Tomorrow and Always

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Malcolm handed her the hymnal, but she shook her head. She didn’t feel like singing. What she wished she could do was sleep. But if she slept, she might have to take medication so the dream wouldn’t return to haunt her.

  They had missed the opening prayer and announcements, and when the song ended the young boys passed the sacrament. Karissa felt as if all eyes were on her as she refused the bread and water. Why had she agreed to come? Painful memories stalked her conscience. Maybe I should have just taken it. But she and Malcolm both knew they weren’t worthy, and she couldn’t bring herself to mock God further.

  Finally the torturous ordinance was complete, and Teresa and Charles took turns speaking, mostly about how proud they were of their son and how much they loved the gospel. Karissa felt increasingly uncomfortable. Then Curtis arose.

  “It’s good to be back,” he said. “I have to admit, though, that I was pretty reluctant to come home. I’ve just spent the two best years of my life—so far.” He paused and searched the crowd with his eyes. “I know that’s because my mission was so spiritual. But like all of you, I also know that I will go on to have even more spiritual experiences as I marry, have children, and fulfill church callings. I’m so grateful for the foundation the Lord gave me while serving a mission. I can never repay Him for that. I just hope I can go forward and not look back on these last two years as always being the best of my whole life, because I know from my parents’ example that there is so much more in store. We should always progress.”

  Karissa glanced at Malcolm to see a strange look on his face. She wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps about his own mission to Arizona all those years ago? Did he think of them as the two best years of his life? The thought brought a sadness to her heart, one she had thought she was beyond feeling.

  “Let me introduce you to a few of the people I met while in Canada,” Curtis continued. He began to describe a family and their challenges in accepting the gospel.

  Karissa’s mind wandered. It sounded like every other missionary talk she’d ever heard. She began counting the children, comparing their ratio with the adults—about three to one. When she was finished, she thought about how long it had taken to work her way up to her first administration job at a hospital, and how she was now the top person, except for the board. She couldn’t ask for a better job, though she missed the challenges a bigger hospital might provide. If only she could forget her appalling secret, she might consider herself happy. No, I won’t think about that now. Better to listen to Curtis.

  “Our mission president told us that if we were willing to give up our greatest sin, the thing we wanted most would be granted to us,” Curtis was saying. He paused to wipe his eyes with sturdy fingertips. Now Karissa’s attention was riveted on the boy. The thing he wanted most would be granted to him? What was he saying?

  “I tell you it’s true. We tried it, and the family was able to come to terms with their problems and be baptized. If ever you want something, ask yourself what you are willing to give up to get it? Which of your sins will you sacrifice to receive your greatest desire? Like He did with me, I know Heavenly Father will bless you.”

  Karissa didn’t hear much after that. The impact of the boy’s statement burrowed into her heart, and she couldn’t get it out. What could it mean to her? She had abandoned God so long ago that He probably didn’t remember her, even if she was willing to give up any of her sins—which she wasn’t. She liked her life the way it was.

  Didn’t she?

  After the service, they drove to Charles’ house, where the family room seemed a mass of darting youngsters. Malcolm’s six siblings each had a host of children. Only he had none.

  Karissa sat off to the side, watching the family and not feeling part of it. Malcolm was talking with several of his brothers, apparently enjoying himself. He did stay away from his father, she noticed, and was glad. The last time they had been together they had fought about his smoking and his lifestyle. Not that she and Malcolm flaunted their beliefs. It was just difficult to cover up the smell of tobacco. She wished she could go out in the yard and have a cigarette now, but she didn’t want to cause problems; things were awkward enough. Maybe after dinner she and Malcolm could escape for a walk and a little freedom before their flight back to Kodiak.

  “You know, I believe the body can heal itself,” a voice said at her shoulder.

  Karissa looked over to see Faith, Malcolm’s mother. She had straight black hair reaching nearly to her waist, dark eyes, and full lips. Because of her Aleutian blood, she reminded Karissa of an Eskimo. The Aleuts and Eskimos had always seemed similar to her, though Malcolm claimed they looked nothing alike. In Karissa’s opinion, Faith could have appeared at home in an igloo. Only the round glasses on her face were out of place.

  “If you eat right, and don’t take things into your body that can harm it, your body will be able to heal itself,” Faith repeated.

  Karissa blinked, trying to figure out what the woman was saying. “I’m healthy,” she ventured. From her taller height, she could see the top of Faith’s black head.

  “You don’t have a child,” the other woman said softly.

  Karissa stared at her, feeling her face darken as rage, embarrassment, and shame vied for preeminence in her emotions. “What does that have to with anything?” she managed to say, her voice tense, but still polite.

  “Good foods are for the body, to help it. Smoking is particularly bad.”

  “The Word of Wisdom,” Karissa seethed.

  The older woman smiled. “Not just that. My people have always believed in taking care of the body. It is a way of life.”

  “Oh, it’s native folklore,” Karissa answered somewhat condescendingly. Though people of many races were born on Kodiak Island, only those of Aleutian blood were called natives.

  Faith seemed unperturbed at her outburst. “You and Malcolm need to stop smoking and eat right if you want to have a baby.”

  “Malcolm too?” That seemed to be stretching credibility.

  “Of course. It takes two to have a baby.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.

  “Of course,” Karissa repeated dryly. Only because Faith was Malcolm’s mother did she restrain herself from rolling her eyes in disbelief.

  “Having fun?” a grinning Malcolm asked, appearing beside her.

  Karissa flipped back the ends of her hair. “Well, your mother here was just saying that if we stopped smoking, we could have a baby.”

  “And eat right,” Faith added.

  “Oh, yes, and eat right. No more fast food, especially those McDonald’s french fries.” Karissa’s voice was light, but she felt Malcolm glance at her sharply. He knew her mockery too well.

  “Smoking?” Malcolm asked with false innocence.

  Faith’s black eyes narrowed. “I can smell it on you, Malcolm. I always can, no matter how you wash before you visit.”

  “The Word of Wisdom,” he said. “Do we have to go through this again?”

  “Native,” Karissa corrected him. “This time it’s native.” For some reason, that bothered her even more. She had ignored Joseph Smith’s revelation for a long time now, but she found it more difficult to disregard native beliefs. She had been on Kodiak long enough to see midwives deliver babies and treat illnesses with herbs as competently as any doctor. She had always respected them.

  Malcolm steered her away from his mother. “I want to go home,” she whispered. “Now. I can’t stand this.”

  “She’s harmless, Karissa. Don’t listen to her. She’s just an old woman who wants grandchildren.”

  “She has plenty of grandchildren.”

  “Not from me.”

  Guilt assailed Karissa. Why wouldn’t her body work? “It’s not just her.” She hesitated. It had been a long time since she had confided anything to Malcolm. “I’m nervous about tomorrow, seeing the new specialist and all. What if—” She broke off.

  “What if he doesn’t have anything new to tell us?” A bleak expression came over his
face. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Karissa wanted to hug him, to say that everything would be all right, but she couldn’t. She knew it would never be all right again. Infertility was her cross to bear, a payment for her sin. She turned from him. “Let’s go home—please.” Without looking back, she walked out the door and down the walkway. He could follow or stay as he pleased, but she was going to take the first plane back to Kodiak.

  Mounds of snow lined the freshly shoveled walk, but Karissa’s boots crunched on a few stray clumps of ice and snow. Malcolm joined her before she reached their rented car. “What did you tell them?” she asked.

  “That you weren’t feeling well. They didn’t seem to mind too much about our leaving. I think my mother felt bad, though. You know, sometimes I think it would be better if she had never left the Russian Orthodox Church. Such cute little buildings.”

  “Well their churches are interesting, to be sure, but that hardly seems a reason to change religions.”

  “Look, there’s one now.” He pointed to a white building in the distance, trimmed with green and topped with a dome. “Even Karluk has one, you know.” Karissa knew that Karluk was one of the small native villages on Kodiak near where Malcolm was filming.

  “Do you really wish she hadn’t joined the Mormons?” Karissa asked. Years had passed since they had discussed religion. For some reason it bothered her that Malcolm could consider any other faith.

  His brow furrowed thoughtfully. “It’s just that Mormons take things so seriously.” He opened the car door for her.

  She waited until he was settled in the seat beside her before continuing. “Mormons take things too seriously? Or do we take things too lightheartedly?” Before Malcolm could answer, she asked, “Do you consider yourself a Mormon?”

  “I guess so. I don’t think about it much.”

  His statement seemed significant somehow. For herself, she knew the Church was true, but knowing made her guilt more grievous.

  They didn’t talk much on the hour-long plane ride back to Kodiak Island. Nor did they talk as Malcolm drove his Jeep to the house through the incessant rain. Before Karissa knew it, she had drifted off to sleep in her seat.

  And the dream came. She walked through the house, a baby girl in her arms. As she passed through a doorway, she walked too close and the baby’s head hit the door. A simple mistake. The baby cried, and Karissa tried to comfort her.

  The baby looked at her and said, “Why did you kill me? I would have loved you.” Then the baby lay still in her arms and did not move again.

  Karissa awoke with a start.

  “I’m sorry,” Malcolm said. “I knew I took that corner a little sharp. Did I wake you?”

  “No. It was a dream.” She was still groggy enough to tell him the truth.

  “Oh? What about?”

  “Nothing. I don’t remember now.” But as always, when having the dream or a variation of the dream, Karissa felt shaken to her core.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally arrived at their house. Now she could take medication to help her sleep and go right to bed. She would forget this whole miserable day.

  As they climbed from the Jeep, a delicious aroma came from the kitchen, filling the garage. She sniffed appreciatively, her mouth watering. “Brionney must be cooking.”

  “I wonder if there’s enough for us.” Malcolm looked hungry.

  “I’ll race you!”

  Brionney started as Karissa threw open the kitchen door. “Oh, you’re home. You’re still in time to eat—if you’re hungry. I was just putting the leftovers away. I’m sorry I didn’t see you this morning before you left. I’ve been spending a lot of time over the toilet, if you know what I mean. I don’t remember ever being so sick.” She grimaced. “Oh, that must make the food sound really appetizing. I’m sorry.”

  Malcolm grinned. “We skipped lunch, so I’d eat anything right now. Even if it didn’t smell so wonderful.”

  Her face lit in a wide smile. “Then sit down.” Both Karissa and Malcolm dived to the bar stools.

  “How are your headaches?” Karissa asked, scooping a great forkful of cheese-covered casserole.

  Two dimples brightened Brionney’s face. “Gone completely since leaving that house. You can’t believe what a relief that is.”

  “Natural gas can be dangerous,” Malcolm said.

  Brionney nodded. “I feel the Lord protected us.”

  “Maybe He did,” Malcolm replied. “Where’s Jesse?”

  “He’s home teaching, but he’ll be back soon. We always read scriptures with the girls before putting them to bed. The girls are upstairs now, getting ready.”

  “This is delicious!” Malcolm reached for another forkful.

  “It really is,” Karissa agreed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cooked a meal from scratch. It hardly seemed worth the effort for just the two of them. But how easy Brionney made it seem! She must have been born to be a wife and mother. I’ll bet she’s never had a serious problem in her whole life, Karissa thought.

  Malcolm finished his second helping while Karissa pulled out a cigarette. She sighed in contentment. Maybe it was time to hire someone to cook for them. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford it.

  Her peace was shattered by a chorus of giggles and whispering as Savannah, Camille, and Rosalie burst into the room. “Is Dad home yet?” Savannah asked. She fell silent when she saw Karissa and Malcolm.

  “There she is. Ask her,” Camille whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. She elbowed her older sister.

  Savannah returned the nudge. “No, you ask her,” she whispered, equally loud.

  “Ask me what?” Karissa took a puff of her cigarette.

  The girls said nothing.

  Karissa looked away, and the whispering began again. This time she could discern only a word or two. Finally, the girls grew silent. As Karissa glanced at them out of the corner of her eye, Savannah and Camille were trying to push Rosalie in her direction. Rosalie resisted until Savannah whispered, “I’ll buy you a candy bar.”

  Little Rosalie set her jaw and walked timidly up to Karissa. “Can we, uh, play in the plants?” she mumbled. “I not break them. Promise.”

  “The plants?”

  “There.” Rosalie pointed over her shoulder to the far wall, where the huge window looked out on the greenhouse.

  Only then did Karissa understand. The girls wanted to play in the greenhouse! She knew they’d wanted to play in it the last time they had stayed, but she’d managed to find their parents a house before the request had actually been voiced. Now she had no choice but to confront the question.

  It wasn’t as easy as it might have been. Originally, she had built it for the children who would have been hers, but now it had become a kind of monument to them. To have other children playing there would desecrate her own children’s imaginary presence.

  “That’s okay if you don’t want us to,” Savannah added, coming to stand beside her little sister. “You wouldn’t want us to get the sand everywhere anyway.” She stared sadly at Karissa. With her blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the girl looked like a small angel.

  Suddenly, Karissa wanted to see all three girls in the greenhouse among the plants, cavorting and laughing to their hearts’ content. It was high time that sad, silent place heard the innocent laughter of children.

  Karissa could feel Malcolm’s eyes on her, and Brionney’s too. She took a deep breath and stubbed out her cigarette. “Come with me,” she said, taking Rosalie’s hand.

  She led the way to the laundry room, situated between the kitchen and the family room. “Now, I know you’ll be careful not to hurt the plants,” she told them. “But when you come inside you must remember to clean up here before going into the rest of the house. We don’t want sand everywhere. There are some towels you can use.” She pointed to a rack between the sink and the washer. “Just get them a little wet, clean up, and put them in the washer when you’re through.”


  The girls’ eyes danced as she opened the door and led them into the greenhouse. A row of six- and eight-foot house trees circled the vast space, with plenty of room left to reach the ceiling. Cobblestones lined small pathways in and around the trunks. Toward the middle of the greenhouse was a huge patch of sand encircled by a low concrete wall. To the far side, a small waterfall rushed down some rocks into an ankle-deep pond where goldfish swam in lazy circles. Hanging plants and creeping vines along the two-story ceiling nearly masked the double-layered plastic walls that were fogged from the outside rain, making it appear as if they were in another world completely.

  “It’s pretty!” Camille exclaimed. She went to stand next to several palm trees near the door, touching the leaves gently.

  Karissa smiled. “That’s a bamboo palm,” she said, remembering how long it had taken her to find the tree in Anchorage. “And that one’s a pygmy date palm. I have eleven varieties of palms. But come over here and I’ll show you my favorite tree.” She led the way to the ficus benjamina that now reached above her head. “This is a weeping fig. That’s its common name.” She ran her hands lightly through the small, bright-green leaves.

  “I like this one the best,” Camille said, pointing to a plant with large leaves. “What’s it called?”

  “Monstera deliciosa or split-leaf philodendron,” Karissa replied. “All plants have at least two names, you know. Their Latin one and their common one.”

  “The air feels funny in here,” Savannah said.

  “It’s the moisture, though it’s not nearly as high as these plants would like. I keep the temperature and the humidity just high enough so they can flourish, but not high enough to make it too uncomfortable for humans. I wanted it to be—” She stopped abruptly. These children didn’t need to know about her desperate wish to have a child.

  “Enough of this,” she said. “Don’t you want to play in the sand?”

  All the children looked longingly at the huge circle of sand, and Rosalie took a step in that direction. Savannah stopped her. “We can’t. It’s Sunday, you know. And besides, we’re in our pajamas.”