Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  She cocked her head to one side. “Well?” she said.

  “Well what?” He had forgotten what she asked.

  “You were just standing out there. What were you doing?”

  The smile on his lips slowly faded. “Saying good-bye, I guess.”

  She sobered too, knowing instantly what he meant. “I know,” she said softly. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.” Then she shrugged it off and slipped her arm through his. “Come on. Your mother is waiting.”

  As they entered the main room, Matthew spied them and jumped to Lydia’s side, taking her hand. “Nathan, I get to sit next to Lydia. You can sit on the other side.”

  “Ah. And who said you could sit by my wife?”

  Lydia put an arm around her young brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I did. I like to sit between two handsome men.”

  Thirteen-year-old Becca, laying the last of her mother’s best silver on the table, hooted, but Matthew fairly beamed. In July he would turn eleven. He was quickly turning into a scaleddown replica of Nathan. Even the tuft of hair on the back of his head that had escaped taming for years was finally starting to lay down of its own accord.

  “Matthew, you help your mother get the bread on now.” Benjamin Steed was at the low table near the rear window. There was a slab of butcher’s block laid across the top and he was carving what had been, up until that morning, their biggest—and meanest—red rooster.

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Lydia went into the pantry and came out a moment later carrying a jar of peach preserves. She walked to the table, pried off the lid, and began to spoon them onto a saucer. Nathan watched her heavy awkwardness with warm affection. Her time was somewhere near the end of May. That was four weeks yet, but she looked to Nathan as though she might deliver at any moment. He felt a quick spasm of concern. Maybe they should wait. Starting a strenuous journey in the last month of pregnancy was not the wisest course of action.

  On impulse he walked over to her, took her in his arms, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

  She looked up at him in surprise, then seemed to understand. “Of course. I’m fine.”

  “All right, you two,” Melissa said, untying her apron. “That kind of behavior already got you in trouble.”

  Mary Ann spun around from where she stood over the stove. “Melissa Mary!” She was blushing even as she gave her daughter a stern look.

  Lydia laughed, pulling away from Nathan and patting her belly. “Melissa’s right, Mother Steed. Look what your son has gone and done to me.”

  Nathan laughed aloud as his mother’s face instantly colored even more. He was also pleased to note that his father’s mouth was twitching a little at the corners, though he did not look up to follow the playful bantering. Nathan knew that his father didn’t find Melissa’s daring quite as shocking as did his mother. In fact, secretly, it seemed to please him a little. But then, of the older children, Melissa had always been her father’s clear favorite.

  Walking casually, Nathan went over to his sister. Then suddenly his arms darted out and grabbed her. He swept her up in his arms, swinging her off her feet. “You think ‘cause you’re twenty now, you can say anything and get away with it?” he cried.

  “Nathan, put me down,” she squealed, pummeling his chest with her fists. But she was laughing too hard to do much more than flail the air.

  “You don’t learn to mind your tongue, young lady, I’m gonna have to go down to the gristmill and tell that Keller boy just what kind of wild woman you are.”

  Now it was Melissa who blushed, and more furiously than her mother had. “Nathan!” She was mortified that he would mention James right out like that, in front of everybody.

  He set her down. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked innocently, then ducked quickly to avoid her sweeping blow.

  Their mother, watching with warm affection, decided to intervene and spare her daughter further embarrassment. “The dumplin’s are ready, and it looks like your father has the chicken carved. Let’s eat.”

  “Yeah!” Matthew exclaimed. “I’m hungry.”

  When they were seated, Benjamin turned to his wife. “Mother, would you say grace please?”

  Every head bowed and Mary Ann folded her arms. For a long moment there was silence, and Nathan knew this wasn’t going to make things easier.

  Finally his mother spoke, her voice low and strained. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” She cleared her throat quickly. “We thank thee, Father, for the bounties of the earth, and for thy goodness to us. We thank thee for this food which thou hast given us. May we always remember that it comes from thy gracious hand, O Lord.”

  The silence settled in again. It grew heavy in a very short time.

  “O Father,” she finally continued, obviously struggling now, “we are most thankful for the life that Lydia carries within her. As she and Nathan leave tomorrow in obedience to thy command to gather to Ohio, wilt thou bless her? Bless her with strength as they commence their journey. Bless her that this new child may not come before its time. Bless them both that they may find a place to live in their new abode before the baby comes.”

  In the silence that followed, Nathan could hear both Melissa and Lydia sniffling. There was a quick sigh, and though he did not open his eyes, Nathan sensed his mother’s shoulders straightening. It was her natural gesture whenever she was dealing with some burden that could not be thrust aside.

  “Father,” she went on, her voice stronger now, “we thank thee for the restoration of the gospel to the earth again in our day, and for thy church. We thank thee for having the gift of the Holy Ghost on earth once again.

  “Bless Joshua, dear Lord, wherever he may be. It would please us deeply to learn of his whereabouts, but as in all things, Father, we ask that thy will be done. But wherever he is, and whatever he is doing, we ask thee to watch over him and keep him safe. In the name of Jesus, amen.”

  There were soft amens around the table. His mother reached immediately for the dumplings, blinking quickly so the tears would not well over and give her away any more than her voice had already. Lydia reached across the table and touched her hand.

  Benjamin took the platter filled with chicken and pushed off two large pieces onto his plate. He glanced quickly at his wife, then at Nathan. “I was in town yesterday.” He handed the platter to Nathan.

  Nathan took some meat. As he handed it to Matthew, he finally looked back at his father. “Yes?”

  “There was a canawler at Phelps’s tavern.” A “canawler” was one of the captains that plied their barges up and down the length of the Erie Canal. Nathan’s father took the dumplings from his wife, who was warning him with her eyes. She didn’t know what was coming, but it was clear she guessed she might not like it.

  Benjamin ignored her and went on as he spooned out the dumplings and the gravy in which they swam. “He said the ice on Lake Erie is just now breaking up. The steamers won’t be running along the Great Lakes until it’s all clear. He said everything is waitin’ at Buffalo to get out.”

  Nathan frowned. That was not good news. With Lydia’s condition, they couldn’t stand any delay.

  “It ain’t gonna hurt nothin’ if you stay here another month,” his father said without looking up. “Give the weather a chance to warm up a little. Martin Harris will be leaving about the end of May. Let the baby come. Then you can go chasing after Joe Smith if you want.”

  Nathan felt a quick flash of irritation. “We want to travel now with Mother Smith’s group, get there before the baby’s born.”

  “Humph!” It was an open expression of disgust. “You think old Mother Smith is really going to get you there?”

  Mary Ann’s head came up sharply. “Ben!”

  “Well,” he said, meeting her gaze defiantly. “What is she? Sixty, if she’s a day.”

  Nathan felt a weariness come over him. Why did it always have to be this way with his father? “Joseph’s mother wil
l be fifty-six in July,” he said quietly.

  His father shrugged that aside. “It ain’t right that an old lady is left by herself to take a group of people three hundred miles into the wilderness. If goin’ to Ohio is really a call from the Lord, like Joseph says, why don’t some of the Smiths’ menfolk stick around and help you get there?”

  Melissa jumped into the fray. “Pa, that’s not fair. Father Smith went with one group. Hyrum was going to take the Colesville Branch, but Joseph asked him to come as soon as possible.”

  “Yeah, and where’s Joseph? Off in Ohio already.”

  Matthew and Becca had stopped eating now, their eyes swinging back and forth between the principal players. Nathan was fighting to keep the anger out of his voice. “You know that Joseph went ahead to get everything in readiness for the rest of us.”

  Mary Ann put her fork down. “Mother Smith is a small woman, but she is full of faith, and she’s got more spunk than a roomful of bantam roosters. She’ll do better than some men I could name.”

  “Probably better’n a man like Joseph,” Benjamin retorted. “Him draggin’ Emma off on a three-hundred-mile journey by sleigh, and her six months with child. That’s not a wonderful husband.”

  Mary Ann bridled a little at that. “The Lord told Joseph in a revelation to go ahead and prepare the way.”

  “Drag your expectant wife across the country in a sleigh? What kind of revelation is that?”

  Nathan had picked up his cup to take a drink. Now he slammed it back down, sloshing milk across the tablecloth.

  But before he could say a word, Lydia broke in. She smiled at her father-in-law, her eyes soft as they searched his face. “Thank you, Father Steed.”

  Benjamin, gearing up for battle with Nathan, was completely disarmed. He turned to her in surprise. “For what?”

  “I know you’re concerned about me traveling, with the baby being this close.” Tears welled up as she reached out and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man to be worried about me like that. But this isn’t just Nathan’s doin’, you know. I want to go. The Lord has asked it of us. I want my baby to be born in Kirtland because that’s where we’re supposed to be.”

  The exchange said something about what had happened between these two in the last year. Nathan’s father just looked at Lydia for a long moment, their eyes locked; then finally he nodded. He was satisfied. That didn’t mean he agreed with her, but he was satisfied. He picked up his fork and began to eat again. In a moment the others followed suit, relieved that the tension had been shunted aside.

  Nathan reached under the table and put his hand on Lydia’s knee. In a moment her hand came down and took his, squeezing it for a moment. And for the hundredth time, Nathan marvelled at the woman sitting next to him.

  “Pa?”

  Nathan’s father was at the head of the horse and small wagon Nathan had rented from the livery stable in town, holding the horse steady. He was gazing out across the black wetness of the fields dotted here and there in the low spots with an occasional patch of snow. He turned.

  “Until the farm sells, you feel free to work my land. There’s no sense letting it lie fallow.”

  “It’ll sell.”

  Nathan wasn’t so sure. In the revelation given during the January conference, the Lord had not seemed too concerned about whether all the land was sold or not as the Saints left their homes to gather to Ohio. They were not to be overly concerned about the riches of the earth. It was the riches of eternity that mattered.

  Some were successful, of course, selling their property at fair market value. But selling farms and houses and other property took time. With only a few months, many were either forced to sell at a substantial loss or leave things in the hands of neighbors or friends.

  It had not been a simple choice for Nathan either. This was his first land. He had cleared it. He had built the cabin and barn. He had worked two different times for Joseph Knight in Colesville to pay off the mortgage.

  He pushed his thoughts aside. For all he loved his farm, there was no question about leaving. Not in his mind, not in his wife’s. The Lord had called them to Ohio, and to Ohio they were going.

  As he glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye, an unexpected rush of emotion swept up inside Nathan, catching him by surprise. He and this taciturn man had their differences, especially when it came to Joseph Smith, but they had also stood shoulder-to-shoulder over the years, clearing land, plowing, harrowing, shoeing the mules, building rail fence, splitting planks.

  Nathan stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Pa,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “Thanks for everything.”

  His father gripped his hand, hard. “You take care of that girl of yours, you hear?” he said gruffly.

  Nathan laughed softly. What about me? But he understood perfectly all that was included in his father’s words. “I will, Pa. I will.”

  Behind them, all the women were in tears. Matthew was rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying hard to be brave. Becca made no such effort. She was openly bawling now. Melissa threw her arms around Lydia and they hugged each other hard.

  “I’m going to miss you, Melissa,” Lydia whispered. “You’re the sister I never had.”

  Melissa answered fiercely, loud enough for her father to hear. “I’ll be comin’, Lydia. I don’t know when, but I’m comin’ too.”

  “You know you’ll have a place when you do.”

  They stepped back from one another, then Lydia took a deep breath. It didn’t help. She began to sob as she turned to Nathan’s mother. “Good-bye, Mother Steed. Thank you. For everything.”

  They embraced, holding each other for several moments without speaking. Finally Mary Ann pulled back. “You’ll write as soon as the baby comes?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will seem strange to be called Grandma.”

  Lydia smiled and wiped at the tears. “Will you come and see him?”

  “You’re so sure it’s a him?”

  Lydia laughed. “I think so.”

  “Yes, we’ll come see him.” Her eyes darted to Benjamin, then back. “I don’t know when, but we’ll come.”

  They both turned, and Lydia walked slowly to Benjamin. She stopped, looking up into the weather-hewn face. “Father Steed?”

  “What?” He didn’t turn, just kept staring out across the fields, but Nathan saw his Adam’s apple bob once, then again.

  “Will you come with Mother Steed and see your grandson?”

  He finally turned and looked down at her. “I’ve got to get the crops in. Then there’ll be the summer’s work to do.”

  It had come out curt, almost abrupt. But Lydia only smiled all the more warmly. She laid her hand on his arm. “By late fall he’ll be crawling. There isn’t anything much better than seeing your first grandson crawl.”

  He chuckled in spite of himself. “We’ll see.”

  “Good.” Then in one moment her lips were trembling. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “I’ll miss you, Father Steed. You’ve been awfully good to me.”

  He patted her shoulders awkwardly, like a man afraid to touch a skittish colt, but wanting to nevertheless.

  And then it was over. Nathan helped Lydia into the wagon. There were last-minute cries of farewell, and promises to write, and fierce attempts to hold back the tears. Then Nathan snapped the reins, and the horse flicked its ears and leaned into the harness. In a few moments they turned out of the lane and onto the main road to Palmyra Village. Nathan reached out and clasped Lydia’s hand. She took it, squeezing it hard in return, but neither of them spoke as they made their way south toward town. From there they would be traveling to the home of one of Lydia’s friends, where they planned to stay before departing with Mother Smith’s group.

  As they drove down Main Street and past McBride’s dry goods store, Nathan saw Lydia’s eyes follow the storefront for as long as they could without her turning her head.

  “Do you want to stop and try again?”
>
  She shook her head. She and Nathan had gone in a week ago to tell Lydia’s parents they were leaving. Josiah McBride would not even let them cross the threshold of his store. When she had asked if she could come by on this night to say good-bye to her mother, he had shaken his head emphatically, back stiff, mouth tight. Hannah McBride had no wish to say anything to a daughter that had so deeply and fully betrayed her. Later Nathan had tried to tell Lydia that that was her father speaking, not her mother. In either case, Lydia had no recourse but to write a letter and send it in with a friend. Whether they had opened it, she would probably never know.

  “I will, Lydia,” Nathan said softly. “I’ll tell them you only want a minute to say farewell.”

  “No.”

  He sighed and drove on past, his eyes smoldering, a deep anger hardening inside him. For the first time in his life, Nathan had an overwhelming desire to walk up to a man and punch him squarely in the nose.

  “Do you know what it is?” she suddenly asked.

  “What what is?”

  “Papa’s hurt?”

  “He hates Joseph Smith.”

  “That’s part of it, but no. It’s having to face the people.”

  “Face them about what?”

  “About me. No one in the village blames him. After all, I’ve always been”—her voice dropped as she quoted sarcastically—“a ‘willful and headstrong girl.’ In a way, it would be better if they did criticize him. He could deal with that. But the oozing sympathy every time he and Mama go to church, the sidelong looks of pity, the women clipping off their conversations when he and Mama enter the room—that’s more than he can handle.”

  And that was why what was at first white-hot anger had now solidified into something as rock-hard and unbendable and cold as the depths of a mountain glacier. Over the past year Lydia had finally come to accept that. It still hurt, so much that she had to force herself not to dwell on it, but at least she understood.

  She sighed, fighting back the burning beneath her eyelids. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow, Nathan. Just take me to Caroline’s house.”