Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (35 page)
“Dearly beloved, we are assembled here—”
Suddenly the door creaked, and a slightly damp Micah came in. He studiously avoided his father’s eyes as he maneuvered as inconspicuously as possible—though it was hardly possible at all in the small cabin— into a place very clearly on Elise’s side of the room. For an instant their eyes met. She smiled, and he nodded an acknowledgment.
Benjamin glanced at his son, cut deeply that the boy would not look at
him. It was obvious Micah had come for Elise, not his father. But at least
he was here. Benjamin was struck anew with the assurance he had made
the right decision in bringing Elise into his home. Perhaps somehow she
would find a way to heal the rifts in the Sinclair family
.
Father Murphy continued. “Ah-hem . . . let’s see now . . . we are assembled here in the presence of God to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony.”
Benjamin could not help his sense of awe as he gazed at his bride. He
had always realized she was a beautiful woman, but now she was stunning,
decked out in a gown that must have been Rebekah’s, though he did not
recall it. But what took his breath away more than her looks was the fact
that she had considered the event important enough to go to the trouble
of making it an occasion for them all to remember
.
Elise actually blushed at Benjamin’s frank gaze of admiration. When had a man last looked at her like that? Not with lust, not with desire, but rather with tender respect. She feared more than ever that Benjamin was not going to make this strictly platonic arrangement easy for her. She felt her heart beat a wild cadence.
Father Murphy was saying “ . . . which is instituted by God, regulated by His commandments, blessed by our Lord Jesus Christ, and to be held in honor among all men. Let us therefore remember that God has established and sanctified marriage.”
These words are no less true now than when I myself had uttered them
to others, Benjamin thought. And though I feel unworthy, I still believe
them to be true. If ever I needed your blessing, Lord, it is now. Perhaps
what Elise said is indeed true. If you haven’t turned your back on me, then
maybe it is possible you are present now, truly sanctifying this union
.
I know so little of your ways, dear God, Elise thought. I don’t know why marriage is so important to you. But please know, it is so very important to me also. I truly desire to make this union bring honor to you. Please help me where I am weak and inexperienced.
“For as much as these two persons have come hither to be made one in this holy estate,” the priest said, “if there be any present who knows any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined in marriage, I require him now to make it known or ever after to hold his peace.” Father Murphy then looked at the bride and groom. “If either of ye know any reason ye may not be lawfully joined together in marriage, now confess it. . . .”
I may think of a score of reasons against this marriage. I may have
thought it foolish and hairbrained. On the other hand, I have yet to see
the perfect marriage, and certainly I have seen unions far less compatible
than this one appears to be. Part of me wants to shout in protest. But the
larger part senses a rightness to this that goes beyond each of our mutual
needs. I don’t understand it. I can’t define it. But I know, if only in the
sense of commitment I feel, that it is there
.
How can I protest when you are saving me from hell itself? Elise glanced around at each of the children, her gaze resting a moment longer on Micah. And if you, Micah, have no protests, and if Isabel believes your mother would have chosen me, then what more assurance do I need?
“Benjamin, will ye speak these vows after me?” Father Murphy asked.
Repeating the priest’s words, Benjamin said, “I, Benjamin, take thee, Elise, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance. Thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Benjamin wondered if he was amiss in speaking such a vow. Was he
wrong in making a vow to love? Yet if he had learned nothing else lately,
it was that love was a matter he knew little of. He thought he had loved
Rebekah, but it turned out to be a selfish love that was not real love at
all. He was no longer certain what true love was, but he thought if it were
expressed in comfort and honor and protection and faithfulness, then he
could indeed commit to love Elise
.
“Elise Toussaint, will you repeat after me?” asked the priest.
Elise repeated, “I, Elise, take thee, Benjamin, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance. Thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Elise gave the man beside her a shy side glance. A few hours ago she had expected this wedding to be simply a rote affair of legal import only. But the meaning of the words just spoken reached deeply inside her. Each one pulled at her heart, filling her with the sense that this was far more than a mere arrangement. It was a marriage.
“Have you a token of this marriage covenant?” asked the priest.
Much to Elise’s surprise, Benjamin reached into his coat pocket. She tried to ignore the fleeting twinge of regret that he was about to give her Rebekah’s wedding ring. He might not even have considered what one woman might feel at wearing another woman’s wedding ring. Elise herself hadn’t thought such a gesture would bother her the way it now did. Only when she held out her trembling hand and looked at the ring Benjamin was about to place on her finger did she see it was not a woman’s ring at all.
“This is my ring from seminary,” he explained. “It’s large and hardly appropriate, but . . . it was all I had.”
She smiled in response, not just because it wasn’t another woman’s ring after all but because his simply and humbly spoken words—“all I had”— bathed her in comfort and security as much as had the spoken vows.
The priest said, “Take this ring, Benjamin, and place it upon the finger of Elise’s hand and let it be the seal of your mutual fidelity and affection and a memorial of this sacred service.”
When Benjamin slipped the large ring on her finger and Elise closed her hand around it so it would not slip off, she felt she was grasping more than a ring of gold.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Benjamin said with quiet intensity, “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
I have little to give you, Benjamin thought, not even a sense of who I
am. My future is uncertain, and my past an indictment. The only gift I
have is loyalty and commitment. But these I give freely
.
“And now, having heard you make these pledges and take these vows of fidelity,” Murphy decreed, “I do, by the authority of the Church of Christ and by the laws of the state of Mexico, pronounce ye husband and wife, no longer twain, but now one, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
I don’t know what being one will mean to us, Elise. Something different
perhaps than we ever expected
.
I always thought love and physical joining made a husband and wife one, but I think that which will make us one is surrounding us—five sweet children. We are united in love for them. Elise smiled.
Now with a full grin on his round face, Murphy dropped his formal bearing and said, “There we have it! Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” Still grinning, he added, “Now, me boy, ye may kiss your bride!”
There was only one instant of awkwardness, then Benjamin bent down and lightly kissed Elise’s forehead. She smiled to assure him he had done the right thing.
Then the room erupted into motion as the Hunters offered congratulations and the children, who had been so cooperative for the last fifteen minutes, began their usual squirming, crying, and jabbering. Elise thought it was a better recessional than any traditional wedding march.
As evening approached Benjamin expected the routine of life to continue unhampered. And indeed it seemed to do just that at first. Unimpaired by the rain, the Hunters and Father Murphy had departed shortly after a fine wedding meal prepared by Mrs. Hunter with Elise’s help.
Following a supper of leftovers from the midday meal, the children were put through their going-to-bed paces. It was only as Micah blew out the candle by his bed and Benjamin turned down the lamp on the table that he fully realized this was his wedding day. He’d known all along that the usual significance of the wedding night would not be happening. He had never wanted it. The marriage had never been intended for that. Yet he could not ignore the sudden awkwardness he felt as the cabin quieted and the subtle shadows of night prevailed.
Straightening his back, he took a covert glance to where Elise stood over Oliver’s cradle, tucking in the quilt around the child. The baby had been asleep for a half hour, and Benjamin had already checked the covers. But he sensed that Elise, too, was feeling a bit disconcerted. Deciding it was best to confront the matter head on, Benjamin strode to her side.
“It’s been quite a day,” he said softly. “It has even worn out the children.”
“Yes . . .” She gently fingered one of Oliver’s soft brown curls.
It surprised him how deeply her small gesture stirred him. It was as if she truly were the mother of his child. It confused and flustered him and made him want to flee from the cabin, forgetting all attempts to deal with anything. He tried to steady himself by conjuring up an image of Rebekah in his mind, but all that did was stir up angst and misery. Licking dry lips, he was about to turn and make a hasty retreat when she touched his arm.
“Benjamin, I know this is difficult for you,” she said as if she had read his mind. “In marrying me, I am afraid you have given up your home.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I just don’t feel right that you should be relegated indefinitely to the barn. It is cold and drafty in there. Not fit for the man of the house.”
“Are you suggesting . . . ?” he could not voice what he was thinking.
“I am suggesting that it is only right for
me
to stay in the barn.”
He burst out laughing. But when Oliver stirred, he choked back his amusement to a silent snicker.
“What—?” She reddened. “Oh, dear me! You didn’t think . . . ?”
“Elise, this has easily been the strangest day of my life.” His laughter calmed, but he still felt an unaccountable lightness, though it was vying against all the other raging emotions warring inside him at the moment. “I don’t know what to think about it, or what to do. Marriage has always been a deep and solemn matter for me. I can’t just brush aside what occurred here today. I thought up until the moment we stood before the priest that that’s what we would do. Then everything . . .” His mind was in such disarray he could not think of the proper words.
“Went haywire?” she supplied just the right words.
“Yes . . .”
“I felt it, too. Perhaps it was wrong to have tried to make a celebration of the wedding.” She sighed. “I thought it would be good for the children. I never considered how confusing it would be to me—”
“To us.”
She stared at him, and he wondered by the way she looked if she was seeing him for the first time.
“We are married, Benjamin! I, too, hold the state of marriage in high regard. We made vows today, commitments. And it was only as I uttered them that I realized I meant them. I truly intend to abide by them.”
“I do, too.” Benjamin walked to the table and sat on the bench. Elise joined him. “Part of me feels that I am being unfaithful to Rebekah. Our marriage was far from perfect. I’m convinced now that she did not really love me, not that I deserved her love. In fact, I doubt I loved her in the way I should. But I was always faithful to her. I never even thought about other women. Ah, but I’m sure my faithfulness was not so much in honor of her, rather it was really because I had to look good. I had to maintain the appearance of a godly man and minister of Christ. Nevertheless . . .” He idly fingered a spoon left on the table.
He didn’t know what he was trying to say or how to express it if he did.
“It’s . . . been a strange day,” he repeated.
“Perhaps all will seem normal by the light of a new day.”
Did she truly believe that? Nothing would ever be normal again.
Benjamin’s true struggle was in deciding whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He studied her by the tiny flame in the lamp, shadows dancing about her face and occasionally flickering in her eyes, causing light to sparkle in them like moonbeams.
She was his wife, for better or worse. Instinctively he sensed it would be for
better
, that they had done a good thing today, though it scared him, confused him. Suddenly he rose.
“Thank you for listening to me.” He knew he had to leave, because everything inside him was telling him to stay.
“Where are you going?”
“To the barn.” When her brow knit, he added lightly, “Don’t feel sorry for me. Actually, it is I who feels twinges of guilt. I am going to the child-free haven of the barn, leaving you to fend off the hordes.” He smiled down at her. “I think it is an even exchange.”
Q
UIET MOMENTS WERE NOT MANY
in the tiny cabin, thus Elise had not been free to read her New Testament for some time. Having read only the first three books and part of the fourth, she wasn’t even halfway through the book. There was so much more to discover, to learn. So one spring afternoon shortly after her wedding, while Oliver and Leah— easily the two most time-consuming of the children—napped and Isabel was entertaining herself with her doll, Elise took Hannah in her lap, sat in the rocking chair, and opened the book.