“Linda, I told you that I’m not staying here overnight,” he said. “Are you incapable of listening to me anymore?” His voice was uncharacteristically loud, enough that one of the children (I think it was little Rachel) stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gave him a wary look, and then went tiptoeing up.
Maybe I should have been more understanding of his reaching his breaking point, but what about me and mine? I was tired of all the patriarchy and the way women were expected to just fall in line.
I said furiously, “I do listen. I just don’t obey you at every turn, Kurt. God gave me my own mind and I’m capable of making my own decisions about right and wrong.” Kurt didn’t get to tell me what God’s will was, not now and not ever. I loved him and I thought he was a good man, but I wasn’t under his direction.
“Then why are you always throwing yourself into bad situations?” Kurt demanded. “Do you really believe that’s what God wants from you?”
I noticed Nephi and Leah had come out of the kitchen and were looking at us. I was embarrassed to meet their gazes, but they exchanged a glance and disappeared down the basement stairs. I wondered if any of the children would tell the adults about this or if they were used to keeping things to themselves.
“Kurt, let’s go out to the truck and talk, all right?” I said. We could at least have some privacy there.
“Because you’re embarrassed that Stephen Carter might hear us argue? I don’t care what he thinks about me, Linda!”
But I didn’t particularly care to be used as a tool for Kurt to show off his machismo, which was what it felt like he was doing.
“Kurt, think about the children,” I said softly.
He glanced around, but there weren’t any skulking children staring at us now, which he seemed to take as license to continue. “I’m leaving this house tonight and you’re coming with me!” he declared.
Oh, really? And how was he going to manage that? Throw me over his shoulder and carry me away kicking and screaming the way Stephen had done with Talitha? I was pretty sure I outweighed Kurt by a few pounds.
“Calm down, Kurt. Let’s talk about this like reasonable adults,” I said, sure that we could ratchet the level of this argument down somehow. We still loved each other more than we were angry at each other. At least I hoped we did. “Look, all I want to do is stay here tonight. I’ll come home as soon as I can, tomorrow.” I didn’t want to directly state that I was looking for signs that something was wrong with Talitha right out here where anyone could eavesdrop, but Kurt knew exactly what I was saying.
He sighed and seemed to shrink, as if he’d gotten sadder and smaller. Nonetheless, he went out the front door, waited for me to come out, then closed it behind me. As we walked toward the truck, he said, all anger gone, “I know that you have a mother’s heart and that makes you feel for a little girl like Talitha. But she isn’t your daughter, Linda. She isn’t your responsibility.”
I knew that! I knew that my own daughter was dead. But I was still a mother first and foremost. That’s what the church kept telling us, that motherhood was an eternal role, that nurturing children and spreading love was what we would do even when we were in the celestial kingdom, that it was what Heavenly Mother did. And that wider identity of motherhood meant that my moral responsibilities didn’t end with my own children, no matter what was convenient to my husband.
“Kurt, I’m staying here. You can either stay with me or not, it’s up to you,” I said aloud, feeling firm in this decision. “I’m going to finish what I started.”
We reached the truck and he leaned against the passenger side door, his jaw clenched tight. “Linda, are you sure this isn’t just about you hurting me because you’re angry at me about the policy?”
I wanted to protest immediately, but I made myself consider what he said. He’d asked me weeks ago if I thought Kenneth was marrying a woman from a polygamous family just to tweak us, and I’d told him that was ridiculous, but maybe this suggestion was less ridiculous.
I was angry at him. Angry at the way he closed ranks, defending every decision made by the church leaders, whether it made sense or not. I was angry that he hadn’t seemed to feel any fury or sorrow about the new policy, hadn’t tried to see it from the perspective of all the people it affected, hadn’t said one thing about it being wrong or hurtful to Samuel. It felt like he’d left me out to dry, just like he was doing now. Leaving me here because he wanted to be on the side of the right and wasn’t willing to accept that sometimes you had to get a little dirty to help people who were in need.
“Kurt, it’s complicated,” I said, looking up at him, only able to see him from the porch light of the house, his features strangely distorted by the harsh glow.
He put out a hand to touch my face. But I turned my head away from him, backing up a couple of steps until I met the wall. I didn’t want him to think that I was giving up and was going to do what he wanted.