacob shifting up from the picnic. He stared right at me. My heart ticked with fear.
“Yes, thank you, Brother. I’m doing fine this Sabbath,” I said, my voice probably much too loud to be convincing.
“What? Hazel, please, we need to talk. I don’t understand—”
Jacob began a steady walk toward us.
“There’s nothing to understand or discuss,” I hissed between my teeth, keeping a false smile plastered on.
Elijah’s face fell with a melancholy that shredded through me. That wicked part of me wished to reach out and clasp him against me so he’d never make such a face again. “If that’s what you truly want,” he said.
It wasn’t at all what I wanted. But Jacob was approaching quickly and I couldn’t risk him suspecting anything untoward. My panic struggled to stay contained in my chest.
“I’m glad to hear you enjoyed today’s sermon as well.” Then lower, I added, “You must go now. My husband is coming. This isn’t proper.”
He blinked as if he’d suddenly understood where he was. “Ah, yes. Forgive me, Hazel,” he said, taking a step back.
“Sister Manwaring,” I replied, the words scratching my throat.
Silence sliced between us like a knife. Too many thoughts left unsaid, too many wants left unfulfilled. Jacob was close enough now that he could surely hear us. My heart scattered in my chest, the panic lingering right on the edges of my strength.
“Good day, Brother.”
“Good day … Sister Manwaring.”
Without a glance back, Elijah swiveled on his heel and stalked away, his shoulders hunched. My feet itched to run after him. To throw myself into his arms. But hadn’t he brought this on himself when he broke our vows and dashed my world to pieces months ago?
“Who was that?” Jacob’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“No one. Only a man who’d lost his way.”
Jacob turned to watch Elijah fade into the distance. His face didn’t betray any anger, but it certainly didn’t hold any amusement. Would he yell or threaten me for speaking to a strange man?
“What are you doing out here all alone, my darling?” His tone was as silk, but his neck was splotched with red as he sat down beside me.
“I’ve only stopped to think, Jacob,” I said.
We sat in silence watching the children twirl and jump in the distance. Then he slid his arm around my shoulder locking me in place against his side. I held my breath without meaning to.
“Did you see the boys and I brought the piano downstairs this morning?” he asked. “It was quite a struggle, but surely you appreciate that.”
I nodded. The piano in the parlor this morning should have been a respite from the uncontrollable whirlwind around me.
But seeing it only reminded me of Jacob’s strange behavior.
Had he lied to deceive me? Perhaps he’d meant it to be a surprise for me and I’d ruined it by snooping.
Despite being outside, there wasn’t enough air around us.
What if I simply misunderstood everything—stupid, stupid me!
Someone cleared their throat.
“Mr. Manwaring, is that you?”
My breath caught as we both turned as one toward the newcomer.
“Or do you insist on Brother Manwaring like the rest of the Mormons?”
The graveled voice belonged to a lanky man certainly not dressed in his Sunday best. His hair was shorn tight against his head almost to balding, and his eyes flitted up and down us like we were specimens from a circus.
It was clear from his speech and the reek of tobacco on his person that he was a gentile.
“Either is quite fine, sir. I admit you look familiar, but I’ve forgotten your name or the consequence of our introduction.” Jacob’s tone hardened over.
The stranger stuck out his hand. “Reginald, John Reginald. We spoke at your mine a few weeks ago.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Reginald. From the mining company back East. I trust your visit to our Territory is still pleasant?”
“Mighty interesting, that I will say.” Mr. Reginald’s eyes raked over me as his hands sunk back into his pockets. I angled closer to Jacob on instinct, suddenly feeling naked and exposed before this unknown visitor.
“We’re a peculiar people, Mr. Reginald,” he said.
The man licked his lips. “And this pretty young thing is your wife?”
Jacob’s hand tightened possessively on my shoulder. “This is Hazel, my wife. Hazel, may I introduce you to Mr. Reginald.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay in Utah.”
“Oh yes, you Mormons sure are fascinating. Tell me, Manwaring, this one your only wife?”
Jacob sprang up.
“Why do I get the impression mining isn’t your only profession, Mr. Reginald?” He towered over the man, having at least six inches on him.
Mr. Reginald only laughed, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “Supposing it might not be. Your other wives are here?”
“My wife is here, as you’ve seen. Now I must ask you to leave us. It’s growing late and we need to collect the children.”
Jacob pulled me onto my feet. I didn’t know what else to do but cling to his hand. All thoughts from before—Elijah, the piano—fled my mind. This was the greatest fear now—discovery.
“All those your children, ma’am?”
My throat grew dry.
“I beg your pardon, sir, we aren’t yet that acquainted. I must bid you good day.”
There was no greater fear instilled in me by Mormonism than this—that covert authorities from the East would come and imprison us for living in what they called bigamy.
“Good day, Mr. Reginald,” Jacob spoke with finality.
“Good day, Mr. Manwaring. Be sure to give your best to your other women. Wouldn’t want them to feel left out. Oh, and Manwaring, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, so be sure to bring the right wife back when we do.”
Jacob froze and my heart skidded into my throat. The threat may have been veiled, but it was certain. Mr. Reginald wasn’t a miner at all.
“Jacob—”
“Fetch the children, Hazel. We’re leaving. Now.”