Unsung Lullaby

by Josi S. Kilpack

  To her parents’ credit, they didn’t ask many questions. Within half an hour they were knocking on the door. She’d had time to feel silly for calling, and embarrassed for her reasons, but the power of those scriptures had stayed with her. In her own way she was staring into that pit, she felt as if the heavens were going black, and the jaws of hell were waiting. It didn’t compare in circumstance to Christ’s hour of Gethsemane or Joseph Smith’s ultimate test, but she felt pain unlike anything she had ever faced or expected to face in her life. She knew she couldn’t claw her way out by herself.

  Maddie opened the door, and her mother enveloped her in a hug only a mother could give. A hug, Maddie realized, she herself might never give. Her father shut the door behind them and placed a comforting hand on Maddie’s shoulder.

  “What’s happened?” her mom asked when Maddie pulled back. For a moment Maddie worried that she couldn’t find the words to tell them, but she opened her mouth, and it all came tumbling out. The shock on their faces barely fazed her.

  “I don’t know how to handle this,” she said between sobs several minutes later. Her mom was sitting next to her on the bed, and her dad had pulled up a chair. Her mother’s hand in hers gave her strength to continue. “I keep trying to think what to do, and the only solution I can come up with is to leave him and start over.”

  “What Matt did was wrong,” her dad said. “But he’s a good man.”

  “I can’t seem to convince myself of that,” Maddie said with a shake of her head. “But I want to believe it. I want to find peace.”

  Her father stood, and Maddie took his seat. Then he walked to the back of the chair without another word. Her father’s hands resting on her head relaxed her. “Madeline Marie Jackman Shep, by the power . . .”

  She tried to listen to each and every word he spoke, but before long they blended together. Her father’s love and her Heavenly Father’s love burrowed into her soul and released the valve holding in all the anger and hurt. Allen’s blessing of a few weeks earlier had calmed her, but this blessing helped to remove the burden of Matt’s sins from her heart.

  “You are not being punished,” her father’s voice said, though she knew the words were not his. “You are being challenged and will be helped as you choose the future ahead of you.” She was told how much Matt loved her and reminded that he had been forgiven of these sins long ago.

  When her father closed the blessing and removed his hands, she opened her eyes. Her mother was crying. Her father was too, but Maddie’s eyes had dried.

  She looked at her hands, not able to deny the peace and comfort she felt. “I feel better,” she said. “But I don’t feel like I got an answer.”

  “Sometimes,” her father said as he came around and sat on the bed across from her, “it’s not about getting an answer as much as making a choice. Your Father in Heaven doesn’t want you to make a choice that will bring you agony any more than your mother and I do. But if you go back to Matt, you will have to make the choice to do so—the choice to forgive him and accept what may lie ahead.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Then you will have made another choice,” he said. “You will have chosen to leave him to face it alone, to turn your back on the covenants you made to God and to Matt. He did repent, Maddie—he was an honorable missionary and has been a good man and a good husband. Leaving him because you can’t forgive what the Lord has already forgiven would be a heavy burden for you to carry.”

  Maddie met his eye. “You think I should stay?” she asked, disappointed and wondering if they understood how she felt. Then she realized they couldn’t understand, not completely. No one who hadn’t sat right where she was could see things from her perspective. No one, that is, except Christ. He had not sat where she sat now, but He knew. Hadn’t she just received His words, through her father?

  “You need to decide for yourself,” her dad replied. “When Christ atoned for the sins of mankind, He also took upon Himself the pain caused to others through those sins. It doesn’t make what you’re going through easy to bear, but it makes it easier—bearable. It’s a big choice, a life-changing choice, whichever path you follow.”

  They were silent, and Maddie stared at her hands in her lap as she considered his words. It didn’t feel like this was something she could bear, but she’d been taught about the power of the Atonement all her life, and she couldn’t ignore it now.

  “Do you still love your husband, Maddie?” her mom asked after almost a minute of silence.

  She’d been wondering when they would ask that. She considered saying that she wasn’t sure, or that she didn’t know anymore, but it seemed silly to lie about it. She did love Matt. That was why this hurt so much. She finally nodded, still looking at her hands.

  “Most people expect forgiveness to be a feeling or an event, Maddie—something that comes over them and allows them to let go. But it’s not that way. Forgiveness is a choice you have to make. It will be the decision to go home, love your husband, and support him through this, while allowing him to comfort you. It won’t feel better or even right all at once. But if you choose to do this, and lean on the Lord to hold you up, you will grow into it, and one day it won’t sting quite as much as it does now.”

  “And if I choose not to go back? If I decide, along with everything else we can’t have, this is too much?”

  “Those things won’t necessarily feel better or right, either. They will also be hard and painful. I would hope that one day they, too, would lose their sting. The difference is that you once promised to love and support Matt in all things. You promised God, and I can’t imagine you would find the same peace in a choice that breaks your promises.” She paused, and Maddie stared at her hands in her lap. “And something you’re probably not thinking about very much right now is how hard and painful this is for Matt—all of this. He needs you and your love and help to get through this, just as much as you need his.”

  Maddie’s first instinct was to argue again, but she couldn’t. The words cut deep, and she didn’t have the pride left within her to find an argument worthy of the energy it would take to dispute her mother’s words.

  Her parents stayed for another hour, talking it out, helping her see the big picture. She’d never had such a discussion with them, and she found safety in their words. They loved her, she knew it, and they wanted to help her make a choice that would give her the greatest joy. Their insight helped her see beyond herself—a little. When they all ran out of words, her parents begged her to come home with them, and when she refused that, they offered to stay with her at the hotel.

  “I’m okay,” Maddie said, feeling stronger thanks to their help and the blessing. “I feel like I need this time to myself.” She had to repeat it several times before they gave up trying to convince her otherwise.

  “You’ll call if you need anything?” her mother asked at the door.

  “I promise.”

  They left, and Maddie pulled a chair next to the window. It was almost midnight. A full moon illuminated the snow, making the night look more like early morning. She wondered what Matt was doing, if he was looking out the window thinking about her. She missed him, and the realization surprised her. Wasn’t she too angry to miss him?

  Do I believe in forgiveness? she asked herself. Yes, she knew she did. Even for a serious sin like Matt’s? This one was harder. She had talked to many people on her mission about forgiveness, and she had believed it then, for them. But did she believe that the same forgiveness applied to Matt? Not really, she admitted. He was supposed to be better than those people. He knew better.

  It took another hour to boil down her feelings to one solid truth: All she had ever wanted was to be happy. That was the core reason behind having the perfect little family. “Men are, that they might have joy.” Might she also find it? She had always expected she would. But could she find it now? After all this heartbreak? Could she have the faith to look at her life and make joy from the pieces she had left? It seemed overw
helming at the moment.

  Maddie went to the dresser and pulled out the manila envelope Matt had sent with her. She opened it and, one by one, read through the different letters and correspondence he’d received in regards to the paternity test. She found his explanation, written on two pieces of paper. He explained who Sonja was, how he knew her, and how it had happened. He also explained the hours and hours of study, the heartfelt prayer, and the dedication he gave to the gospel because he knew what it felt like to lose the Spirit, and he never wanted to feel that again. He apologized over and over, explained the timing of the letters, the desire he had to protect her from this if he could. But he also said he knew he was wrong.

  She could read it only once before putting it aside and continuing with the letters from the attorney. The last letter in the stack was still in the original envelope. It confirmed that his blood sample had been received by a lab in New Jersey.

  By next week they would know whether Matt had a child. The thought made her stomach sink, but she ignored it for once. As she folded the paper, she noticed there was something else in the envelope. She pulled it out and looked upon the photo of the boy who may or may not belong to her husband.

  He had light brown skin and long, dark hair that hung to his shoulders. It was unkempt, and his smile revealed he would need braces in the next few years. But his eyes captured her attention. Her breathing slowed. For almost a minute she stared at the picture, seeing so many similarities between Matt and this boy while talking herself out of them at the same time. This boy couldn’t be Matt’s son. How could the Lord allow Matt to serve a mission if he knew Matt had fathered a child? Then she looked at the scriptures still lying open on the bed. She considered reading again, but she was too emotionally and physically drained. She picked up the triple combination and closed the book, smoothing her hands over the textured leather. The scriptures had been a gift from Matt on their first wedding anniversary. The name Madeline Jackman Shep was embossed in silver across the cover.

  Remembering that night, she realized that Matt was the same man now as he had been when he had given her the standard works that shared his name. He was the same man now as he had been when she had promised to love and cleave to him for eternity. Maybe the reason he hadn’t told her the truth about his past was because he feared she would react just as she had reacted. Perhaps her own piety exacted the price of his secrecy.

  Her eyes were drawn to the boy’s picture again, and she propped it up against her scriptures on the nightstand. She turned off the lights and climbed into bed, thinking about the boy in the picture for the first time. In the attorney’s letter they referred to him as “the child.” But this child was a boy without a father, a boy who could change her whole life. Another thought, not entirely welcome, came to mind. She and Matt had prayed for children. For years they had begged the heavens to make them into a family.

  She asked herself for a moment why she wasn’t spending time thinking about the possibility that this boy wasn’t Matt’s—but she knew the answer. In the darkness, she could just make out the face in the photo. She stared for several moments and tried to talk herself out of the understanding that was dawning.

  ****

  The next morning Maddie showered, dressed in a light blue jogging suit, and went down to her car. She didn’t check out of the hotel—she wasn’t ready to go home for good—but there was something she had to do.

  It was almost ten when she let herself into the apartment. Matt’s dishes were in the sink, and his scriptures were open on the counter.

  The boy’s picture was in her purse, and she took it out, stared at it for a few seconds, and put it on the coffee table. She went to the bookshelves where the photo albums were kept. Two years ago she’d done a scrapbook of their lives to that point as a Christmas gift. She flipped pages until she found the one she wanted, then returned to the couch. She placed the scrapbook on the coffee table and put the photo next to it. For a few seconds she looked back and forth between the two smiling faces. They were about the same age, and there was no denying the similarity. It would be easy to overlook if you were a casual observer. However, Maddie was not a casual observer. Matt was fair and freckle-faced, his hair light brown and cut short. But the eyes of both faces were the same dark blue, with the same shape, and framed by the same powerful brow line. Even the snaggly smiles, with the gaps and partially grown-in teeth, were similar.

  Maddie let out a breath and cupped her hands over her mouth as she realized with absolute certainty that the paternity test was a waste of time. The evidence was right there, smiling back at her with the innocent abandon of youth.

  She had a choice to make. She slid off the couch and onto her knees.

  “Lord,” she whispered, still in disbelief over what she’d discovered, “what would you have me do?” In contrast to the similar prayer she had uttered in the car five nights ago, this one was sincere. She was beyond humble and felt prepared to do whatever it was He wanted her to do. Still on her knees, with only the ticking of the clock to be heard, she opened her eyes and looked at the photos again. She turned several pages in the scrapbook until she found the pictures from Matt’s mission. He had served an honorable mission, and she knew he was a better man for it. Yet his child had paid the price for it. Was that fair? Her mind was suddenly impressed with the fact that it wasn’t her job to figure that part out—that she should leave that issue in hands bigger, wiser, and far more capable than her own. What she needed to do was have faith. Faith that she did know the man she loved, and that God knew him too. She turned to another page, their wedding day, and stared at the naïve and love-struck couple. She knew what she was supposed to do.

  If her Father in Heaven wanted her here, she would stay. Yet she knew it would not be easy. She turned back to the picture of Matt as a little boy, and the photo of the boy who was his son. She touched the little brown face in the photograph. She and Matt had longed for a child. It deeply hurt her to know that another woman had created him, that Matt had taken for granted back then the same intimacy they shared as husband and wife. But Matt did have a child, and, as his wife, so did she. She looked at that face again and felt a connection, a kinship, and for that instant she was at peace with it. There was a method to the madness that had put them here.

  This boy was part of that.

  Chapter 21

  Matt went to the gym after work—anything to avoid returning home to the empty apartment. But it couldn’t be put off forever. He pulled into the parking space and let himself in a few minutes after six. The eerie stillness of the apartment depressed him, and he felt the need to turn on the TV and fill the room with sound. The open scrapbook on the coffee table stopped him. It took only a second to assure himself he hadn’t put it there as he hurried toward it. Then he saw the other photo. He felt the anger and guilt and despair rush through him, but he picked up the photo and stared at it. When it had come in the mail, he’d only glanced at it before shoving it into the envelope. Now he really looked. Could this boy be his son?

  “Maddie?” he called, though he knew she wasn’t here. Knowing she had been here, however, made the apartment feel more like home. He sat on the couch and looked at the scrapbook. His brow furrowed, and he looked again at the photo in his hand and then back at his own grade-school picture. Then he took a deep breath and laid the pictures side by side. He noticed a single piece of notebook paper lying beside the scrapbook, and when the initial shock passed, he picked it up.

  I’m in room 722 at the Iron Blosam Lodge. Will you meet me there for dinner at 6:00? We need to discuss some things. Bring the picture.

  Maddie

  He looked at the clock and leapt to his feet. It was 6:08. He was late!

  He jumped in the car and sped to Little Cottonwood Canyon. As he drove, he called the Iron Blosam’s front desk from his cell phone and asked to be connected to Maddie’s room, but was told her line was only taking messages. He left a message and continued to drive as fast as he dared, winding up the
canyon roads with his heart thumping in his chest.

  It was 6:40 when he pulled into the parking lot. He was too anxious to wait for an elevator, and only while taking the stairs two at a time did it occur to him that she might be planning to tell him she didn’t want to see him again. His steps slowed, and he was still trying to catch his breath when he knocked on her hotel room door seven flights later. It seemed to take forever before the door opened.

  Maddie peeked out at him through a four-inch gap, her expression blank. “I didn’t think you were coming,” she said. Her curls were pinned up, and he thought she had a little makeup on. Would she dress up to give him bad news?

  “I hate going home knowing you won’t be there, so I went to the gym,” he said between deep, sucking breaths. “I got here as fast as I could, once I got the note.”

  She stood to the side, inviting him in. He passed her, but her hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to look at her and noticed tears in her eyes. “I love you, Matt,” she whispered. “I’m still mad, and hurt, and scared—but I love you, and I want us to do this together if you’ll let me.”

  “Let you?” Matt choked. Wasn’t it obvious that having her was the only thing he wanted? Tears began to course down his cheeks as he absorbed her words. Until a couple of weeks ago he could have counted on one hand the times he’d cried as an adult. Now, between nearly losing Maddie’s life and then losing her love, he couldn’t seem to stop.

  Maddie continued. “I’ve been hard on you,” she said, now wiping her own eyes. “For a long time, for a lot of reasons, and I’m sorry for not being the kind of wife you could share things with.”

  Hearing her apologize broke his heart, and he shook his head. “Don’t apologize to me,” he said, wanting to pull her into an embrace but sensing it was too soon. “I’m the one who did this. I’m the only one who needs forgiveness. I’m sorry for everything, but mostly that it happened in the first place. You deserved better, and you were right when you said that I should have told you. I just didn’t want to be anything less than what you wanted me to be—but I wasn’t fair to you in the process. I’m so sorry.”