And It Came to Pass

by Laura Stone

  Even now, in Brandon’s arms with Brandon’s warm breath on his neck, he still couldn’t help questioning its rightness. He’d been well-trained to always assume his own guilt, after all. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what had happened, that they’d just done all of that to each other. With each other. Good gosh, he was on a mission, for crying out loud. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening between them, still didn’t know if he wanted it to happen again or…No, no he definitely did want it to happen again, but he still had that sense of shame, that overwhelming sense that he should repent for who he was and what he’d done and act as if none of it had happened at all.

  Brandon rolled to his side and pulled Adam up against him. His hands skimmed lightly over Adam’s back, his arm, and trailed over the nape of his neck before he dropped a tender kiss on Adam’s exposed skin. The intimacy shocked him at first, giving way to warmth and a sense of peace.

  Good things were from their Heavenly Father. This… this was something good. Wonderful, even. Good things were from God, and God was love. God was goodness and happiness, and he felt those things more strongly when he was with Brandon than he’d felt anything else in his entire life.

  He kissed Brandon softly at the corner of his mouth and settled deeper into his companion’s arms. He felt safer and more like himself than he could remember as they lay together in silence, drifting toward sleep.

  He decided. He wanted it to happen again. He wouldn’t feel ashamed of this. God was love.

  Chapter Seven

  “And if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.” (Moroni 10:4, Book of Mormon)

  Adam woke to Brandon snoring softly a few feet away in his own bed. He smiled to himself at the memory of their legs hanging off the mattresses while both of them tried to find a position that would be comfortable for the entire night. Because they were both large-framed and their beds were so narrow, Brandon had had to go back to his own bed. Adam swung his legs onto the cold floor and scrubbed his face. While they were warm in their own beds, he could easily let himself believe he’d imagined last night. The dark bite mark on Brandon’s shoulder was a harsh reminder that he hadn’t. Their suits would cover the mark.

  He got to the business of making breakfast and calling in to the mission home, as they were required to do with regularity. That attended to, he sat down to dig into his meal. He looked up from his eggs and the Book of Mormon opened next to his plate to see Brandon joining him with his own plate. Brandon shot him a grin.

  “Hey. ‘Morning. Thanks for the eggs. Any assignments today?”

  Adam pushed the jam toward Brandon and, suddenly shy and unsure, buried his face in his scriptures. “Nope. Just the usual.”

  “Well. I think we need to continue this trend of doing the unusual.”

  Adam’s face grew hot. He looked up; the fork trembled in his hand. “W-what?”

  “Well, there are loads of tourists at the Gaudí temple right now, you know, La Sagrada Família. Could be a good place to go fishing today. Plus, we can make sure we’ve seen all the sights before we’re transferred to the boonies.”

  An awkwardness fell over the two of them at the word “transfer.” The rational part of Adam’s mind, the part that his father and the Church had carefully crafted to put himself and his own wants and needs last, thought it would be the best thing for them, while the newly awakened emotional part was overcome with sadness at not having Brandon as a companion. He couldn’t picture anything about his mission without Brandon at his side.

  They finished breakfast in silence, straightened up the table and spent the required hour in silent personal scripture study. Elder Christensen checked his watch. “Time to get a move on. Do you want to lead?” He knelt in the center of the living room and looked up at Adam with a calm face.

  “No, that’s all right, you go ahead.” Adam knelt with his arms tightly folded against his chest. Guilt and worry began to take root.

  Christensen waited, breathing deeply with his eyes closed before he began their morning prayer. “Our Dear Heavenly Father, we thank You for this day and for the hope of finding those who would benefit from Your Gospel in their lives. We thank Thee for our health, for our minds, and for each other.”

  A tremor shot through Adam at the use of “each other.”

  “We ask for the blessing of clarity so that we may feel Thy spirit move through us. That we may be inspired by the promptings of the Holy Ghost and have the strength to act on those promptings. We ask for our hearts and minds to be opened to one another, that we may work together to bring joy and hope to Your children and… and ourselves. Bless our leaders to have the strength of mind and spirit to lead us. Help us always, in this we pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

  “A-amen,” Adam answered. He sat on his knees, trying to catch hold of the lucidity that had been so evident last night, that surety that what he and Brandon had done together was something good, something right. Darkness seemed to be growing inside him, and his first thought, his first instinct, was to believe that it was the Spirit leaving him because of his iniquity. He should ask for forgiveness, but asking for forgiveness meant that he knew it was wrong, and more importantly, it meant that he would commit to never doing it again. That’s what repentance was.

  He opened his eyes, seeing Brandon’s tie-tack: the angel Moroni sounding his trumpet, a symbol for members of new revelations, of preparation for the Millennium, and of course, of repentance. He didn’t know if he wanted to repent. He didn’t know if what was happening between them was even something to repent for.

  “Elder? You ready?”

  Christensen stood over him, his hand outstretched. Adam bit his lower lip and took it.

  * * *

  Elder Christensen stopped in his tracks, jammed his hands into his suit pants’ pockets and whistled at the giant cathedral’s nativity façade; Adam followed suit, minus the whistle. It was unlike anything Adam had ever seen, like something from The Lord of the Rings. Even with the giant cranes—the building had been under construction for over a century now—it still looked like something ancient, something from fantasy. Huge spires jutted from what had appeared to be drops of mud until he was able to get closer and see the sheer volume of detail, the angels and saints with their musical instruments, and prayers embedded in the textured material that made up the outside. A person could spend a week looking at twenty square feet of it. They both stared at the enormous structure for several minutes along with the throng of other tourists.

  “Kinda makes the stories about the Salt Lake Temple taking forty years to build sound like nothing in comparison, huh?” Brandon said, voice filled with awe. “You know they won’t even be done with this until—”

  “Thirty years from now, yeah, I know,” Adam replied tersely. He automatically bristled at the negative statement about the Salt Lake Temple. He’d been conditioned to take offense at anything perceived as negative against the Mormon Church. It was ridiculous to react this way; one was a piece of art and the other was a House of the Lord. Being irritated with himself just made him crankier, though.

  Christensen looked at him sideways. “You all right?”

  Young nodded curtly and dug in his backpack for their proselytizing materials. It was stupid to be so defensive about a building. It didn’t matter. And if he would just be realistic, he argued with himself, he could recognize that nothing he’d ever seen could compare to the intricate details and the enormity of the Gaudí temple. He was feeling a bit protective, that’s all. Whether for himself or his religion, he couldn’t quite say.

  They stood outside in the bright sunshine offering greetings and smiles and pamphlets for those who would take them. Not many did. They were at a famous Catholic structure, after all. They helped a few older women carry heavy bags, watched a Russian couple�
�s dog while they went inside for the tour and were offered bottles of water by a passing group of nuns.

  They sat on the edge of the rounded stone platform at the edge of the Nativity entrance to drink their water. “You know,” Christensen gasped as he screwed the cap back on, “I’ve always had a hard time accepting that nuns would be barred from God’s presence, given that they’ve devoted their whole lives to Him.”

  Young spun the plastic ring at the mouth of his bottle and nodded, taking in the concept as Christensen continued.

  “Which is why I don’t really believe that He would.”

  “You don’t?” Adam sputtered. “You can’t just… not believe that! What on earth are you here for, if it isn’t making sure we baptize these folks so they can get to the Celestial Kingdom?” That was what Mormons knew was the highest level of heaven, the one where you would dwell in God’s presence.

  Christensen turned to look him dead in the eye. “Honestly? I came to test my faith. I’m here to see the world, to learn.” He shrugged. “Those ladies live their life in service of God. We’re just a couple of kids, really, and we’re presuming to know more than they do? That one nun looked ancient. I’m having a hard time believing all the things that don’t sound very Christian to me, Adam.”

  Young was seriously worried now. “Elder, do, do we need to talk to someone? The Mission President could be up here in an hour, and—”

  He glanced at his messenger bag where he knew his mission cell phone was—authorized use, only—when Christensen grabbed his hand after pasting a smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Sometimes I just wonder if what we’re doing is right, that’s all. ‘Suffer the children to come unto me,’ is what Jesus taught, and I just, well, I just have a hard time accepting that He would turn His back on people who live their life for Him just because they haven’t added their names to a certain team’s roster.”

  Adam squeezed Brandon’s hand, then dropped it. “But He won’t completely. They just won’t reach the fullness of His promise, of their own eternal salvation.”

  Church Doctrine was very clear on that, that heaven comprised three kingdoms. Only the most righteous, those who lived His principles, who served missions, regularly visited the temple, married in the temple for all time and eternity, paid a full tithe, only those people would achieve Heavenly Father’s highest blessing: Eternal life and progression. Only those people could become like God Himself. It wasn’t as if the nuns would be thrown in Hell. Mormons didn’t believe in Hell. They just wouldn’t progress eternally. Even as he thought that, it didn’t settle right with him.

  “It just seems… cruel. Like a parent picking a favorite,” Christensen said, thumbing at the label on his water bottle.

  That rankled Adam. Not that Brandon had said it, but because it finally put a finger on the concept, making him understand what about it had always seemed unfair. That concept drove him to desperation to understand his own faith. He didn’t want to be left behind in a lesser Kingdom of Heaven, and had subconsciously believed that he would—his family would move on and up, being better and more devoted than he was.

  “Yeah, that’s something I have to deal with here on earth already. I don’t want to have to deal with that forever, too,” Adam laughed, though it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest.

  Christensen smiled, knocking his knee into Adam’s. “Yeah. Sometimes I just can’t swallow it all down. I’m just not going to say ‘yes’ without thinking some of these things through anymore.”

  Adam searched his companion’s face. “You’re not going to turn apostate on me, are you?”

  Christensen laughed at that. “No. But come on. Are you telling me that you don’t question things inside that head of yours, Still Waters? Don’t even act like you’re not constantly thinking about this stuff in that big square noggin of yours. I mean, we both know you don’t say much out loud.”

  Adam huffed a quiet laugh.

  Brandon tapped the side of his dress shoe against Adam’s. “‘The glory of God is intelligence,’ after all. I know we’ve been told to blindly obey, but I really think we’re supposed to question stuff, too. Especially the stuff that seems unfair or unjust. If we stumble, we can pick ourselves up again with a better understanding. All those perfect Peter Priesthood guys back home did everything automatically. They didn’t know why they were doing it, they just did. I want to know without reservation. Can you understand that?”

  With a jolt of embarrassment at realizing he’d been one of those automatic followers that his companion had just derided, Adam completely understood Christensen’s point of view. He’d wanted that himself, but until now had believed himself spiritually weak for even thinking about it. But here was one of the strongest, kindest, most spiritual men he knew voicing his deep-seated fears and needs. Adam knew that wasn’t easy. “Yeah. Yeah, I can, actually.”

  “I’m really glad we ended up together, Adam. For lots of reasons, but that’s a big part of it, too.”

  The sun warm on their faces, the buzz and hum of tourists and locals all around them, the faint music from a cafe across the street faded into nothing as Adam looked at his companion’s earnest expression. Mormons didn’t call it destiny but fore-ordination: that before they came to this earth, certain spirits lined up, choosing to be family, friends or loved ones. He’d never given it much thought. After all, his family didn’t seem as if they’d choose one another on earth, let alone in the Spirit World.

  But here, now, he could imagine a thread, gold and shining, so thick, so strong it was more like a rod that connected his heart and mind to his companion, who may not understand all the parts that made Adam who he was (and after all, Adam didn’t understand himself completely) but someone willing to learn who he was. And Adam was certainly willing to learn all that made Christensen who he was, as well. In that brief moment, he was so grateful to his Heavenly Father for ensuring that they found one another that he felt he might cry. For all the unique lives that had been on earth, all the spirits waiting in the pre-existence yet to come, that they found each other now, in this place, at just the right time…

  Christensen looked at his watch. “Hey, it’s getting on. We need to check in.”

  Adam couldn’t let the moment pass without marking it somehow. He leaned his weight into Christensen’s shoulder, closed his eyes and said softly, “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for blessing me. Amen.”

  Christensen smiled at the pavement and answered softly, “Amen.”

  They walked the few miles back to their little apartment in pleasant silence, and while Adam called in to report their activities for the day, Christensen made their dinner. In what was becoming common in their private time, they talked about contradictions they had found in their studies as they ate.

  “Faith. It’s a test of faith,” Adam said. “Any time we don’t understand something it’s… Well, that’s what my dad always said,” he finished lamely.

  Christensen rested his forearms on the edge of the table with his head hanging down. “Would you do something for me? Would you give me a blessing? I’m having a hard time clearing my thoughts after, you know, everything. It… it feels like my soul is sick.”

  This would be the first time Adam performed the rite on his own. He knew himself to be fully qualified to do so as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood, but it was odd not to have his father or Quorum President leading the prayer. It made it real, his Priesthood. He coughed. “Um, yeah. Of course. If you’re sure you want me to be the one to do it, that is.”

  “Adam, I think I need it to be you.”

  Christensen looked as though he wanted to reach across the table and touch Adam’s hand, and that sent a thrill of both excitement and trepidation through him. It seemed Brandon thought better of it at the last moment when he instead stood and positioned his dining chair in the middle of the kitchen. He sat ramrod stiff with his eyes closed and his hands fol
ded in his lap. Adam took a deep breath and took the bullet casing-shaped vial from his key chain and spun the lid. The sacred oil inside had been blessed by one of the Apostles at the last General Conference. If Brandon was feeling sick or afflicted…

  He stood, wiped his trembling hands on his dress slacks, picked up the vial again and attempted to clear his mind. He allowed a few drops of oil to land on Christensen’s head; they added a slick sheen to the crown of his dark hair. Young placed his hands lightly on his companion’s head, fought back the urge to massage Brandon’s scalp and began the prayer.

  “Elder Brandon Christensen, by the power of the Melchizedek priesthood that I hold, I anoint you with consecrated oil in the name of Jesus Christ. I also leave a blessing upon you.”

  In his mind he could hear the familiar words his father and his older brothers had spoken so many times before and tried to emulate the prayers they’d given, but could only focus on the heat radiating from Christensen as it warmed his hands and made his toes clench.

  “I leave a blessing upon you that your heart will be healed and your spirit won’t be broken.”

  Christensen shifted in his chair, and Adam let the weight of his hands rest fully on his head, finally giving in to the urge to allow the tips of his fingers to thread through Brandon’s dark hair.

  “I pray that you will be given the answers you so desperately and earnestly and righteously seek.”

  His whole body vibrated; he didn’t know the source of his words, but knew they were meant for him as well.

  “I pray that you will feel whole and know your purpose both in this mission and in life. I do so in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

  Brandon murmured “Amen” and reached up to hold Adam’s hands in place. After a moment, Adam realized that Brandon’s thumb was moving back and forth along Adam’s pulse point in his wrist. Adam untangled his hands from Brandon’s hair and laid them on Brandon’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. He was not ready to break whatever connection they’d had.