“When I think about what it means—leaving our home, sailing to America, having to care for you children . . . I don’t have a man to help me, Maggie. Hannah is sixteen, yes. But Robbie is just twelve. He is eager to be the man of the house, but how much can he do? What if I’m not strong enough, Maggie? What if something happens to me along the way? That would leave Hannah on her own.” She looked down. “Do you think I’ve made this decision because it sounds like a lark to me?”
Maggie didn’t know what to say. She had assumed something very much like that. She also noticed that her mother had said nothing about what help Maggie could provide.
“I have prayed a great deal about it, Maggie. I have begged the Lord to let me know if this is in accordance with His will.”
“I’ve prayed about it too, Mama, and I don’t feel like it’s right. I don’t think God expects us to leave everything that we have here. Can’t we serve Him here as well as in America?”
“Of course. There is no question about that.”
It came out so simply and in such a matter-of-fact tone, that Maggie was taken aback. “But, why, then . . . ?”
Her mother’s head had dropped and she was staring at her hands. There was a long pause. Then, very softly, she said, “Maybe you’re not asking the right question.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve learned that it’s not enough for us just to pray, Maggie. We have to ask the right questions too.” She was watching Maggie closely now. “If you asked God if you can serve Him here in Scotland, then I’m not surprised that your answer was yes.”
“And what am I supposed to ask?” she burst out.
“There’s only one question that really matters.”
Maggie just shook her head, suspecting what was coming and yet not wanting to hear it.
“Does God want Maggie McKensie to go to America at this time or not? That is the critical question at this moment.”
“And what if the answer is no?”
“Then Robbie and Hannah and I will bid you farewell. It will break my heart, but we will go knowing that you are doing what God wants you to do.”
“But you don’t think that will be the answer, do you?”
There was a long moment; then Mary finally shook her head.
“That’s not fair, Mama. You know I don’t want to be separated from all of you. It tears my heart out too. But . . .” She couldn’t finish. She was near tears and it made her angry at herself. She didn’t want this to become an emotional outburst. “You really think it is God’s will that I go to America?”
Mary’s eyes searched Maggie’s face before she finally answered. “What I think doesn’t matter. You’ve got to find out what the Lord wants for you, Maggie. I have my answer. But that’s for me. Maybe the Lord wants you to stay here and marry James. Sooner or later you’ll be leaving our family anyway. Maybe it’s not best for you to go.”
Maggie’s eyes had dropped at the mention of James. Her mother stopped, watching her closely. Then, suddenly understanding, Mary spoke quietly. “Is James not talking about marriage?”
Maggie didn’t want to answer, but she had no choice. She knew her mother could see through it clearly. She forced a quick smile. “He’s going to help me find a flat where I can stay. When he completes his apprenticeship and becomes a journeyman, then we’ll be married.”
“I see.” It was filled with a deep sadness.
The quiet resignation in her mother’s voice irked Maggie, and her Scottish temper flared. “No, Mama,” she cried. “You don’t see. It’s only two more years and then he’ll be done. It will make a lot of difference to us if he is a machinist.”
“Yes, it will.”
Maggie threw out her hands. “Oh, Mother, it’s not what you think. I love James and he loves me.”
“Do you think I question that?”
“Then what? What are you trying to say?”
She looked at Maggie for a long time, then just finally shook her head. Her voice was weary now, as well as sad. “This is your decision, Maggie. You have to decide. But you have to do it soon. The missionaries need to know whether to book you passage or not.”
“Don’t change the subject, Mother. What are you trying to say about me and James?”
Again the silence stretched on, but Maggie held her eyes on her mother, challenging her.
“Your father and I never had much when it came to worldly things,” Mary finally said. “He always felt bad about that. Especially at the end when he lost his job. But what he gave me instead was the knowledge that I was more important to him than anything else. Anything else!” she emphasized softly.
“That’s not fair!” Maggie exclaimed. “James just wants the best for me too.”
The mention of work and providing for a family brought back to Maggie’s mind the series of events that led to James’s current situation. After several successive years of crop failure and deepening financial crises in the Highlands, James’s father finally sold their land to a neighboring clansman and came to Edinburgh (“Edin-bur-ah,” as James pronounced it in his Gaelic accent). James had been fifteen at the time. Now, five years later, his family lived in an even poorer section of town than Maggie’s did. His father took day-labor jobs when they were available. His mother worked in a tanning shop, scraping the hair off the hides of goats and cattle. James had gotten a job as a sweeper in an iron foundry. The foreman quickly took a liking to this raw, unlearned boy from the north, and began to ask him to do other things as well. James proved an apt and willing worker, and after three years of his taking on increasing responsibility, the foreman made him an apprentice machinist. In the swelling Industrial Revolution, machinists were considered craftsmen, and a journeyman machinist was a position to be coveted.
James had accepted the opportunity eagerly and never looked back. He moved into a tiny flat just a block from the foundry. He visited his family only every month or so. And in the two years since he had begun his formal training, he had become a skilled and valued worker. He rejoiced in it, exulted in this incredible opportunity to break out of his family’s bondage. It was very important to him. More important than— She stopped herself, not liking how she had almost finished that thought.
“Are you against him becoming a journeyman machinist?” her mother asked quietly.
Maggie’s face registered dismay. “Of course not.”
“If he marries you now, are you going to try and stop him from completing it?”
“Mother, now you’re being ridiculous. No, I want to help him.”
“Does he know that?”
“Of course.” She was finding it hard not to show her exasperation.
“The other men who are apprentices, are they married?”
Maggie winced inwardly. James had finally admitted one day that he was the only single man working on his apprenticeship.
For all her softness and gentle patience, there was a core of steel inside her mother, and now suddenly it showed beneath the surface. Mary mused, as if no longer speaking to her daughter. “If marrying you meant losing what he’s after, then maybe I could understand why he wants to wait. I know he’s had a rough life. But . . .” She let it hang there in the air.
Maggie pushed her chair back angrily. “You don’t understand, Mother.”
She looked squarely at Maggie now. “No, I guess I really don’t.”
Maggie stood, glaring down at her. “I’m not going to America, Mama. It’s not because I don’t love you. You know that. But I—”
“Will you at least pray about it, Maggie?”
“I have prayed about it. I’m just not going. I can’t. And that’s final.”
“And you really feel like that’s your answer?”
“Yes, I do,” Maggie snapped. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, Mama, but yes. I think I have my answer.”
“You think?”
Maggie blew out her breath in exasperation. “It’s not easy, Mama. Do you think I don’t
care about you and that’s why I’m not going?” Suddenly her eyes were burning. “I can’t let myself think about losing you and Robbie and Hannah or I get physically sick,” she whispered.
A hand came out and touched Maggie’s arm. “I know,” her mother said in an equally subdued voice. “I know.”
“You don’t have to go, Mama,” Maggie said with sudden ferocity. “Wait another season. We’ll have more money. Maybe . . .” But that was foolishness. James had two more years of apprenticeship. She wouldn’t be married in another year. The silence stretched out between them, and finally Maggie started to turn. “I’m going for a walk, Mama.”
“Will you do one thing for me, Maggie?” her mother asked softly.
She stopped. “What?”
Mary took a quick breath. “Hear me out first and then you can respond.”
Maggie fought back a retort. She didn’t need more preaching. “All right.”
“I know I have my answer about this, Maggie. I know this is the year for us to go. The news about the handcarts came as an answer to my prayers.”
“An answer for you.”
Mary gave her a sharp look and Maggie was instantly contrite. “Sorry.”
“I know that you have to get your own answer. I know that. And while it will break my heart to say good-bye to you, if the Lord wants you to stay, then I will accept that. But . . .” She took a deep breath. “But I just don’t feel like it is right for you. I feel so strongly that you should be going with us. Not just because we want you to, but because it’s right for you.”
“Mama, I—”
“So here’s what I would like to ask of you,” Mary went on quickly. “The scriptures teach us that when there is a really challenging problem, we should combine fasting with our prayers.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Fasting?”
“Yes. Prayer and fasting.”
“Mother, I have already asked. Again and again.”
“Have you fasted?”
“No, but—”
“That’s all I’m asking, Maggie. Will you fast about it?”
“I—”
Once again Mary cut her off quickly. “If you do that and then tell me, ‘Mother, I have my answer and it is to stay,’ then I’ll not say one more word to you about going. I promise.”
Maggie looked at her for a long time. She saw the longing and hope in her mother’s face. Maybe this was the way to settle it. Maybe it would put her mother’s mind at rest once and for all.
“It won’t make any difference, Mama. I already know.”
“Then I’ll be content and you’ll not hear more about it.”
There came a great sigh—of weariness, of frustration, of surrender. “All right, Mama.” Not wanting to give her mother a chance to respond to that, she grabbed her coat and quickly went out the door.
•••
James watched Maggie out of the corner of his eye as they walked along slowly. Maggie was aware of it, but did not respond. He had been surprised when she showed up at his door and asked if he wanted to walk with her before she had to go to work. But he quickly learned that what she really meant was only walking, not talking. They had been walking now for almost fifteen minutes and she had said hardly anything.
“I’ve decided not to go,” she said abruptly.
He stopped, staring at her.
She continued on and he hurried to catch up with her. “For sure?”
“Yes.”
She still did not turn to look at him, and he was wise enough to sense her mood and be a little wary. “Have you told your mother?”
“Yes.”
They walked on, him waiting for more, her not offering it. “Well?” he finally asked.
“She said it was my decision.”
He guessed that a lot more than that was said, but just nodded. “Good. It is your decision.”
“Well, it’s made. The missionaries will be to our worship services on Sunday. They have to let the people in Liverpool know who’s coming for sure. I’ll tell them then.”
“I know how hard this must be for you.”
She brushed that aside. “I talked to Mrs. Campbell at the boardinghouse. She’ll give me a room for one pound per week if I’ll help her with the cooking at suppertime.”
He stopped again, pulling her towards him. “You did?”
Her head bobbed once.
“When did you do that?”
“Tonight. Before I came to see you.” She pulled free and started off again, only now she was walking more slowly.
“That’s good,” he said as he fell in beside her again. “The boardinghouse is not far from your work.”
“No.”
He was still a little baffled. He knew that the decision to leave her family must be hard, but there was something more going on here. There was no joy in this decision. He shrugged it off, trying to make the best of it. “Well, it will be for only two more years, and then we can—”
“Don’t, James.”
He turned in surprise. “Don’t what?”
“I don’t want to talk about marriage.”
“But—”
“When it’s time, then we’ll talk.” She stopped, turned quickly to him, and managed a wan smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good company tonight.”
“It’s all right. I know how hard this must be—”
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’d better go.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, James.” Leaving him standing there in bewilderment, she turned and walked swiftly away, her head down.
III
Sunday, 16 March 1856
Somewhere far off, the deep sound of the bells of St. Giles Cathedral floated softly on the air. Maggie laid the book down on her lap, listening. It was the call to four o’clock mass. That meant it was three-thirty now.
As the sound died out, she nodded to herself. She would have to leave soon. She had come to the park where she and James often came on their walks. There were rarely people there. It was far too small to attract families. But it was a twenty-minute walk back to the flat where the McKensies lived. Worship services in their tiny branch were held at five P.M. in a member’s home on the far side of Edinburgh, and that was a good half an hour walk in the other direction. Her mother always liked to be there early to visit with the other Saints, so they would be leaving by four-fifteen. Maggie had promised she would return in time to join them.
She looked down at the two books—the one in her lap which was opened was the Doctrine and Covenants. The one on the park bench beside her was the Book of Mormon. She had been reading in the latter for most of the day, but in the last hour she had been searching in the Doctrine and Covenants.
With an immense sense of relief she realized that nothing she had found had changed her mind. This fulfilled her commitment to her mother. She had been fasting since yesterday at noon. And nothing had changed. She wanted to tip her head back and shout it out for joy. She had been right. Her mother was wrong. Well, not wrong, but just not getting the right answer as far as Maggie was concerned. Now Maggie could be at peace. She did not have to leave Scotland to be a faithful Latter-day Saint.
She closed the Doctrine and Covenants and set it upon the Book of Mormon. She looked around, grateful that while there was an occasional passerby, no one else had come to the little postage-stamp-sized park to disturb her. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Our Father in Heaven,” she began. “I thank Thee for this beautiful spring day. I thank Thee for the privilege of knowing Thee and knowing that I can come unto Thee in prayer.” She hesitated for a moment, thinking of how disappointed her mother would be when Maggie told her that she had an answer. “I love my family, Father. Thou knowest that. I do not want to leave them. Help Mother to understand that it is from Thee.”
A noise made her open her eyes. What she saw made her jump to her feet. “James!”
“Hello, luv.” He came up to her and ki
ssed her quickly on the cheek.
“Hello, James. This is a surprise.”
“I went by your place and your mother said you were out alone somewhere. I guessed it might be here.”
“I was just getting ready to go. It’s church today, James. I’ve got to go home and be ready.”
His face fell. “I was hoping maybe you could skip it today.”
She shook her head slowly, strongly tempted for a moment. “I can’t. Not today. I promised Mother I would go. And there’s something important I have to tell her.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s just a promise I made to her.” She, of course, had said nothing to James about fasting. “You could go with me,” she said on impulse, watching his face.
The smile that she so loved broke slowly out, and there was a mischievous look in his eye. “What? And cause your parson to collapse in stunned astonishment?”
“First of all,” she replied, smiling back at him, “we don’t call them parsons in our church, we call them branch presidents. Second, I think he’s up to the shock.”
He ignored that. “I’ve got some things I’ve got to do. Will you be home by seven?”
She nodded. “Mama likes to talk afterwards, but I’ll come right home.”
“Good, there’s something I want to tell you.”
“What?”
He was suddenly mischievous again, teasing. “I thought you had to get home.”
Maggie peered up at him, seeing he was excited about something. “What is it?”
“It’s just about us,” he said nonchalantly. “It can wait.”
“James!” She grabbed his arm and tugged on it. There was a sudden leap of hope, which she pushed aside. Surely he wasn’t going to . . . “Tell me now,” she demanded.
Grinning widely, he took her hand and pulled her back to the bench. As they sat down he took her other hand as well. “Mr. McPhail asked me to help him finish up a job this morning. That’s why I didn’t get to your house any sooner.”
“And?” she asked. Mr. McPhail was the foreman of the foundry and the one who had invited James to become an apprentice machinist.
“We got to talking about the future while we worked.”
Maggie felt her pulse start to race. “You did?” she asked, hardly daring to breathe.
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