The Work and the Glory (66 page)

Nathan, who never tired of watching his wife, moved across the room. “Here, let me do it.”

She lifted her hair and bowed her neck. In a moment he had the clasp fastened, but he held it away from her so she wouldn’t know he was finished. Then he bent his head and let his lips brush her skin right at the nape of the neck.

She gave a little shudder, then giggled a little. “Mr. Steed, what are you doing?”

He laughed and kissed the same spot again, then put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. “I was just smelling your cologne.”

She turned, slipping around in his arms until she faced him. Her head tipped back so that her hair fell in a cascade of black across her shoulders. “It felt like you were doing more than just sniffing my neck.”

“Well, you smelled so good, I thought I’d nibble a little while I was there.” He kissed her on the lips, then leaned back a little, running his tongue across his lips. “Yeah, you do taste good.”

She threw her arms around him, laid her head against his chest, and hugged him tight. For a moment he stood there, stroking her hair, loving the feel of her.

“Don’t ever leave me again, Nathan,” she whispered, her voice suddenly husky with emotion.

Surprised, he pulled free and lifted her chin. “Why do you say that? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but I missed you so much.” It came out in a fierce whisper, and there were sudden tears in her eyes. “I’m not good at being alone.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at her, and his eyes were amused. “Lydia, I’ve been home for almost two months now. How can you say you’ve missed me?”

Her mouth drew down into a pout. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Sorry.” With an elaborate gesture, he passed the back of his hand across his mouth. When his hand came away, the grin had given way to a doleful grimace.

She fought it. He could see her struggling to hold on to her composure, but she couldn’t do it. The laugh came bursting out like a young colt out of a corral.

“Lydia,” he reprimanded her with mock gravity, “please! This is serious.”

She slapped his chest and tried to pull away from him. “You always do this to me. I can’t stay mad at you for even one minute.”

He started another retort, but at that moment they heard Mother Whitmer’s voice from down below them. “Breakfast is ready.”

He turned, craning his head. “Be there in a minute,” he called. He took Lydia’s hand. “We’d better say our prayers.”

As he led her to the side of the small bed with its straw-filled mattress, Lydia thought of the first time they had knelt together as man and wife and how strange it had seemed to her. Being pillars in the Presbyterian church, her family had prayed daily for as long as Lydia could remember. But it wasn’t anything like this. They would gather in the parlor right after supper, sit on the couch with their hands properly clasped together, and then Josiah McBride would pray. It was typically a set prayer of some kind, spoken reverently but with formality and some stiffness.

Lydia said her own personal prayers every day as well, but as a child she had been frightened of kneeling in the dark; so she would always sit up in bed with the covers pulled up around her, bow her head, and let the words run through her heart. She never spoke the words aloud. Somewhere as a child she had heard that if you didn’t speak out loud, the devil couldn’t know what you were praying for.

So on that first night after they were married, when Nathan knelt down at the side of their bed she was caught completely off guard. Seeing the look on her face, he patted the spot next to him. As she knelt to join him, he spoke with great solemnity. “Lydia, I think we need to decide right here and now that we will say our prayers every night and every morning and ask God to bless our marriage and help us to live the gospel better.” She had responded instantly with enthusiasm, and she would ever love him the more for suggesting it. But the form Nathan suggested took some getting used to. Each time, one prayed aloud vocally for the two of them. Then they continued kneeling while each said a silent prayer.

It had felt strange to Lydia at first, to speak them aloud, but now their twice-daily ritual was something she treasured. It had been a major factor in her own spiritual development. And she marvelled at that. She had come so far in six months. She knew now what Paul meant when he spoke of the “fruits of the Spirit”—love, joy, peace, gentleness, goodness, faith. She knew why the influence of the Holy Ghost was sometimes called a “prompting,” and knew the joy of following those promptings. She also understood why the Holy Ghost was called the Comforter. More than once during Nathan’s absence, when the ache of being alone, or some noise outside her room, left her frightened or in turmoil, she had prayed and felt that calm, sweet, gentle peace that only the Spirit could bring.

“It’s your turn, Lydia.”

She nodded, then dropped her head, squeezing his hand tightly as she closed her eyes and began to pray.

When they were finished, Nathan stood quickly and pulled her up. As she straightened he laid a hand on her stomach, cocking his head slightly as though to listen.

“Silly,” she laughed. “It’s too soon to feel anything. It’s not even two months yet.”

He grinned, a little sheepishly. “Remember, you promised you’d tell me as soon as you feel life.”

“I will,” she said. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

Joseph and Emma had moved back to Fayette from Harmony the latter part of August when Emma’s father began to believe all the falsehoods being circulated about Joseph and life became unbearable for them. Nathan and Lydia had gone to Fayette along with the rest of Nathan’s family (minus Benjamin, of course) for the second general conference of the Church held near the end of September.

It had been Lydia’s first chance, since becoming a member of the Church, to watch Joseph in action close at hand, and she came away deeply impressed. There had been problems to deal with. Hiram Page, a son-in-law to the Whitmers, had found a round stone and claimed he was getting revelation. The Saints were fascinated with the idea that the city of Zion would be built on the American continent as prophesied in the Book of Mormon. Hiram’s “revelations” revealed its future location, and the Whitmers and Oliver Cowdery accepted them as from God, even though Joseph strongly disagreed and pointed out that these revelations were in contradiction to the revelations he had already received from God, which said that the location of Zion had not yet been revealed.

Benjamin, who heard about the controversy from his family before they left for the conference, was amused by it all and flatly predicted that Joseph would have to expel Oliver Cowdery and Hiram Page from the Church or surrender control to them. But it had not been anything like that, and Lydia began to understand why Nathan so loved and admired Joseph. Realizing the conference was coming, Joseph decided not to do any more than talk to the brethren about the situation. He also turned to the Lord in prayer and received a revelation directed to Oliver. The revelation clearly stated that Hiram Page was getting his revelations from a false source and directed Oliver to correct the situation. As the conference began, there was no animosity, no bitter recriminations. All present, including Oliver and Hiram, renounced the stone and the revelations received through it as false.

That had opened the way for an outpouring of the Spirit like that witnessed in days of old. It had been a glorious experience for Lydia. They partook of the sacrament, confirmed and ordained many of those who had been previously baptized, and conducted numerous items of Church business. As Joseph put it near the end of the conference, “We have had much of the power of God manifested amongst us; the Holy Ghost has come upon us, and filled us with joy unspeakable; and peace, and faith, and hope, and charity have abounded in our midst.”

“Amen,” Lydia had breathed.

More important, Joseph had received three different revelations either just before, during, or right after the conference. And that was why she and Nathan had returned to Fayette now, less than a month later. In the revelation given to correct the Hiram Page problem there was an item of much interest to the Saints. Oliver Cowdery was told, “You shall go unto the Lamanites and preach my gospel unto them, and cause my church to be established among them.” He was also told that the city of Zion would be somewhere near the “borders by the Lamanites.” The Saints understood that to mean Indian Territory.

Just four months previously, President Andrew Jackson had signed into law the Indian Removal Act. For decades the white settlers had clamored for the removal of the native tribes from the Eastern States to permanent Indian settlements. Now it was law, and thousands of Indians were on their way west. Pawnee, Choctaw, Cherokee, Osage, Seminole—more than a dozen tribes were destined for resettlement along the western borders of Missouri, Iowa, and Arkansas, which constituted the western border of the United States.

But the call to Oliver raised some difficult questions. Indian Territory lay over a thousand miles to the west. The journey would take him through largely unsettled and uncivilized territory. Was he to undertake this arduous and dangerous trip alone? Joseph submitted the problem to the Lord, and to the joy of at least one person there, the answer came back: Oliver was to be accompanied by three others—Peter Whitmer, Jr., Ziba Peterson, and Parley P. Pratt. Parley had literally leaped into the air. His promissory notes had been fulfilled.

Preparations for their departure had begun immediately and were now coming to fruition. The sisters around Palmyra and Fayette had undertaken to make the clothing and other items the men would need as they turned their faces west and plunged into the wilderness. Lydia, Melissa, and Mary Ann had been furiously knitting scarves and mittens, stockings and sweaters. Others were making woolen coats, shirts, and trousers. Men were cutting the leather for boots and knapsacks. Now they had all come to Fayette to complete the preparations.

There were more than a dozen people in the kitchen when Lydia and Nathan came down the stairs. Peter Whitmer and his boys—David, John, Jacob, Christian, Peter, Jr.—were seated at the table, already eating. Next to David was Hiram Page. Joseph and Oliver had already finished and had pulled their chairs back. They were huddled together talking softly. Elizabeth Ann, the youngest of the Whitmer children, watched Oliver from the corner with unabashed admiration. Though she was not yet sixteen, there was no mistaking her interest in the handsome schoolteacher from Palmyra. Mary Whitmer—Mother Whitmer, as her family and the Saints called her—was at the large stone fireplace which took up half of the south wall, stirring a large pot of oatmeal porridge. Her oldest daughter, Catherine, wife to Hiram Page, was at the small oak table, cutting off slices of bread and handing them to Thankful Pratt, Parley’s young wife. On the other side of the fireplace, Parley stood warming his hands. He had obviously been outside helping with the chores. He still had on a coat and hat, and his cheeks were touched with pink. Emma, looking pale and drawn, sat in a chair on the opposite side of the fire, watching Joseph and Oliver talking. As Nathan and Lydia entered the room there was a chorus of good mornings and hellos.

Lydia walked directly over to Emma and crouched down in front of her. “Good morning, Sister Emma.”

“Good morning, Lydia.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

She managed a smile. “Yes, I’m doing fine this morning.”

Lydia nodded but didn’t believe it for a moment. Emma’s eyes, usually lustrous and among her most striking features, were dull and listless. Dark circles beneath them made them seem more sunken than they were. Emma had not been well for almost a month. She was pregnant again, and judging from how large she already was at three months, Mary Whitmer was predicting twins for her. She had lost her first baby, and there was much concern among the women, especially with her condition now.

Joseph’s head came up as he watched Lydia talking to his wife. He stood and came over to join them. He took Emma’s hand and began to rub the back of it. “Emma, you do still look very tired. Won’t you please just go back upstairs and rest for a time?”

She smiled up at him. “We have to finish those last two overcoats and the undershirts. The missionaries have got to have warm clothing.”

She was right, of course. It was already past the season for safe travel, and these four men were preparing to launch out on foot on a trip that would take them more than two thousand miles by the time they returned. Unfortunately, the Lord had said nothing about waiting until the weather was more hospitable, so October or not, they would leave the day after tomorrow.

“We can do it, Emma,” Lydia said. “Nathan and I don’t have to be back for anything. I can help. You go rest.”

She shook her head. “It will take every pair of hands to get things ready by then.”

Joseph straightened and looked at Lydia. “She pushes herself so hard. She just won’t let up.”

“Just like you do,” Emma chided him.

“But I’m not sick.”

“I’m not that sick either. Just a little tired. I’ll be fine, Joseph.” She reached out and took his hand. “You and the men go collect the firewood, and we sisters will get breakfast over with and start to work.”

“Is it true, Emma, that Joseph received a revelation just for you?”

Elizabeth Ann Whitmer, the youngest of the Whitmer children, was stitching up the hem on a heavy woolen coat. Even at fifteen she was an excellent seamstress, and her eyes did not leave Emma’s face as her fingers fairly flew in and out with the needle.

Emma smiled at her. “Yes.”

Her older sister, Catherine, looked up from where she was helping her mother cut out pieces of cotton cloth from a pattern traced on newspaper. “Really? Just for you?”

“Yes. Joseph received it in July just after he came back from one of his trips to Colesville.”

Lydia looked at Emma more closely. The two of them were working on sewing the pieces of cloth together. Each had a sleeve and sewed it into one side of what would be a heavy undershirt. Lydia was doing the left side, Emma the right. When they finished they handed it to Thankful Pratt, who then sewed the whole shirt together.