Chapter 27
That evening, Esther’s legs shifted against my knees as she squirmed in front of me. “You’re certain you’ll tie them extra tight?” she asked.
I spoke around the pin in my mouth.
“Of course, but you’ll need to please stop wiggling so much,” I said.
Obediently, she straightened up, her eyes catching mine in the nursery mirror as I twisted the strip of rag around a section of her damp hair. I pinned the end up at the top of her head to match the other sections.
“There. You’ll have the loveliest curls tomorrow.”
She bounced on her heels as she turned her head to get a better look at my handiwork in the mirror.
“Oh, thank you, Aunt Hazel!”
I smiled. “Now be sure to say your prayers before you fall asleep, Esther. I’m needed in the kitchen.”
“Yes, Aunt Hazel. Good night.”
I left the room with her staring at her face in the mirror, no doubt the rush of youth and imaginations of grandeur dancing in her head.
An ache settled in my heart as I hurried down the stairs once more, but whether it was for sweet Esther or my own loss of innocence, I couldn’t say.
One day she’d be a wife the same as me, her duties before God and husband already determined.
The sacrifice of her youthful dreams laid on the altar of marriage.
I shook my head and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, flinging the sad thoughts from my mind.
“Forgive me, I was helping Esther …”
My voice trailed off as I swung the door open and froze in the doorway. Flora wasn’t there, but the room wasn’t empty.
Elijah.
My heart did a somersault.
All at once, the chilled kitchen felt entirely too small. He smiled as he stood from the table, nearly knocking the bench over in his haste. His awkward politeness was disarming.
Since his surprise arrival, I had kept my vow to avoid him. His work kept him away for long hours, leaving at sunrise and returning only for the evening meal. Although we’d exchanged pleasantries in the company of the family, until now, we’d never been alone.
“Good evening, Sister Manwaring,” he said calmly, as though he didn’t also sense the current surging between us, threatening to burn away the very air. “I missed dinner and so I made myself a plate. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course, Brother Crowther. We’re meant to feed you. Please, sit down.”
The kitchen returned to silence, but my heart thumped loud enough that I was sure he would hear it. A buzzing worry pricked at me, but I couldn’t command my body to leave.
“I should go.”
“Please stay,” he said. “I would appreciate some company. I feel like I’ve been alone for days.”
His sincere expression stopped me.
“All right, I can stay for a bit.”
My answer won me a crooked smile that made my heart patter faster.
“Wonderful. And besides, I’ll need to make sure you get the plate back safely.”
I sat down across from him at the table.
“Why, were you planning to steal it?”
“No, but I get the impression that the tall Sister doesn’t appreciate anyone messing with her kitchen.”
“Oh yes, Sister Flora. Best to avoid her ire.”
“Like you avoided Sister Emma’s ire?”
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue. “I was always civil.”
“Do you remember the time you—”
“Put a spider in her soup? Yes, but in my defense—”
“She never noticed it,” he said.
A familiar sense of happiness rose within me. One I hadn’t felt in years.
“And you’re one to talk. You’re the one who—”
“Put sand in Father’s sandwich to see what would happen. I remember the thrashing I received quite well,” he said with a groan. “I still maintain—”
“That it was my idea? I’ll never admit to such malfeasance.”
Laughter bubbled from our lips like we were once again two naughty schoolchildren exchanging secrets. The kitchen swelled with our mirth.
But as our laughter died out, we watched each other closely. Seconds ticked by as hours. Being alone with him felt dangerous, like getting too close to a raging fire. But right now, I wanted to be consumed.
His fork scraped across the empty plate.
“Anything else I should know about this house?”
I opened my mouth, but my tongue grew thick, unable to form words. While part of me wished I could pour out and tell him everything about this haunted home, another part of me held back. I thought of my letter, tucked away in Jacob’s pocket. This was still his house.
“There’s nothing to know,” I said, my voice rising in pitch. “This is our husband’s home and we all work together. And my sister wives don’t know you’re Elder Crowther’s son, or that we know each other. We must keep it that way.”
“Yes,” he said with a bitterness I could taste. “How could I forget you’re now a plural wife. Especially when you were so against it before.”
He’d crossed a line, knowing right where to stab.
“And what’s wrong with that? You no longer wished for our union, so I found comfort elsewhere.”
“I never said that,” he said with frustration, his fingers turning white as they gripped the edge of the table. “And I certainly never wanted you to marry a stranger as his plural wife.”
“Jacob’s wife. I’m Jacob Manwaring’s wife.”
“A stranger,” Elijah repeated. “His fifth wife. Why did you choose Manwaring?”
Jagged heat rose between us. Elijah had no idea how much I adored him, craved him. How much I suffered for my sin of forbidden love. The man I’d tried so hard to forget was here demanding my attention and answers I didn’t have to give. Elijah had chosen his duty over me, and I’d done the same.
I ignored his ignorance of my situation.
“I’m his fourth wife. And your father is why. He contrived this match. He told me it was my calling to obey, and I did so. Because of you, Elijah. Because you didn’t want me.”
I let my held-back vexations burst forth as a dam breaking.
“He told me that this was what God wanted. That my obedience was expected for my own salvation, so certainly, I had to comply.”
The echoes of my confessions—both spoken and unspoken—danced around the kitchen. Tears pressed against my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I’d cried far too many tears already over this tragedy I couldn’t alter.
“I’m sorry, Hazel.” Elijah’s voice quivered like he strained to hold in his true emotions. “But he was wrong. About everything.”
“He’s an apostle of the Lord. How can you question him?” I said.
His gaze burrowed into me. “Why are you so upset that I do?”
“Because I gave up everything, changed the course of my entire life, based solely on his word,” I nearly shouted back.
I couldn’t control the rage boiling inside me, though I knew it wasn’t all meant for him.
“I refuse to believe that after all this—this madness I’ve suffered here, that everything has been for naught. ”
“I’m sorry, Hazel, I truly am. I’d give anything to go back and stop this. I wrote you letters—”
I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing we can change.
” Every moment of this conversation slashed into me.
I couldn’t bear more of his arguments against my choices—if they’d truly been that at all.
It was useless to argue or to wish for what might’ve been.
This was my reality, unable to be molded or reshaped to my longings.
As firm and immutable as the words of prophets and patriarchs.
Then why was I so upset?
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I said. “You spurned me, and you should’ve forgotten me.”
Elijah rose from his chair. “I didn’t. That would be impossible, Hazel.”
Slowly, he walked around the table. I tracked every step with a beat of hunger growling in my chest. I’d built a wall of stone around myself the day he discarded me, and now my heart cried out for it to crumble to the ground.
He knelt before me. Heat as palpable as fire flamed around us. One night years ago, we drew this close beneath an apple tree and promised ourselves to each other with passionate, burning kisses. Now the temptation stung fresh again.
“After our entire childhood together, how could you honestly believe that I would leave you? That I would stay away from you when my heart is just as much yours as it is mine?” He reached out his fingers, gently stroking them across my cheek.
I closed my eyes to savor the sensation pulsing through me. I wanted more. He’d stoked the fire and it threatened to grow to a blaze. A wicked, sinful blaze. When I looked to him, his eyes flicked across my face, then down to my lips. Every breath he let out, I drew in.