It was a special day for the vicar and his wife: they were celebrating their twenty-third anniversary. It was the family’s usual custom to spend a fortnight in Bath during this time. It was Rev. Bertram’s annual sabbatical. The family looked forward to their outing the whole year. Rev. Bertram was in a quandary: he did not want to cut short the time they would have with the gentlemen. The men easily solved the problem when they agreed upon attending them in Bath for two weeks.
In the informality of the breakfast table, Laurence and his friends stood and made a hearty toast of congratulations to the happy couple. Mrs. Bertram blushed like a bride.
“My dear, you are lovelier today than when we were first married,” said Rev. Bertram with his eyes shining.
“Now I know love is blind! You cannot add twenty-three years to a woman’s life and say it enhances her beauty,” she smiled teasingly, her dimple showing.
“Mother, please tell us how you met father,” prompted Jasmine softly.
Julia Bertram delighted in revealing the true nature of her life at nineteen as compared to her husband. No praise exceeded her love for him. She told the story much as she did to Jasmine in the garden, only she demeaned herself more and praised him in greater measure.
“Be honest, my dear,” she said turning to him; “didn’t you think I was a selfish chit of a nineteen-year-old?”
He shook his head at her description. “I adored you from afar, and lived in agony as I watched your suitors vying to win your heart. I saw you as a star high above me: I had no title, no wealth, and no name. I had nothing to recommend myself to you. I am still in wonder that you married me,” he said with misty eyes.
His answer came so unexpectedly, she burst into tears. She hastily left the room and her husband followed her, oblivious to any one else. Everyone discretely looked down as silence reigned. They had witnessed an ongoing love affair.
A servant announced that the carriages were ready to take everyone to service. Jasmine and her sisters tried finding their parents, but in vain. Laurence decided not to linger any further waiting for them. He knew they would make it on time.
When they arrived at church, Rose and Violet climbed the stairs to the organ loft, while Jasmine, Daisy and the men made for the family pew. Ten minutes before services started, Mrs. Bertram came in. She was composed, though her eyes were misty. Jasmine reached for her mother’s hand in silent support. Laurence, who was sitting next to Jasmine, saw it and smiled.
As the whole congregation stood for the hymn Amazing Love, Jasmine heard Laurence singing for the first time, his voice rich in baritone. She sang harmony and closed her eyes so her ears could better sample the blending of their voices. It was almost a living thing. Laurence felt it too. They were lost in the music; the enchantment lasted until the last ‘amen.’
Rose and Violet played the Hallelujah Chorus by Handel with such exuberance, people clapped spontaneously afterwards. Andrews and Bennett were, of course, the most enthused observers.
Rev. Bertram stood to deliver his message and looked long and lovingly at his wife. “Today is our twenty-third wedding anniversary! I love my wife more with each passing day. She is and always will be my bride. This is the most important relationship one can have on earth: the holy bond between husband and wife. Paul called it ‘a mystery.’ I still cannot grasp the wonder of it all.”
Rev. Bertram read the Bible passage in Ephesians stating that a man should love his wife as Christ loved the Church and a wife should respect her husband.
“God created in woman the need for love, and commanded her husband to fill that deepest need. God created in man the need for respect, and commanded that his wife honor him. A true man does not need the adoration of the world. He craves the respect and admiration of one person…the woman he loves. God created the need in both of them and commanded them to fill it. In doing this, they fulfill the whole purpose of marriage which is unity. Some of you believe the cause for marriage is having children. They are fruit from marriage produced through oneness. Unity is the key.”
Rev. Bertram tied the symbolism of marriage to man’s relationship with Christ: the Church is the Bride and Christ is the Bridegroom. Life with Christ is about loyalty and love. People committed spiritual adultery when they worshiped other gods. The illustrations were simple, yet profound; truth penetrated the hardest hearts.
Laurence glanced over at his friends. Bennett had both elbows on his knees, hands peaked together, thumbs under his chin. The others were intent on what he was saying. Rev. Bertram, shedding light in shadowy places, was like a searchlight probing people’s attitudes and behavior.
The message stirred a longing deep inside Laurence. The poets inflamed the concept of falling in love but he had been a firm believer of the morning after--the rude awakening when all one heard was love hitting the bottom with a thud. He did not realize that love was a growing thing, until he met Jasmine.
Laurence yielded his life to God in the silence reserved for prayer. Many people made their way toward the vicar. As he stepped down to take his wife’s arm, he turned to the young men and asked if they would walk his daughters home and remain for dinner.
With four prominent gentlemen escorting the Bertram daughters, no man dared approach them. The men, lost in their thoughts, walked absentmindedly and broke up at the vicarage as they strolled down different paths.
Laurence and Jasmine headed for the pond and as soon as they were alone, she dove into a conversation. “What did you think of my father’s sermon?”
“He has a way of getting past people’s defenses and down to the core of the matter. His teachings have transformed my life.”
“Did you struggle with anything he said?” she further queried.
“No. I agreed with everything.”
“I cannot be as easily accepting as you. I have found the passage in Ephesians hard to read, ‘Wives submit to your husbands.’ The words, submit and obey, leap out like taskmasters. In my mind, I see them capitalized.”
Laurence grinned but said nothing. He was not surprised her wild nature would protest this--it was to be expected.
“I would find it difficult to do,” she continued. “I don’t think I could ever submit to a man completely. I think men have made the situation worse by keeping women in a place where they only exist to serve them.”
“If a man loved you like Christ, couldn’t you submit to him?”
“I don’t know if such a thing possible.”
“Which part? To submit to a man?” he asked probing.
“No…that a man could love me like Christ.”
“Don’t you think your father loves your mother in such a way? I don’t see her struggling to yield to him,” he challenged.
“My mother was conquered by my father long ago. I don’t think any man could conquer me.”
Here was a challenge if Laurence ever heard one. He was on the scent of the hunt. They were both sitting on a bench when he leaned towards her. “I’m thinking of implementing one of your father’s favorite tools.”
“Whatever you use won’t work on me. I can be stubborn and wild--something my mother never was.”
“Would you classify this as our first disagreement?” His eyes twinkled.
“Yes, I would. I have often thought about this subject. I do not see it your way and will not turn around to your point. Nothing you can say will alter my stance.” She lifted her head proudly.
Laurence leaned closer looking intently at her mouth. She backed away, confused. “Your father has convinced me--I am now a firm believer in ending every argument with a kiss.”
“You can’t do that! We are not married! We are only friends! This is breaking all rules of decorum!” Jasmine had never been concerned about breaking the rules before. She discovered, to her horror, that neither did Laurence.
“I am also wild. If you have gypsy blood in you, I have pirate in me. Codes can be broken.”
Jasmine’s only reply was an open mouth of unbelief and wider eyes. As Laurence leaned closer, she almost fell off the bench. She got up and instinctively walked over to the willow tree.
“If you run it will only awaken the hunter instinct in me, which means: ‘I’ll kiss you harder when I catch you.’ I will capture you--I know where you hide.”
Something in his voice checked her decision to run. He was not in jest. He was telling her the truth. Her heart began beating in fear. He was not like the other men she could scare away. They moved within the boundaries already set by society. How was she to respond to a man who did not obey them? Maybe he was a pirate, she thought, for he certainly seemed like one.
He slowly approached and she backed up against a tree, breathing heavily as he leaned toward her with both hands on either side, making escape impossible. He never took his eyes from her lips.
“Michael, you’re frightening me.” She used his Christian name for the first time. She made no mention of “Captain Laurence.”
He liked the way she said his name, soft as a caress. He paused. He had gained the upper hand. Pursuing her was exciting and primal--something he did not trigger and something he could not stop. One hand held her arm while the other tugged her hair gently. Her face lifted just inches from his. He bent his head down until their lips were almost touching. “Winning arguments will be very pleasing. Provoke me and you may be sorry what you unleash,” he whispered.
There was power in that whisper and she began trembling. “Do you want to argue? Do you want to fight me?”
She shook her head and found speech impossible: her throat as dry as a desert. Heat radiated from her heart and spread all over her body as he held her close. They were on a threshold. Laurence was wild, unpredictable, and used to winning. She could never beat him and realized, with a shock, that she did not want to. For the first time in her life, she wanted a man to conquer her--desiring to yield completely.
She had always guarded her heart against men because she knew her nature. Once someone got past her defenses, she would be unable to resist them. Her heart was so tender that her walls had to be thick and strong. Her capacity to love was so complete; she would have no means of defense. Self-protection only worked before she gave her heart, it had no power afterwards.
Laurence had access to the inner sanctum of her love: she was as weak as a baby in his arms was. Where was all her bravado now? She had just boasted that she would never submit to any man--yet he conquered her in a moment.
She cried out a silent petition to God that Laurence would have strength and integrity to do the right thing. She was a heartbeat away from abandonment when her emotions found vent in her eyes.
Laurence could almost taste the salt in her tears. He felt a stab of pain in his heart. He had hurt her. He silently cursed his brutish behavior as he gently released her. “Jasmine, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said as his voice broke. “Please forgive me,” he whispered.
She did not cry from any source of pain; her tears expressed the full surrender of love. She drew his head down, kissing him gently on the cheek. A moment later, she turned and ran back to the house.
Laurence stood there stroking his cheek. It still tingled. He thought she would slap him and had expected her to do so. She kissed him as a little girl would her father. How could a woman be wild and innocent at the same time? She was good through and through and had no wickedness; she was only wild. He saw things in black and white; a woman was either bad or she was good. Jasmine was forcing him to change. The seeming contradiction in her nature drew him. Her wildness triggered his passion; her sweetness triggered his tenderness. She played every emotional chord on his heart.
He sat back on the bench reviewing what had just happened. Jasmine was a woman without vanity. There was no weaponry of deceit in her arsenal, no manipulation in her armaments. Her allurement was honesty. She did not know her own power over him. She could have devastated any man. Women with half her beauty and brains would have left a ruinous path of men they had consumed, but Jasmine was not even aware such a life was possible. She had not operated from lust--she only understood love. Her purity captivated him.
Jasmine ran to her room and bolted the door behind her. She did not want sister nor maid finding her this way. Her heart raced as she sat trembling on her bed. The desire was so strong it frightened her. She was thankful to God that nothing had happened but it could have. She would not have been able to stop it. Laurence had done so because he misunderstood her tears.
A mystery began unfolding: God created a woman to love in such a way…completely. Nothing was wrong with that kind of love; evil people simply misused it. She now saw wanton women in a different light; every prostitute was pure once. She did not know why things went wrong for them, but she no longer condemned them in her heart. Her own weakness made her compassionate.
She slowly gained composure and went downstairs to the library. She would not write of make-believe; it was time for reality. She did not see Laurence the rest of the day, and was thankful for the break from him. Her emotions were raw--she needed some distance.
No comments:
Post a Comment