Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Lydia wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Several other women were crying as well. Nathan stepped forward and took Sister Pratt’s hand. He started to speak, then swallowed hard. “This is a most wonderful surprise, Thankful,” he finally managed shakily. “Does Brother Kimball know?”

  She nodded her head, tears trickling down her cheeks now. “He’s in the East on a mission now, but he came to say good-bye before he left.”

  Nathan turned to Parley and opened his mouth to speak, but this time he couldn’t get it out. Parley just nodded, his lower lip trembling. Then he opened his arms, gathered his wife into them, buried his face against her shoulder, and began to sob uncontrollably.

  * * *

  Mary Ann came into the kitchen. “That’s good enough, you two. The rest can wait until morning.”

  “All right!” Matthew wadded up his dish towel and threw it at a rack of pegs. Incredibly, it hit the wall just above it, slid down, and caught over two of the wooden pegs. It wasn’t neat, but it stayed. Rebecca, wiping her hands on her apron, shook her head in mild disgust. Only Matthew . . .

  He grinned at her mischievously. “Bet you can’t do that, Becca.”

  “Bet I’m not going to try,” she retorted.

  Mary Ann tried to look stern. “You’re just lucky it didn’t hit the floor, young man.”

  Matthew looked offended that she would suggest something so unthinkable. As he walked by her, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hello, Mother.”

  She swatted at him affectionately, still a little shocked that her “baby,” nearly sixteen years old, now towered a good four inches above her. As Rebecca came up, she slipped her arm through her mother’s. “You didn’t let Nathan begin without us, did you?”

  Mary Ann shook her head. “No. They’re waiting now. We want you and Matthew to hear this as well.”

  * * *

  Mary Ann slipped her hand into Benjamin’s. He looked at her, the pride as evident in his eyes as it must have been in hers. She nodded, pretty sure she knew what he was thinking. It felt so good! The scriptures said that a fulness of joy was not possible until the body and the spirit had been inseparably joined in the resurrection. But if the joy ever became any more intense than what she was feeling now, she decided, then the Lord was simply going to have to increase her capacity to endure it.

  Nathan had spent the afternoon with his own family, so at supper they had decided it was the adults’ turn. Matthew had nearly split the buttons on his suspenders when his father casually mentioned that Nathan and Lydia should get one of the neighbor girls to watch the children. Matthew was old enough now to be with the family.

  Not surprisingly, Carl Rogers had declined the invitation to join them—he had too much to do at the livery stable—but he had not balked at all at Melissa’s getting a sitter for the children and coming to be with her family.

  And so they had gathered in the parlor. Nathan had written one letter from Toronto not long after he and Parley arrived there, and Lydia had read it to the entire family. But that mattered not; they made him start right at the beginning and recount it all.

  “So the Taylors were baptized after all?” Lydia exclaimed. “It sounds like a lot went on after you wrote your letter.”

  “That’s for sure,” Nathan said. “I would have written more letters, but we were really busy. When I finally did get a chance to sit down and write another letter, I chose not to mail it, since we decided to come home so soon.”

  “That was a surprise to us, Nathan,” Benjamin spoke up. “We didn’t expect you for some time yet.”

  “Ben!” Mary Ann gave him a sharp look.

  “Well,” he grumbled, “I’m not suggesting it was wrong. I’m just surprised they’re back so early.”

  Nathan took no offense. “Well, we had run out of printed materials—copies of the Book of Mormon and other literature—and also, Parley had pressing matters to attend to here relating to his personal finances. Fortunately, as we left, many people gave us money. Some of it was to buy books to bring back to them, but some of it was just as a gift to us. I gave it all to Parley.” His eyes hooded a little as he remembered the touching scenes of the night before their departure. “It was several hundred dollars.”

  Benjamin whistled softly. He knew how badly Parley needed financial help.

  “What about that widow lady?” Matthew said. “Tell us what happened to her.”

  “You mean Widow Walton, who took us into her home? She and all her family were baptized.”

  “No, the other one,” Matthew said. “I don’t remember her name. The blind lady.”

  Nathan’s face fell. “Oh, yes, the Widow Compton.” He shook his head slowly, the corners of his mouth pulling down as he remembered.

  Mary Ann was surprised at his reaction. “Surely she was converted.”

  “No, and that is a sad tale to relate.”

  “After a miracle like that, she wasn’t baptized?” Rebecca said, her voice registering her disbelief.

  Nathan took a breath and began again. “The moment she was healed, everything began to change for her. Many people knew of her affliction, of course, and so her healing made quite a stir in the area. People came from all over the city and countryside to see her. So many people wanted to know all the particulars of the miracle that she finally came to Parley and me and asked what to do. Parley was adamant about it. ‘Just tell them God has healed you, and give him the glory,’ he advised.

  “But that wasn’t enough for people. They continually teased her for more detail. They pressed her to know more about the men who had done this for her. ‘What did they do to you?’ they would ask. ‘They laid their hands on my head in the name of Jesus Christ and commanded my eyes to be made whole,’ she would reply, ‘and it was instantly done.’ ‘Well, then give God the glory, for these men are followers of Joseph Smith, the false prophet. They are impostors.’ She in turn would reply, ‘Whether they are impostors or no, I cannot tell. But this much I can tell. I was blind, but now I see. Can impostors open the eyes of the blind? Are you asking all of these questions because you wish to become their disciples?’ ”

  Nathan gave a soft hoot of disgust. “That really infuriated them. ‘We are disciples of John Wesley,’ they would say. ‘We belong to the Christian church.’ They continually wearied her with their badgering.”

  “But surely she did not falter,” Mary Ann cried, “not after such a remarkable experience.”

  Nathan looked at his mother. “Toward the end, they took a new tack with her. ‘Ah,’ they would say, wagging their heads, ‘we see how it is with you. You are determined to forsake the Christian church for the sake of these weak impostors—the Mormons. Well, farewell. But remember, you will have no more support from our society, no more encouragement of any kind. You shall not even be allowed to teach school anymore. Then how will you live?’ ”

  He sighed deeply, the only sound in the silence of the room. “You have to remember that her husband had died. When she went blind, the Methodist society had cared for her. So that threat really hit her hard. After weeks of having contention and lying and railings heaped upon her head, the poor mother began to weaken. I’m sad to report that soon afterwards, she stopped coming to our meetings.” He looked at his hands. “We saw her no more.”

  “How tragic,” Mary Ann breathed. “How utterly tragic.”

  He nodded, then brightened after a moment. “But oh, how the work has progressed! Those who did believe began to introduce us to friends and relatives. Brother Taylor, for example—and this was before his baptism—took us out to an acquaintance of his, a Mr. Joseph Fielding, who lived with two of his sisters on a farm about nine miles outside the city. The Fieldings are also from England, like the Taylors. There are lots of people from Great Britain in the area.”

  He began to chuckle. “These two sisters, both intelligent and amiable women, turned and ran from the house when they saw us coming.”

  “But why?” Matthew blurt
ed out.

  “Because we were Mormons,” Nathan laughed, “and they did not want to give any countenance to Mormonism.”

  “What did you do?” Benjamin asked.

  “We convinced their brother to come to the meeting which had been called for the evening. He fetched his sisters back, they served us a good supper, then came to hear us preach that night.”

  Rebecca clapped her hands. “And you baptized them?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said with great satisfaction. “The people in the area drank in truth like water. We baptized the Fieldings and several other families. In fact, we organized a branch there. There are more than thirty members there now.” His mouth drooped for a moment. “I’m really going to miss the people of Canada.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you mean you’re not going back?”

  He looked offended. “Do you think you can stand to have me home?”

  “Don’t tease me, Nathan,” she cried. “Parley said he is returning very soon. I just assumed you’d have to go with him.”

  “Parley is returning. But now that Thankful has made such a remarkable recovery, he plans to take her with him.” He grinned at his wife, who was staring at him in wondrous disbelief. “I guess he thinks she’s a more amiable companion than I am.”

  Tears had sprung to her eyes. “That’s wonderful news, Nathan.”

  “Ah, but you didn’t answer my question—do you really think you can stand having me home?”

  Her eyes were shining as she smiled back at him. “It’s got its drawbacks, but I’d like to try.”

  He pulled her against his shoulder, holding her tight. “I think it’s time I spent some time with my wife and children.”

  * * *

  It was past midnight, but Nathan and Lydia still were awake. Some of it was Lydia catching him up on all that had happened in his absence. Some of it was Nathan sharing more of the details of the last two months. Mostly it was just that they rejoiced in being reunited at last, and they did not want it to end quite yet. But Lydia could sense that Nathan was on the verge of sleep. She snuggled up in the crook of his elbow, her very favorite way of being close to him. “Nathan?”

  “Hmm?”

  She smiled. He was going.

  “There is one part of Brother Kimball’s prophecies you haven’t mentioned.”

  “What?”

  “Heber made you a promise too. Remember?”

  He turned his head so he faced her in the dark. “Yes, I do.”

  “He said this mission to Canada would be a great blessing to your family too and that you would live to see the fulfillment of that as well.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well?”

  He grinned at her in the dark. “Well, what?”

  She poked him with her knee. “Well, do you know what he means?”

  The smile faded. “No, Lydia. I don’t. I have wondered about it a great deal, but so far, I haven’t the slightest idea what he meant.”

  “So far, everything Heber said that night has been correct.”

  “That’s right. A few things have yet to be fulfilled, though. Like the part about Thankful being able to give Parley a son.”

  “I’ll bet now that her health is better, she can become a mother.”

  “I think so too.”

  “So you think that he was right about our family too.”

  “Of course.”

  For several moments she thought about that. “I wonder what it could mean,” she finally murmured.

  There was no answer, and in a moment she knew she had lost him to sleep. Carefully she extracted herself from his arm. She went up on one elbow, then leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Welcome home, my darling Nathan,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brother Ben, would you mind if I drew upon your wisdom a little as we ride along?”

  Surprised, Benjamin Steed immediately shook his head. “Of course not. But I’m not sure how much wisdom I have to offer you, Joseph. I much prefer to listen to you.”

  Joseph laughed, and then responded with his characteristic honesty. “I shall serve as your advisor in spiritual matters, Benjamin. But I need your advice in things that are more temporal.”

  They were headed south on Chillicothe Road, now called Smith Road by many of the Saints. Joseph Smith, Sr., and three of his sons—Joseph, Jr., Hyrum, and William—all lived along it. They were just passing the old Stannard stone quarry from which the blocks for the temple had been cut. It was a hot day in mid-July, and the team of horses that pulled the wagon were plodding along with their heads down. Joseph seemed in no hurry and did not push them to move faster. Ostensibly, they were going about five miles south of town to pick up a load of green lumber and take it back to the lumber kiln for drying. But Benjamin suddenly realized that this was not the real reason why Joseph had asked him to accompany him.

  “I’m flattered that you would consider me in that light, Joseph. If I can help, I’ll be glad to.”

  “I need you to be honest with me, Ben.”

  “I shall,” Benjamin answered without hesitation. “Ask what you will. I hope I can help.”

  Joseph leaned back, cocking one arm to rest it on the back of the wagon seat. His face, usually open and filled with cheerfulness, now took on a more somber cast. “Do you remember the revelation in which the Lord said that if we humbled ourselves and were diligent and exercised the prayer of faith, he would soften the hearts of those to whom we were in debt and send the means for our deliverance?”

  “Yes, I remember that.”

  “Do you doubt the Lord, Ben?”

  That really caught him off guard. “No, I don’t think I do.”

  “Nor do I,” Joseph said slowly. “When the Lord promises, he fulfills.”

  “I agree.”

  Again Joseph seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Benjamin wasn’t sure the Prophet had heard him. “You know why I’ve called the meeting with the brethren for Thursday, don’t you?”

  Several of the brethren had speculated about it, but Benjamin had a pretty good idea already. “To talk about our financial situation?”

  “Yes. I don’t have to tell you, Benjamin, we are in serious trouble. The Church is deeply in debt. I mean deeply in debt, Benjamin.” He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Did you know we still have more than thirteen thousand dollars’ worth of unpaid notes on the temple?”

  Benjamin drew in his breath quickly. “Thirteen thousand?” he echoed.

  Joseph sighed with great pain. “Yes, and that is not pleasing to the Lord, Benjamin. It is his house. If we do not pay those notes, we could lose it.”

  “Surely no!”

  “Surely yes,” Joseph shot back. “Do you think the Lord is pleased to think his house stands in jeopardy?”

  “No wonder you’re burdened down, Joseph.”

  The Prophet looked out across a stretch of fine farmland, his eyes brooding. “And the Church in Zion is no better off than we are. They have run up a deficit of more than six thousand dollars buying land in northern Missouri.”

  Benjamin whistled softly. A total of nearly twenty thousand dollars!

  Now Joseph turned to him, his face pained. “So I ask you again, Ben. The Lord promised that if we were humble and diligent and exercised the prayer of faith, he would send means to us for deliverance from our debts. Yet here we are, more than two years later, and still deeply in debt. If the Lord fulfills his promises, then what would you conclude, Brother Steed?”

  Benjamin was staring at the horses’ feet, listening to the soft clop-clop of their hooves on the road. “That we have not met the Lord’s conditions.”

  “Aye,” Joseph said wearily. “I see no other conclusion.”

  They rode on in silence for several minutes. Finally, Joseph spoke again. “I have given this a great deal of thought, Brother Ben, and here are some of my conclusions.”

  “I’d like to hear them.”

  “P
art of our problem has to do with the gathering. The Lord commanded us to gather to Ohio, but he said it was to be done in order. He said the branches of the Church were to gather their moneys and send them with their people so that land could be purchased and all things could be done in the proper order. How often is that happening?”

  There was only one answer to that. “About one time in ten.”

  “That’s right. Generally the rich stay back while the poor come with nothing to their names except a belly full of hunger and a cart full of children. The contributions cannot keep up with it. Here’s something else the Lord warned us about.” He began to quote softly. “ ‘Wo unto you rich men, that will not give your substance to the poor, for your riches will canker your souls! And wo unto you poor men, whose bellies are not satisfied, and whose hands are not stayed from laying hold upon other men’s goods, whose eyes are full of greediness, and who will not labor with their own hands!’ ”

  Joseph sighed, then finally looked at his companion. “Ah, Ben, is it any wonder the Lord has not fulfilled his promise to us?”

  “So what do you propose, Joseph?”

  Joseph forced a laugh. “That’s what I have been praying about.”

  “And?”

  “Well, something has been much on my mind of late.”

  “What?”

  “To start a bank.”

  One eyebrow shot up, but immediately Benjamin began to nod thoughtfully.

  Joseph went on eagerly. “We could sell stock, use the money to capitalize the bank. Then we would have our own financial institution. All the interest we are paying to others would be saved. Our own people could borrow from us, and we could use that interest earned to pay off our debts and also to help meet the needs of the poor.”

  “That would help with the cash problem as well,” Benjamin threw in. “Almost everything we are doing now is on credit. That’s one of the reasons prices are rising so fast. We need capital. We need cash money.” A thought struck him. “Would you print your own bank notes?”