Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [69]
It was in that moment that I should have realized that the priesthood made it impossible for a woman to make decisions about her life—even if she knew what was right for her. Marriage wasn’t about God, or the prophet, or any of that. It was about controlling women, trapping them into believing that they didn’t have any other options and the only way out was a leap into the arms of the Lord from hundreds of feet in the air. Yet, I still believed.
I hadn’t spoken to my dad since I’d been removed from his home nearly two years before, but after church that day, my every moment was consumed by a vision of being rescued by Dad, Brad, and Caleb. They would come by in the middle of the night, and we would all escape under the cover of darkness. The only clues we’d leave behind would be our footsteps in the house and our tire tracks in the gravel. In the morning, people would wake up and gasp. I’d be condemned as a sinner and cursed by Warren and Fred. My mother and sisters would be devastated that I’d left them, but at least I would be alive. It made more sense to leave them alive than to die where I was. All I needed was for someone to save me, someone to give me a place to go.
But all this was just a fantasy. I had no way to contact Dad, Brad, and Caleb, and they didn’t know about my impending marriage.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, after arriving back home that afternoon, Uncle Fred directed me to go on a walk with Allen. There were people lingering nearby, and it was impossible for me to decline without appearing defiant to my priesthood father. Mom shot me a look. Earlier she had instructed me to be kind to Allen no matter what I was feeling inside, and with that passing glance she told me to remember those words.
The walk would be considered our “first date.” While Lily and Nancy had had the luxury of a private afternoon drive with their spouses-to-be, I was being sent off walking into the mountains with every eye in the family watching.
Allen moved awkwardly beside me in his black suit. To some other girl in some other situation, Allen’s sandy blond hair and blue eyes might have been attractive. He had a strong jaw and nice teeth, and there was nothing ugly or unkempt about him. Still, his face and his graceless demeanor made my skin crawl.
Hesitantly, we headed toward the mountains, where we were to go on a short hike. Allen was kind to me, but I couldn’t return his attitude. I knew that I was being horrible, but I just couldn’t convince myself to do anything differently. He kept trying to hold my hand, but I would brush his hand away every time.
I let out an exasperated sigh and declared, “I don’t want you to touch me.” At this point, a few tears pushed at the corners of his eyes.
“Why do you hate me so bad?” he asked, his strong masculine face looking momentarily boyish and lost.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t like you, and I cannot imagine an eternity with you.”
He looked stunned by my response. Somehow not deterred, he gently nodded and said what any good priesthood man would: “God will change your feelings as long as you stay faithful. In time, you will feel differently.”
I knew that would never happen, but I said nothing.
We remained mostly quiet for the rest of our “date,” with me thinking over and over that I just couldn’t wait for this hour to be over. A part of me wanted to give him a better explanation of how I felt, but my feelings couldn’t be expressed in words. It was just an innate sense that God puts in each of us to see the difference between right and wrong. That inner voice was telling me that he was wrong for me on so many levels. Even before the marriage began, I was repulsed by him. He hadn’t even held my hand, but he had already taken my innocence.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAN AND WIFE
There’s no force in this Celestial law. The prophet doesn’t force you to heaven. And when you enter into marriage, you never have the right to think you have been forced into a situation. You know better.