Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Chapter 3

  My, my, Sister Ingalls, you are very tense.”

  Rebecca was sitting on a padded settee in the back room of John C. Bennett’s house, the room that served as his medical office. The morning sun flooded through the east windows, filling the room with light. The mayor was standing by her side, holding her wrist and feeling for a pulse. He laughed lightly, giving her his most reassuring look. “Does coming to the doctor make you so nervous?”

  Rebecca managed a fleeting smile. “I . . . I suppose so. We were in Missouri for most of the time when I was carrying my first child, and . . . well, there was only a midwife and . . .”

  He finished with her wrist and let it drop back, but almost instantly he had her hand in both of his and was patting it solicitously. “Now, now, you absolutely must relax. I’m not going to hurt you and I promise I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”

  “I know,” she murmured, her face flaming red. But even as she willed herself to relax a little she felt a tiny chill of revulsion. He had held her hand for just a moment too long, and there had been the slightest brush of his fingers up her arm as he released his hold on her. Now she chided herself for rejecting Lydia’s offer to come with her this morning. She had felt foolish, like a child afraid to go into a dark room alone, and so she had said no.

  She watched him as he turned to a desk and started to make some notes on a sheet of paper. He was strikingly handsome, and in spite of her discomfort, Rebecca understood why most of the single women and not a few of the married ones in Nauvoo were half swooning over the man. He was not particularly tall—maybe five feet seven or eight—and weighed no more than a hundred and fifty pounds, maybe less. His face was thin but his features were finely shaped. Though he was only thirty-seven, just a year older than the Prophet, there was the first sprinkling of gray in his black hair; but this only added to his suaveness and overall good looks. His smile was quick and could flash like a ray of sun through a break in the clouds. He was witty, stimulating, charming—but his eyes! He had dark, restless eyes that were constantly moving. When she had stepped through the door ten minutes before, she had seen his eyes move slowly up and down her frame and had seen the open admiration in them. “Why, Sister Ingalls,” he said as he introduced himself with a broad, welcoming smile, “I hadn’t expected someone quite so young and lovely as you.”

  It was meant as a sincere compliment, she supposed, but it had immediately set her nerves on edge. Then he had taken her by the elbow to guide her down the hallway to his offices, as though she were a partial invalid or something. Now there was the caress along her arm.

  She stopped, getting stern with herself. Caress? He had barely touched her. She was simply letting her apprehension drive her imagination.

  “There,” Bennett said, turning back around. He had the pen and the paper in his hand. “Let me ask you some questions.” He moved a chair over and sat down facing her, very professional now. “Are you having any pain or cramps?”

  “No.”

  “But you say that you have not felt like things have been normal since the birth of your last child?”

  “No.”

  Rebecca inwardly steeled herself, fighting the temptation to either turn away and stare out the window as he gently kept asking the questions or get up and bolt. It seemed like an eternity, though she knew it was no more than two or three minutes. After each answer, he would write something on his paper, very brief, and with quick, bold strokes.

  Finally, he lowered the pad. “Well,” he said, “that should do it for today. I think you are right in having some cause for concern. A woman needs to listen to what her body is telling her. But on the other hand, I see no real cause for alarm at this stage.”

  “That’s good. Thank you, Doctor Bennett.”

  Rebecca stood up quickly, once again aware of his eyes on her.

  “Oh, please,” he laughed, “call me Brother Bennett.” There was the tiniest hint of a sly smile. “Or even John if you’d like.”

  He stood now too. “I’d like to see you next week,” he said. “Would you like to come in the evening? That way we won’t be disturbed.” There was open invitation in his eyes now. “Perhaps we might even have dinner together.”

  Instantly, the crawly feeling along her flesh was back. It was as though he had taken off his doctor’s persona and laid it aside. And what she saw in its place gave her the chills. “I . . . I’m not sure,” she stammered. “I’ll let you know.” She plunged toward the door. “Thank you, Doctor Bennett,” she called over her shoulder.

  She saw him frown at her use of the formal title, but she didn’t wait to see if he would correct her again. She was out the door and down the walk, not turning back.

  When Lydia looked up and saw Rebecca standing in the doorway, she brightened and started to call out a greeting. Then she saw her face. Instantly she turned. “Jenny!”

  Rebecca nodded gratefully and backed out again.

  “Jenny! Can you come up front and watch the store for a few minutes?”

  They crossed the field behind the store and found a shady spot behind a large barn. Now they sat side by side, speaking quietly to each other. They were quite different, these two Steed women. Lydia, the only child of a well-to-do storekeeper in Palmyra, New York, had come into the Steed family when she married Nathan. Even now, in her early thirties, and after having borne six children, Lydia was strikingly beautiful. She had dark, lustrous hair, dark brown eyes, clear skin, and beautiful facial features. Being an only child, she was of a determined mind and not afraid to speak it.

  Rebecca was much like her mother, both in looks and temperament. She had Mary Ann’s quiet gentleness and patience. Her hair was light brown and combed straight so that it fell below her shoulders. Her eyes were a pale blue and reflected her more serious nature. But when she smiled, a dimple in her left cheek would appear with startling swiftness. Some of her slenderness had been lost when she gave birth to Christopher, but she still carried herself with a grace that Lydia envied. Rebecca was a peacemaker and a stabilizing influence in the family. It was little wonder that everyone loved this sweet and gentle woman.

  “I’m going to tell Nathan.”

  Rebecca swung around. “No, Lydia!”

  “Why not?” Lydia asked. “Nathan won’t say anything to anyone unless you tell him it’s all right.”

  “I know. It’s just that . . .” She looked down, the color spreading across her face again.

  “It’s just what?” Lydia urged, being gentle now.

  “I’m not even sure about it, Lydia. So he said I was lovely—it made me uncomfortable, but maybe that’s just his manner.”

  “But what about the other things he said? Evening appointments? Dinner?”

  Rebecca could only nod.

  Lydia reached out and took Rebecca’s shoulders. “Rebecca, you’re not an excitable person. If you felt that uncomfortable, then you have reason to be upset. This isn’t just all in your head. Especially in light of all the rumors that have been going around about him.” She shook her head, berating herself for not insisting on going with her. She gave Rebecca a long look. “Are you going to tell Derek?”

  “No!” Rebecca blurted it out in panic.

  Lydia didn’t have to say anything. Her look said it all.

  Rebecca shook her head slowly. “I know, I know. But if I tell Derek, you know what he’ll do? It takes a lot to get Derek angry,” she went on, “but he’s very protective of me. He’ll march right down there and slug Bennett or something.”

  Lydia didn’t move. “Are you going back to him again?”

  Rebecca’s resolve was instantaneous. “No!” Then she straightened, giving a little shudder. “I don’t care how good a doctor he is, I won’t go back.”

  Lydia nodded. “I’ll talk to Emma. She always has Frederick G. Williams attend her. She thinks he’s a wonderful doctor.” She leaned over, touching Rebecca’s arm. “Becca?”

  “Yes?”

  “You t
hink about letting me talk to Nathan. If you change your mind, just let me know. All right?”

  It was nearly four o’clock when Rebecca Ingalls came to the front door of Lydia’s cabin and stuck her head in. Lydia was at the table with Emily. A copy of the Book of Mormon was in front of them, and Emily was reading out loud in carefully measured cadence. Young Joshua had the baby on his lap, listening. Off in the corner, Elizabeth Mary and her cousin Savannah were playing dolls.

  When Lydia saw her, she started to rise. “Joshua?”

  He looked up. “Yes, Mama?”

  “Do you think you could help Emily with her reading? I need to speak with your Aunt Rebecca.”

  “No, Lydia,” Rebecca said. “Don’t get up. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve changed my mind about Nathan.”

  Lydia’s eyes flew open. “Good,” she said immediately. “Good. He’s at the store. I’ll go find him right now.”

  “Thank you.” And Rebecca backed out the door again.

  They were walking along Mulholland, moving slowly eastward in the late afternoon sunlight. They had come up on the eastern bluffs now, about a block from the temple site. Lydia’s arm was in the crook of Nathan’s elbow, her shoulder lightly touching his. It was hot, but she didn’t mind. She always loved walking with Nathan.

  “Tell me about John C. Bennett,” she said suddenly.

  Nathan’s stride faltered and he peered at her closely.

  “I know you don’t like him. Why?”

  “What’s this all about?” he said.

  “I just want to know.”

  He took her hand, teasing her now. “Come on. You snatch me away from the store as though our lives were in mortal danger. Now you ask me in a low voice what I know about our mayor. What’s going on, Lydia?”

  She laughed briefly, realizing just how strangely she had acted. But just as quickly, her face grew solemn again. “I’ll tell you in a moment. First I want you to tell me why you have such strong feelings about him, all right?”

  He searched her face, then finally nodded. “All right. Let’s find a place where we can sit.”

  Nathan looked around. A short distance away, a small lane took off to the left, threading its way between two lines of rail fencing. He took her hand. “Come,” he said. “This may take a few minutes.”

  “You must realize, Lydia, that some of what I’m about to tell you is not public knowledge. You must not tell anyone unless you hear Joseph or another leader say it first. There has just been too much gossip.”

  Lydia moved her head slowly up and down, stirred by the solemnity she saw in his eyes.

  Nathan leaned back against the bottom rail of the fence. “It all started a few months after Brother Bennett joined the Church. One day Joseph got an anonymous letter. It said that Brother Bennett had a wife and two or three children back in a town called McConnelsville, Ohio. At that point, of course, there was no knowing if it was true or not. The spirit of the letter was bitter and vindictive. It said Bennett was an evil man and that he had abandoned his wife and children, leaving them to fend for themselves. It also said he had treated her shamefully and had been unfaithful to her.”

  “How did Joseph respond to that?”

  “Obviously he was troubled, but he was also very cautious about overreacting. Joseph knows what it’s like to be accused falsely. And, as you know, he also is very trusting by nature.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “That’s one reason why everyone loves him.”

  “Exactly. Well, Joseph said that it was not uncommon for good men, especially prominent men, to have evil spoken of them.”

  “Did he confront Brother Bennett with this?”

  “Right at first? I don’t know. He didn’t say. But it troubled him enough that last February, he sent George Miller off to Ohio to investigate. In early March, Brother Miller wrote to Brother Joseph and reported what he found.”

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t a good report,” Nathan admitted. “The people said that John Bennett was a vain man who believed he was the smartest man in the nation, and that if he cannot be placed at the head of the heap in whatever situation he finds himself, then he goes off in another direction. In short, they confirmed the accusations made in the earlier letter.”

  “But . . .” The dismay was written clearly in her eyes. “But why, then, hasn’t Joseph released him as Assistant President?”

  Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. “You have to understand, Lydia. It’s not my place to ask, and Joseph hasn’t told me everything. My guess is that he confronted Bennett with what he had learned from Brother Miller. Knowing Bennett, I think he told Joseph that it was all in the past, before he had found the Church and given his life to Jesus.” There was faint mockery in those final words.

  He watched the doubt fill her eyes. Suddenly he felt a need to defend Joseph, even though he had asked himself some of these same questions. “You need to remember something, Lydia. John C. Bennett came to us with an impressive set of credentials. He founded a medical college in Ohio. That’s a fact. At the time he first came to us, he was the quartermaster general for the Illinois militia. That’s the most important military position in the state, an appointment that comes straight from the governor. That’s a fact. And Nauvoo has a charter that is the envy of every city in the state of Illinois. And without John C. Bennett’s work in Springfield, we wouldn’t have that charter. That’s a fact too. Everything about the man seemed legitimate. This was not some shifty character that came in by canoe on some moonless night. So when these terrible rumors started coming in, Joseph had every reason to question them.”

  Lydia was a little ashamed. “Yes, I can see that. I didn’t mean to sound critical of Joseph.”

  Nathan watched her face, seeing the play of emotions there, pleased when the doubt gradually faded.

  He almost hated to take this any further, but the matter was far too serious. “Then Hyrum left for a mission to the East a couple of months ago. I don’t know if Joseph asked him to investigate further or whether Hyrum did it on his own, but when Hyrum got to Pittsburgh he wrote a letter to Joseph. That arrived just a couple of weeks ago.”

  “And what did it say?”

  “Hyrum confirmed that all the accusations against Bennett were true.” He paused, looking away from her now, lost in his own feelings about the whole situation. “You know how much Joseph trusts Hyrum’s counsel. That letter shook him deeply. I think Joseph has now started a formal investigation into the charges.”

  “But if he has Hyrum’s letter, what more is there to investigate?”

  Nathan gave her a long look, then shook his head. “I’m not talking about investigating what happened in Ohio.”

  Her eyes widened perceptibly. “You mean . . . ?”

  “I mean that Joseph wants to know if there is any truth to the rumors about what has been happening here.”

  “Suppose,” Lydia said, choosing her words carefully now, “you had strong evidence that there is some truth to those rumors. What would you do?”

  He turned in surprise. “I’d go straight to Joseph.”

  “Good.”

  He was searching her face. “Why do you ask that?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think you’d better hear about an experience your sister had today.”

  At about the same time Lydia and Nathan were talking, Joshua and Will were still about sixty miles out of St. Louis. The boat was making good time, but when darkness came it would have to slow considerably. So it would be well past sunrise tomorrow before they reached their destination. As Will walked along the outside railing, he could hear the young boy at the bow calling out the depths of the water at periodic intervals as he dropped a lead-weighted rope into the water.

  Will found his father near the back of the boat, leaning on the railing, staring down into the water beneath them. Behind him, the great paddle wheels turned steadily, churning the muddy water into a long white trail behind them. Will stopped for a mome
nt, watching the man he had been fighting with earlier in the morning. Though they had called an unspoken truce, the strain between them was still there. Now it was time to put it away.

  Somehow his father heard him approaching over the roar of the engine and the loud swish-swish of the paddle wheel. He turned; then seeing who it was, he nodded. “Evenin’, Will.”

  “Evenin’, Pa.” He joined Joshua at the rail. “We’ll be slowing down soon, won’t we?” The awkwardness was still there.

  “Good thing,” Joshua grunted. “And not just because it’ll be dark. I slipped into the engine room of this old barge a while ago. It’s an older model boiler, the kind with no safety valve and no pressure gauges. And it’s pretty rusty.”

  “And that’s bad?” Will’s specialty was sailing ships, not steamers.

  “Only if we keep up these full-speed runs.”

  Will frowned. He might not be an expert, but he had traveled the river enough to know that explosions and fires aboard the riverboats were commonplace, and often with horrendous loss of life. Feeling a little uneasy, he decided to change the subject. He glanced sideways at his father. “Sorry about this morning, Pa.”

  Joshua shrugged it off. “It’s done with,” he said simply.

  Will bobbed his head once, relieved to have it said. He looked down at the brown water rushing past them. He wanted to ask his father what it was about Jenny Pottsworth that he detested so much, but he knew that in that direction lay only more anger and frustration. So they both lapsed into silence, continuing to gaze at the water below them.