Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  He was reeling a little. “So if I don’t know right away, it doesn’t mean . . .” He let it trail off, feeling a great sense of relief.

  There was a soft chuckle from Brigham now. “No, it doesn’t mean it’s not true. And if you still don’t know by the time we get back to Nauvoo, you’re just going to have to tell that sweet Jenny Pottsworth to be patient. With us hardheads, sometimes it just takes the Lord a little longer.”

  “And what if I decide it’s not true?” Will asked slowly. “Pa says I’m more like him, that down deep we don’t really need outward religion.”

  “Will, your pa is a good man. His generosity and goodness with the Saints is beyond what many of our own people would do. But take it from someone who once thought that same way. I had decided I would just go my own way and forget about trying to be happy in this church or that. But I wasn’t happy, Will. Not truly happy.” He laughed suddenly. “You know what they used to say about my father?”

  “What?”

  “They used to say that no one ever saw John Young smile until he was baptized, and then he laughed for six months to think that he had finally found the truth. Once I made up my mind, that’s kind of how I felt too. That’s something to think about, Will. You can go your own way and be happy, but you’ll never know true joy without the gospel.”

  The Rochester, one of the fastest ships plying the Atlantic, sailed from Liverpool on April twenty-first with seven Apostles aboard. Parley Pratt, his wife and children with him now, stayed on in England to supervise the work and continue to publish the Millennial Star. Orson Hyde continued on alone toward the land of Palestine. The rest headed home.

  Due to the contrary winds and the terrible storm, it took a full month to make the crossing, and they did not arrive in New York until May twentieth. The following Sunday, the Apostles preached to a large congregation of Saints in the city, reporting on their missions, and then made plans for heading west. As they had when they came from Illinois to New York, they split and went their separate ways. Some stayed in the East for a time to visit family or preach. Others started back immediately.

  On June fourth, Elders Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, and John Taylor, in company with Derek Ingalls and Will and Matthew Steed, set their faces westward. Traveling by canal boat, by steamer, by stage, and on foot, they covered the eight hundred miles in twenty-seven days.

  It was past five o’clock in the afternoon when six tired and dusty travelers stopped at that point on the road between Quincy and Nauvoo where the trees opened up and they could see upriver for some distance. About two miles north of them, the river took a long, sweeping turn to the west. They could see the dark mass of land that had once been the swamps of Commerce. It was July first, 1841. For Derek Ingalls and John Taylor it had been two years less a month and a week since they had stood on this spot for one last look at their homes. For Brigham, Heber, and Matthew it had been twenty-one and a half months since they had walked south past this spot. Only Will had been along this route within the year.

  For several moments they stood there, no one speaking, each one lost in his own thoughts and swept up in anticipation of sweet reunion. Then Brigham straightened, adjusting the rope slung over his shoulder which held his traveling bag. He cleared his throat. “Brethren, let’s go home.”

  Over the past several months, it had become customary, unless there was rain, for the Steeds to gather together after supper at Benjamin and Mary Ann’s cabin two or three times each week. They had benches and chairs and the breadth of the porch. They would sit in the cool of the evening, visiting quietly while the children played around them. Often the women brought sewing with them to work on while they talked—their current project was sewing shirts and pants for two families who had recently come from the East with nothing but what they carried.

  As dusk drew closer, Benjamin would take out the Bible or the Book of Mormon. The children would stop their games and gather in around while Benjamin read a chapter or two, stopping from time to time to ask questions or discuss what this or that gospel principle meant in actual living. When he was finished, someone was called upon to offer prayer and give thanks for another day of life and daily bread.

  At first, it was awkward for Joshua. He would come to the first part, sitting around to talk, but then he would quietly leave when they reached the point of scripture reading. Or sometimes he just found some reason to stay later at the freight yard. But more recently he had begun to stay, standing back, never participating in the discussions, but not leaving, and seeming not to mind at all.

  There were times when work at the brickyard kept Carl Rogers away too, but when he was there, he wasn’t bothered at all by the scripture reading and often became an active participant in the discussions.

  It was a favorite time of the day for everyone, and Benjamin and Mary Ann derived great satisfaction from having their family around them.

  On the evening of July first, the family had just settled in once again at Father and Mother Steed’s. Joshua, Carl, Nathan, Benjamin, and Peter were sitting on the porch discussing the construction on the temple. Carl had delivered another wagonload of bricks, probably the last needed in order to pave the floor around the baptismal font. For Nathan, Benjamin, and Peter, this had been their “tithe” day, the one day in ten that they spent laboring on the temple. They had worked in the quarry all day, standing back as the stonemasons blasted out the huge blocks with black powder, then grunting and sweating to get them onto the wagons with block and tackle. The stones currently being cut were to be the first course and therefore provided the base of the massive walls. They were three feet thick and weighed close to four thousand pounds each. In the whole day of backbreaking labor, they had moved only three stones.

  Lydia had just finished nursing baby Josiah and he had fallen asleep in her arms. The other women sat around her, sewing steadily as they talked. On the far end of the porch, Olivia and Kathryn were reading a story to the little ones. Young Joshua, Emily, Rachel, the Rogers boys, and the Griffith boys were out in the street playing stickball. Rachel and Emily were right in the thick of it and holding their own.

  It was young Joshua who saw them first. As he stood up to take the pitch from Luke, he saw three men turn onto the street about a block away and start toward them. It was not unusual to have people out and about at this time of day, and he barely glanced at them. But then, something about them caught his eye and he lowered the stick slowly, squinting to see them better. One of them, seeing that he was staring at them, raised his hand and waved.

  Young Joshua’s mouth dropped open and the stick fell from his hands. “Matthew?” he cried softly. He spun on his heel. “Mama! Mama! It’s Matthew! Matthew’s home!”

  Conversations were cut off in midsentence. Every head turned to stare at the boy as though he were daft.

  “Look!” he hollered. He swung around and pointed. “It’s Matthew and Derek and Will!”

  Pandemonium broke out on every side. Mary Ann jumped up, the sewing falling to the ground. Benjamin was right beside her and they ran out to the street. Nathan and Joshua leaped to their feet, going up on their toes and craning their necks to see. Peter was off the porch and out the gate, hard on the heels of Benjamin.

  Rebecca threw her sewing onto Mary Ann’s vacated chair. “Christopher! Christopher! Come quick!”

  Olivia had lowered the book from which she was reading and was staring out into the street, not fully comprehending. Christopher, two now and proud to be one of the children, jumped and ran for his mother, frightened by her panicked call.

  “Jennifer Jo,” Kathryn said under her breath. She jumped up and raced out of the yard in the opposite direction. Jennifer Jo had been finishing up the last of the dishes and hadn’t come over to be with the family as yet.

  Laughing, crying, hollering, shouting, waving—like a tidal wave of humanity the Steeds flowed out into the street and surrounded the three men who had by now broken into a run to meet them. Though she wasn’t the first
to reach her son, Mary Ann was near the front. The others fell back as she rushed to Matthew and he swept her up in his arms. He was a full head taller than she was now, and he lifted her off the ground as though she were a little girl.

  Caroline was only seconds behind Mary Ann as she flew into Will’s outstretched arms, crying, “You did it! You did it! You found them!”

  Benjamin was next. A great lump swelled up in his throat as he stepped forward to face his youngest son. He stuck out his hand; then, as Matthew took it, he pulled him in against him and threw his arms around him. “Welcome home, Matthew,” he said.

  Matthew buried his face against his father’s shoulder. “We’re back, Papa!” he whispered. “We’re back!”

  Joshua came up behind Caroline and Will and laid a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Welcome home, son,” he said in a hoarse whisper. Will turned, and in moments they too were in a crushing embrace, not speaking, not needing to.

  Suddenly the group turned. Rebecca was pushing her way forward, trying to carry Christopher through the crush of people. Nathan reached out and took his nephew from her. “I’ll bring Christopher,” he said, giving Rebecca a gentle shove. “Go!”

  Peter had already reached Derek and they were pounding each other on the back as they embraced. Then Derek saw Rebecca over Peter’s shoulder. He broke free and covered the last few feet between them in three great steps. He swept her up, crushing her to him, a great sob of joy wrenched from within him. He kissed her hard, lifting her clear off the ground, then set her down. “Hello, my darling Rebecca. Oh, how I’ve longed for this day.”

  She was brushing at the tears, laughing and touching his face and holding him all at once. Then she turned to Nathan and said to Derek, “Come see your son.”

  Nathan stepped forward and handed Christopher to his mother. At the sight of the stranger, Christopher immediately buried his head in his mother’s neck. Derek was staring, his own eyes wet with tears now too. “No,” he whispered. “This can’t be my son.” He reached out in wonder, touching his back. “He’s so big.”

  “It’s Papa, Christopher,” Rebecca said, reaching up to pull his head around. He would have none of it, and burrowed in all the deeper. “I can’t believe it,” Derek said. He looked around at the family, weeping unashamedly. “Look at my son.”

  Matthew saw the baby in Lydia’s arms and moved over to her. He peered down into the baby’s face. “So this is little Josiah?” He reached out and touched the fat little cheeks. “Will told us about this. We didn’t know.” He looked at Lydia. “He’s beautiful.”

  Lydia reached out with her free arm and put it around Matthew’s waist. “Oh, Matthew, it is so good to see you again. I can’t believe you are all home again. What a wonderful surprise.”

  Matthew nodded, and then his head lifted, his eyes searching the group. Lydia laughed. “Kathryn went to get her.”

  As if on cue, there was a cry from behind them. They all turned. Jennifer Jo McIntire was running toward them, her hair streaming out behind her. The family fell back, making a path for her. “Matthew! Matthew! Matthew!” she cried, and hurled herself across the last few feet into his arms.

  He caught her, swinging her around and around as he had his mother. Finally he set her down, the both of them laughing and crying together now. He buried his face into her hair. “Hello, my darling Jennifer Jo,” he whispered. “I’m home.”

  “Oh, yes!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

  Matthew kissed her quickly, then stepped back, holding up his hands. “Could I have it quiet, please?” he commanded.

  Everyone turned to him and he smiled broadly. “I just want you all to hear this.” He turned back and took her hands. “Jennifer Jo McIntire, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes widened, then instantly were filled with delight. “Yes!” she cried.

  “Immediately?” he demanded.

  She was laughing now, wiping at the tears. “Yes! Yes!”

  “Good!” He looked around as the family broke out in applause. “I’ve been waiting long enough,” he said. “It’s time to get this done.”

  Will stopped for a moment on the path that led to the door of the small cabin behind his father’s corrals. Then, taking a quick breath, he stepped to the door and knocked. There was the sound of footsteps inside, and the door opened. Will put a finger to his lips as the shock registered on Abigail Pottsworth’s face. Recovering quickly, she nodded, then looked over her shoulder. “Jenny!”

  “Yes, Mum?”

  Will felt his heart skip a beat.

  “I think it’s for you.”

  “Oh?” There was the sound of a chair scraping back, and then Jenny stepped into view. “Who is—” Her mouth opened, her eyebrows shot up, and there was a sharp intake of breath.

  “Hello, Jenny.”

  In three running steps she had crossed the room and reached him, nearly bowling him over as she threw herself at him. “You’re back!” she squealed.

  “Yes, Jenny, I’m back.”

  “Oh, Will, I can’t believe it. You’re home.” Impulsively, she went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, then instantly stepped back, blushing furiously. “I . . . I’m sorry, Will,” she stammered. “I . . . I wasn’t thinking.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her back to him, grinning till he thought his face would split from ear to ear. “It’s quite all right, Jenny,” he drawled easily. “There’s no need to be apologizing.”

  Chapter Notes

  The details of the passage across the Atlantic on the Rochester are accurately portrayed here, including the loss of a sail, the chaos below decks, and the prayer by the Apostles. The good weather did not last for all the remainder of the trip, but the winds did blow in the right direction thereafter. (See MWM, p. 304.)

  Brigham’s memories of his early years, his feelings about religion, and his eventual conversion to Mormonism are described in detail by himself. Many of the words he uses here with Will come from his own recollections of that time in his life. (See American Moses, pp. 27–30.)

  Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, and John Taylor were the first Apostles to return to Nauvoo, arriving on 1 July 1841. George A. Smith arrived on 14 July; Orson Pratt also sometime in mid-July. Willard and Jennetta Richards visited family in the East and did not arrive in Nauvoo until 16 August. Phoebe Woodruff had gone east to visit her family, and after meeting Wilford there, they spent a long time visiting family and preaching the gospel. They did not return to Illinois until 6 October 1841. Orson Hyde went on to Palestine, an incredible story in and of itself, where on 24 October 1841 he dedicated the Holy Land for the return of the Jews. He came home by way of Egypt and Europe, taking more than a year to make the trip. He returned to Nauvoo in December 1842. Parley Pratt remained in England until late October 1842; then he and his family, sailing with another group of emigrants, left for America. Parley arrived in Nauvoo during the first week of February 1843, making him the last of the Apostles to return home from the British Mission. (See MWM, pp. 304–8.)

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Will hopped up on one of the larger blocks of stone that had been smoothed for placement the next day. Then he reached down and pulled Jenny up to stand beside him. With a little wave of his hand, he indicated where she was to sit down. “Madame,” he said, gesturing toward her place with a flourish.

  She laughed merrily. “Actually, it is mademoiselle. Madame means I’m married. But thank you anyway, monsieur.” She did a little curtsy and sat down. He dropped down behind her and leaned back on his hands. Above them, high overhead, long strings of thin, wispy clouds contrasted sharply with the blue of the sky. They were taking on the first touch of orange, promising a spectacular sunset in half an hour or so. The temple workmen were gone now and the site was deserted. Which was exactly what Will had hoped for. He had spent his first full day back with his family while Jenny worked at the store. Several times he had resisted the temptation to
go there to be with her. He knew they had to talk and he wanted it to be when they were alone.

  “I love it up here,” Jenny said, tipping her head back and letting the golden hair fall back across her shoulders. “I come up here quite often. I like to try and picture in my mind what the temple will look like when it’s finished.”

  He nodded. When he came to get her at her house, she had suggested that this be the place for their walk. Now he was glad. He waited a moment, then reached inside his shirt pocket. He withdrew a small square of cloth folded over on itself several times. Almost shyly, he held it out. “I brought you something from your old homeland.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked down at what lay in his hand. “Will, you didn’t need to do that.”

  “I know I didn’t need to,” he chided her playfully. “I wanted to. I was hoping I could get up to Preston, but we couldn’t. So this is from Manchester.”

  She took it from his hand and unfolded the cloth carefully. When it was fully open, there was a soft “Oh!” A small heart-shaped locket with a gold chain lay inside. She picked it up and looked at it more closely. “Oh, Will,” she said again, “it’s beautiful.”

  “Here, let me put it on.” He took it, worked for a moment to undo the tiny clasp, then got up and knelt behind her.

  “I love it, Will. It is so delicate.”

  He nodded, satisfied. He had worried for the past two months about whether she would like it. She reached back and took his hand. “Thank you, Will.”

  “You’re welcome.” He started to sit back down, but she held his hand there, not letting him go, pulling him forward with just the tiniest bit of pressure. Will’s heart was suddenly pounding. Now she half turned her upper body, so she was looking back at him. Her eyes seemed to fill her entire face. Her lips were parted slightly, and their softness drew his gaze to where he couldn’t pull away. Then, fearful that he would lose his nerve, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. He started to pull back, afraid he had been too forward, but she reached up with her other hand and laid it on his cheek, holding him there. Then she kissed him back very softly.