He backed up a step. His eyes darted once to Peter. Peter was still staring at Will, not comprehending yet the game that was being played. “I . . .” Will saw the bewilderment on Mrs. Pottsworth’s face. He saw Jenny’s smile freeze. But none of that was enough. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, and turned and plunged out the door.
“Will!”
He strode out all the more quickly, rounding the corner of the corral.
“Will Steed, you stop this instant!”
His step slowed, though he still didn’t stop. He could hear her footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. Finally he stopped and let her catch up with him, but he didn’t turn around.
She came around him to face him. “Will, what is the matter?”
“What is the matter?” he cried. “You mean you don’t know?”
She shook her head, and he saw that she really didn’t. For some reason, that infuriated him all the more. She was like an innocent playing with fire in a barn full of straw. “I thought you invited me for dinner.”
“I did,” she started, and then it hit her. She half turned, looking back at the open door of the cabin where her mother and Peter stood framed in the light from within. Instantly her hand came out and grabbed his arm. “You mean Peter?”
“Yes, I mean Peter,” he hissed. “Did you tell me Peter was going to be there? Did you tell Peter I was coming?”
“I . . .” She looked hurt. “I thought you knew.”
Let her be hurt, he thought. He was feeling a little pain of his own. “How was I supposed to know?” He pulled his arm free of her. “Well, that’s fine. You can invite whoever you want, but leave me out of it.”
He started around her, but again she grabbed at his arm, pulling him back. “Will, I didn’t realize. Mum and I wanted to have a supper for some of my friends. Margaret Naylor is coming. Betsy Blake—who was on the boat with us—she’s coming too. Peter is my friend. You’re my friend. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he shot back. “I just remembered I have something else I have to do.” He reached down and gently pushed her hand away. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I can’t.”
“But why?”
He just shook his head and started away.
“Don’t do this, Will. Please.”
He could hear the quavering in her voice and for a moment he hesitated. He knew he was making a fool of himself. If the others were coming, it wasn’t as if it were just him and Peter. And maybe it wasn’t deliberate. But then he knew it was too late. The hurt was too deep. His hopes had been too high. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” he mumbled, and then he walked swiftly away.
Chapter Thirty-One
Caroline didn’t know what else to do. For the past three days she had stood by, watching her son bear the hurt and the shame by himself. Twice she had tried to talk with him, to see if that might help. It didn’t.
When Joshua returned home from Wisconsin the previous night, she told him the whole story. He tried to talk with Will, and got nowhere. Then Will made the mistake of telling his father that part of the problem was that he wasn’t a Mormon and Jenny was determined she would have only a Mormon. That proved to be disastrous. Joshua was furious with “this snippety little English tart,” and swore he was going to go over and tell her a thing or two himself. Horrified, Will began shouting at his father to stay out of his business, and Joshua started yelling back at him about having had enough of these narrow-minded Mormons to last him a lifetime. Caroline had finally walked out on the both of them, and that had jerked them back to some semblance of reason.
After that, Will only withdrew deeper into himself.
And so they waited. Will would mope around the house for hours, then launch into a furious burst of activity. The first night he walked the wintry streets until well after midnight. Late the previous afternoon, before Joshua had returned, Jenny came to the house looking for Will. But Will saw her through the window and fled. When Caroline told her that Will wasn’t home, she turned and left again without a word. Caroline wanted so badly to tell Jenny that it was shame as much as hurt that was eating at Will now, but she couldn’t. He would not tolerate any parental interference on this one.
Caroline walked from the kitchen to the hallway to where it opened into the parlor. Will was still sitting on the sofa, his back turned to her, the curtain drawn back so he could stare out into the night. “Where’s Olivia?” she asked.
Will turned around, half-surprised. For nearly an hour Olivia had sat beside her brother on the sofa, pretending to read a book but really there to comfort him. Olivia was certain that she was the only one who fully understood unrequited love. But as far as Caroline knew, Will had not spoken a word to her. He shrugged. “I guess she went to her room.”
Joshua was in the next room writing a letter to Abner Montague about next year’s cotton crop. Like Olivia, he had come into the parlor and tried to strike up a conversation. But it was like conversing with one of the oxen down at the stable, so he too gave up and went into the study. Caroline sighed and started back toward the kitchen.
“Mother?”
She turned back quickly. “Yes, Will?”
“I’d like to talk with you and Pa.”
She felt a little lurch of hope. “All right.” She started to raise her head to call, but Joshua, hearing, was already standing at the door. They both moved over to the two overstuffed chairs that faced the sofa, and sat down.
Will stared at his hands, then traced the pattern in the upholstery with a finger. They waited. Then he looked at his mother. “You said Joseph Smith wrote and told the missionaries in England to come home?”
That was the last thing she had expected the conversation would focus on. “Yes,” she said tentatively. “That’s what Mary Ann Young—Brigham’s wife—told us.”
“When are they leaving?”
“She said Joseph asked them to hold conference in April and then come home after that.”
“When in April?”
Joshua was as puzzled as Caroline. “Why do you want to know that, son?”
“When?” was all the answer he got.
Caroline shrugged. “The conference here is held on April sixth, the day the Church was organized. I assume it will be the same over there.” She watched as he calculated behind the mask of his eyes.
Finally, he nodded abruptly. “If I tell you something, I want you to hear me out before you say anything, all right?”
Caroline nodded.
“All right?” Will asked his father pointedly.
Joshua nodded as well. “Whatever you say.”
“I’m going to go over to England and meet Derek and Matthew, then come home with them.”
He may as well have dropped a cannon ball at their feet. “What?” they blurted simultaneously.
“Just listen. The shipping company told me I have a job any time I want to come back. If I leave now, I can be in New York by the first of March and—”
“No, Will!” Caroline cried, her voice tight with anguish. “You can’t leave us again so soon.”
Joshua reached across and laid a hand on her knee. “Let him finish, Mother.”
That won him a grateful look from Will. “I’m not running away to sea or anything like that, Mama. I just need time to think. I need to be away from here for a while. If I’m in New York by the first of March, I can be to Liverpool by the first of April. Then I can come back home with Derek and Matthew. I would love to see them again. We’d still be home by early summer, in time for me to help you during the busy season.”
He stopped. He had planned to say more, to give all the reasons why this was a good idea, but suddenly he couldn’t say it, because he knew they would know they weren’t the real reasons at all. He couldn’t bear to put the real reasons into words.
Joshua turned to Caroline. For a long moment they looked at each other. Nothing was said. No facial expressions changed, but something passed between them. Caroline slowly turned back to look at Will. “And
this will really help? Or is it just postponing something that you will still have to face when you return?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I need some time to sort it out. That much I’m sure of.”
She exhaled slowly, and Will saw that her lower lip had just the slightest tremor to it. But she spoke evenly. “All right.”
“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Pa.”
“How soon?” Joshua asked.
Will had already thought about that. “There’s a stage for Springfield day after tomorrow.”
“What about Jenny?” Caroline asked. “Are you going to tell her?”
“No!” It came out sharp and hard. “And I want you to promise you won’t tell her until after I’m gone.”
“Will,” Caroline started, shaking her head, “that’s not right.”
“Promise me, Mother!” He spoke in almost wild desperation.
After a moment, she dropped her head. “All right, I promise.”
When Jenny opened the door to her cabin she was completely taken aback. Jennifer Jo McIntire was standing there, bundled up against the cold. “Hello, Jenny.”
“Jennifer Jo, why . . . Hello.”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of course. Come in.”
Jennifer Jo looked over Jenny’s shoulder to where her mother sat at the table watching curiously. “Could we walk? Would that be all right?”
Jenny’s eyes widened slightly, but she immediately nodded. “All right. Let me get my coat and scarf.”
There was actually about three and a half years’ difference in age between the two Jennys. Jennifer Jo had turned nineteen on January third, the same day that Lydia had given birth to a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby boy. Jenny Pottsworth wouldn’t be sixteen until August. But they were much closer than that in maturity, and Jennifer Jo didn’t really think much about Jenny’s being younger than she was.
“May I be perfectly frank with you, Jenny?”
Jenny slowed her step, giving Jennifer Jo a curious look. “Yes. I like people to be honest.”
“I know you do. I didn’t understand that at first, but I do now. And that is why the first thing I have to say to you is, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For holding bad feelings about you.”
Jenny blinked, then instantly looked bewildered. She looked away. “I didn’t know you did.”
Jennifer Jo reached out and took her hand. “Jenny, there are important things to tell you, but I have to say this first. The Lord told Joseph that if someone offends us, we should take him or her aside and try to be reconciled.”
“What have I done that offended you?”
“Nothing.” She took a quick breath. “I know that now. I let myself be offended by you, but actually you did nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “This isn’t easy, but . . . well, I was offended primarily because of Kathryn.”
“Your sister? But why?”
“Kathryn has very deep feelings for Peter. And . . .” She shook her head. Honesty wasn’t nearly as easy as it was touted to be. “And since you came, Peter doesn’t even know that Kathryn exists anymore.”
To her surprise, Jenny nodded. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and I feel bad about it. Peter and I were such good friends over in England. But Peter is hoping for more than friendship now.” She hesitated, blushing slightly, and then added, “I guess I was too. At first.”
“At first?”
“In the last while I’ve come to realize that Kathryn is a much better person for Peter than I am.”
Jennifer Jo stopped, staring at this girl who was so utterly open and honest.
Jenny laughed softly. “Well, it’s true. Peter will always be very dear to me. Our friendship runs very deep. But Kathryn is a wonderful girl. You both are. She’s better for him.”
In complete wonder, Jennifer Jo started walking slowly again. “May I tell her that?”
Jenny’s smile broadened. “Actually, I was going to, but I think she’ll take it better from you.”
They walked on for several yards. Then Jenny asked, “Is that all?”
“Is what all?”
“You said you were offended primarily because of Kathryn. Is there something else?”
Jennifer Jo looked down at the ground, totally embarrassed now.
“Well?”
“Well, yes. I . . . I thought you had your eyes set for my Matthew.”
There was a slow nod. “I did.”
“You did?” Jennifer Jo was finding it hard to keep up with this girl.
“Yes. Matthew is exactly what I have in mind for myself.”
In spite of herself, Jennifer Jo had to laugh. “You have it all thought out?”
Jenny seemed surprised by the question. “Oh, yes. Ever since Mum and I joined the Church, I have thought about what kind of man I have to marry. And then I got my patriarchal blessing from Brother Hyrum Smith. And in that blessing, the Lord told me it would be very important who I married, that it must be in the Church. So especially since then I’ve been looking at who might make a good husband.”
“And Matthew was one possibility?”
“He was . . .” She blushed now. “Until I met you.”
“Until you . . .” Jennifer Jo let it trail off. “I don’t understand.”
“Matthew is a wonderful man—handsome, full of faith, kind, and with a wonderful sense of humor. He told me about you, of course, but I decided I would wait until he came home, then see if I could win him away from you.”
Jennifer Jo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. So the farewell kiss was more than just “one of the Spirit,” as Paul the Apostle might say.
“But when I met you, I knew I had to make other plans.”
Jennifer Jo held herself tightly. The cold was starting to penetrate through her coat, but she was only marginally aware of it. She was awash with shame. She had harbored ill feelings toward this English girl for more than two months now, and all along there was no cause. On an impulse, she suddenly turned to Jenny and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she whispered. “You are a wonderful person, and I’ve been shameful for harboring those feelings. I wish I were more like you.”
“Then can we be friends?” Jenny asked. It came out so plaintively and so filled with longing, that Jennifer Jo was shocked. “I would like that very much,” the older girl replied.
“For some reason, I can’t seem to make friends with other young women,” Jenny said. “They all either shun me or talk about me behind my back.”
The shame in Jennifer Jo was all the more bitter now. “It’s because they can’t believe that someone so lovely and so totally genuine can be real.”
Jenny’s eyes were shining in the reflected light from the snow. “Thank you, Jennifer Jo.”
Now Jennifer Jo stood back. This confession had been only a secondary reason for her visit tonight. “And what about Will Steed, Jenny?”
A look of pain and utter dejection crossed Jenny’s face. She turned away, holding herself tightly now too. “I think I’m falling in love with him, Jennifer Jo.”
“What?”
“I know. I’ve hurt him so badly, and it’s all because I’ve been so foolish.”
“He thinks you are in love with Peter.”
“I know what he thinks.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“I can’t,” she said forlornly.
“Why?”
“Because he isn’t a Mormon, Jennifer Jo. He’s handsome and clever and funny and wonderful. But since my blessing I have made a deep promise to myself and to the Lord that I will not marry someone who isn’t a member of the Church. I want what you and Matthew are going to have. I watch Lydia and Nathan and their family, and that’s what I want. I . . .” She hesitated for only a moment. “I watch Will’s mother and father, and I think, I don’t
want that. I couldn’t stand it. It would break my heart.”
“Then tell him that!” Jennifer Jo exclaimed. “Tell him how you feel.”
Jenny just shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Because it only complicates things. He doesn’t hate the Mormons anymore, but in so many ways he’s still much like his father.”
Jennifer Jo couldn’t disagree with that and decided to step around it. “Did you know he’s going back to England?”
Jenny’s head whipped around, her eyes shocked.
“That’s right. He leaves tomorrow on the stage.”
“No,” Jenny gasped. “Why hasn’t he told me?”
“He’s going to try and meet up with Derek and Matthew and come home with them. He made his mother swear not to tell you until after he’s gone.” Jennifer Jo got a devious look on her face. “But fortunately, he didn’t make her promise not to tell me.”
“But why? After being away from his family for so long, why is he leaving?” But she didn’t need Jennifer Jo to answer that for her. She knew why very well. She wrung her hands. “I only asked the others to come to supper because I didn’t want to seem too forward toward him. And I didn’t want to hurt Peter, either.”
She suddenly swung around and took both of Jennifer Jo’s hands. “Thank you, Jennifer Jo. I just know we are going to be the best of friends.” She leaned forward and they touched cheeks briefly. “I have to hurry. There’s something I must get from home first.”
Jennifer Jo smiled broadly. “You go. I’m fine.”
Will looked up when the knock sounded, but he heard his mother’s footsteps and settled back down into his chair, keeping one ear cocked to listen to who it might be at this late hour. He heard the soft murmur of his mother’s voice, but couldn’t make out if there was an answer. Then the door shut again and his mother walked by.
“Who was that, Mama?”
She didn’t answer, just went on and disappeared down the hallway.
A little puzzled, he nearly called out again, but then shrugged it off. He settled back, trying to force his mind to concentrate on what things he must be sure to take with him.
“Hello, Will.”
The Work and the Glory Page 258
