by Dean Hughes
“I need you, all right, and I can pay you a dollar a day. That will help you lay in a few stores for winter. I’ve got timber here on this land, too, and we can fell some more trees—which will open up more grazing land for my animals. We’ll use my oxen to haul the logs out to your place and you can hew them and get them ready. Before snow comes we could gather up some men to raise you a good little house. After a year or two, you could put some money down on a bigger farm of your own.”
Jesse was staring at Will, his eyes wide. Ellen’s eyes had filled with tears. “Is it true you really need a man to work for you?” Ellen asked.
“I do. I’ve been working sunup ’til sundown, but I cannot keep up with all the roads I’ve promised to grade before snow flies. I definitely need a man now, and I’ll still need one once Brother Johns comes back to work. If you’re willing to work with me—partners in everything—I cannot tell you how much I’d appreciate it.”
Now Jesse’s eyes had also filled with tears. His face looked older than it had back in England. He hadn’t shaved for a time, and his skin looked hard and brown from the summer sun, but now his eyes were getting back some light.
“You need a cow and some hogs and chickens, and you’ll need to plow up a garden there by the house we’ll build for you. I can help you get some animals, and then next spring you can pay me back with your work.”
“Will, you can na’ do all that. You told me yerself, you want to build a brick house here on your lot. If you help me that much, you will set yerself back.”
“Not at all. We’re all going to prosper together. We just have to work hard enough to make it happen.”
Will could tell that Jesse was still embarrassed to accept the offer, and yet he was so thankful he could only keep repeating how good it was of Will to help him this way. Will tried to shed all that, but when he saw the change in the man—and in Ellen—he felt reassured that it was the right thing to do.
As it turned out, Jesse and Ellen stayed all afternoon. Will and Jesse talked in considerable detail about the work they would do together and the things they could accomplish over the next few years. When Jesse finally walked away, he was carrying Mary on his shoulders, and Will saw some bounce in his stride.
Once they were out of sight, Liz turned to Will and wrapped her arms around him as best she could with her bulging front in the way. “Do you really need a man to work for you?” she asked.
“You know I do.”
“Maybe one, but do you need two?”
“I’ve needed two men all along. I only thought I’d save up more money if I did everything myself.”
“And what about this cow you’re going to buy for Jesse? And pigs and chickens? Where’s that money coming from?”
“He’s going to need some animals, Liz. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I have wages coming for these roads I’m grading. If it’s all right, I’ll use some of the money I was going to put aside to buy bricks.”
“I’m fine with that, Will. I’ve told you, this house is good enough for me. But are you all right with it?”
Will didn’t want to answer. The truth was, he felt sick. He had already begun to realize that he couldn’t build that new house next year, but now he wondered when it would ever happen. Still, how could he turn his back on Jesse and Ellen when they needed to get started too?
“This is Zion, Liz,” Will said. “Jesse needed to understand what that means.”
“Yes. And so do we.”
Chapter 4
Liz’s pains had begun—hard ones—and she was frightened. It was still September, and she had calculated that the birth would not come until late October. What frightened her more was that Will was working on a road several miles south of town and probably wouldn’t be home until after sundown. At first she had told herself that the pains would pass, but she was increasingly sure that that wasn’t going to happen. There was nothing to do but seek out Nelly Baugh—her neighbor just down the hill to the west—and ask her to send her son to fetch Mother Sessions.
The trail through the woods to Nelly’s house was not long, but a pain struck Liz along the way. She grabbed hold of a slender birch tree and hung on. Suddenly she felt a gush and knew that her water had broken. She hurried on then, and when she reached Nelly’s open front door, she said, “Nelly, my baby’s coming—and it’s too soon.”
“Don’t tell me. Tell the baby,” Sister Baugh said, laughing. But then she came to Liz and seemed to see how frightened she was. “Sometimes the sickness passes away. You can’t be sure that the baby’ll come today.”
“My water broke, Nelly.”
Nelly nodded. “Well, then, yes. It’s a-comin’, all right.”
Just then another pain struck Liz. She thought for a moment that she would drop to her knees. She clutched her belly and moaned without meaning to, and she held her breath. This pain lasted longer than the ones before, her whole body seeming to clench. Nelly wrapped her arm around Liz and helped her sit down. “That’s a real pain, all right,” she said.
“Can you send Edward to get Mother Sessions?”
“Yes. An’ I’ll stay with you. But let’s get you back home.” She stepped to the door of her cabin and called, “Edward!”
The boy appeared quickly. The knees of his homespun trousers were wet and his hands were covered in mud. He pulled a dilapidated straw hat from his head when he saw Liz, and he nodded to her.
“Let your weedin’ go for now,” Nelly told him. “Run down to the flats to Sister Sessions’s house. Tell her Sister Lewis needs her right now—and don’t come back without her. If she’s not at her place, track ’er down.”
Edward was eleven, Liz knew, but he seemed older, and she saw that he took the command seriously. “Yes’m,” he said, and turned quickly.
“Stop at the pump and wash yerself a little,” Nelly yelled after him as he headed out the door. “But do it fast. An’ run all the way.”
Nelly gathered her younger children together—eight-year-old twin girls, a four-year-old son, and a baby daughter—and they all walked back to Liz’s house, Nelly holding Liz with one arm and carrying her baby with the other. Along the way, Liz had another labor pain. “They’s comin’ a little too fast and too hard for my likin’,” Nelly told her. “First babies come slow most times, but we best be ready in case Patty’s off sum’eres with another birthin’ and can’t come the first minute she’s called on.”
Liz was frightened by all of this. She hadn’t known how weak she would suddenly feel, how confused, her mind seeming to lose all concentration when the pains came. She wanted Patty Sessions, who was always so calm and confident, and she wanted Will, just to be there with her. But all that was nothing compared to the fear she felt for her baby. If it was coming so early, would it be all right? Would it be strong enough?
Sister Baugh took over. She chattered too much, worried out loud more than Liz needed, but she was in control, and Liz had only to follow instructions. She was thankful for that.
Nelly told the twins to keep the baby and little Arthur outside, and not to come inside the house. Once inside, Nelly had Liz sit down while she got the bed ready in the back room. She stripped off the straw mattress and laid out flour sacks over the ropes of the bed. Mother Sessions had told Liz to boil the sacks and keep them ready. Nelly then helped Liz get her clothes off and lie down, and she covered her over with a quilted counterpane.
“Don’t help the baby yet. Just let the pains come for now, and we’ll see how long before Patty gets here.”
But it was hard not to push. Liz’s body seemed to act on its own, and each pain made her want the birth to happen whether Patty was there or not. She clung to Nelly when her muscles clenched, tried not to cry out too much but did at times in spite of herself. Time passed—an hour or more, Liz thought—and finally Patty’s voi
ce was at the bedroom door. “I wasn’t planning to be here this soon, dear Sister Elizabeth. How are you holding up?”
But a pain had struck again and Liz gasped, then grimaced as she waited it out. It was Nelly who said, “I think it’s coming awful fast for a first one. I told her not to push.”
Mother Sessions stepped close to the bed and took hold of Liz’s hand. She was an older woman, near fifty, with a stolid countenance and a taut little body, but her voice was mild. “Liz, dear, just rest a minute now before the next pain comes. Don’t worry about a thing. Let me pray for you, and then let’s trust in the Lord after that.”
Patty surprised Liz when she placed her hands on Liz’s head. Liz had heard of women in Nauvoo laying hands on the sick, using the power of prayer to bless other sisters and children, but she had never received a blessing from a woman. The comfort was wonderful. Mother Sessions prayed softly for the Lord to watch over Liz and her baby and to help Liz withstand the pain. “May this dear spirit, about to take on a mortal body, be blessed to thrive and grow and live a righteous life,” she prayed, “all according to Thy holy mind and will.”
She ended her prayer in Christ’s name, and then she stepped to the end of the bed and lifted the quilt that covered Liz. After only a few seconds of examination, she said, “Nelly’s right. This baby is coming fast.”
• • •
When Will walked toward his house that night—a little earlier than he had expected to return—he saw smoke coming from the chimney, and his first thought was that Liz had built the fire without him and was already cooking dinner. But when he opened the door, he saw Nelly Baugh at the fireplace, not Liz.
Nelly was stirring something in a kettle. She turned and said, “Oh, Brother Lewis. I’m glad you’re here.” She motioned with her hand toward the back room.
Will stepped to the bedroom door and looked to see Liz in bed. She raised her head in the dim light and smiled gently. Next to her, held in one of her arms, was a little bundle wrapped in a tan blanket—the blanket the sisters of the Female Relief Society of Nauvoo had brought to her. “What’s happened?” were the words he heard himself say, even though the answer was obvious.
“Your baby’s come already,” Nelly said.
And in a softer voice, Liz said, “It’s a little girl, Will. Come and look.”
“Are you all right?” he asked as he walked to the bed. “I would have stayed today if I’d known.”
“You couldn’t know. I didn’t know. But I’m fine. Nelly and Patty were here with me.”
“Is the baby doing all right?”
“She’s very, very small, Will. She looks like a doll—a tiny china doll.”
Will knelt by the bed and took hold of Liz’s hand. “You look so tired, Liz. Are you sure you’re doing all right?”
“Yes, I think so. Mother Sessions said it was an easy birth, and I think it was—the baby being so small.” She moved the bundle to the other side of her, near to Will. “Look at her, Will. She’s so pretty.”
Will took the infant in his arms and pulled the blanket open.
“Take her to the front door so you can see her better.”
Will did as he was told, and when he saw the little one’s face and arms and hands, he marveled as though he’d never seen a baby before. This was flesh of his wife’s flesh—and his flesh, too. He remembered his little brothers and sisters, knew what new babies looked like, but this miracle seemed beyond all others. She was red and frowning, like his mother’s babies, but still a little flower. She had a perfect face, with tiny rounded lips and ears folded against her head, perfect too, like the opening petals of a rosebud.
But her hand was tiny, and he sensed the danger. “Will she be all right?” he asked Nelly.
“Mother Sessions blessed your wife,” Nelly told him. “And she told her after, sometimes the early ones do jist fine.”
Will nodded. He understood what “sometimes” meant and knew that Liz must be worried. He went back to her. “She’s beautiful,” he told her.
Liz took the baby back into her arms. “I want to name her Mary Ann. Is that all right, Will? I want her to grow up just as happy, just as comical and lively as my sister.”
“That’s fine. That’s the name she’ll have.”
“Mother Sessions said the first week or two will be important—to see if she can gain weight.” Liz had begun to cry. “Please give her a priesthood blessing, Will.”
“I will.”
“Do you have consecrated oil?” Nelly asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“I’ll walk home now, and I’ll send Warren back. He has oil, and he can anoint her.”
“All right. I would appreciate that.” Will thought of that little hand and wondered whether he was facing a force like the storm at sea. Was he being called to quell the winds and the waves again?
“There’s beans cooking in the kettle,” Nelly said, “and some bacon mixed in. And there’s wheat bread I baked only yesterday, all ready to slice and eat.”
Will finally noticed the smell of the beans, and especially the bacon, and he remembered how hungry he had been, riding home. “Thanks so much, Nelly. How did you know to come today?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Liz. She walked down to my place when she first knew she was sick. She may sound like a highborn lady, but she hardly let out a whimper when it come to the pain of it. She’s a strong woman, no matter how pretty she is.”
Liz looked as frail as she had on the ship, and he knew how worried she was, but her face was perfect in that flickering light from the Betty lamp on the wall. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—no matter how many I ever look on,” Will said.
“Look again,” Liz said. “Look at the little face in that blanket. That’s the prettiest face that ever was.”
Will was thinking that all this was too wonderful to be true. He sometimes forgot how much he had wanted Liz, and how impossible it once had seemed that he could have her—and yet here she was, in love with him, and the mother of his own beautiful little girl. He had heard people say that things never turn out as well as we hope they will, but at this moment he couldn’t imagine being happier.
Still, it was such a delicate joy. He needed both his wife and his daughter to get stronger now.
Nelly left. Will walked out and stirred the beans and used a wooden spoon to taste them, but they were still hard, not cooked long enough yet. So he took a chair to the bed and sat next to Liz. He asked her to rehearse the whole story, when and how she had known the baby was coming, and what had happened since then.
She was only partway through her story when Warren Baugh showed up. He had a little tin container of oil with him. Will asked Warren to anoint Liz’s head, and then he sealed the blessing. He stated flatly that Liz would regain her strength quickly and live to bear many more children.
Will picked up the baby after that and held her so Warren could anoint her head in the same way. Will addressed his little girl as Mary Ann Lewis, and the words themselves made his voice shake. He pled with the Lord to bless her, to make her well, to allow her to live to adulthood and to have children of her own.
• • •
For the next few days Mary Ann seemed to do quite well, and Liz was hopeful. Nelly stayed to help her. She made a bed on the floor of the main room and kept the baby with her, only rousing Liz to nurse her. Liz needed to stay flat on her back for a week, Nelly insisted, and Will needed his sleep so that he could go about his own work. Nelly’s little daughter, almost a year old, slept on the floor with her. Liz knew what a sacrifice all this was for Nelly and her family, and what a blessing it was to have her there. She thanked Nelly over and over, but Nelly passed off Liz’s words with a wave of her hand. “It’s what us sisters do here,” she would say. “Most times, we don’t have family near to us, so we do what mothers and relatives would do.”
Mary Ann didn’t nurse very well, but she slept a great deal and seemed to be at peace. On the third day of her life, however, she began to cry. She started in the evening and continued all night. Will stayed awake with Nelly and Liz and they all three tried to comfort the baby. They kept her warm and dry, and Liz tried time and again to nurse her. Liz’s milk had come in well enough, and Mary Ann would try to suck, but before long she would screech with pain and everything would come back up, already smelling sour. Then the crying would start again.
Liz had never experienced anything quite so frustrating or so heartbreaking. The poor little thing was not thriving, not comforted, and nothing Liz tried to do made any difference. She sent Will off to work each morning because she could see how much anguish he was experiencing and she couldn’t stand to let him go through this with her. She knew, too, that he had contracted to finish grading two more roads before winter set in. He worried when he didn’t move ahead on his work. Fortunately, too, Nelly not only stayed the night but part of the day, and some of the other sisters who lived on Parley Street, not far away, stopped in to offer help.
Mother Sessions also stopped by most days to look after Liz. She said that Liz was healing fine, but she also understood how worried she was. “Sister Lewis, you can only do what you’re doing,” she told her. “Some babies have colic. It’s just the way they come to the world. Most often, we feed them as best we can and they finally keep down enough milk to grow on, and in time, they stop crying so much. But this pretty little thing is so small, she may not be able to keep herself alive. I don’t like to say that to you, deary, but you need to know, if something happens, it isn’t your fault.”
“But there must be something more we can do for her.”
“Not that I know of. I’ve tried a few things—herbs of different kinds—but nothing that ever seemed to make a difference. I’m afraid this world is full of heartache, my dear. I’ve birthed eight children myself and five are gone now. I lost a son who was sixteen years old and a little girl who was six. Only one was a new baby. The others I had time to know, and then it hurt all the more to lose them.”