The Work and the Glory (197 page)

“You miss it sometimes, don’t you?”

He looked surprised. “England? Not really.”

“Not at all?” she teased. “Weren’t there girls there?”

He laughed, but it came out as a short, mirthless bark. “If there were, I didn’t notice.” His eyes narrowed, and there was a quick look of pain. “England didn’t offer much to Peter and me. Twelve-hour days workin’ for old Mr. Morris. Sharin’ a hole in a cellar with two drunks and a family of rats. Winters so cold and damp and us with nothin’ more than a sweater and wooden clogs for our feet.” There was a quick explosion of disgust. “Nah, I don’t miss England much at all.”

His words saddened her. This was something he rarely talked about. She had even grown so used to his accent that she often forgot he had not been raised American. “Well, I’m glad it didn’t offer you much, or you would never have come here.”

He brightened. “Aye. And then look what I’d be missin’. Ownin’ a piece of my own land. Me and Peter with our own house. True, right now it’s only a sod hut, but it’s still ours. Being here with the Church. Having the privilege of knowing Brother Joseph.”

Rebecca was watching him closely, nodding with each item he mentioned. When he stopped she frowned. “And?” she prodded.

“And what?” he asked innocently.

She slugged him on the shoulder. “What else?”

He laughed, and slipped an arm around her waist. “And most important, I’d be missin’ Miss Rebecca Steed, fairest lass in all the land.”

“That’s better.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “So describe Di-Ahman for me. Pa says he’ll take us up there sometime soon, but I want to be able to picture it in my mind.”

“Well,” he started, half closing his eyes, “as you know, it’s about twenty-five miles north of here. The Grand River runs through a valley with bluffs on both sides. The river makes a sharp bend right below our cabin and goes almost northward for a mile or two before it turns again.”

“And your cabin is near there?”

“Yes. We look right down to where the river bends.”

“On the north or south side of the river?”

“On the north. The south bluffs are limestone outcroppings and they’re pretty steep. Ours are more gently sloped.”

She pounced on that. “Ours,” she echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yes.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “By spring, Peter and me will have built a front porch on the house. Then we can sit out there in the evenings and look out over the valley. Just like Adam and Eve probably did.”

“I know,” she murmured. “I think about that almost every day. Brother Joseph says it’s no wonder they went to Adam-ondi-Ahman after the Fall. He says it’s as close to the Garden of Eden as anything he’s ever seen.”

“It is.” Derek surprised her by reaching out and taking her hand. He squeezed it gently. “You’re going to love it there, Becca.”

She squeezed back. “I know.”

“When Father Steed brings you up, I want to take you and show you around. It is a thrill to walk that land and know it is the same land where father Adam walked.”

“Yes!” Rebecca breathed, trying to picture it in her mind. She leaned forward, folding her arms and putting her chin on her knees. “It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Six thousand years ago Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel and all the other children roamed these hills.”

“Yes, it is. And yet . . .” His eyes grew thoughtful. “There is a really special feeling up there.”

“And then,” Rebecca added, “when you think about what’s going to happen there sometime in the future. Adam gathering all of his righteous posterity together once again. The Son of Man coming down among them, getting things ready for his second coming, just like Daniel saw in vision so many years ago.  It leaves me a little bit breathless.”

“So you think you might like to live there?” Derek asked softly.

She turned fully to him now. “Oh, Derek, I don’t know if I can wait until spring. The thoughts of you leaving again now leave me so empty inside.”

Derek nodded. With the sun behind the clouds and low in the sky, the light was muted and soft and made her skin glow. When he thought about leaving in the morning, what he felt was not emptiness but a powerful, permeating pain all through him. How he longed to take her back now! But there was a house to finish, and land to break and sow. Feelings for a woman weren’t enough. You also had to be able to care for her. Suddenly, a little taken aback at his own daring, he reached out and touched her hair.

He could tell he had surprised her, but she didn’t move. He began to stroke it softly. “I’m gonna miss you, Becca,” he finally said in a whisper.

She shook her head quickly beneath his touch. “Don’t talk about it. I don’t know if I can bear it.”

She straightened and Derek put one arm around her shoulder. She moved closer and snuggled against him. He wanted to stare at her in wonder. He still couldn’t believe that this gentle, wonderful, lovely woman could really be feeling this way about him, an unlearned, rough-cut, coal shoveler from the poorest section of Lancashire, England.

He turned slightly and she looked up at him, her eyes wide and luminous. His heart was pounding, but with every ounce of courage he could muster he leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. He pulled back, a little dazed. She smiled at him, and there was so much tenderness and love in her eyes, he kissed her again, this time harder and with more intensity.

When he straightened, his voice was fierce and husky. “When next spring comes, Miss Rebecca Steed, I’ll have that house ready. I’ll have ten acres of crops in. I’ll have that front porch on the house. Then I’m coming back to Far West, and there’ll be no more good-byes. Not ever.”

* * *

Supper that evening at the Benjamin Steed cabin in Far West was a grand celebration in its own right. Since there was no possible way all of them could fit inside, they laid planks across sawhorses and ate outside beneath a sky that was filled with azure blues, rich turquoise, and shafts of gold. The sun was just setting, and it was as though the Lord wanted to put his own seal of approval on the nation’s birthday.

There was much laughter and happiness as the food was served and consumed, but there was also a touch of sadness. By morning the family of twenty-three would be down again to ten. Joshua and Caroline and their three had the farthest to go. It was nearly sixty miles south to Independence, a full two-days’ trip. Jessica and John Griffith and their four would return to Haun’s Mill, twelve miles to the east, and Derek and Peter would head north with the Di-Ahman group.

But that was tomorrow. For now they pushed away the melancholy, determined to make the most of their remaining time together. Talk of the day—especially any reference to Sidney Rigdon’s speech—was studiously avoided. This was family time, and it would be a while before it happened again, so they made the most of it.

After the leftovers were cleaned up and the dishes dumped into an iron washtub to soak, the children went off to play “run, sheepie, run” and “red rover,” with Matthew, Will, Olivia, and Peter in charge. Lydia and Jessica nursed their babies and put them to sleep head to head on Benjamin and Mary Ann’s double bed. Savannah, exhausted from the day’s activities, curled up in her grandpa’s lap and fell asleep, and Benjamin resisted every effort to have her taken away and put on a bed.

As the sunset gradually fell and the lingering prairie twilight settled in, the children trailed back and played more quietly around the perimeter of the circle of adults. Occasionally one of the women would go in to check on the babies, but other than that, everyone was content to sit and talk quietly. Sometimes the circle of conversation would widen to include everyone; at other times, the talk would break up into smaller subgroups.

In one of those times, Joshua and Caroline were sitting quietly listening, not actively participating for the moment. After a time, Joshua leaned over and whispered something in Caroline’s ear. She turned in surprise, then immediately nodded.

“You’re sure?” he said.

She touched his hand. “Yes, I’m sure, Joshua. You need to do it.”

His head bobbed once, and then he turned to John Griffith, who sat on the step just below Jessica’s knee. He and Jessica and Nathan were discussing the winter wheat crop and how soon it would be ready to harvest.

“John?” Joshua said, when there was a break in the conversation.

Jessica’s husband turned.

Joshua hesitated for a moment. Except for Father and Mother Steed, John Griffith was the oldest person in the family. He was four years older than Jessica, which made him nearly thirty-eight, about seven years older than Joshua. But he was a gentle man, a man of decent goodness, a man of the soil. He had bright blue eyes and big hands and a face sunburned deeply up to the line where his hat covered his balding head. From there up, his skin was as white as a baby’s tummy.

When Nathan had persuaded Joshua to come north with him and make his reconciliation with the family, Joshua had come with two great sources of dread. The first was that first meeting with his father. The second was to have to face his ex-wife, the woman he had driven first from his home and then from his county. He had desperately hoped that Jessica and her new husband would not be at Far West. After Joseph had talked to the family about forgiveness and putting the past aside, they had all welcomed him back without restraint—Jessica as quickly and as warmly as any of the others. And he had found that John Griffith was completely secure in his marriage with Jessica. There had not been the slightest hesitancy on his part in accepting Joshua’s return to the family.

“Yes?” John said.

Joshua realized he had been lost in his thoughts. He smiled, feeling a little foolish. “I would like to ask you a question.”

“All right.”

“I need an honest answer.”

John looked a little surprised. Jessica was watching Joshua closely now too, obviously puzzled as well. “Fair enough,” John replied.

Joshua took a quick breath. “I would like to speak with Jessica alone for a time. Would you be offended if I did so?”

Jessica jerked forward slightly, staring at Joshua. The others had all stopped talking now too. Every eye was on him. Finally, Jessica looked down at her husband and he looked up at her. Something passed between them, then John turned back to Joshua. He smiled. “Not at all.”

Jessica stood slowly. She was looking at Caroline. “Do
you
mind, Caroline?”

Caroline reached out and touched Joshua’s arm. “Joshua was thoughtful enough to ask me first,” she said, her voice soft. “No, I don’t mind in any way, Jessica.”

“All right.” Jessica came down the step and started down the dirt path that led to the roadway. Joshua fell in behind her. Rachel was sitting on the grass a few feet away, playing some kind of hand games with Olivia and Emily. She looked up, a quick look of alarm darkening her eyes. “Mama?”

“It’s all right,” Jessica said. “Joshua and I are just going to talk for a few minutes.”

“Would you like to come?” Joshua asked.

Rachel considered that for a moment. Then, sensing that there was no tension in any of this, she shrugged. “No, that’s all right. I’m winning right now.”

Joshua laughed, as did the others. He waved briefly and they moved away. They went down the road about a hundred yards from the cabin and stopped near the far limits of Benjamin’s wheat field. Darkness was gradually stealing in from the east, pushing the twilight back, but there was still enough light to see that the shafts of grain were showing their first signs of yellowing. The full heads of wheat were still green, but in another few weeks the whole field would be like a waving sea of gold.

He pulled his mind back to the present, knowing full well that he was just stalling. Finally he looked at Jessica. The night had gotten suddenly warmer, and Joshua felt the first tiny beads of perspiration breaking out on his forehead. She was aware of his discomfort, but was also wise enough to know that he had to do this without her prodding.

He straightened. “Jessica?”

She waited.

“I don’t know exactly where to start. Or how to . . .” He let it trail off, and looked away again.

“You don’t have to say anything, Joshua. It’s really not necessary. The past is gone now.”

“No, I need to. I want to.” His chest rose and fell as he sought for the right beginning. “Words are cheap, Jessie. I know that. After all I did, saying I’m sorry seems so inadequate. But I am sorry. Every time I think of that night when I hit you—I keep blaming it on being sodden drunk, but being drunk was only part of it. I was so frustrated with everything. Losing almost all of my business in the poker game. You and me fighting all the time. Not being able to have babies.”

“I know,” she murmured.

He didn’t seem to hear. “And then when you went to the Mormons. Joseph Smith represented all that had driven me from my father and my family. I hated him. I hated them.” He looked down at his hands. “I hated you.” He blew out his breath in frustration. “Now I also realize that I hated myself too.”

Jessica was watching him, nodding slowly. When he didn’t continue she straightened a little. “Joshua, I want to say this, and I don’t want you to interrupt. All right?”

He looked up. “All right.”

“You say that words are cheap, and that’s true. Remember that night you came out to the Lewises where I was staying? That was just after you came back from Santa Fe. Rachel was about six months old then.”

“Yes, I remember it very clearly.”

“You said you were sorry then too. And those words
were
cheap. Why? Because you didn’t mean them. Not really. Oh, you were sorry, all right, but not sorry enough to change. Not sorry enough to let me be what I wanted to be.”

He stirred, but she went on hastily. “Now here you are once more, standing before me again, saying you’re sorry.” A look of the gentlest compassion filled her eyes. “But the words aren’t cheap anymore, Joshua. They’re exactly the same words. But it’s a very different man saying them.” She shook her head slowly, remembering so many things. “I guess no one else in the family knows that like I know it. Not even Caroline.”