The Work and the Glory (107 page)

The smell of roast turkey, sweet potatoes, fresh bread, and half a dozen other foods still lingered in the kitchen, but few were mindful of it. They were nearly finished with supper now, and were satiated and content. They were listening to Melissa’s husband, Carl, report on how things were going at the livery stable. His father had pretty well turned the business over to him now, and Melissa watched him proudly as he talked.

Mary Ann smiled as she watched Carl and Melissa’s son, little Carl, now two, working diligently to get the last of some peas onto his spoon. His eyes were grave and his mouth was pulled into a little frown of concentration. He could have done it easily if he used his other hand to hold the peas in place, but he was determined to do it with the spoon alone. Melissa and Carl lived only a few houses away from Benjamin and Mary Ann, and little Carl was a common visitor to Grandma’s house. Mary Ann always loved to watch him. He was so serious, and looked so much like his mother. He had not favored his father’s red hair and freckled complexion as everyone had predicted. He was Melissa from head to toe—dark hair; dark, somber eyes; the bewitching little smile when he was secretly pleased.

Finally he succeeded and the peas were captured. Triumphantly he put them in his mouth; then, when he saw that his grandmother had witnessed his success and was nodding her approval, his face split into a wide grin.

Lydia and Nathan sat beside Melissa. Lydia still looked pale and drawn, though she seemed more like her normal self today than she had since that terrible February afternoon. Young Joshua was between his parents, propped up on two pillows so he could reach the table. Lydia held baby Emily on her lap. Mary Ann felt a little pull of sadness as she glanced at her granddaughter—Emily would be two in July and was really past the age at which she would normally be called “baby Emily.” But her mother continued to use the term, and no one had the heart to suggest otherwise.

There was no mistaking that Joshua and Emily were siblings, for both had inherited their mother’s fine-cut features and thick, black hair. Emily, just a couple of months younger than little Carl, had large dark eyes much like her mother’s, and was already such a beautiful child that whenever Lydia took her out, people invariably stopped to ooh and aah. Young Joshua, not quite three yet, had the same qualities, except that his eyes were a disarmingly light blue. He was full of fun, and mischievousness constantly danced across his face. Both children were completely and irrevocably adored by their father and grandfather.

Mary Ann turned slightly and watched her own youngest children with a special glow of affection in her eyes. Matthew, now close to fourteen, sat straight and tall next to his father. His blond hair was finally darkening, and the first hint of stubble was starting to darken his upper lip. His maturing had not lessened the striking resemblance between him and Nathan, however, and it was like looking at the past all over again whenever she watched him.

On Mary Ann’s left, Rebecca was primly finishing off the last of her potatoes.
How like her,
Mary Ann thought. Though she loved to have a good time and often still romped with Matthew when they were alone, Rebecca was quite serious minded by nature and loved to have things in order. She had turned into a young woman in the last two years and was now as lovely in her own way as Melissa and Lydia were in theirs. Mary Ann had noted on more than one occasion lately that the eyes of young men turned to follow Rebecca as she passed. Two more years and she would be eighteen. Mary Ann suspected that it wouldn’t be much longer than that before she lost another of her children from the home. An inexplicable sadness suddenly swept over her. Then there would only be Matthew. And then, in a few more years, she and Benjamin would be alone in the house.

The conversation had lagged and Mary Ann came back to the present. She looked over at Nathan. “Has Joseph said how many men have volunteered for Zion’s Camp by now?” she asked.

Nathan shrugged. “I haven’t seen Joseph for a couple of weeks.”

Benjamin spoke. “As of a few days ago, he had approximately one hundred men.”

“Is that all?” Mary Ann said in surprise. “What about from the branches in the East?”

“A very disappointing response. There are some who have promised to join the company soon, but so far only about a hundred total are actually committed.”

“Soon!” Melissa cried. “I heard that the first wagons are to leave on Thursday. Isn’t it about time they made up their minds?”

Mary Ann saw Nathan’s eyes drop to his plate. He began to saw at the last of his turkey with his knife. Lydia was watching him closely, her eyes wide and filled with sorrow. Mary Ann instantly regretted bringing up the subject. It was a poor choice on her part.

But matters instantly got worse. Because Melissa’s husband was not a Church member, the family often avoided talking about Church subjects in his presence, so that he wouldn’t feel left out of conversations. Clearly Melissa had not told him of the situation between Nathan and Lydia, because he turned to Nathan and asked, innocently enough, “Are you going, Nathan?”

Mary Ann winced and Melissa jerked around, her eyes wide and trying to warn her husband off. Immediately after the death of Nathan and Lydia’s child, Nathan had gone to Joseph and withdrawn his name from the list of volunteers. Though he never said anything about it, those close to him knew the pain that not going was causing him.

Instantly Carl sensed his mistake, but before he could speak, Nathan looked up. “No, I’m not going,” he said.

Lydia’s eyes were on her husband’s face. “Yes, he is,” she said softly at exactly the same moment.

They left Nathan’s parents’ home immediately and walked to the temple site. There Nathan brushed off one of the large stone blocks that had been cut and dressed for placement during the coming week. He took Lydia’s elbow and guided her to it. “Let’s sit down.”

She nodded, sweeping her skirts around in front of her. When they were settled, he reached out and took her hands. “Look, Lydia,” he began, without preamble, “this is all settled. I’ve talked to Joseph and he understands perfectly why I can’t go with them on Zion’s Camp. Until you’re stronger and feeling—”

She moved quickly, putting a finger up to his lips. “No, you listen to me for a moment.”

“But—”

She pressed her finger more firmly, cutting him off. “Please, Nathan. Just listen for a few moments. This will be difficult enough for me.”

He finally nodded and she took her hand away. For a moment she let her eyes wander across the construction site, collecting her thoughts. Finally she took a breath and began. “You’ve been wonderful these past two months, Nathan. You’ve rarely left my side. You’ve been attentive to my every need and wish.”

Suddenly her voice broke and she had to stop. She shook her head, angry at herself for losing control. “If you hadn’t—” She took a quick breath. “If you had insisted on going to Zion at that point, I don’t know what I would have done. Fallen completely apart, I guess.”

She forced a short laugh. “Not that I didn’t anyway.”

“Lydia, what you went through was not an easy thing.”

“No,” she whispered, “it wasn’t.” For a long moment she was still, except for a slight trembling in her lower lip. Finally she looked up at him. “But it means a great deal to me that you were willing to tell Joseph that you couldn’t go. That you knew how badly I needed you.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and he put his arm around her. “I know this past year has been a hard one for us,” she went on, choosing her words with care. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Nathan. It’s like things are slipping between my fingers, no matter how hard I clench my fists to try and stop them.”

She began to rub his arm with her hand. “I’ve been a real witch. I’m sorry.”

He turned to her fully now. “Lydia, you haven’t been a witch. It’s not just you, you know. I haven’t made things any easier for you.”

She smiled at him. “No, you haven’t,” she agreed ruefully.

Laughing, he gently poked at her shoulder. “You were supposed to disagree with me, at least a little.”

Sobering again quickly, she shook her head. “But I’m stronger now, Nathan. I’m not out of it completely yet, but I’m stronger.”

“Not strong enough.”

Now it was she who slugged him. “Well,
thank you!”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I—”

“I know. But I am better. Really.” She took a quick breath. “You need to go to Zion, Nathan. I know that. When I think of what those families are going through—Jessica and her baby, the Knights, Thankful Pratt, all the people we know and love—how can I ask you to stay here and watch over a blubbering wife who can’t seem to get her life in order?”

“There are others who can go—”

She shook her head. “Right,” she mocked him. “That’s why the Lord asked for five hundred men and only a hundred have volunteered.”

Now he looked anguished, but he said nothing.

“You have to go, Nathan,” she said earnestly. “I’ve come to accept that. I couldn’t live with myself if you don’t. Will you go to the meeting Joseph has called for tonight?”

“But what will you do?” he said. “We’ll be gone for two or three months. I can’t just leave you alone. You still don’t have all your strength back.”

Lydia stood up abruptly and walked a few steps away from him. For several moments she stared at the partially raised walls in front of her, then she turned her face toward the sky. “The weather has finally turned warm now.”

That unexpected turn caught Nathan off guard. “Yes, it has,” he said slowly.

“That means the canals are open again.”

His head snapped up.

Now Lydia turned to face him, her face eager and excited. “Nathan, what if you took me and the children to Fairport Harbor before you leave? You could see us off and make sure we had safe passage and—”

He blinked. “Safe passage?”

She came and crouched in front of him, taking his hands. Her words came in a rush, tumbling over each other in her eagerness to get them out now. “Yes. I know we don’t have the money, but Father Steed would help. I know he will. The children and I could take a steamer to Buffalo, then catch one of the canal boats. We’ll be all right. It’s only about a week to Palmyra.”

“Palmyra?” He was still stunned.

“Yes, to visit my parents. Mother has begged me to come, to bring the children so they can see them. It would occupy me while you are gone. Then I wouldn’t miss you so terribly.” She paused for a brief moment, looking at him intently. “Nathan, when we left Palmyra I thought I would never see my parents again. Now I have another chance with them. Joshua and Emily need to meet their other grandparents. And I could see some of my old friends.”

Nathan watched her, his heart sinking. The very thought of Josiah McBride—hard, cold, unbending—made him clutch up inside. But as he looked into her eyes now, eyes that were alive—really alive—for the first time in months, and her face so filled with excitement, he knew he had no choice. How could he dash her hopes?

And there
was
the other part of it. Telling Joseph that he would not be joining Zion’s Camp had been one of the hardest things Nathan had ever done. He felt as if he were betraying the Prophet and the Lord, and yet there had been no other choice but to stay; he knew if he left Lydia the damage could be—almost certainly would be—irreparable. But now if she went...

“Oh, please, Nathan,” Lydia pleaded. “You know it’s the perfect solution for both of us. You have to go to Zion.
You have to!
I know that now. But, as I told you, I think this will help me pass the time so I don’t miss you so terribly.”

“I...” He searched her face for several moments. How he loved this woman! How he ached for her pain! He reached out and laid a hand on her cheek. “All right, Lydia. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

She leaped up and grasped his hands. “Oh, thank you, Nathan. I need this. I need some time to try and find myself again.”

For the moment, Nathan was content to sit back and listen to the discussion going on around him. They were gathered in the little log schoolroom, the room where meetings were often held. Final plans for the departure of Zion’s Camp were under way. Joseph had led the meeting for a time, but currently, under the direction of Parley P. Pratt, the group was discussing which men would accompany the baggage wagons that were to leave four days hence. A moment ago Parley had turned to Joseph to ask a question, and as they talked, the room quickly broke up into a dozen different conversations. Nathan didn’t join in. In his case the decision was already made. It would take every moment between now and the fifth of May to get Lydia and the children packed and taken to Fairport. There was no way he could be ready in four days.

So he listened idly, watching the men around him, the men who would march together on a trek of nearly two thousand miles by the time they returned. There was Wilford Woodruff, a convert of less than four months. Woodruff was one of the notable exceptions to the rather disappointing response the Eastern Saints had made to the call for volunteers. When Parley Pratt had arrived in Richland, New York, seeking funds and recruits, Woodruff immediately declared his intent to answer the call. He settled up his affairs, and he and two companions had departed for Kirtland, arriving just a few days before.

Across the aisle sat those with more familiar faces—Parley Pratt, Newel Whitney, Frederick G. Williams. Oliver Cowdery and Sidney Rigdon were there too, but they would not be going. They would stay in Kirtland to supervise the continuing work on the temple and regulate the affairs of the Church. Nathan glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye. His father was trying not to show his keen disappointment. He too would be staying, at Joseph’s request, to help maintain things in Kirtland.

“I’m telling you, Brigham, if we are not willing to fight when we get there, then we may as well stay home.” The voice rose above the noise in the room, and Nathan turned around to see who had spoken. It was Heber C. Kimball, and as usual he was punctuating his words with his hands. “I’m not afraid of a little fight.”