Allison Pittman - For Time and Eternity

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For Time and Eternity

Copyright 2010 by Allison Pittman. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of wagon copyright by Eliza Snow/iStockphoto. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of grass copyright by Jun Mu/Shutterstock. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of woman taken by Stephen Vosloo. Copyright by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved.

Author photo copyright 2010 by Bluefire Photography. All rights reserved.

Designed by Jacqueline L. Nuez

Edited by Kathryn S. Olson

Published in association with William K. Jensen Literary Agency, 119 Bampton Court, Eugene, Oregon 97404.

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible , King James Version.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Pittman, Allison.

For time and eternity / Allison Pittman.

p. cm. (Sister-wife)

ISBN 978-1-4143-3596-4 (sc)

1. Married womenFiction. 2. MormonsFiction. 3. Marital conflictFiction. I. Title.

PS3616.I885F67 2010

813'.6dc22 2010019711

For my parents, Dee and Darla Hapgood.

Thank you for keeping Jesus Christ in the center of our home.

Acknowledgments

What an amazing adventure this has been. Thank you, Bill Jensen, agent extraordinaire, for all of your support and encouragement. Wow, indeed. And thank you, Jan Stob, for even thinking about me for this project. And the rest of the Tyndale teamKaren, Kathy, and way too many others to namethank you for trusting me to tell this story. I also must thank Mikey and my boysJack, Ryan, and Charliefor your love and understanding during deadline time. Finally, as always, I praise my Savior, Jesus Christ. Throughout the process of this book Ive learned to live in his grace, to write through his power, and to rest in his presence. Oh, how grateful I am to know him as Savior. How wonderful to love and be loved by an infinite, unchanging, life-giving God.

Prologue

I never stop to ask myself if I should have done anything different. After all, how can you look at the assembled pages of your life and decide which should be ripped out and which should remain to press the treasures of your memories? Seems to me the greatest joy comes out of the pain that nurtures it, and you cannot keep one without the other. So I am forced, here at the end of it all, to fold every leaf together and say, as God did of his early people, that I did the best I knew how. I lived according to my conscience. He alone can forget the depth and breadth of my sin, and I claim the blood of his Son, Jesus, to all others who would judge me. I have lived now nearly forty years with my choices, and sometime hence I will die in his grace. That is the hope no man can steal from me.

Not again.

Excerpt from Escape from Zion: The Spiritual Journey of Camilla Fox (ne Deardon), Ladies Home Journal, July 1896.

Chapter 1

Deardon Dairy Farm, north of Kanesville, Iowa

June 1850

I could hear them singing in the darkness.

Theres more out there tonight.

Come away from that window. Mama came up behind me, took the curtain out of my hand, and drew it across the glass. Have you finished your reading?

I hadnt even started, but Mama must have known that because the Bible was sitting on our table, closed. The strip of blue velvet still marked the chapter I read the night before.

Youd best get to it before your father gets home. She paced the length of the room and finally busied herself putting away the dishes drying on the sideboard.

I turned up the lamp, stretching Mamas shadow near up to the ceiling, and drew the Bible closer to me. Last night I finished the book of Ruth, so tonight would be the first chapter of 1 Samuel. I thumbed through the pages. Thirty-one chapters. One whole month. It would be the middle of summer before I made my way to Samuels second book.

Now there was a certain man of RamaRamathaim Eight words in, and I was ready to give up.

Ramathaimzophim. Mother spoke over my shoulder.

...of mount Ephraim, and his name was Elkanah, the son of Jeroham, the son of... I looked up. Honestly, Mama, I dont see why

One chapter a night, Camilla. No matter what it says. Continue.

So I forged on, verse after verse, filling our kitchen with the rivalry between Hannah and Peninnah, Hannahs prayer, and the baby Samuel. None of it was new to me. Id been reading a chapter of the Bible out loud every night since I turned seven. That was nearly nine years ago. This was the third time Id read this story.

What does this chapter teach you about being a better Christian? Mama asked when Id finished. She asked the same question every night. During my first year reading, she just asked if I understood what I read. I always said yes, even if I didnt. But by the second time around, I had to be prepared for this.

It teaches us that God will answer our prayers if we ask him with a faithful, sincere heart.

Mm-hmm. She was distracted now, back at the window. And what does it teach you about being a better woman?

This second question started with Genesis 1, where, after a little prompting from Mother, I learned that my purpose on earth was to bear children. Ill never forget the sadness in her voice when she shared this truth with me, her only child. It haunts me to this day.

Camilla? Her voice was more impatient now. Sharp. Still she stared into the night sky. The lesson for being a better woman?

A good woman will pray to have children?

She turned to me, letting the curtain fall again. A woman realizes that her children are a gift from God. And just as he gives them to her, she must trust him with their care.

Still, I said, trying to ease the tension in the room, Im glad you let me live here instead of dropping me off at the church. The pews arent nearly as comfortable as my bed.

She rewarded me with a warm smile. You should know. Youve fallen asleep enough during the sermon. Now choose your verse and quickly. Youve dawdled enough as it is.

I left the lamp on the table and ran upstairs to my room. No need for a light. There it was, right on top of my bureau. My journal. The binding was real leather with a red ribbon stitched to the cover. Back downstairs Mama had set out the ink and pen.

My eyes grazing across the page, I untied the ribbon and dipped the pen into the ink.

And dont just choose the shortest one, Mama said as she did every night since we instituted this ritual last summer as a way to keep up my penmanship practice when school was not in session.

I know. But I certainly wasnt going to choose the longest , no matter how appealing the truth. Im choosing the eighth verse.

I opened my journal to the next clean page and painstakingly copied the words:

Then said Elkanah her husband to her, Hannah, why weepest thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? am not I better to thee than ten sons?

I managed to have only three large blots of ink, and I wrote Elkanah in printed block letters instead of script to be sure I spelled it correctly. When I finished, I blew gently on the page to dry the ink and read the verse back to Mama before closing the book.