She was not present. He was grateful for that much, at least.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Eliza knelt at the altar with Steve by her side. They wore their temple robes. Jacob stood above them. Her family crowded the room, which was no more than a dozen feet square. Jacob was speaking words of advice, as was customary for the officiator. No doubt he had put some thought into them, was pouring out his deepest philosophies on marriage. They were a buzz in her ears.
Seven years. That’s how long it had been since Gideon Kimball had tried to forcibly marry her. She had been a teenager still, young and afraid. Father had been willing to trade her to the Kimballs in order to elevate his favorite son into the quorum. Only Jacob’s courage had stood between Eliza and a life of servitude and misery.
No, I did it too. I stood up to them. I stood up for myself.
Jacob instructed the couple to take each other by the hand in the patriarchal grip. They did so.
So many struggles since those days. Eliza had tried to leave the church, had joined the mainstream LDS and even served for a time as a missionary at Temple Square in Salt Lake. She’d returned home to aid Jacob in rescuing David from his drug addiction in Las Vegas. Had defied her father again, then seen him buried next to Grandma Cowley. Had fought off the Kimballs again. Had defended the valley as the country collapsed into chaos. And finally, Eliza had set out across the blasted landscape to rescue her beloved and bring him home.
I am no longer a child. I am a woman and an adult.
Eliza didn’t kneel next to Steve as chattel, but as an equal.
She squeezed his hand. He returned a thin smile. The marriage ceremony may have been bewildering for him, but if he harbored any thoughts of backing out, he’d better think again. She wasn’t going to let go of him now.
He must have caught her grin, because he met her gaze and mouthed, “What?”
She gave a tiny shake of the head and her smile broadened.
And then it was time.
“Brother Steve,” Jacob said, “do you take Sister Eliza by the right hand and receive her unto yourself to be your lawful and wedded wife for time and all eternity, with a covenant and promise that you will observe and keep all the laws, rites, and ordinances pertaining to this Holy Order of Matrimony in the New and Everlasting Covenant, and this you do in the presence of God, angels, and these witnesses of your own free will and choice?”
“I do.”
Nervous laughter passed around the room. Jacob raised his eyebrows and gave Eliza a wink.
“You’re supposed to say ‘yes,’ ” Eliza whispered.
Steve blushed. “Oh, um, yes.”
“Sister Eliza, do you take Brother Steve by the right hand and give yourself to him to be his lawful and wedded wife, and for him to be your lawful and wedded husband, for time and all eternity, with a covenant and promise that you will observe and keep all the laws, rites, and ordinances pertaining to this Holy Order of Matrimony in the New and Everlasting Covenant, and this you do in the presence of God, angels, and these witnesses of your own free will and choice?”
Eliza’s heart pounded. “Yes.”
And then Jacob was buzzing again, something about marriage for time and all eternity, multiplying and replenishing the earth and all that, blah, blah, blah. He seemed to be milking it.
Get on with it!
And then he pronounced them married and Eliza floated to her feet. Steve was grinning like an idiot and so were Jacob and Fernie and Miriam and David. It was all Eliza could do not to swoon.
They made their way out of the sealing room and fought through the crush of people in the front rooms of the temple. Everyone seemed to have a reason for delaying the new couple. It was all rather transparent.
Fernie caught up with Eliza and tugged on her sleeve. “Hey, hold up.”
“I see what you’re doing,” Eliza said with a raised eyebrow. “I was there when we trashed David’s car. I know the wagon—or whatever is waiting—is going to be decorated like a clown car.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean yes, of course. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Fernie handed over a small leather bag with a drawstring, then gestured for Eliza to lean down so she could whisper in her ear.
“You’re commanded to multiply and replenish the earth,” Fernie whispered in her ear, “but you don’t need to do it on your honeymoon, if you know what I mean.”
Eliza’s face felt hot. She took the bag. Some sort of natural birth control. A folk remedy? No, Fernie was married to a doctor. Whatever it was would offer some efficacy.
“For after you’re done,” Fernie added. “To prevent fertilization. Read the instructions.”
Steve had been vigorously pumping hands with all manner of well-wishers and his eyes widened when the doors of the temple swung open to cheers from an even greater throng on the stairs and sidewalk outside. And there it was, their wagon and team of horses, decorated with strips of colored cloth, tin cans on strings, and ribbons. The horses wore bonnets decorated with wildflowers.
Jacob stood at the doorway and beckoned theatrically. “Off you go! Happy honeymooning.”
Even before the collapse, honeymoons in Blister Creek had not been celebrated by jaunts to Disney World or the Bahamas. If the husband was the type to consider a new wife as a piece of his eternal inheritance, the woman would be lucky if he took her hunting in the mountains for the weekend. The more romantic had honeymooned in the beautiful, otherworldly national parks of the southwest: the Grand Canyon, Zion, Arches, Bryce Canyon. But even these locations were off-limits at the moment, and might be for years to come.
Instead, Eliza’s family had cleaned out a little brick farmhouse at the far northeast corner of the valley, in the green foothills two miles north of Stephen Paul Young’s compound. With a little extra elevation, it was a cold place in winter, but in summer it was beautiful, with green meadows and wildflowers, and a bubbling spring that ran to join the creek on the valley floor. Aspens stretched up the mountainside behind the home.
One of Stephen Paul’s brothers had lived out here until last year, before relocating to the safety of the central valley. Because of its exposed location, Grover and Henry Smoot rode ahead of the wagon as a precaution, and were already patrolling the perimeter when the couple arrived. They stayed at a discreet distance.
Eliza paused in front of the door and glanced back at Steve, who was coming up behind with a suitcase. “You still look pretty feeble,” she said. “Maybe I should be the one doing the carrying over the threshold.”
“No way. I feel great. Ready to run a marathon, in fact.”
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.”
He swept her up and carried her across, then acted like he’d hurt his back when he got her inside. The act stopped when he looked around. Vases with cut flowers sat around the room and a bowl of strawberries waited in the middle of the table. The curtains were fresh and clean and the floors swept. The room smelled of rose water.
“Did you do all this?”
“It sure wasn’t the Smoot boys.”
“It’s wonderful. What time did you get up this morning?”
“Early. I had to scout it out. Make sure it was suitable for my man. I can’t always be bashing skulls, you know. Sometimes I have to show my gentle side.” She shrugged. “I had some help.”
Steve pulled her in and kissed her long and hard. A flood of warmth washed through her body. This time she didn’t fight it. She was married now. Such a simple observation, but it filled her with a thrill.
At last she pulled away. “You’re stubbly again. Why don’t you shave while I get ready? There’s no running water, so you’ll have to go out to the pump.”
“And leave you?” He sighed.
“Go on. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom when you come back.”
Eliza went into t
he bedroom and closed the door. In the drawers she found a green silk nightie wrapped in paper. A gift from Fernie. She undressed and put her clothes in the closet, slipped into the nightie, pulled her braids out to spread her hair, then lay back and waited. She didn’t feel embarrassed or underdressed. She was too aroused.
When Steve came in he gaped. “Oh, my G—” He stopped himself. “My goodness.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“Go ahead and say it. Just this once.”
“Oh, my God. You are hot.”
“Am I?”
She sat up and leaned forward, coquettishly, she hoped, but since she didn’t have much experience, was worried that it looked silly. From his heavy breathing and flushed look, maybe not. Eliza grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward. He fell down on top of her.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked.
“Of course.” His voice was husky. “You were a missionary at Temple Square. So young and chaste and virtuous.”
“I saw you looking.”
“Good thing you couldn’t read my thoughts.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she said. “You’d better tell me.”
“I was thinking how luscious your breasts looked. They begged to be liberated from all those clothes.”
“You’re a patient man. You waited four years to find out. So? Now is your chance.”
He slid his hand up the side of her body, fingers gliding over the silky fabric. His first touch against her breast was electric, and when his thumb brushed her nipple she gasped. His hand pulled away.
“No, don’t stop,” she begged.
He ignored her and drew the spaghetti strap down over her shoulder to expose her white breast and her pink nipple, now standing rock-hard. Steve lowered his mouth, kissing first at her neck and then moving to her breast. When his lips touched her nipple she arched her back and moaned. He pulled at it slightly. Her body ached all over.
She kissed him hungrily. His body pressed down on her and his leg was between hers. He moved to one side and slid his hand along the inside of her thigh. His fingers traced higher and higher until they touched the warm dampness between her legs. She thought she would hyperventilate.
“Can you—” she began.
“Tell me.”
“Take your clothes off. I want to touch you too.”
“Are you ready?”
“I have been ready for so long.” Her voice trembled. “But slowly, please. I’m a little nervous.”
“Of course.”
Steve was gentle and patient. They kissed for a while and he touched her everywhere. She touched him too, tentatively at first, anxious. Not knowing what she was doing. He guided her hand and showed her.
And then it was time. He lay above her with his body pressed slightly against hers. Their faces were inches apart. His breath was hot against her face. Perspiration beaded his brow.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Eliza Christianson.”
She looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “I would have torn down the gates of hell to bring you back.”
“I know. I love you for it.”
He closed his eyes and leaned forward. She clenched him tight and surrendered her body. And then he was inside her.
It hurt a little, but it also felt good.
Several hours later, in the evening, after they cooked dinner and ate by candlelight, Eliza put on her nightie and stepped onto the porch. Steve pulled on his underwear and followed her outside. It was the first time either of them had been dressed since that morning.
Crickets chirped their nightly chorus. The breeze shook the leaves in the quaking aspen on the hillside behind them. Shivering, she took Steve’s arm and wrapped it around her. To the west and below them, the candles and lanterns of Blister Creek shimmered from windows. The occasional electric light lit the main entrances into town.
“We could stay out here,” Steve said. “Bring the land back into production.”
“We’re police officers now,” she said. “And valley security. Who has time to farm?”
“A garden, then. And some chickens. Maybe a couple of goats.”
“I’d like that. But there’s a reason the Smoot brothers are camped down by the creek with loaded guns.” She spotted something up in the Ghost Cliffs to their right. “Look.”
A flashlight moved along the edge of the cliff, maybe a mile away and several hundred feet above the valley floor. Scouts from the refugee camp. Watching. Waiting.
“Why can’t they leave us alone?” Steve said.
“You were out there. You know the answer to that.”
“It won’t do any good. If they come, we’ll fight them off. Again and again if we have to. We have no choice.”
“I know,” she said. She wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist and leaned her head against his chest. “The rest of the valley is worrying about that. Let them, just for tonight.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her. And then he pulled her toward the door to go back inside.
Outside the valley, the world was burning to ash. Cities turning to dust. Millions dying from starvation and disease. The desperate survivors knew about this sanctuary and were descending upon it like clouds of locusts.
But for tonight, that was not their concern. Steve barred the front door and led Eliza toward their bed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my agent, Katherine Boyle, for her help and advice. Thanks also to my great team at Thomas & Mercer, with a special mention to Anh Schluep, Terry Goodman, Jacque Ben-Zekry, and David Downing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2011 David Garten
Michael Wallace was born in California and raised in a small religious community in Utah, eventually heading east to live in Rhode Island and Vermont. An experienced world traveler, he has trekked through the Andes, ventured into the Sahara on camel, and traveled through Thailand by elephant. In addition to working as a literary agent and innkeeper, he previously worked as a software engineer for a Department of Defense contractor, programming simulators for nuclear submarines. He is the author of more than a dozen novels.
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