I’d had a “coming-out party” at 16, but nothing had come of it. I was 18, uncertain, & still living at home.
David had kept me close, Mother, in some ways, closer. There would come a time when I wondered who had betrayed who first.
Life before the Church had been like a storybook. I had been Princess Katerina, who had the love of the great King David of Maxwell Manor.
David could be found doing dishes in a shirt & tie, albeit with the sleeves rolled up & tie draped over his shoulder. He was, as always, a gentleman.
Mother’s eyes had that intense look of concentration, reading more of that Mormon literature.
“I wonder when we’re the happiest.” “I don’t know,” he said, “but,” & he nodded in Mother’s direction, “I think this is your mother’s time.”
A glass door had separated us from the other side of Heaven, for beyond it had been two dark angels, catalysts for change, beckoning us.
They taught that sexual sin was second only to murder, for our bodies were not our own, as “ye were bought with a price.”
Nonpareils & popcorn, the Hayley Mills’ version of “The Parent Trap,” and two virginal brothers was my 13-year-old sister’s ideal night out.
Mother believed once she & David married and became good church-going folks, we would all be respected as a family.