by Dean Hughes
• • •
Will was worried about Liz. She didn’t look well, and she was hard to please lately. Though his own mother had gone through lots of pregnancies, Will didn’t remember her ever being quite so peevish. That only led him to his most pervasive thought: he had taken Liz away from a life of luxury and ease, and she was holding up surprisingly well. She was working hard, and she never complained about the load she carried. His solution was always the same. He needed to earn more money. He needed to buy bricks. He needed to build a house with thick walls. In time, he wanted to hire a young woman to do some of the cooking and housecleaning. He knew that he was cheating Liz every time he plowed a man’s field and then let him off without paying. This was their business venture—the one Joseph Smith had recommended to him—but it wasn’t a business at all if he ended up wearing out his oxen and receiving nothing for his work.
Will walked out Mulholland Street to the east end of town. This was the main thoroughfare of the upper part of Nauvoo, but today no wagons were passing through. There were not even any children playing outside the log houses. He turned north and passed Hyrum Smith’s farm, and he did glimpse, in a pond at the bottom of a gully, a little band of naked boys splashing in the water.
He had been to Marcus Lancaster’s house once before to ask about the money, but Brother Lancaster had said at the time that he didn’t have any cash, that he would try to pay Will next month. Well, it was “next month” now, and Will wasn’t leaving until he received at least partial payment—if not in cash, in something Will could use for barter.
Brother Lancaster worked with leather. He and his sons did some tanning and some harness repair—that sort of thing—in a log shed out back of his house. When Will reached the Lancaster place, he walked to the shed, but he found no one there, so he came back around the house and knocked on the front door. When the door opened, Brother Lancaster was standing in front of him in his shirtsleeves. “Oh, Brother Lewis,” he said. Will heard the uneasiness in his voice.
“I was just wondering,” Will said, “if I could get what you owe me today. I need at least some of it.”
Brother Lancaster stepped outside and shut the door behind him. He was a tall man, big in the chest, but he had a face like a bookkeeper—thoughtful and serious. “Shor is hot,” he said. “You ever seen it this hot before?”
“This is my first summer here, but no, I don’t think so. I guess yesterday was about as bad.”
“I think it’s even worse today.”
Will hadn’t come to talk about the weather, and he could pretty well guess what all this was leading to. But he had been preparing his arguments all the way out here. “You said last month you could pay me by now. I’m trying get some supplies put away before winter, and I need some ready cash.”
“Who do you know who pays ready cash?” Brother Lancaster asked. His voice sounded tight now, as though he were annoyed that Will would suggest such a thing.
Will drew in some breath and said calmly, “You hired me for two dollars an acre, Brother Lancaster, and I plowed twenty acres for you. That’s forty dollars you owe me. I can’t carry that much on credit. If I do that for everyone, I’ll be broke and my oxen will be dead.”
“Then I’ll tell you what. Go around to all the men in town who owe money to me, and get a few dollars from each one of ’em. I’m up against the same problem. I’ve done a lot of work this year—and how much do I have to show for it?”
Will looked down at his own worn boots, and noticed at the same time that Lancaster’s boots looked new. He had also caught a glimpse inside the house and seen that Sister Lancaster had nice furniture: a set of overstuffed chairs and an oak cabinet. He suspected that Brother Lancaster hadn’t invited him in for exactly that reason—that he didn’t want Will to see how well he lived. “But Marcus,” Will persisted, “I didn’t do ‘a few dollars’ worth’ of work for you. I was out there the better part of a month, and I was pushing my oxen just as many hours as they could take. You agreed to the price. You never said once that you wouldn’t be able to pay me.”
“I will pay you. As soon as I can. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You must have some tanned hides you could give me—or something I could turn into a little cash. I would even take Nauvoo scrip.”
“If I had something, I’d give it to you.” He put his hands on his hips. “You don’t sound much like a brother in the gospel to me, Will, staring me in the eye like that, telling me what I’ve got to do—and when I’ve got to do it.”
“I thought a brother in the gospel kept his promises. Did I get that wrong?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to get off my property. You can’t talk to me that way. You opened that land for me, and I appreciate it. But I won’t be planting until next spring. When I see a harvest from it, I can pay you then.”
“So you’re telling me to wait a year before I see one penny from all the work I did for you. Is that it?”
Will realized that he had moved in a little too close to Brother Lancaster, and the man took a step back. “Will, that’s enough. I’ll pay you something this year if I can. But you have to be reasonable, and—”
“Reasonable? I need to live now. I’ve got a baby coming—”
“And I’ve got a whole houseful of children to feed—grown boys who can eat more than you and me put together. I’ve given you my answer, and if you don’t like it, take me to bishop’s court. But the bishop will tell you just what I did. We’re all brothers in the gospel and we have to move ahead together as best we can.”
Will stepped back. He took another breath. He knew he didn’t want to go before his bishop and report that he had knocked a brother down—and he was feeling close to doing just that. He took another few seconds to collect himself, and then he said, “Brother Lancaster, a boat came in this morning. Some Church members named Johns arrived, and they had a little bedding and a few pots and pans—but mostly they had nothing. They took over that old cabin Liz and I lived in at first, and I told them they could have half of what they harvest from the garden I planted. I told Brother Johns I could give him a little work. When people are destitute, we have to stand with them and help them every way we can. But it’s different to live the way you do, and to hire me to do your work and not give me a farthing for it—and then tell me I’m not a good brother in the gospel because I expect to get paid before a whole year has gone by.”
“Will, there’s nothing more to say. I can’t pay you right now.”
“All right, then. You’re a religious man. Go back in your house and kneel down and tell the Lord that that’s how you plan to operate. If you feel all right about yourself after you’ve done that, let me know.”
“I can pray just fine. I’m an honest man, and I’ve been honest with you. I think you’re the one who needs to do some praying—and repenting.”
Will came close. His fist doubled and he brought his arm back. But he didn’t swing. He slowly dropped his arm, and then he turned and walked away. But all the way back to his pregnant wife, he tried to convince himself that he was a good enough man to live in Zion—without knocking down some of his brothers. And he tried to think how he was ever going to build Liz a house if he couldn’t get paid for his work.
Chapter 2
Abby Lewis shut her eyes and took a long breath. She was exhausted from her labor, which had lasted all day, but now fear was setting in. The pain had finally ended, and she had heard the baby cry—and that was a relief to her—but the delivery room had filled up with people in scrubs or white coats as the birth had neared. Abby had the feeling that all these nurses and doctors were ready to grab her baby and run, but she wanted to see him first. When she raised her head to see what was happening, she saw a nurse carrying him across the room. Abby was about to protest when she heard Dr. Hunt’s voice. “Just a minute, Abby. We need to check a couple of things, and then we’ll l
et you see him.”
Abby looked at Jeff, who was still holding her hand. “Did he look all right?” she asked.
“I think so. I didn’t get a really good look at him.”
“New babies are kind of purple,” Dr. Hunt said, and he laughed, “but your little boy looked fine. “He’s not very big at this point, but you knew that.”
For months now Dr. Hunt, the pediatric cardiologist, had been telling her that something was wrong with the baby’s heart, but Abby and Jeff had been praying every day. She wanted to believe that everything was all right now.
A nurse was saying from across the room, “We’ll bring him to you. Just give us another minute.”
Abby looked toward the voice and saw a little huddle of people in plum-colored scrubs. The baby wasn’t crying now, and that made her nervous. What if his heart suddenly stopped and she never got a chance to hold him while he was still alive?
Jeff was wiping the sweat from Abby’s face with a damp cloth. He leaned down and kissed her gently. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to go through all this.”
She knew what he meant. He had been there the whole time, watching her struggle with the pain and effort, but she was struck with how little a man really understood. All that was behind her now. What she needed was her baby.
At last the nurse was coming. “What’s his name?” she asked as she stepped to the bed.
“Moriancumr,” Jeff said, and he laughed.
“What?”
“Not really. It’s just our little joke. We haven’t decided on a name yet.”
Abby was reaching for the baby. He was already wrapped in a blanket, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to see his body, see if he looked all right. She wanted to sit up and hold him, but she was still in the stirrups, and the doctor was down there stitching her, she supposed—with way too many people looking at her. Still, she held her little boy, and she looked at his wonderful little face. His nose was flat, his cheeks puffy, his eyes closed, but he was beautiful, with pretty little lips and an earnest look about him. He was like Jeff, she thought. So sweet. So little and sweet. She opened the blanket to look at his arms and hands, his skinny little legs—like a frog’s—which he began to kick about. She knew that new babies had fingernails, but she was still sort of astounded to see all the detail of his body, how perfect it all was.
“He’s all right, Jeff,” she said. “I can tell he’s all right. I don’t think anything is wrong with him. You blessed him, and he’s perfect now.”
“He does look okay,” Jeff said. “He’s beautiful.”
“Watch how he grabs my finger. He’s strong.”
Jeff laughed. “That’s my boy.”
But Dr. Hunt was standing next to Jeff by then. “We need to take him,” he said. “We’ll do the echocardiogram and then bring him back to you.”
“How long?” Abby asked.
“The better part of an hour, I’d say. We need to do some tests, and we need to make sure we get a good image so we can tell you what the options are. But if surgery is necessary, it will be at least a couple of days before we do it. So you’ll have plenty of time with him.”
Abby wrapped up her baby again, and then she held him close to her chest and placed her cheek on his warm little head. She didn’t want to let him go. When she did, she handed him to Jeff, not the doctor, and she said, “Hug him, Jeff. He needs to know who his daddy is before all these doctors start poking at him.”
It was disheartening to think that the first things he would experience in this world were hard tables, machines, and needles. Her impulse was to grab him back and tell everyone to leave her son alone. She would take care of him, and his heart would be not only strong but pure.
• • •
Jeff was standing a few steps into the parking lot in back of the hospital—Blessing Hospital, in Quincy, Illinois. He had gone outside to get better reception on his cell phone. The sun was already down, and the air was bitterly cold. It was his mother who answered the phone at home in Las Vegas. “Has the baby come?” she asked without even saying hello.
“Yes. And he seemed all right. They took him away to check him out, so I’ll know more in a little while.”
“Is Abby doing okay?”
“She’s kind of upset. She keeps telling me she’s sure that he’s all right. But I think she’s scared.”
“We’re all scared, Jeff. If they have to operate, when will they do it?”
Jeff heard a change in the background sound and knew another phone had been picked up. “Is that you, Dad?” he asked.
“Yes. What’s your doctor saying?”
“He’s going to tell us what’s going on in an hour or so.”
“Should I come out?” his mother asked.
“No. Not yet. He’ll be in the hospital quite a while if they operate, and besides, Abby’s mom keeps saying she wants to come. Abby would rather have you, if you want to know the truth, but how is she supposed to tell her mother that?”
“Well, just know, I’m ready if you need me.”
“I know that, Mom. Thanks.” Jeff hadn’t brought a coat outside with him, and it was a cold January day. He tightened his arms to his chest as best he could while still holding the phone to his ear.
“Have you picked out a name yet?” Dad asked. “I wanted to submit his name to the temple, and didn’t know what to write down.”
“I call him Mahonri Moriancumr—just to get Abby’s goat—but she keeps coming up with Kadin and Macon and all these ‘with-it’ names that I hate.”
“What about William?” Dad asked.
A big pickup truck, black and rumbling, was passing Jeff. He stepped back to the sidewalk and waited for the noise to quiet. “Why William?”
“After your great-great-great Grandfather Lewis. You know, because of the Nauvoo connection.”
“‘William’ sounds a little too formal to me, and I don’t think I want to call him Bill.”
“Grandfather Lewis was always known as ‘Will.’ My aunt Mary told me that.”
“Does she know a lot about him? I haven’t come up with much information about him out here.”
“She has a life history that he wrote. It’s in his own handwriting. I’ve never seen it, but—”
“Could I get a copy?”
“Probably. She told me a while back that she was typing out a transcript for the family, but she’s never mentioned it again. I don’t know if she finished it or not.”
“Tell her I’d like to have a copy of whatever she has so far.”
“Okay. I’ll call her.”
Will was still thinking about the name. “Actually, ‘Will’ sounds good to me. I’ll see what Abby thinks.”
“Honey, first things first,” Mom said. “Don’t bother Abby with that right now. Go take care of her. And then call us the minute you know anything.”
“All right.” Jeff was starting to shiver. “I’m standing outside, freezing—and I do need to get back to Abby. But I’ll call as soon as I can.”
“We’re fasting,” his father said. “Your mom called me right after you called and said you were heading for the hospital. I came home so I could start our fast immediately. Julie and Cassi started when they got home from school too—and we called Rachel, up in Provo. She’s joining in. We’re all praying—and waiting. And we do feel like things will work out okay.”
“Thanks,” Jeff said. Suddenly he was choking up. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment how exhausted he was, how tense. He had been awake since two that morning. What he wished was that his parents were not so far away.
Jeff took the elevator back upstairs and then waited outside Abby’s room until a nurse and an orderly finally wheeled her in. It had been almost an hour since the team had taken the baby away. Jeff sat down next to Abby’s bed and took her hand again. He told her ab
out the phone calls he had made to her parents and to his, and they talked a little about that, but gradually they quieted as time continued to pass and their unexpressed nervousness mounted.
“Jeff, you felt what I did, didn’t you? I think his heart is fine.”
Jeff didn’t know what to say.
“Didn’t you feel it?” she asked again, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at him. Jeff saw the innocence in her face, her round brown eyes, childlike, and hints of her dimples showing, as though she wanted to smile and couldn’t quite manage it.
“Honey, I’m not sure. He looked great. But we know something was wrong. I don’t know if it would just go away, or—”
“You blessed him. God took it away.”
Jeff nodded, but he looked past Abby. He couldn’t bring himself to make any promises, and he felt ashamed that he couldn’t give her what she needed at the moment. Still, he also knew how devastated she would be if he promised her that the baby was all right and then Dr. Hunt came in with a different story. “I do believe God knows what’s happening. He cares about us and He cares about the baby. I just try to trust in that.”
That was painfully neutral, and Jeff knew it. But for once in his life he decided it was better not to say anything more. It was not the right time to discuss the whole matter of faith and blessings again. They had done that too many times these last few weeks. So they waited, and Jeff heard every squeaky nurse’s step on the hallway floor outside, every muted voice. The smell of the place was all around him: the scent of laundered sheets and something antiseptic, like hand sanitizer—clean but vaguely unpleasant. The truth was, the tests were apparently taking longer than expected, and that couldn’t be good. Jeff felt more emptiness than faith.
When Dr. Hunt finally did come in, Jeff watched his face and saw that he wasn’t about to say, “Everything is just fine.” He stood with his legs spread wide apart and a clipboard clamped in his arms in front of him. He was still wearing his green scrubs, with his mask hanging around his neck. “This is a tricky one,” he said.
