by Gale Sears
“And in persecutions suffered for the truth,” Elder Stenhouse added.
Lorenzo nodded and turned to Elder Toronto. “What do you think, Elder Toronto?”
“Yes. Yes. It is a good idea,” Elder Toronto answered with forced enthusiasm.
The man’s words spoke of support, but his look was somber. Lorenzo moved to him, placing his hand on his shoulder. “What’s troubling you, my friend?”
It took Elder Toronto time to answer. “I meant to wait a week or two before bothering you with this, Elder Snow. I know you’ve been worried about where to settle the mission, and I did not want to add to your burden.”
“It is fine, Brother Toronto,” Lorenzo said. “Your thoughts and feelings are important to me.”
The troubled look on Elder Toronto’s face eased. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” He looked to Elder Stenhouse and back to Lorenzo. “Since my health has returned to me, I have been feeling a strong desire to travel to Sicily and meet with my family there. When I joined the Church in Boston, I had been away from home for many years—an adventurous sailor, out to see the world.” He shook his head. “But now, back in my country, I find that I miss my family and the friends of my youth. I want to return home and see if I can turn their hearts to the gospel. Perhaps they will find an interest in what I believe.” He looked steadfastly at Lorenzo. “Does this make sense to you?”
“Perfect sense,” Lorenzo said. “It is a desire filled with charity.”
Brother Stenhouse stepped forward. “It is Lehi standing by the Tree of Life and longing for his family to come and partake of the fruit.”
A few tears leaked from the corners of Brother Toronto’s eyes. “Thank you, brothers. I have been worried that I was abandoning my mission.”
“Not at all,” Lorenzo assured. “I think you will do a good work among your family, Elder Toronto. A good work.”
“But what of all the work to do here in these valleys? It will be difficult for two, especially with the language.”
“The Lord will provide, Brother Toronto. If He has prompted you south to your family, then He will give guidance on how we are to proceed. In fact, on my journey here from Genoa, I had the feeling to call another missionary from England to join us.”
Elder Toronto’s eyes widened. “Really? You are not just saying that to make me feel better?”
Lorenzo chuckled. “Well, I’m glad if it makes you feel better, but that’s not the reason for the prompting. I think the work here will take many interesting paths and we must be ready to serve where we are called.”
“Any ideas on the new missionary?” Elder Stenhouse asked.
Lorenzo grinned over at him. “Not at the moment, but we will counsel together and see if a name presents itself.”
“I may have a few suggestions,” Elder Stenhouse answered with a confident nod.
“Excellent!” Lorenzo said. “You see, Elder Toronto, all is well. We will send you off on the first of August and a new missionary will join us here sometime in September.” Lorenzo looked to the darkening sky. “I feel assured, brethren, that the Lord has directed us to a branch of the house of Israel.” He looked over at his two companions. “I also feel that we will find many good people with the same mind and heart as those Saints we know in the valleys of the West and the green isles of Britain.”
“Amen to that,” Elder Stenhouse said.
“So, to home and to bed,” Lorenzo said, turning immediately and heading in the direction of the inn. Elders Stenhouse and Toronto hurried to catch up as their leader continued talking. “Tomorrow I will buy paper and ink and begin writing the publication about the Church; Elder Toronto, you will prepare for your journey south; and Elder Stenhouse, you will take a hike up into the valley to gain acquaintance with the people of the mountains.”
Elder Stenhouse heartily concurred with his assignment, and then began singing:
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah!
Jesus anointed “that Prophet and Seer”—
Blessed to open the last dispensation;
Kings shall extol him, and nations revere.
His lilting brogue fit well with the lovely Scottish melody, inspiring his companions to join in.
Hail to the Prophet, ascended to heaven!
Traitors and tyrants now fight him in vain.
Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren;
Death cannot conquer the hero again.
Lorenzo felt the press of tears at the back of his eyes, and was amazed to find that they were tears of awe, not anguish. Only six years prior, their beloved Prophet Joseph had been murdered by a cruel mob in Carthage, Illinois. The surrounding secular world believed it to be the end of the odd sect with its claims of angelic visitations and new scripture, and for a time, the heart of the Mormon people could scarce imagine a future in which the Prophet Joseph was not present. But the core of the faith held firm through sorrow, persecution, extermination orders, and expulsion, while thousands of converts from Europe and Scandinavia bolstered the beleaguered group of Saints moving west.
Lorenzo strode down the pathway, singing in a voice filled with wonder, resolve, and gratitude, for although he missed his family terribly, he was grateful to be a part of the magnificent work of the restoration.
Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven!
Earth must atone for the blood of that man.
Wake up the world for the conflict of justice!
Millions shall know Brother Joseph again.
Notes
The Guys’ inn, Pension de l’Ours, was most likely located in the center part of Torre Pellice, but I placed it in a more rural locale simply for a more picturesque setting.
The single candle haloed by seven stars with the words “The Light Which Shines in Darkness” is an important symbol for the Waldensian people, and plaques and pictures of this representation can be found in every Waldensian temple or meeting place.
Chapter Thirteen
Torre Pellice
August 11, 1850
“Mama wants potatoes and cabbages,” Joseph said, pulling up carrots from the monastery garden.
Father Andrew shrugged. “Well, those are carrots, not potatoes, but you are welcome to a few of those, too.” Andrew sat on a stool near the middle of the garden, enjoying the company of his great-nephew and -niece and the afternoon sun.
Albertina moved over and took the carrots out of her little brother’s hand. “I told you to wait for me to tell you what to pull up.” She laid the carrots in her basket alongside a huge cabbage.
“Sorry. Sorry, Albi,” Joseph said contritely. “But I thinked they was potatoes.” He brightened. “We like carrots, too!”
Father Andrew laughed out loud, and Albertina scowled at him. “Don’t encourage him. He’d probably pull up the entire garden if given half a chance.” She turned her scowl on Joseph. “We have carrots in our own garden.”
Joseph’s mouth worked back and forth as he thought. “But these are holy carrots!”
Now both Andrew and Albertina laughed. Joseph hopped up and ran to his sister. “You’re not mad at me now?”
She leaned down and brushed dirt from his trousers. “How can I be mad at you? You’re a little treasure.”
Joseph pushed her hand away when she tried to clean dirt off his face. He ran to his great-uncle and climbed onto his lap.
“Joseph!” Albertina scolded. “You’re too big to climb up on Uncle’s lap.” He immediately began to slide down, but Andrew caught him.
“He’s fine. He’s just fine. I can hold him for a little while.”
Joseph made himself comfortable. “See, he wants to hold me ’cause I’m a treasure.”
Albertina shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. He thinks he’s the king of Piedmont-Sardinia.” She walked off toward the potato plants.
“I can’t help it.”
Andrew’s voice became gruff. “I am actually angry with you.”
Joseph turned to look into his great-uncle’s stern face. “Why?”
“Because you haven’t come to visit me in a long time.”
Joseph sighed dramatically. “We have been very busy, you see.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Yes. We have men at the inn.” He held up three fingers. “There was this many.” He put one of his fingers down. “But now there are this many.”
“What happened to the other man?”
Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. He went away.” He slid off his uncle’s lap. “Oh, I know! Papa said he went home to Sicily.” He brushed dirt off Andrew’s cassock. “Maybe he missed his mama.”
Andrew gave the boy an affectionate grin and ruffled his hair. “Maybe he did. Maybe he did.”
“I am not going to leave home,” Joseph said.
“What’s that about leaving home?” Albertina asked as she approached.
“We are not going to,” Joseph declared. “We won’t, will we, Uncle?”
“Never,” Andrew said.
Albertina set down her heavy basket. “Never?”
Joseph frowned at her. “No. We won’t.” He took ahold of her skirt. “You won’t leave home, will you, Sister?”
“Well, of course. When I marry, I’ll move into a different house.”
“No, you won’t.”
She noted the troubled look on her brother’s face. “Yes, I will, dear one. I will have a big new house with my husband, but . . .” she paused for dramatic effect, “. . . I will make sure we build our house right next door to the inn.”
“Next door?”
“Yes. And every day you can come and see me.” He hugged her legs and she patted his back. “And if you’re very good we will make a playroom just for you.”
Joseph’s face filled with wonder. “A playroom?”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Now who’s treating him like he’s the king?”
“Can I help it?” Albertina replied. “Look at that face.”
“My face?” Joseph asked.
“Yes, your face, dirt and all. Come here. Let me clean it.”
“No!” Joseph squealed. He ran across the rows of vegetables, treading on green leaves as he went.
Andrew laughed, but Albertina was horrified. “Joseph Guy, stop!”
At that moment, Madeleine Cardon appeared around the garden wall. She stopped in her tracks, watching with delight as her friend jumped vegetable rows in pursuit of her brother. “Run, Joseph! Run!” Madeleine called.
Albertina grunted. “Don’t encourage him!”
Joseph made a dash for Madeleine, but Albertina caught him just before he made it to the safety of her skirts. There was giggling and laughing all around as the girls tried to secure the wriggling boy.
“No! No! Don’t wash my face! Don’t do it!”
“Oh, goodness! All this fuss over a clean face?” Albertina scolded.
“You scrub too hard.”
“Do you want Mother to do it?”
Joseph’s eyes widened and he stopped squirming. “No.”
“Then come with me to the trough, and I promise to be gentle.”
“All right,” he said slowly. He took her hand and Madeleine’s. “You can swing me!”
The girls swung him over to the hollowed log at the edge of the garden into which poured clear artesian water. It was near the place where Father Andrew was sitting, so he had a grand view of the washing-up scene. Soon hands and face were clean, and Madeleine sacrificed her apron for the drying. After the bath, Joseph ran into the arms of his great-uncle.
“You’re warm,” he sighed.
“One of the advantages of a black cassock on a sunny day,” Andrew said, holding him close. “You look lovely.” He patted Joseph’s back. “My lovely, lovely boy.”
Joseph smiled up at him.
Albertina and Madeleine came over then, talking, laughing, and trying to fix their disheveled appearance.
“Someone would think you were in charge of five boys, not one,” Andrew commented.
“Well, perhaps we should give you the task next time,” Albertina said pointedly.
“Uncle could take care of me,” Joseph said defiantly. “He would let me have a dirty face.”
Andrew laughed. “Well, aren’t you a smart boy? You have everything figured out, don’t you?”
Albertina narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Sometimes he is too smart for his own good.”
Father Andrew changed the subject. “Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Cardon. What brings you down from the mountain?”
“I’m here to pick up your great-niece. She’s coming to spend a few days with me.”
A look of longing flickered across the old priest’s face. “Ah, heavenly. The high valleys are beautiful in the summer—the pine and the sycamore, the narrow mountain trails, and the waterfalls tumbling from the rocky heights. What glory.” He gave Joseph another hug. “I wish I could go with you, dear niece.”
Albertina laid her hand on his shoulder. “I wish you could come too, old bear, but then it would ruin our surprise.”
“What surprise?”
Albertina glanced over at Madeleine, who nodded approval. “We are beginning to practice our song for the music competition in Pinerolo.”
“Are you? How wonderful! And you want to sing among the pine trees where no one will hear you.”
“Exactly.”
“And what will you be singing?”
“Oh no, old bear. That is the surprise. We don’t want anyone to know.”
“Not even your kind old uncle?”
“No. And don’t try to trick us into telling you.” She picked up the basket of vegetables.
“But I would not tell a soul.”
“No, no. Anyway, we are safe from your questioning because I see Father Nathanael coming to take you in for your afternoon nap.” She pointed toward the monastery.
“I would rather stay in the sunshine with you,” Andrew grumbled.
“I would like that too,” Albertina said tenderly, “but I must get ready for the mountain, and Mother needs these vegetables for dinner. Our lodgers are very fond of her cooking.”
“They have been with you awhile.”
“One for six weeks. The other for two weeks.”
“And their business?”
“They are ministers of some sort, but I’ve never heard them preach. Most of the time the one is off hiking up in the valleys and the other is writing.”
“Writing? Writing what?” Andrew asked with real interest.
“I don’t know. I am not one to nose into other people’s business. You should come sometime and meet them.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Now, stop trying to delay us. I have a busy afternoon.”
“And so does your uncle,” Father Nathanael said, coming to stand beside the old priest. “Good day, Mademoiselle Guy, are you well?”
“I am, Father Nathanael. Thank you.”
“Now, now, what’s that you said?” Andrew questioned. “I have a busy afternoon?”
“Yes. The king of Piedmont-Sardinia needs some papers written out.”
Andrew looked delighted, but spoke as if perturbed. “Oh, does he? And what of my afternoon nap? Does he not care anything about that?”
Father Nathanael gently helped the aged priest to his feet.
Albertina laughed. “Oh, stop growling, old bear, and get to your work,” She went to him and gave him a tender hug. Joseph copied her actions.
<
br /> Andrew gave Albertina a wink. “Take breaths of mountain air for me, will you?”
“Of course.”
“And you, young man,” he said to Joseph. “Stay clean for five minutes and your sister won’t have to wash you.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Albertina took her brother’s hand. “Come on, time to go.” The three waved good-bye and moved out of the garden and onto the wagon track.
Andrew watched them, and then turned with a sigh to take Father Nathanael’s arm. “Do you know what I want to do when I die? I mean after I die?”
“What, dear Father Andrew?”
“I want to climb to the top of Mount Boucie and look down on the world. I want to look down on the mountains covered in snow, and the greening chestnut trees in the spring, and I want to watch my little Joseph as he grows.”
“That sounds like a piece of heaven,” Father Nathanael said as they started towards the monastery.
A piece of heaven, Andrew thought. Surely the Lord God will grant me that kindness.
Chapter Fourteen
Torre Pellice
September 6, 1850
“I have been to Luserna and San Giovanni just east of Torre Pellice, and then Villar Pellice, Bobbio Pellice, and Sibaud up into the Pellice Valley.” As Elder Stenhouse recounted the names of the towns to which he’d hiked, Lorenzo traced the route and the locations on the map. It was the same map Elders Toronto and Stenhouse had rendered during their visit to the library at Genoa, and Lorenzo’s thoughts flew back for a moment to that good day—the splendid library and the smell of lavender. He tried to capture an image of Charlotte baking bread, teaching one of the children, or brushing out her long hair. A year away from home weighed on his heart. The precious pictures blurred and vanished.
“Bobbio Pellice is the larger of the towns up the valley,” Elder Stenhouse said, unaware that Elder Snow’s mind had wandered.
Lorenzo brought his thoughts to the present. He sat with Elder Stenhouse at a rustic wooden table outside the inn, where they were eating breakfast and discussing the objectives of the day. “And are there villages farther up into the mountains?” he asked.
