The Work and the Glory (157 page)

She shook her head ruefully. “I wish I could say that.”

“Do you love him, Jessie?”

For a long time she looked up at him, her eyes wide and thoughtful. Then finally she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

One eyebrow came up, but Jessica was staring out of the door now and didn’t see his reaction. Finally she spoke. Her voice was soft and far away. “Everyone talks of love these days, like it was the only thing that mattered in marriage.” Pain darkened her eyes for a moment. “I loved Joshua, Matthew. I truly did. It didn’t seem to make much difference.”

Matthew nodded soberly at that.

“Is love such a great thing? It seems to me if a woman finds a man who is a good man, a man who is gentle with children, a hard worker, a man who’s honest, a man who believes in God . . .” Her voice trailed off. Finally she looked up at Matthew. “Maybe sometimes it’s best to put love out of your head and take what’s there and be grateful.”

Matthew watched her closely for a moment, then awkwardly he stepped to her. He put one arm around her and pulled her up against his shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise. This was not Matthew. He was looking at her with a gravity far beyond his years. “You know this is right, Jessie,” he said firmly. “I can see it in your eyes.”

That took her aback, but almost immediately she nodded. “Yes,” she admitted. “It does feel right. And I guess I’m ready for a little happiness. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Even a little will do right now.”

He smiled at her wisely. “You’re overdue, Jessie. Way overdue.” He stepped back and picked up the larger bag. “So let’s get you in that wagon and get on over to Far West and get you married.”

* * *

“Oh, Lydia, look!”

Nathan and Lydia were returning from the Whitney store and were just passing in front of Sidney Rigdon’s home on their way to see Nathan’s parents. Across the street and slightly behind them was the temple. The front door had just opened, and a small group of people were filing out. They were looking up at the building, pointing and talking excitedly. It was this group of people that had caught Nathan’s eye. “It’s Joseph Fielding!” Nathan cried.

Lydia looked blank. The name didn’t register.

“From Canada!” he blurted. “And those are his sisters, Mary and Mercy. And look!” He took a step forward, the excitement gripping him. “There, in the front. That’s Brother John Taylor and his wife.” He grabbed her hand. “Parley said they were coming. Oh, Lydia, come on. I want you to meet them.”

* * *

“That was a wonderful meal, Sister Steed,” John Taylor said in that wonderfully rich and measured British voice that was so much his trademark. “You were most generous to have us for supper.”

Mary Ann waved away the compliment. “After hearing so much about all of you, do you think we could pass up this chance to get to know you better?”

Only two of the families from Canada, the Taylors and the Fieldings, had accepted the invitation to supper at the Steeds. The others had other friends they wanted to see.

Mary Fielding, the older of the two Fielding sisters, looked at Mary Ann. “It is we who are pleased to meet you. We owe a great deal to Nathan and Brother Parley, and so it is a special pleasure to meet Nathan’s family.”

Six-year-old Joshua, Nathan and Lydia’s oldest child, leaned forward over the table so he could see the two Fielding sisters. “Is it true you ran away from my pa the first time you saw him?”

Lydia’s mouth dropped open at her son’s boldness. “Joshua!”

But Joseph Fielding only laughed merrily. “Aye, lad, that’s true. When my two sisters heard the Mormons were coming, they left the house and ran for the neighbor’s. We had heard such terrible things about the Mormons, we didn’t want to countenance any of it.”

“And you, Brother Fielding,” Brother Taylor laughed. “You said you didn’t want to listen because the name ‘Mormonism’ had such a contemptible sound to it.”

The Steed family chuckled at Brother Fielding’s obvious discomfiture. Leonora Taylor looked at Joshua and smiled that quiet, gentle smile that Nathan had come to know well. “Brother Fielding said he wasn’t about to listen to any new revelations, or about some religion that was contrary to the Bible.” She turned now to Lydia and Nathan. “But Brother Pratt just took that as a challenge, of course. ‘Now, Mr. Fielding,’ he says, ‘why don’t you call your sisters home and we’ll have supper together. Then we’ll all go to the meeting that has been called for this evening. And I promise you that I’ll do nothing but preach the old Bible gospel, and I give you my word I won’t say anything about any new revelations that are opposed to that old Bible gospel.’”

Mercy Fielding, much more the quiet one than her sister, spoke up. “We did come home. We fixed them some supper. We went to the meeting.” Her eyes softened. “Not long after that, the three of us were baptized. That was just a year ago now.”

Nineteen-year-old Rebecca Steed was sitting next to her mother, across from Mercy and Mary Fielding. “That’s what makes this thing with Brother Pratt all the more troubling,” she said sadly.

John Taylor’s head came around sharply. “What thing is that?”

Rebecca was suddenly flustered. She thought they knew. Nathan jumped to her rescue. “You haven’t heard?” he asked.

Brother Taylor shook his head. “Heard what? I was told that Brother Pratt has learned we are here in Kirtland and has asked to see me, but we stopped at his house this afternoon and he wasn’t home. We plan to see him first thing in the morning.”

Nathan sighed. He and Parley had been good friends before the mission to Canada, but the experience there had created an even stronger bond between them. Having to report this pained him greatly. “Well,” he started slowly, “as you will learn soon enough, there are many problems right now in Kirtland.” Nathan took a quick breath. “Ever since the bank started having difficulties and all the accompanying financial problems began to spring up, a spirit of contention and apostasy has swept through the Church here. There is hardly a quorum that is not affected by it to one degree or another.”

John Taylor was nodding soberly. “I have heard that even some of the Quorum of the Twelve have become disaffected, that they are criticizing Joseph.”

Lydia shook her head sadly. “They aren’t just criticizing. Some are saying he is a fallen prophet and want him to step down.”

Leonora Taylor seemed shocked. Her husband was shaking his head.

Nathan’s voice slowed, “Sadly, I must report that since his return from his latest trip to Canada, Parley has been caught up in that same spirit.”

Joseph and Mary Fielding spoke almost as one. “No!” they exclaimed.

Mary Ann, always one to give people the benefit of the doubt, jumped in quickly. “I still think the death of Thankful has affected him deeply. And then, in his absence, there were some false accusations brought against him. Some of Joseph’s enemies have said that these accusations came from Joseph himself. That really hurt Parley.”

“But surely he didn’t believe them!” Mary Fielding cried.

Nathan shook his head slowly. “I have tried to speak with Parley since his return, but he is filled with bitterness. He feels that Joseph has tried to profit, at Parley’s expense, from some land sales they are working on. Also he claims that Joseph has turned some of the notes he holds on Parley’s indebtedness over to the banks, which will put more pressure on Parley financially. He has even written a letter severely censuring Brother Joseph and Sidney Rigdon for their actions in relation to the financial affairs of the kingdom.”

“I can’t believe it,” John Taylor breathed, the shock evident on his face. “Not Brother Parley. Not Brother Parley.”

Rebecca looked at him. “That’s what we said. But now a non-Mormon has taken that letter and is circulating it. The enemies of the Church are making much of the fact that Joseph is being condemned by one of his closest associates.”

“Parley claims the letter has been tampered with,” Mary Ann said, giving Benjamin a sharp look, disappointed that he had remained quiet through all of this. “He says it is a highly garbled version of what he actually wrote.”

John Taylor stood abruptly. He looked down at his wife and the Fieldings. “You stay here for a while.” He turned to Nathan. “Nathan, would you accompany me?”

Nathan stood, the surprise evident on his face. “Of course. Where are we going?”

“We’re going to go see Brother Parley.”

* * *

Parley Pratt looked drawn, haggard, exhausted. He was also quite defensive. There had been a brief, warm reunion between him and John Taylor, but almost immediately Taylor had begun to question him, and Parley bristled like a cornered badger.

“Don’t be too quick to judge, Brother John,” he said curtly. “You have not been in Kirtland long enough. You do not know all that has gone on.”

“Do you think I don’t know what is right?”

Parley drew a hand across his eyes. “Who knows what is right anymore?” he whispered.

“You know that Joseph is a prophet,” Nathan burst out.

“Is he?” Parley said, whirling on Nathan. “Is he? He prophesied that the Kirtland Safety Society would never fail. Now look at it.” There was a derisive explosion of air. “Look at us who believed in that prophecy and invested in the Society.”

“Did you ever hear Joseph make such a prophecy, Parley? Did you hear it from his own lips?”

“I . . . well, no, but others—”

Nathan cut him off, his voice tinged with a disgust of his own. “Those ‘others’ are men like Warren Parrish, Lyman Johnson, John Boynton. All of them filled with bitterness and hate toward Joseph. And no wonder. Joseph told me the other day he thinks that as much as twenty thousand dollars may have been embezzled from the bank.” Nathan made no effort to hide his contempt. “Warren Parrish is one of the chief officers. Are you going to believe that kind of man? All Joseph has ever said was that if we followed correct principles, the venture would succeed. His enemies are saying this other thing about the prophecy to discredit him.”

Parley opened his mouth to respond, then let it slowly close again. He turned to Brother Taylor. There was deep anguish in his eyes. “I deeply regret writing that letter. I do not know how it got into the hands of our enemies, but they have twisted it to their own purposes. I have never said that Joseph should be replaced or that God has rejected him. But he has made foolish mistakes. He has not acted in all ways in keeping with his high and holy calling. This disaster we are now facing, he should have foreseen it, warned us against it.”

Nathan threw up his hands. “He did, Parley. Over and over. He told us that if we didn’t put off this spirit of speculation and covetousness that has gripped us, we would see the results of our apostasy.”

Parley stood, moving away from them. He started to pace the room. His shoulders sagged and his head dropped as he did so. “I do not know what to believe anymore,” he said half to himself. “One part of me says that this situation must be corrected. Another part of me feels absolutely terrible about the feelings I’m harboring for Brother Joseph.”

Standing now too, John Taylor stepped in front of Parley, blocking his path. He reached out and took his friend by both shoulders, peering steadily into his eyes. “Parley, listen to me. I cannot tell you how much your words surprise and sadden me. Remember that night at Mr. Patrick’s house, the last one where you preached so powerfully? Mr. Patrick grew angry and said you could preach there no longer.”

“Yes.”

“You bore a strong testimony to the fact that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I heard you bear that testimony that night and many times afterwards, and was deeply touched by it. And that, more than anything else, convinced me the gospel was true.”

Parley finally looked up to meet Taylor’s gaze. “I know. Back then I
was
sure. I—”

John Taylor cut him off. “You also bore strong testimony to the truthfulness of the work Joseph Smith inaugurated. I heard you bear just such a testimony before you left Canada. You said you knew these things by revelation.”

Brother Taylor shook him gently. “You said you knew these things by the gift of the Holy Ghost, Parley.”

Parley’s shoulders straightened a little. “I did.”

“And you gave me a strict charge to the effect that though you or an angel from heaven was to declare anything else than that to me, I was not to believe it.”

Parley’s voice lifted a little with a touch of hope. “That’s right. I did say that.” Yet almost instantly his face fell again. “But that was then, Brother John. Things change. You don’t know all that has happened. My brother Orson has told me things. . . .” He shook his head.

“Your brother is being fed a pack of lies,” Nathan cut in sharply. “Warren Parrish is poisoning everyone’s mind.”

John Taylor still had one hand on Parley’s shoulder. “Now, Brother Parley,” he said with great solemnity, “it is not a man I am following, but the Lord Jesus Christ. The principles you taught me in Toronto led me to Him, and now I have the same powerful testimony that you then rejoiced in. If the work was true six months ago, it is true today. If Joseph Smith was then a prophet, he is now a prophet. You must not leave those feelings you once had, Parley. You must not!”

For a long moment Parley looked into the eyes of the man he had helped to convert. Then he looked away. “I don’t know what I feel anymore,” he said softly. “I just don’t know.”

* * *

Mary Fielding was what some people might have uncharitably called an “old maid.” She and her sister Mercy were both in their thirties and, as some would say it, past the “marrying age.” It had always been said of both sisters up till now, but Mercy was finally going to escape the dreaded title. Robert Thompson, who was another one of the converts resulting from Parley and Nathan’s mission to Upper Canada the previous year, had come to Kirtland also. He and Mercy were to be married the following week by the Prophet Joseph.

As they walked along, Rebecca Steed wondered if the thoughts of her sister’s marriage depressed Mary a little. There were no prospects of Mary’s changing her own single status that Rebecca could see, and as old as she was, the future could not hold a lot of promise. But almost instantly Rebecca decided that Mercy’s getting married would not likely make Mary unhappy. Mary seemed to accept what life had given her cheerfully and without regrets.