The Sister Wife (25 page)

“Yes,” Mary Rose said softly. “I made that final decision because of my baby.”

Emma stood and walked to the empty fireplace, touched the mantel clock almost absently, then turned back to Mary Rose. “I am assuming you came here today for advice, not just to talk about the plural marriage, good or bad.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward earnestly. “What do I do now?”

Emma came over and sat beside Mary Rose on the settee. She reached for her hand and squeezed it for emphasis as she spoke. “Don't ever forget that you are the first wife. Hold on to that position no matter what, no matter the strength of personality exhibited by the other wives to come—and you can be assured, they will come. As sure as the sun rises in the east, your husband will take as many as you allow.”

“You said that Joseph took wives without your permission…”

“That was before I understood what I needed to do. That was before I turned the tables.” The corner of her mouth twitched as if she wanted to laugh, but she didn't. “From now on, you will choose his wives for him.”

Mary Rose sat back, astounded. “I've been thinking the only thing I could do was to leave. To return to England.”

“Has it occurred to you that should you leave, you could be tried as an apostate?”

“I wouldn't leave my church. Only my husband.”

“Then we come back to the issue of eternity. Even if you weren't tried for apostasy and excommunicated—by leaving Gabriel, you risk displeasing him. If you displease him, he will not call you by your holy name into the highest heaven, that place where your family will be—with you, or without you.”

“So we come back to the sacrifice for the family, for our babies.”

Emma nodded. “Do you love your husband, even after what he's done?”

“Yes, 'tis a miracle, but yes, I love him. I feel betrayed by him, by my dearest friend—but, yes, I love him with all my heart.”

“Then you can't leave. You must stay and fight for him. Make him love you above all others. Someday, he may try to bring into your home a wife who's half your age, prettier, livelier, smarter. But you must remain the one he loves most. Consider the others as having been brought in to help you with your chores, to help with the children—and you will have many through the years.” She sipped her tea. “Does your Gabriel love you?”

“Until last night I thought so.”

“He took his second wife to bed?”

“Yes.”

Emma looked away from Mary Rose, letting her gaze drift toward the window. From down the street, the laughter and song of several children could be heard drawing closer.

“That is the most difficult part to accept in a plural marriage.” She squeezed Mary Rose's hands again, her gaze almost fierce. “That's why you need to do everything in your power to make him want you, to desire being with you, to converse with you on a level that none of the others know. You are the first wife, the first he fell in love with, which gives you power that none of the other sister wives have.”

Mary Rose drew in a shaky breath. “I don't know if I can do that…or even if I want to.” She pulled a small hanky from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes.

“If you believe that families are eternal, if you believe in your love for your husband and his for you, you will find strength you never thought possible.” Emma gave her another rare smile. The children had opened the gate and, from the gleeful sounds, were tumbling up the walkway. Mary Rose recognized the lower voice of the Prophet talking and laughing with them.

“One more thing,” Emma said just before the door opened to let the children spill in. “Approach all of this as if you were born to be queen over your own domain”—she looked Mary Rose up and down as if appraising her for the role and seemed pleased with what she saw—“with a glad heart that will gladden the hearts of all those in your household.”

Mary Rose gave her an embrace just as Joseph came to the parlor doorway. Emma, facing away from her husband, whispered into Mary Rose's ear, “And if any part of our conversation is repeated and it gets back to me, I will deny everything I've told you.”

The Prophet's unblinking gaze rested on Mary Rose's face even as she gathered her parasol and placed the hanky back in her reticule.

“Come back again soon,” Emma said as she walked Mary Rose to the door. Her expression told Mary Rose that, in spite of all the children, other women, and even the Prophet himself who occupied the house, Emma was a very lonely woman.

M
ary Rose pondered Emma Smith's words for several days before she gathered the courage to implement her plan.

One evening after supper three weeks later, she called the family together and surprised them all by asking Gabe, as priest and head of their household, to give them each a blessing each night before bedtime. She explained to the wide-eyed twins and Coal that it was their papa's blessed and precious responsibility and that each bedtime would begin in such a manner. This would follow a time of Scripture reading and prayer in which they would all participate.

“If we are going to be a holy and set-apart people,” she said to Gabe and Bronwyn, “if we are following the Prophet's teachings and revelations, I believe we should be committed to taking them all the way.”

Gabe blinked and glanced at Bronwyn, who nodded as if in approval. Mary Rose went to a bookshelf to retrieve the Book of Mormon and handed it to Gabe. The children sat at his feet as he read a short passage.

When he was finished, the children lined up to take their turns kneeling before him. One by one, he placed his hand on their heads and blessed them. Bronwyn then knelt before him, holding Little Grace. He took the baby into his arms and laid his cheek on the top of her head for a moment, his expression reflecting the love he felt for the child.

Mary Rose thought of their own child, buried beneath soil and stones, and turned away, unable to bear the look of love he gave the living child and her mother. His voice was low and filled with emotion as he blessed Little Grace.

When Mary Rose turned back, Bronwyn still knelt before him, gazing up into his face with a look of adoration.

Mary Rose forced a pleasant tone into her voice and, standing, said to the other children. “I have an announcement to make,” she said, leaning toward them. “I talked to you about returning to England a few weeks ago…”

Coal nodded, Ruby said, “I remember,” and Pearl's lower lip trembled.

“I've made a decision. We are staying in the place we love the most. We are going to live together as one big family.” She smiled at Bronwyn. “Your papa loves us all and has vowed to care for us all through eternity. We are one big family that no one can ever separate.”

“What about Mama and Papa in the Thand…
Sand
with…
Sandwich
Islands?” Ruby said. “Can they be part of our big family too?”

Still seated on the floor, Bronwyn leaned against Gabe's leg while Gabe played peek-a-boo with the baby. Bronwyn looked over at Ruby and gave her a confident smile. “We will pray that they will come to know the only true Church and the testimony of our Prophet.”

“Me too,” Ruby chimed in.

“I think it's bedtime for all.” Gabe stood, still holding Little
Grace, and helped Bronwyn to her feet. A look of understanding passed between them, the same that Mary Rose had seen each night for the past three weeks.

“Gabe,” Mary Rose said, stepping between them. “I would like to speak to you privately.”

“Of course.”

He handed the baby to Bronwyn, and she went upstairs with the children, though she glanced back at him when she reached the top stair.

The evening was warm, and Mary Rose suggested they talk outdoors. Gabe agreed, and they stepped outside. He circled his arm around her as they strolled alongside the garden. Mockingbirds sang and the creek bubbled its way to the river.

“Do you mind if we walk to the creek?” She smiled into his eyes, pale in the starlit night.

He grinned and an eyebrow shot up; she knew he was remembering another night when the air was balmy and the singing creek ran full. A few weeks before their farmhouse was finished, they'd ridden out alone in the buckboard to take a look at the progress of the buildings. Caught up in a moment of passion they'd made love by the creek to the music of the croaking frogs and night birds, and later giggled together as Gabe tried to rid her curly locks of twigs and grass.

Gabe and Mary Rose continued their walk in silence. They passed the barn, the henhouse, and the pasture. Then Gabe pulled back some willows, and they were in the same small clearing beside the creek where they had been that night. Though her eyes had become accustomed to the dim light as she watched his face for signs of love, of passion, even affection, his expression was unreadable.

She remembered Emma's advice to make sure he would always love her best, no matter how many wives he might take in the future.

She closed her eyes and prayed—to whichever god might be listening—that Gabe would think of that night and want to re-create it.

Once inside the privacy of the clearing, she turned to him and touched his cheek, letting her fingertips lightly trace his jaw. He gently took her hand away from his face and kissed her palm.

“Do you remember that night?”

“Aye, my love, and I always will. You know that.”

“I don't even know if you love me, Gabe.” She turned away from him, facing the creek. “You haven't shown me…love…since Bronwyn…since you and Bronwyn…” She stared at the dark, bubbling water, unable to finish.

He came up behind her then and wrapped his arms around her. “I've been waiting for you to tell me it was all right,” he said, laying his cheek on her head. “After what you went through with our baby's birth, I didn't know.”

Hope kindled in her heart, and she turned to face him. “Truly?”

He smiled into her eyes. “I will come to you tonight, if you're sure you have healed.”

“Truly, I am well—body, soul, and spirit,” she said, thinking her heart might fly out of her chest.

He kissed her passionately, leaving her breathless. She waited for him to kneel on the soft carpet of twigs and moss, the soft, rich soil, to draw her into his arms so as to lay together again as husband and wife.

But he didn't seem to have a mind for it. Or simply had forgotten the passion they once knew.

He drew her into another embrace and held her close. “Tonight,” he said, and then gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Tonight,” she whispered as he walked away from her.

 

It was after midnight when Gabe opened her bedroom door and stepped in. Mary Rose was drowsy but woke when he slipped
into her bed beside her. He reached for her and she let him draw her into his embrace. His lovemaking was as passionate as ever, but Bronwyn's image filled her mind, and as he touched her, she wondered if Bronwyn filled his as well.

She closed her eyes, willing her body to respond just as it always had before. But Bronwyn's beautiful face and perfect body kept returning, bringing to Mary Rose's mind every flaw in her own, real and imagined. And though Gabe breathed Mary Rose's name as he gave her feather-soft kisses along her neck and around the shell of her ears, she strained to hear if he might slip even once and call her by the wrong name.

When he had finished, she turned away from him. “I cannot do this again,” she whispered. “It is not right.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, holding her face in her hands, weeping. “A man should not have two wives.”

Gabe circled his arm around her shoulders, and gently held her while she cried. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder myself what we've done, what we've gotten into. I wonder if the Prophet is right…or dead wrong.” Before she could tell him her thoughts, he stood, kissed her cheek, and left her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

She stared at the closed door, feeling more alone than ever. What could the future hold, if not Gabe's undying love for her, the love she thought would always be hers.

She bowed her head and wept again.

Even Emma's words of plural-wife wisdom brought her no comfort. What good was it to be a strong, even powerful, first wife when she was unsure of the love between Gabe and her?

 

Mary Rose knew the night she had conceived, because there had been no other. After waiting another month to be certain, she went to Gabe to tell him. She found him at the back of the barn in his workshop, cleaning and oiling his firearms.

As soon as she told him about their baby, his face instantly filled with wonder. He put down his rifle and gathered her into his arms, lifting her from the floor to swing her around. He stopped before he'd made a complete circle and set her down gently, an anguished look on his face.

“Did I hurt you? My joy overcame my good sense. Are you sure you're all right?” He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her protectively.

It felt good to be held in his arms once more, and Mary Rose felt a sting of tears in the back of her throat. “I'm not made of porcelain, dearest. Truly, I'm not. And this time, God is giving us a healthy baby. I can feel it in my very bones.”

He pulled back and grinned at her, his eyes reflecting the love she'd so missed.

“Give me a blessing,” she said, wanting to prolong this special moment between the two of them.

He took her hands and led her into the sunlight outside the barn. “God is blessing us. 'Tis his gift, telling us we're on the right road after all, Mary Rose.”

She knelt before him and, placing his hand on her head, he offered up a blessing to God. When he had finished, he helped Mary Rose to her feet, and then gathered her into his arms. He held her tight, and she heard the beating of his heart. She smiled, remembering how love awakened inside her the first time he held her like this.

“I love you so,” he whispered, and captured her mouth with his lips, just as he'd done on that day on the bow of the
Sea Hawk
.