A Dream for Tomorrow (30 page)

Due to the demands of this difficult leg of the journey, most of the emigrants were turning in early at night. They hadn’t enjoyed a musical evening for a week. Elizabeth was relieved to tell her family good night, and Mrs. Taylor had already gone to be bed. As Elizabeth walked to her wagon, she silently prayed, begging God to give her some kind of help or direction for poor Mrs. Taylor. She was obviously miserable. But what could possibly make her feel better? Part of her hoped that Mrs. Taylor would be asleep. Perhaps all she needed was rest. Didn’t they all?

Elizabeth tried to be quiet as she climbed up the tailgate. Without even lighting the lantern, she unbuttoned her blouse, hoping that the even breathing she heard meant that Mrs. Taylor had already drifted off. But by the time she slipped into the bed, barely moving, Mrs. Taylor spoke up.

“I thank you for sharing your wagon with me,” she said in a gruff voice. “I know I’m at your charity.”

“You’re welcome,” Elizabeth said stiffly. Sometimes it was hard to react graciously to the way Mrs. Taylor said certain things. “And I know you didn’t intentionally put yourself in a position to need our charity.”

Mrs. Taylor simply humphed.

“But I do think it’s good for myself and my family…as well as everyone on this train to practice charity. Don’t you agree?”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Mrs. Taylor,” Elizabeth tried to be gentle. “I know you are hurting inside. I know that you’re still grieving the loss of your husband.”

“That too is true.”

“But I’m concerned at what you said to me earlier…about ending your suffering.”

Mrs. Taylor sniffed.

“However, I think I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth sighed. “I remember my dark days of despair. I was buried in grief after losing my husband. I remember moments when I did not wish to live. But then I thought of my children…and I realized I had no choice. I had to live.”

“You are blessed to have children, Elizabeth. And your family.”

“I know. I’m sorry you don’t have those same comforts.”

“I did have children…once…” Her voice trailed off.

Elizabeth was shocked. It had never occurred to her that Mrs. Taylor had been a mother. “You did?”

“Miriam would have been twenty-seven…Jane would be twenty-five. Both of them were born in summer.”

“You and Mr. Taylor had two daughters?”

“Mr. Taylor was not the father.”

“Oh?”

“My first husband…Ephraim Miller. He was their daddy.”

“You were married
before
Mr. Taylor?”

“Yes. That was before Mr. Taylor. Ephraim and I married long ago…when we were both quite young.” She sighed. “We were so very happy in those days…back in Virginia. Miriam was born about a year after we were wed. Jane about two years later. Oh, such a pretty pair they were. Blue eyes and blond curls and pink cheeks…just like their daddy.”

Elizabeth’s imagination was stretched to its limits as she attempted to imagine Mrs. Taylor as a young energetic woman with two pretty little daughters. “What happened?” she asked meekly.

“The summer when Jane was five and Miriam was three, a new family had come to town—a widowed mother and her little boy. They’d come to our church seeking help. They were poor and in need. Ephraim and I decided to take them into our home. No one knew they were carrying typhoid fever. Not until it was too late.”

“Your daughters got typhoid?”

“All of us got it. Ephraim, Miriam, Jane, and myself.”

“Oh, my.” This was familiar…painfully so. “I’m so sorry.”

“I lost everything that summer.”

“Oh, Mrs. Taylor, I am so very sorry. I had no idea your sorrows and suffering ran so deep.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever recover from that loss.”

“I can scarcely imagine.”

“About ten years after losing my family to typhoid, a missionary came to speak at our church. And when I heard him speaking of reaching out to the less fortunate, of preaching to savage Indians in the wilderness, I felt as if I had been awakened. As if something dead inside of me had risen from the grave. I decided that I wanted to do that too.”

“Was that Mr. Taylor?”

“Yes. God sent Mr. Taylor to bring me back to life.”

Elizabeth sighed. “And now you’ve lost him too. I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Taylor let out a choked sob. “And do you…do you want to know the truth, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth didn’t answer.

“The truth is that I’m to blame for all their deaths. All of them.”

“Oh, Mrs. Taylor, I don’t see how—”

“Ephraim did not want to take the widowed mother and her child into our home. He insisted from the beginning it was not a good idea. But I had already offered this to the reverend at our church. I had told him that we had plenty…plenty of food and plenty of room, which wasn’t completely true. Even when Ephraim advised me against it, I stubbornly insisted upon taking the two in. I was too proud to back down, Elizabeth.”

“You wanted to help them.”

“No, I wanted to put on the appearance of helping them.” Mrs. Taylor was crying harder now. “I wanted everyone to see what a good Christian I was by taking in these poor people. It was my pride…my foolish pride. And the same was true with my piano. My foolish pride insisted on holding onto that piano…the same piano that crushed the last breath of life from my beloved Horace.” Now she was crying loudly.

With a lump in her own throat, Elizabeth just let her cry, knowing it would be pointless to say anything at this point. Just let her purge her grief with her tears, and perhaps this confession would help her to heal these old wounds. Finally, the sound of a lonely coyote’s howling made Elizabeth realize that Mrs. Taylor had ceased to cry.

“Are you awake?” Elizabeth whispered.

“Yes.” She sniffed.

“I do understand you better now,” Elizabeth told her. “How you must be suffering. But I’m going to tell you what I told you before…I believe that God is just waiting to forgive you of these things. And I believe that until you let him do this, you will not be able to forgive yourself.”

“How is that possible? How will I ever be able to forgive myself?”

“Perhaps you’re getting the cart ahead of the horse,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps you just need to do your work of confessing your transgressions to God. If you truly believe that your pride caused these troubles, why not confess this to God…and ask him to forgive you?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Then ask God to show you, Mrs. Taylor. So that you
will
know.”

“Oh, Elizabeth…you always give me so much to think about when I stay in your wagon.”

“Are you saying you don’t like spending the night in my wagon?” Elizabeth tried to insert some lightness into her tone.

“I must be a glutton for punishment…because I must admit I look forward to these times.”

“Do you know what?” Elizabeth asked her.

“What?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I hear of your struggles and your mistakes and your weaknesses and your pain, the more I truly like you, Mrs. Taylor. All of this makes you seem quite human. And I think if you let others know you in this way, you would find yourself surrounded by a lot more friends.”

“I’ve been trying,” she said weakly.

“That’s all you can do.” Elizabeth let out a tired yawn.

“You go to sleep, child. And I promise I will think on all you’ve said.”

Two things remained with them for the next few days. The trail remained rough and rugged and cruel, and Mrs. Taylor remained Elizabeth’s guest by asking if she could lengthen her stay for a few more days.

“You would tell me if I’m a great inconvenience…” Mrs. Taylor said on the third night. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth assured her. “And if it makes you feel any better, you do not kick nearly as much as Ruthie.” She chuckled. “I do hope she’s not being too hard on my mother.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness to me,” Mrs. Taylor told her. “These late-night talks have helped me more than you will ever know.”

“Hearing that alone is repayment enough.”

“Today, while walking, I made my confessions to God. I laid my whole soul bare before him. And I asked him to forgive me.”

“Good for you.” Elizabeth smiled in the darkness.

“I’m not sure I won’t have to do it all again tomorrow,” she said a bit ruefully.

“At least you’re moving in the right direction.”

“And perhaps in time, if God is willing, I will be able to forgive myself. Although I’ve decided that if getting God’s forgiveness is the best I can do, I should not complain.”

“No, you should not. But it would be questionable to me, Mrs. Taylor, to think that if God, who is perfect, is able to forgive you, that you would be unwilling to do the same. Doesn’t that seem ungrateful? Isn’t it a bit like throwing the Almighty’s forgiveness right back in his face?”

Mrs. Taylor let out a small gasp.

“I’m sorry if I spoke too frankly.”

“No, no…that’s quite all right.” She sighed. “Again, you have given me something to think upon.”

Elizabeth hoped that she wasn’t giving her too much to think upon. Sometimes it was a relief not to think too much. There were certain unwanted thoughts in Elizabeth’s mind…things she tried to bury or squelch or deny. But sometimes, especially if she was very tired at the end of the day, these disturbing thoughts seemed to run rampantly of their own accord, galloping freely past like a handsome Appaloosa.

Chapter Twenty

O
ne day blurred into the next as they followed the twisting Snake River. So many times Elizabeth peered down the steep gorge, wondering how it would feel to dip her toes into that cool, clear water. But it was too far down for anything more than lowering a bucket on a long rope. Still, the water they pulled up was cold and refreshing.

Everything else was hot, dry, and dusty. And every day felt just like the one before it. She would walk in the morning, drive in the afternoon, and do chores at the day’s end…again and again. Elizabeth didn’t think this stretch of geography was quite as bad as Devil’s Backbone, but it did feel unending. At least Devil’s Backbone had ceased after three days. This barren wilderness just seemed to go on and on.