Tears suddenly welled up, as much to her surprise as to the others’. “He is so gentle, so much more patient now. The gospel’s changed him. And if—” She had to stop for a moment. When she finally went on, her voice was strained with emotion. “And if the Benjamin Steed I’m married to now had been the Benjamin Steed who went looking for Joshua that night nine years ago, I think . . .” Her shoulders lifted. “I know things would have turned out very differently than they did.”
Her voice cleared and strengthened. “That’s what the gospel of Jesus Christ has done for our family, Carl. And I pray constantly that you and Melissa can someday find what Benjamin and I, and Lydia and Nathan, now have.”
“That’s all well and good,” he said quietly, still stubbornly trying to make his point, “but what I don’t understand is why you think everyone has to join the Mormon church to unite the family. Benjamin becomes a Mormon, now you’re happy. Lydia and Nathan both join the Church, now they’re filled with bliss. Arthur Wilkinson refuses to accept Mormonism, so break it off; he and Rebecca can’t be happy.”
“Carl—,” Lydia started, but he shook his head quickly.
“No, let me finish. I’m not Mormon, but I love Melissa. I love our sons. I belong to a Christian church. I try to follow Christ. Why should I be the one to join your church so Melissa and I can unite our family? Why doesn’t Melissa renounce Mormonism and become a Methodist with me? That would eliminate the conflict too.”
He sat back, relieved to have finally gotten it out. For a moment, no one spoke. Melissa was staring at her empty plate, toying with the fork. Any desire on Lydia’s part to strike back, to best him in a conversational game, was now gone. She watched him with sad eyes, wishing she could make him understand, but not knowing what more to say.
He laughed scornfully. “Well, I see no one has an answer to that.”
Mary Ann took a deep breath. “I have an answer, Carl.” She appraised him with a steady, calm look. “But it may not be what you want to hear.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re right. You and Melissa do need to be unified on the question of religion in your marriage. For your sake and for the children’s.”
His face reflected his surprise. He had expected defensiveness, a quick lecture on the fact that the Mormon church was the only true church on the face of the earth. He had been prepared to answer that with a contemptuous retort. He didn’t know what to say to this.
“So I have a suggestion,” Mary Ann said.
Carl looked suspicious. “What?”
“Why don’t you and Melissa start this very night? Kneel down at your bedside together, and tell the Lord that you desire to be united in your religious views, that you both want to belong to the same church, so that your present religious differences will not be a dividing force in your family. That is a good desire. So ask the Lord for his help. Ask him which church you should both join—yours or Melissa’s or maybe another. And tell him that you are willing to abide by his answer. Continue your petition every night until the Lord gives you both an answer. Fair enough?”
He looked quickly at Melissa. “And what if the Lord says for Melissa to become a Methodist?”
“Then I’ll do it,” she said without hesitation.
Now Lydia leaned forward. “And what if the Lord says for you to become a Mormon?”
The question hung in the air. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at Mary Ann. Finally he turned to his wife. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can pray about it. I’ll have to think about it.”
* * *
Lydia held Emily’s hand tightly as they walked down the path that led from the bluffs down into what everyone called Kirtland Flats. Below them, still about three hundred yards away, the meandering of the river, marked by a dark line of trees and brush, cut across the snowy landscape. Near the junction of four of Geauga County’s main roads stood the Newel K. Whitney store. It was flanked on both sides by homes—one his own, and the other Orson Hyde’s, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. All three buildings were nearly lost against the whiteness, since they were painted white and their roofs were snow covered. The two-story Johnson inn, across the street from the store, was made of local brick and was a bright red gash against the whiteness. All four buildings had lazy columns of smoke rising from their chimneys.
It had started raining lightly just at dusk the night before, then turned to snow during the night. It was less than an inch deep, but the wet base had frozen, and the pathway was slick enough underneath Lydia’s feet to make for treacherous footing. Twice Emily’s feet nearly went out from under her and Lydia had to pull her back up again.
On the path, two sets of footprints, a man’s and a woman’s, and a set of narrow wheel tracks were the only marks in the new snow. It was early enough in the day that most of Kirtland’s population were still in their homes, but obviously someone was out before Lydia and her daughter. As they rounded a slight curve in the path and cleared a row of low-lying bushes, Lydia saw a man and a woman ahead of them about half a block. The man was pushing a baby’s pram. He was tall, broad shouldered. He wore no hat, and his hair was light brown, combed high and back from his forehead. The woman had a small woolen bonnet on, but it did not completely cover the mass of dark ringlets that bounced lightly as she walked.
Lydia tightened her grip on Emily’s hand. “Come, Emily. Let’s hurry a little. That’s Brother Joseph and Sister Emma. Let’s catch up to them.”
Joseph must have heard them, for he stopped and turned around. Immediately a broad smile filled his face. “Sister Lydia,” he called, “you’re out bright and early.”
Emma turned too, her eyes lighting with recognition. “Hello, Lydia.”
“Hello, Brother Joseph. Hello, Emma.” She came up to join them, pulling off her woolen mittens to shake hands with them.
Joseph went down on one knee, peering up beneath Emily’s winter bonnet. “And who have we here?” He reared back, feigning wondrous surprise. “Why, I do believe it is the lovely Miss Emily Steed.”
Emily’s dark eyes danced with pleasure. “Yes, it is, Brother Joseph.”
“Well, bless my soul. And aren’t you getting to look more like your mother with every passing day?”
Emily curtsied slightly. “I hope so, thank you.”
That won her a laugh from all three adults. Joseph fished inside the pocket of his vest and found a small coin. He handed it to her. “I understand Brother Whitney has some new licorice candy. Why don’t you run along before it’s all gone. We’ll be along shortly.”
“Yes, sir!” Emily said, her eyes wide. “Is it all right, Mama?”
“Yes, dear. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Tell Mr. Whitney we’re coming, or he’ll wonder what you’re doing out all by yourself.”
With a perfunctory nod she was gone, her little feet making hardly any sound in the snow. Joseph watched her for a moment, then turned to Lydia. “She really is getting to be quite the little beauty. You and Nathan will have to watch her when she gets to be sixteen or seventeen. She’ll have every eligible man in the county after her.”
Lydia laughed with obvious pleasure. “You know the little Carter boy?”
“Yes.”
“He and Emily are good friends. The other day I caught her standing before the mirror, looking at herself in a new dress. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘Daniel is going to just love me in this.’ ” She laughed and shook her head. “That’s at a little over four years. I can imagine what it will be like when she’s sixteen.”
“Where are little Joshua and Nathan?” Emma asked.
“Rebecca’s watching them. I had to get some things from the store. I tried to talk Emily into staying too, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” She took a step forward and bent down to look into the pram. There was a bundle of blankets there, but nothing else showing. Emma reached down and pulled back the top layer. Frederick G. Williams Smith was sleeping, his round little cheeks touched with pink from the cold.<
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“He is so precious, Emma,” Lydia said. “And big. For four months old, he’s really a husky young man.”
“He’s going to have his father’s build, I predict,” Joseph said proudly.
Emma tucked the blanket back around the baby’s face, then they started walking again slowly, Joseph pushing the pram. He looked at Lydia. “Any word from Nathan and Benjamin?”
“Yes, we got a letter last week. They found Jessica and Rachel up north in a small settlement there. They said they were going to try and build a small cabin for her and Rachel with a small shed out back for Matthew. They said it would take about a week, then they’re going to start back.”
“Matthew’s doing a good thing,” Joseph said. “Jessica needs a man there to help her.”
“I know. Mother Steed misses him fiercely, of course, but we all feel so much better knowing Jessica and Rachel won’t be alone, especially with winter coming on.”
“When was the letter dated?”
“October eighth, I think.”
“So they could be home soon.”
“Yes. Mother Steed thinks toward the end of the week perhaps. They are going to take the steamers most of the way, so it shouldn’t take them nearly as long to get back.”
“Wonderful.” Joseph seemed really pleased. “We are going to have a meeting next week, on the second of November. We’ll be drawing up the articles for the Kirtland Safety Society.”
“The Kirtland Safety Society?”
“Yes, our bank,” Emma explained.
“Oh.”
Joseph stopped in order to free his hands from the pram. Lydia had to smile at that. He always loved to punctuate what he was saying. “We are really excited about this, Sister Lydia. Our financial problems are too complex for simple solutions. But this bank should help immensely. That’s why I need Benjamin here. And Nathan too, of course. All the brethren are coming. But I especially need Ben’s talents and his good judgment.”
“Well, I’m certainly hoping they make it by the first of the month.”
They were approaching the crossroads now and passing by the hotel. Two men came out of the side door to the inn. They were bundled up against the cold, collars pulled up around their necks and half hiding their faces. One had a pipe in his hand. They were laughing loudly, as if one had just told a joke. They did not particularly look like very fine gentlemen. Joseph had been about to speak, but the sight of the two men made him hold off.
As the men came out to the road, they came face-to-face with Lydia and the Smiths. The man with the pipe slowed his step, leaning forward to peer more closely at Joseph.
“Good mornin’ to you,” Joseph said pleasantly.
“Joe Smith, ain’t it?” the man boomed.
“Yes. And who might you be?”
The man guffawed, slapping his companion on the shoulder and pulling him to a stop. “You know who this is?”
The other man made a long face and shook his head slowly. Then he couldn’t hold it any longer and burst out laughing as well. “Why, isn’t this the Joe Smith who goes out lookin’ for buried treasure?” He stepped directly in front of Joseph and Emma so as to block their way, leering at Emma.
Lydia saw Emma tense. She felt her own heart suddenly start to race a little too, suddenly glad she had sent Emily on ahead. Joseph took Emma’s arm with one hand and moved forward, steering the pram so that the first man had to step out of the way quickly or be struck. “Hey!” he cried angrily. “Watch where you’re going.”
“I was watching,” Joseph said mildly, without bothering to turn around.
The second man stepped aside as the women brushed passed him. He cackled wildly. “You ladies going down to help ol’ Joe here dig up that chest of treasure?”
“Come on, Garth,” the first man cried, slapping at his companion. “You know there ain’t no treasure here in Kirtland. Only in Salem, Mass.” That was followed by another burst of laughter. It was a raw sound, like that made by dragging something metal over a washboard.
Joseph’s step slowed, and his mouth pulled into a tight line, but Emma quickly slipped her arm through his and kept him moving. They were past the two men now and did not turn around to give them the satisfaction of a response. But the men hadn’t moved on. They got in a final shot. “Watch out for them pirates, Joe. They might not like you taking all their hidden gold.”
Again the cackling laughter rang out across the snow.
“Joseph,” Emma said quietly, “pay them no mind.”
His shoulders lifted and fell. Finally he nodded, but he remained stiff and tight-lipped as they crossed the street and entered the Newel Whitney store.
* * *
“Brother Joseph?” Lydia said.
He turned to her. They were on the porch of the store now. Joseph had the baby in his arms while Emma finished the last of her purchases inside. Emily was a few steps away, drawing patterns in the snow with her boots.
“You can’t let what those men said bother you. You went to Salem with good intentions. So what, if it didn’t work out? If you hadn’t gone, you would always wonder.”
He smiled, the blue eyes showing his gratitude. “I know.”
“So pay them no mind. They are crude men. What do they know about the things of God?”
That brought his head up, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It’s funny you should say that.”
Lydia was puzzled. “Why?”
“What do I know about the things of God?”
Flabbergasted, Lydia could only stare at him.
He laughed, a deep pleasant sound in his chest. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way.” He sobered. “You know, Sister Lydia, about a year ago—in fact, it was a year ago next month—a man came to visit Kirtland. He was from the East. Someone introduced me to him. When he heard my name he was surprised. He stared at me for a moment, then remarked that I was nothing but a man.”
“What did he think you were?” she asked in surprise.
“Well, he had supposed that a man who communed with God should look different. I’m not sure what he had in mind.” He began to walk slowly back and forth, rocking the baby gently in his arms. “Some people seem to forget what the Apostle James said, that the prophet Elijah was a man subject to like passions as we are, even though he had such power with God that, in answer to his prayers, the Lord shut the heavens so that it did not rain.”
Lydia wasn’t quite sure where this was leading, or how to respond.
Now the inner hurt was evident on his face. “It’s not just the nonmembers who are being critical about the fact that I found nothing in Salem. You’ve heard the complaints, I’m sure.”
Now she understood, at least in part, what was bothering him. “I know, Joseph,” she said softly. “But you can’t listen to them either.”
If he heard, he made no sign. He had turned and was gazing up toward the bluffs, where the temple and the main part of Kirtland were. “I’m sure Benjamin has some of the same feelings too. He tried to talk me out of it. Several times. From the beginning he said it was foolishness.”
“Benjamin is Benjamin,” Lydia said quickly. “You know how practical minded he is. He’ll get over it.”
He sighed. “I hope so. Some of the others aren’t getting over it. They can’t seem to let it be. Martin. Warren Parrish. Even some of the Twelve.”
“Well, there are others that don’t believe you were wrong. Not for a minute.”
He looked grateful for a moment, then grew thoughtful again. “That’s what the Lord said too, you know.”
“What?”
“That it was folly.”
“He did?” That really caught her by surprise.
“Yes. While we were in Salem, I received a revelation.” He gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “It was most interesting how the Lord stated it. The revelation started out something like this. ‘I, the Lord your God, am not displeased with your coming on this journey, notwithstanding your follies.’ ”
He paused, s
haking his head slowly. “Think about that. We had been foolish, but he was not displeased with us. That suggests he was not really pleased with us either.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, I’m not sure I do fully yet either. But I think the Lord was saying that he knew our hearts were right. He knew we hadn’t come there simply for our own personal gain. Also, there were other things he wanted us to do. He said that he had other treasures for us in the city. I assume by that he meant the people. And so he was not displeased.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “I had really prayed about this matter, Lydia. It was one of those times when I thought this might be the Lord’s answer. But I was wrong.”
Again he laughed, more at himself than at the situation. “That’s what I meant when I said I may not always understand the Lord’s ways either. In the revelation he reminded me that he too cares about our debts, that he too is concerned about the welfare of Zion. He seemed to be saying to me, ‘I know you’ve prayed about it. I know you’ve come here to try and find some money to solve your problems. But you’re trusting in the wisdom of man. Why have you forgotten me? Don’t you think I care about those debts? Don’t you think I care about Zion?’ ” He stopped for a moment, then more quietly concluded. “It is an important lesson, even for a prophet.”
“I see,” Lydia said, touched now by Joseph’s honesty and self-examination. “We all do that, don’t we? Trust in our own wisdom.”
“Yes, we do.” The baby stirred in its blanket, and so Joseph put him up on one shoulder and began to pat his back softly.
Behind them the door of the store opened and Emma came out, carrying a bag filled with her purchases. “Sorry, Joseph. Newel couldn’t find the one kind of thread that I needed.”
“We’re fine. Sister Lydia and I have been having a good talk.” He swung the baby down and stepped to where they had left the pram on the far end of the porch. “Come on, little fellow. Let’s go home.”
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