“I missed you, Will Steed.”
“And I missed you, Jenny Pottsworth.”
Now she let him sit back down, but closer to her so their shoulders touched. “All right,” she said, eager now, “tell me. I’m dying to know. Tell me everything.”
“Dying to know what?” he asked innocently.
She slapped at his arm. “You know what!” she scolded. “Tell me all about your trip. And about reading the Book of Mormon. Did you do it?”
He nodded slowly. “Almost twice. I’m nearly through it again.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “Twice! That’s wonderful, Will.”
A shadow darkened his face for a moment, but then he took a breath and plunged in. “I don’t know yet, Jenny,” he said simply.
There was momentary bewilderment. “You don’t know what yet?”
“I don’t have an answer. I don’t know if the Church is true.”
Her face fell and there was sharp disappointment in her eyes. “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Jenny, I have really been trying to find out.” And so he tried to tell her. He told her of the nights on the road to New York City and reading by candlelight on the voyage over to England. He talked about saying awkward, funny-sounding prayers and feeling foolish, and then about how, on other nights, they became deep prayers of longing during which he felt himself closer to God. He shared with her the uncertainty and the deep worry that somehow he wasn’t going about it right. He told her of the conference in Manchester and how he had felt as he listened to Brigham Young. He spoke of the nights when he and Derek and Matthew talked long after the lamps were extinguished. And as he spoke, he could feel the gloom settling in on her, like the fog over England.
Feeling a sense of panic now, he rushed on, saving the best for last. He told her about the terrible night at sea, and the prayer by the Twelve. He slowed, choosing his words more carefully now, and recounted his conversation with Brigham the next morning. Finally, he stopped, just letting the words run down to nothing. She had pulled her legs up and had her arms wrapped around her knees. She stared past him out to the river, where the sun was half disappearing behind the western horizon.
He waited for several moments. She didn’t speak. Finally, he reached out and touched her arm. “Jenny?”
Slowly her head came up and he saw that her eyes were glistening. She wasn’t crying, but close to it. “That’s wonderful, Will.”
He just looked at her in disbelief. The discontinuity between her words and her expression was too great.
“It is,” she sniffed. “I mean it. You’ve done all that I hoped. More!”
“Then what?” he asked, his eyes fastened on the tiny locket at her throat. “What is the matter?”
“It’s just that . . .” She had to look away.
“It’s just that what?” he asked.
Now her head came back around and the tears had come. They were squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. “I was so sure that you would have your answer when you returned.”
“Jenny,” he said in dismay, “I’ve been trying. I’ve really been trying.”
She jabbed at the tears angrily with the back of her hand. “I know you have, Will. I am so pleased that you did. It means everything to me. I mean it.”
He nodded glumly. So much for the joyous homecoming.
She scooted around on the stone now so she directly faced him. With some effort, she managed a smile, then cocked her head to one side in that way she had which he loved so much. “I do mean it, Will. If you had come back and told me you hadn’t read the Book of Mormon, I couldn’t bear it.”
He watched her, cheered slightly but still feeling the letdown. The last rays of the sun caught her hair as it fell back across her shoulders, and turned it into burnished metal, like the gold on a fine watch. He reached out in wonder and touched it. Her hand came up and took his hand and laid it against her cheek. “Let’s not talk about it anymore right now. Let’s just be happy that you’re home, all right?”
He couldn’t let it go, not quite yet. “For some of us, I guess, it just doesn’t come as easy as for others. Brigham said it took him two years to know for sure.”
It was the wrong thing to say. She looked away quickly. “Two years?” she whispered.
Frustrated, he blew out his breath. “I’m not saying it will be that long for me, I—”
She turned back, not able to hide the hurt in her eyes. “How long will it be, Will?”
“I don’t know, Jenny.” It was a plea now. “My feelings have changed a great deal. I understand it so much better. I see why you and Mother and the family think it’s true. There are a lot of things I really like about the Church.”
“But you’re not ready to be baptized?”
He looked into her eyes, wanting to make the hurt there go away, wanting to lie or stall or dodge the question, anything to make the hurt go away. “No,” he finally said. “I’m not ready to be baptized.”
Abruptly she stood up. The sun was nearly down now, and the sky was turning a golden blue. “Come on, let’s walk.” She jumped down and then held up her hand for him, smiling happily now.
He took her hand and dropped down beside her. She looked so beautiful, so lovely, so enchanting that he couldn’t help himself. He took her by both shoulders and kissed her again. She tipped her head back and kissed him back, going up on her toes to do so.
“I love you, Jenny,” he said, a little breathlessly, when he finally pulled away.
“And I love you, Will.”
“I’ll get an answer, Jenny. Just be patient with me.”
There was a momentary flicker of uncertainty, and then she nodded brightly. “I know. Come on, let’s go down by the quarry. You won’t believe what they’ve done since you left.”
Matthew stopped and surveyed the half-finished house ahead of him. He let his eyes run over the partially bricked walls, then the rafters, open except for one end that was boarded but not shingled. Three of the Twelve were back in Nauvoo, and now they were learning the cost the mission had extracted from their families.
Brigham Young had left his family in 1839 living in the deserted military barracks in Montrose, Iowa. He had six children. Two older daughters were from his first wife, who had died of tuberculosis back in New York State. The other four children were his and Mary Ann’s. The youngest, little Emma, was born just ten days before Brigham left for England. Now she was almost two.
During his long absence, Mary Ann Young had moved the family across the river so she could be closer to Vilate Kimball and the rest of the Saints. A woman of strong determination, she obtained a swampy lot in the lower part of Nauvoo and started to have a house built. That was what Matthew was staring at now. She hadn’t been able to have it finished. So now there were eight people living in an unfinished cabin on a lot that was so muddy that the first time Brigham tried to plow it, the oxen mired in deep enough he had to call for help to get them out.
Compared to Mary Ann Young and Vilate Kimball and Leonora Taylor, Jennifer Jo had been well off, living in Jessica’s home and with a dozen or more Steeds to watch out for her. Matthew offered a quick prayer of thanks to the Lord for his goodness, and then he climbed over the rail fence and started across the field toward Brigham’s home.
Brigham was out back, playing with his children. Mary Ann was hanging clothes on the line. When Brigham saw him, his face lit up and he strode across the yard to take his hand. “Ah, Matthew. Thank you for coming over.”
“Gladly,” Matthew responded. He turned. “Good morning, Sister Young.”
“Good morning, Matthew. It’s so good to see you again.”
“Thank you.”
“Has your mother gotten used to having you back home again yet?”
He laughed. “I think not. She’s been feeding me five or six times a day.”
“From what Brigham says about England, you probably have a few meals to catch up on.”
“Aye,” he laughed. The
n he turned to Brigham. “Pa said to tell you he’s sending over some things this afternoon—a sack of flour, some honey. Nathan’s getting a box together from the store.”
Brigham nodded gratefully. “That doesn’t surprise me. What a good family you belong to, Matthew.”
Mary Ann hung a shirt over the line, then walked over to join them. “I’m not sure that bringing us more food is a wise thing,” she said with a laugh.
“Why is that?” Matthew asked, a little surprised by such an odd statement.
“Tell Matthew what you told Joseph, Brigham.”
Brigham stuck his hand through his suspenders. “Well, Joseph came over the day after our return to hear our report. When we were done, he asked me how I would live now that I was home again.”
“And?” Matthew asked, hoping he was going to say something about their going into business together.
There was a mischievous twinkle in the Apostle’s eye. “I told him I would go out and make a living, of course, but only later. At the moment, I had enough money to buy a barrel of flour. I told him my plan was to stay home, work on the cabin, improve the garden, and eat bread with my wife and children until our flour was gone. Then I would go out and find work.”
Matthew nodded, smiling. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
Now Brigham was really serious. “We had some wonderful news yesterday.”
“Oh, yes,” Mary Ann said.
“What?” Matthew asked.
“Joseph came over yesterday,” said Brigham. “While he was here he received a revelation from the Lord.”
“Really! What did it say?”
Brigham reached in his pocket and extracted a piece of paper. “I just happen to have a copy of it right here.”
Mary Ann was smiling at her husband with great love in her eyes. “You’d think this was important to him. He carries it with him all the time.”
Brigham unfolded the sheet and smoothed it with his hand. Now his voice was suddenly husky. “It is a revelation given specifically to me.” He cleared his throat and began to read. “ ‘Dear and well-beloved brother, Brigham Young, verily thus saith the Lord unto you: My servant Brigham, it is no more required at your hand to leave your family as in times past, for your offering is acceptable to me. I have seen your labor and toil in journeyings for my name. I therefore command you to send’ ” —he emphasized that word with quiet satisfaction—“ ‘that you send my word abroad, and take especial care of your family from this time, henceforth and forever. Amen.’ ”
He folded the paper slowly and put it back inside his pocket.
“That is wonderful, Brigham.”
“Yes,” said Mary Ann, “it truly is.”
Brigham looked at his children, playing happily around him, and all he could do was nod. After a minute, he straightened and slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “But I didn’t send for you to hear me read that. It’s time we talk, Matthew.”
“All right, what about?”
“I hear that you and Jennifer Jo have set a wedding date.”
“Yes, it will be a week from Saturday next. The twenty-fourth.”
“That’s wonderful, Matthew,” Mary Ann exclaimed. “I’m so happy for the both of you. Jennifer Jo is a wonderful young woman.”
“I know,” Matthew grinned. “That’s why I don’t want her running around unmarried any longer.” Then he sobered, turning to Brigham. “We’d be most pleased if you and Sister Young could come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Brigham. “Is Joseph going to marry you?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure I should ask him, as busy as he is and all that, but I didn’t have to. When he heard we were engaged, he came right over.” Now Matthew imitated Joseph’s booming cheerfulness. “ ‘Matthew Steed,’ he says, ‘I married your older brother Nathan, and I married your older sister Rebecca. It’s a good tradition which I’m of a mind to keep going, if you and Jennifer Jo are of a mind to let me.’ ” Matthew laughed. “Of course we were delighted.”
Now Brigham put his arm around Matthew and drew him against his shoulder. “You know that this means you and I really have a problem.”
“No, what’s that?”
“Well, you’re getting married, and my flour barrel is almost empty. I think it’s time you and I talk about getting that carpenter shop started, don’t you?”
Chapter Notes
The situation of Brigham’s family upon his return is factual, and his comments about the barrel of flour are extrapolated from his recollections given in an 1854 discourse (see MWM, pp. 270–72, 307; JD 2:19). The revelation to Brigham is now D&C 126 and was given through Joseph on 9 July 1841, just over a week after Brigham’s return from England.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Saturday, the twenty-fourth of July, 1841, dawned clear and bright. There had been afternoon thundershowers the previous two days, and probably would be again on this day. They left the air clean and fresh and cooler than normal.
Matthew stepped out onto the front porch of his parents’ cabin and carefully shut the door behind him. For a moment he stood there, breathing in deeply the morning freshness, smelling the river and the prairie beyond it and the ripening crops and the smoke from the brickyards and just a touch of someone’s baking bread all in the same moment. He tipped his head back, savoring it all. It was going to be a perfect day for a wedding.
Moving quietly, stepping over the one board that always creaked, he left the porch and moved across the yard. Out on Granger Street he turned north. The six Steed cabins lined both sides of the street along this block—Nathan’s, Benjamin’s, and then Jessica’s on the west (moving from south to north), and Derek’s, Joshua’s, and Carl’s across from them. As he moved toward Jessica’s place, his step slowed and his mouth pulled down a little. Jennifer Jo and Kathryn slept in the back room of Jessica’s cabin. It was used as the schoolroom during the fall and winter, so it had two windows, and Matthew had simply planned to tap on one of those to see if Jennifer Jo might be awake. But he hadn’t been thinking about Kathryn. Surely he would wake her up too, and he didn’t want that at all.
His worry was needless, for as he approached Jessica’s cabin, a movement on the far side of it caught his eye. Just rounding the corner and starting down the street toward him, Jennifer Jo was approaching, walking slowly. Her hands were behind her back; her head was turned to look eastward toward the temple construction site on the bluff. Matthew stopped, completely enchanted. She wore a simple housedress and was barefoot, but he couldn’t imagine that anything could be more lovely. Her hair was slightly tousled, but still fell down between her shoulder blades. As he listened, he could hear her humming something softly.
As if sensing his gaze, Jennifer Jo suddenly turned her head and saw him. There was a brief startled look, then an instant smile. She started walking swiftly toward him. Matthew didn’t wait for her. Grinning happily, he strode out to meet her.
“Hi,” she said shyly as they met and he took both of her hands in his.
“Good morning. So you couldn’t sleep either?”
“Not a wink. And you?”
He got a mischievous look in his eye. “Actually, I was sleeping quite soundly, until I heard the voice.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “The voice?”
He nodded gravely. “Yes. This voice spoke in my ear and said, ‘Get up and go outside. Out on the street you’ll find a vision as lovely as anything you’ve ever seen in God’s creation.’ ”
She blushed prettily and ducked her head. “Oh, Matthew,” she chided him softly, but deeply pleased.
He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Sure enough,” he declared. “The voice was right.”
She kissed him back, then leaned against him. “It’s finally here, Matthew. Can you believe it?”
He shook his head slowly, reaching up to touch her hair. “Every night for the last twenty-two months I’ve thought about this day. There were times when I thought it would never come, when I thought
I would never leave England.”
“Me too,” she murmured. “It seemed like forever.” Then suddenly she pulled back, frowning. “This is supposed to be bad luck, you know.”
“What?”
“Seeing the bride before the actual wedding.”
“Hmm,” he said, pulling her back to him and putting his arms around her. “I need all the bad luck I can get.”
Laughing, she nodded. “That’s good. I feel the same way.”
He turned her around and started walking up the street, going back the way from which she had come, following her footprints in the damp earth of the roadway. After a moment, she laid her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her. “What were you thinking while you were walking?”
She slipped her arm through his and held it tightly. “I was thinking how strange life is.”
“In what way?”
“Well, think about it. The Mormon War in Missouri was a great tragedy. People were killed. Thousands of people were driven from their homes. Most lost everything.”
“Yes?” This turn of her thoughts surprised him a little.
“Joshua was shot and nearly killed.”
Now he understood and nodded. “But if he hadn’t been . . .”
“If he hadn’t been, your family would never have needed a place to hide him while he recovered.”
“And Derek would never have thought of asking your mother if she would offer her home as that place.”
“Exactly.” There was a quick shudder, as if she had taken a chill. “And you wouldn’t have come up with them to care for Joshua, and I would never have even met you.” She shook her head in wonder. “And because of that one simple turn of events, even though they were tragic at the time, here we are today. I could still be out there on the plains of northern Missouri, hoping someday to meet the right man, not knowing anything about the Church or Joseph Smith. Never knowing that I could have been your wife. I—” Tears sprang to her eyes and she had to bite her lip. “Never knowing I could be so totally happy that I feel like I’m just going to burst wide open.”
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