Joseph Smith was up to his elbows in a large kettle filled with soapy water, and Nathan had a towel, trying to keep up with drying the dishes as Joseph washed them. Caroline and Emma were scraping out the last food from two big pots in preparation for having them washed as well.
Joseph turned to answer and Joshua immediately broke out laughing.
“What?” Joseph said. Then he looked down at himself. His sleeves were rolled up, and he was wearing one of Caroline’s aprons, which was soaked all the way down the front. One lock of hair was in his eyes, and his face was bathed with moisture—whether from perspiring or from the steamy dishwater, Joshua couldn’t tell.
Nathan saw what Joshua was laughing at and pointed a fork at his brother. “This is Christmas Eve, Joshua. It’s not Christian to make fun of a man on such a night.”
Caroline shook a finger at Joshua. “If you’ve come to make fun of the workers in here, we’ll leave these pots to you.”
Carl stepped into the doorway beside Joshua. “Are you ready in here? We’re all set.”
“Almost,” Emma said. “We just need to put away the dishes. We can let the pots soak for a while.”
Joshua was still chuckling at Joseph’s appearance. “So this is what Jesse Crosby meant.”
Emma’s head snapped around. Joseph looked a little surprised. “Jesse Crosby?”
Joshua nodded. “I was over to his place a few days ago to talk with him about hauling some freight for him. He said that you had brought back a sack of flour you had borrowed from him a few weeks back.”
Emma set the pot down slowly, her eyebrows lowering darkly. “And just what did he tell you?” she demanded.
Joshua kept his face impassive. “He said he had been a little upset by the fact that Joseph was doing all kinds of things which were women’s work—carrying out the ashes, bringing in water and firewood, tending the children, washing the dishes.”
There was a soft explosion of air as Emma expressed her disgust. “Joseph told me what he said,” she snapped. “And he had the nerve to tell Joseph that some of his home habits were not in keeping with his idea of a great man’s self-respect.” She shook her head, her dark eyes crackling now. “It was a good thing he didn’t say that in my presence. With as many people as we have at our house all the time, if Joseph didn’t help me, I couldn’t do it all.”
Joseph was smiling at Emma. “Now, dear,” he said, “don’t be getting all worked up again.” He looked at Caroline and chuckled. “I shouldn’t have told Emma what he said. She has been steamed ever since.”
“Well, he made me angry, talking about his great man’s self-respect.” She tossed the last term out with great disdain. “No one needs to tell me that I’m married to a great man. I know that. But since when is a great man’s self-respect lessened by his washing a dish or sweeping a floor?”
Joseph looked at Carl and Joshua. “See what I mean?” Then he turned back to Emma. “Emma, I talked to him later. And that’s exactly what I told him.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” Now he was speaking to Caroline. “He took me aside and told me that his wife worked a lot harder than Emma did.”
“Oh, that man!” Emma cried.
“So what did you say to him?” Carl asked, genuinely curious now.
“Well, I reproved him a little. I told him that if a man does not properly love and cherish his wife in this life and take care of her, he will not be privileged to have her in the next.”
Joshua had started to toss off another quip, but Joseph’s words stopped him flat. Carl seemed impressed. Caroline and Nathan were both looking at him in surprise.
“Really?” Emma said. “Is that what you really told him?”
“I did.” Joseph was completely serious now. “And I meant it.”
“Say it again, Joseph,” Carl urged. “How did you say that?”
“I said that if a man does not properly love and cherish his wife while he’s living with her here, God will not give him the privilege of having her there.”
Carl nodded, repeating it in his mind and considering the implications of the statement. “Very good. I like that.”
Joshua turned back to Joseph. “Well, then that explains Crosby’s comments.”
“Oh? What did he say?”
“He said that after speaking with you, it had given him great cause to think and that he had had a change of heart and was trying to do better by his wife.”
Emma’s one eyebrow rose. “Is that true? Did he actually say it that way?”
“Yes, he did,” Joshua answered. “And Mrs. Crosby supported him in it. In fact, she said she was going to come over some- time and thank Joseph because Jesse has been a much better husband since your talk.”
“Good,” Joseph exclaimed with satisfaction.
Emma was likewise pleased. “Well, maybe I can forgive him, then.”
Just then Melissa came to the door. “My goodness, what is going on in here? We’re all ready out here and the children are just dying to get started on their stockings.”
“We’re coming,” Caroline said. And with that, they all left the kitchen and went into the parlor.
For the first half hour, they made the stockings for the children. Abigail and Jenny had persuaded Nathan to bring a dozen pair of socks from the store. And these were not just any stockings. These were the long woolen ones that a man could pull up to his knees to keep warm and dry in the winter.
For purposes of getting ready for the visit of Father Christmas the next day, children were defined as anyone who had not been married. To everyone’s delight, Will and Jenny, Peter and Kathryn, Jennifer Jo and Olivia, and Julia Smith, Joseph’s oldest, were almost as excited as the young ones. They sprawled out on the floor and carefully wrote their names on the stockings with pieces of charcoal from the fireplace. The older ones finished quickly, so they helped the younger ones, including Joseph and Emma’s, and then volunteered to make ones for the babies as well.
When everyone was finished, Abigail raised her hands. Parents shushed their children, who were finding it very difficult to contain their excitement. “Now, you know that each of you must hang the stocking by your own fireplaces so Father Christmas can find them when he comes tonight. Just take a rock or a brick or something heavy and use that to hold the stocking in place.” She turned to Mary Ann. “Are you ready?”
Mary Ann nodded and stepped forward. “Now we have another special treat.”
Instantly the children were bouncing up and down. “What is it?” they cried.
“Who knows why we have Christmas?” she asked.
Every hand shot up, some so eager they jumped to their feet.
“Mark? Can you tell us?”
Mark was the younger of Jessica’s two stepsons. He rose slowly, suddenly not so sure of himself. He turned and looked at his mother. Jessica smiled encouragement at him. “It’s all right, Mark. We talked about this, didn’t we? Why do we celebrate Christmas?”
“Because of baby Jesus.”
Joseph was watching closely. “That’s right, Mark,” he said. “That’s exactly right.”
“And so,” Mary Ann said, “we have a special surprise. We are going to ask Grandpa if he will read us the Christmas story from the Bible.”
“Hooray!” Luke Griffith shouted. Then he sat back, blushing as everyone laughed at his exuberance.
“But—” Mary Ann stopped for effect, and it got exactly what she hoped for. They went instantly quiet. Their eyes widened, and they leaned forward, holding their breath.
“But we are going to let you children act out the story as Grandpa reads it for us. Jenny and Sister Pottsworth and I have some things in the kitchen to help us. We’ll need a Mary and a Joseph.” Again hands started shooting up. “And some Wise Men. And shepherds and donkeys.”
She laughed as they were all on their feet now, dancing and begging to be selected. “Come on,” she said, waving her arm toward the kitchen. “Everyone in there. And you mothers, we’ll
probably need your help with costumes.”
Joseph had their baby, Don Carlos, now just six months old, bundled up for the cold and tucked in one arm, but he reached out with his other hand and laid it on Abigail Pottsworth’s arm. “Sister Abigail,” he said, “that was a wonderful evening. Thank you.”
“Oh, it was,” Emma said, shepherding the rest of her family forward. “What do you say to Sister Pottsworth, children?”
It came out in an enthusiastic chorus. “Thank you, Sister Pottsworth.”
“You’re very welcome, children. Be sure you hang up your stockings tonight.”
Young Joseph looked up at his father with concern. “Do you have Don Carlos’s stocking, Papa?”
“I do,” he answered. “In my pocket.”
Benjamin and Mary Ann came over. “We hope you have a merry and joyous Christmas tomorrow,” Mary Ann said. “We’re so glad you came.”
Joseph responded with a quick shake of his head. “No, we are the ones who are glad we came. It was just delightful.”
“Oh,” Emma said, “that thing with the Christmas story was so precious. I think we shall do that next year too.”
Joseph turned to Joshua. “I don’t know if the real Mary had red hair or not, but your Savannah was the perfect one to play that part.”
Joshua laughed. “And how about that donkey?” He poked Will with his elbow. “You can tell he’s spent a lot of time down at the stable. He was a natural, don’t you think?”
Will took that good-naturedly, then looked at Joseph. “What you missed was when we were in the kitchen. Mama had gotten ‘Mary’ into her robes and she was seated on my back. Mark was standing beside her, staff in hand, waiting to lead her to Bethlehem.”
Mary Ann was laughing softly now. “And then Emily had the effrontery to ask Savannah who she was.”
“What did she say?” Emma asked.
Will smiled. “She turned and gave her a disgusted look, quite offended that Emily didn’t know who she was. Then she put one hand on her hip and said, ‘Don’t you know? This is Joseph and I am Married.’ ”
“Married?” Joseph hooted. “Oh, that’s a good one.”
“That’s my Savannah, all right,” Joshua said proudly.
Joseph turned to raise a hand to all the rest. “Well, good night, one and all. Thank you. Have a good Christmas.”
A chorus of thanks and good wishes rushed back at him. Abigail walked with him and Emma to the door. “So you don’t think it is displeasing to the Lord that we celebrate his birth with feasting and rejoicing?” she teased.
He tipped back his head and laughed heartily. “No, Sister Pottsworth, but I am surely glad you asked us to come see for ourselves so we could make a wise judgment on the matter.”
Chapter Notes
Though it may not have happened at this particular time, the story of Jesse Crosby’s interchange with Joseph and his concern that Joseph’s home habits “were not in accord” with Jesse’s “idea of a great man’s self-respect” is true, including Joseph’s answer (see recollection of Jesse W. Crosby, in Hyrum L. Andrus and Helen Mae Andrus, comps., They Knew the Prophet [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1974], p. 145).
Like Thanksgiving, Christmas seems to have been largely ignored—or at least not celebrated with any consistency—by the early Saints. This was partly due to the New England heritage of so many of the first converts. The Puritans felt that too much paganism had crept into Christmas celebration and symbolism, so they eschewed them altogether. In some of the colonies, stiff fines or even jail sentences were levied for feasting or being idle on Christmas Day. Though the Puritan strictness was eventually abandoned, the lack of any traditional celebrations carried on to future generations. There is virtually no mention of Christmas in Latter-day Saint journals and diaries throughout the New York, Ohio, and Missouri periods of the Church.
Then the English Saints began to arrive in large numbers in 1840. In England, Christmas was a festive occasion and included many of the traditions mentioned by Abigail and Jenny in the novel. Gradually, these British converts began to have an influence on the American Saints. In this chapter, the time is December 1840. While there is no mention of any Christmas celebration that year by the Prophet or in other known contemporary accounts, the 25 December entry for the year 1841 in Joseph’s history states that some of the Twelve and their wives attended a Christmas dinner. Then, in 1843, Joseph posted a formal notice in the Nauvoo Neighbor that he and Emma would be hosting a Christmas Day dinner and party at the new Mansion House. It is also noted in the 25 December 1843 entry in Joseph’s history that he and his family were awakened at one in the morning by Christmas carolers outside their window, which music, the Prophet said, “caused a thrill of pleasure to run through my soul.” (HC 6:134; for more details on the celebration of Christmas, see George W. Givens, In Old Nauvoo: Everyday Life in the City of Joseph [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1990], pp. 162–63, and Women, p. 64.)
Having the children put their names on their own stockings and act out the Christmas story is not based on any specific account from that time.
Chapter Thirty
Sister Griffith?”
Jessica had her back to the class as she wrote on the small slate board. She turned. Jenny Pottsworth’s hand was up. “Yes, Jenny?”
“I have something I should like to share with the class.”
“All right, Jenny,” she answered after a moment, “let me finish writing the arithmetic on the board, then I’ll be with you.” As she turned back with the chalk, she gave a little sigh. She wasn’t sure what this might portend, but judging from previous experience it would probably only further complicate things in her classroom.
Jenny was as open and fresh a person as Jessica had ever met. There was not the slightest bit of guile about her. Unlike so many women with her natural, striking beauty, there was no posturing, no demure pretending, no petty flirtatiousness. She spoke what was on her mind, and she did so boldly and without hesitation. But such frankness, along with the tendency to flit from one topic to another like a swallow darting after insects, could be both disarming and admirable all at the same moment. She was direct but ingenuous, innocent but straightforward, frank without being critical. Will Steed and Peter Ingalls were both deeply affected by her presence, and this is what complicated things in class.
Jessica laid the chalk down and turned around to face her students. She had not married Joshua until a month after her twenty-fifth birthday, so in her mind all of this between Will and Peter and Kathryn and Jenny was like children playing house. And yet she knew her life was not the norm. Marriage at an early age was common enough that just in the past week there was talk of passing an ordinance setting minimum ages for marriage without the consent of the parents. It would be seventeen for boys, fourteen for girls.
She frowned a little. Will would be seventeen in March, as would Peter less than two months later. Jenny was fifteen now and would turn sixteen in August. Kathryn would be fifteen in April. She wanted to throw up her hands and shout out her concerns. Even Olivia would turn fourteen in November. That meant that by the end of the year all of these “children” would no longer need their parents’ permission to pursue their romantic interests.
She brushed the chalk dust off her hands and looked at Jenny. “Thank you for waiting, Jenny. What is it you’d like to share?”
Jenny stood slowly. Jessica saw that there was a folded piece of paper on her desk, but she did not pick it up. “Day before yesterday, you taught us about poetry, Sister Griffith. About how to recognize a good poem.”
Will was watching Jenny closely, but that was nothing new, he always did that. What caught Jessica’s eye was Peter. His head came up slowly and he was staring at Jenny, a touch of panic in his eyes. “Yes, Jenny,” Jessica said, feeling a little uneasy but not sure exactly why.
Jenny picked up the paper and unfolded it. “You asked us if we could find a poem and bring it to class so we could talk about it. Well, I have one.”
Peter came half out of his chair, his face flaming red. “Jenny, no.”
Jenny turned and gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s all right, Peter. You don’t have to be embarrassed.” She turned back to Jessica. “Peter wrote me a poem and gave it to me for Christmas.”
With a groan, Peter slid back down in his seat, his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. Kathryn was staring at him, looking like a child that had just been slapped. Jennifer Jo, watching her sister closely, sat back, her lips tightening into a hard line. Will, near the back of the class, sat rigid in his chair. Then, when he saw Jessica look at him, he instantly found something outside the window that captured his attention.
Jenny seemed unaware of any of this except for Peter’s embarrassment. Again Jessica was struck with this girl’s unusual nature. This was not malicious. She wasn’t trying to pit Peter against Will, or force Kathryn out of the game somehow. That was the effect she was having, but Jessica really believed it was not what Jenny either wanted or intended. Peter had written her a poem, and she simply wanted to share with the others her joy and pleasure over the gift.
Jessica saw no way out of it. She had asked the students to find poems and bring them back for discussion. Again she sighed. “All right, Jenny, you may read it if you’d like.”
Jenny looked around, smiled, then lifted the paper. “It’s called ‘Friends.’ ” She looked at Peter, but there was nothing that could have pried his gaze away from the floor at that moment. She turned to Jessica and suddenly her voice went very soft. “I’m not a good reader, Sister Griffith. Will you read it for us?”
After a moment, Jessica nodded and stepped forward to take the sheet from her. She too looked at Peter. “Peter, would you rather I didn’t read this out loud?”
He looked up, stricken, but then finally shook his head slowly.
“Does that mean no, you don’t want me to read it, or no, it doesn’t matter?”
“Please, Peter, let her read it,” Jenny pleaded with him. “It’s so beautiful.”
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