by Dean Hughes
“Don’t do that,” Abby said. “You can’t tell her that she has a right to decide how many children we have, and if she says another word about our house, I’m going to tell her to fly straight back to New Jersey—on her broom.”
Abby’s night turned out not to be an easy one. William woke up every two hours or so. Jeff got up one of those times and gave the baby a bottle as a supplemental feeding, but Abby couldn’t sleep, so she came out to make sure William was taking it.
Abby never heard a sound from her mother, so the bed must have been all right, and Jeff left at six to head for work, long before her mom got up. When Olivia finally got up, she seemed subdued. She had to know that Jeff would have repeated to Abby the things she had said, and she also had to know what Abby would think about that.
“Was the bed all right?” Abby asked.
“Just tell me you have coffee in your house.”
Abby laughed. “I bought some yesterday. I knew you’d never make it through this without coffee.”
Olivia actually smiled. “Abby, I’m not a nice person,” she said. “You know that already. And I was in a bad mood when I got in last night.”
Abby wasn’t going to let her off the hook quite that easily. She only said, “I fixed some scrambled eggs. Do you want me to scramble some more, or—”
“No. Just coffee. And a slice of toast.”
“It’s just instant coffee. Is that all right?”
“Anything dark and ugly and full of caffeine.”
Abby got the bread out. Olivia sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen.
“I have some opinions, Abby. And I think I’m right. I’m not sorry I said something. But I overstepped last night. I know I did. And you may think I had a good night’s sleep, but I didn’t. I spent most of the night thinking about some of the things I said, and the way I said them. I thought about getting up, but I didn’t want to face your husband. I know he hates me.”
“Well ... he probably doesn’t like you much right now. I’ll admit that. But he saw the worst of you last night, and he doesn’t know the best of you as well as I do. But Jeff’s a gentle man, and he’s very forgiving. You may not know it, but I got very lucky when I found him.”
“He got up with the baby last night, didn’t he?”
“He did, and I’m sure he will every night, as long as he needs to. He was up at five thirty to go to work, too, so he can get home and help me this afternoon. And he spends half the time he’s home working on this house—because he promised to do it.”
“I don’t think you should have another baby right away, Abby. That was all I meant to tell him.”
“And he happens to think that’s not your decision.”
“Where in the world did he get that idea?”
Abby shook her head. But her mom was smiling, and so was she.
“Coffee! Where’s the coffee?”
“The water’s heating,” Abby said.
Abby got up and checked the water, waited for a time, and then poured a cupful and stirred in the coffee. But Olivia had only finished half the cup when Liz heard William. “Do you want to see your grandson?” Abby asked.
“Oh, yes.”
They walked into the bedroom and Abby picked him up and gave him to her mother. “He doesn’t look like a single thing is wrong with him,” Olivia said. “He’s tiny, but he looks just perfect.”
“Dr. Hunt says that even the scar will mostly go away. He’s going to be a regular kid. He can do anything he wants to do.”
“It’s hard to imagine,” Olivia said. William had calmed when his mother had picked him up, but he was starting to complain now that nothing had touched his lips.
“I need to feed him,” Abby said, taking him back.
“It’s hard to believe. My little girl with her own little baby.”
Abby took William to the living room, sat down in her recliner, and unbuttoned her top. She felt a little funny doing that in front of her mother, and she used the blanket to be a little more private, but her mom seemed to relish the whole thing. “He’s got his world figured out already,” she said. “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.”
Abby wondered whether her mom was being a little ironic about her own tendency to “squeak,” but she didn’t say so. She had just heard the storm door open, and now there was a knock on the front door. “Could you get that?” she said. “It’s probably just one of the sisters, with food, but we can’t let anyone come in. Dr. Hunt said that you’re the only exception.”
Olivia got up and walked to the door. When she opened it, Abby heard Sister Caldwell say, “Oh, hello. You’re Abby’s mom. I’d know that if you was standing a mile off. An’, of course, Abby said you was comin’.”
Mom was stuttering, obviously confused about who this was.
“I’m Sister Caldwell, one of the missionaries. I have a dinner for you. I thought I better bring it now before I head down to preparation meeting. I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it back here the rest of the day. Just stick that casserole in the oven at 350 or so about an hour before you want to eat it.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, taking the pan.
“I don’t think you can carry that all at once, but I cain’t come in, not without spreading germs.”
“I’ll come back and get the rest,” Olivia said. She carried the covered dish to the kitchen.
“Hello, Sister Caldwell,” Abby called. “I’m nursing William or I’d come and say hello.”
“That’s fine. I sure want to see that little guy one of these days. But I’ll stay right here for now.”
Olivia came back and took a bowl and a little basket with a cloth covering. “I don’t understand,” she finally said to Sister Caldwell. “Do you bring food every day?”
“No. I don’t. But someone does. Either from Abby’s ward or from the missionaries. We done it while she had to go to the hospital each day, and we thought we’d keep it up while the baby’s still takin’ all her time.”
“I can take over now. I can cook for her and Jeff.”
“I know. But let us do it a while yet. It makes us feel like we’re helpin’ a little, and we love your daughter like she’s our own little girl.”
“How did you get to know one another?”
“Down at ‘Sunset by the Mississippi’ one night. And then we live jist around the corner.”
“That’s so nice. I can’t believe you’d be so kind.”
“We jist try to look out for each other a little, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry. Who does?”
“Sisters in the Church. But I guess you know that.”
“No. I don’t think I did.”
Sister Caldwell called out to Abby, wishing her well again, and then she said to Olivia, “It’s so good to meet you. I’d give you a big hug, but that might carry some of my germs inside. Have a good day now, and enjoy that little angel. There ain’t nothin’ better in this world than bein’ a grandma. I know that from lots of experience.”
Abby saw Sister Caldwell through the front window as she waddled away like a plump mother duck. Then she looked up at her mother, who had shut the door and turned toward her. “They feed you every day?” she asked.
“Yes, and one of the women from our church drove me to Quincy lots of times so Jeff could take our car to work.”
“How did you get to know all these people?”
“They’re our brothers and sisters, Mom. We really believe that.”
“But I’ve never met a woman like that in my whole life. Who is she?”
“She’s Sister Caldwell, from Idaho. She and her husband pay their own expenses to live here for a year and a half. They conduct tours in the historic area, down off the hill.”
“They pay to come out here?”
“They do. And they not only do the tours, they perform in a play in the evenin
gs.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t picture this. I just can’t see her as a performer.”
“You’d be surprised, Mom. She does a great job. And I’ll tell you what. I wouldn’t trade her for a dozen of those women you play bridge with. She’s all heart, and she’s good right down to the bone.”
Olivia was still looking rather wide-eyed, as though she couldn’t imagine what she had just experienced. “I know people like that are probably very nice, in their way, but they don’t seem the type you would want to make friends with. It just seems so strange.”
“Mom, I’ve been trying to explain to you, I’ve found something wonderful. Jeff is as sophisticated as anyone I know. And so is his family. But when little William seemed to be dying, Jeff put his hands on his head and blessed him to live. And he did live. I believe in things now, Mom, and I didn’t when I left our home. I’ve never been this happy in my life.”
Olivia didn’t say a word. But Abby saw a change in her mother’s face. Jeff didn’t need to be afraid to come home that afternoon.
Chapter 12
Will wanted to start farming the land he had purchased near Jesse and Ellen’s place, east of Nauvoo. He would have to plow the land again and harrow it as early as he could, and then hope to bring in some sort of crop the first season—at least enough to make another payment on the property. If he put all his profit into the purchase, however, it would mean farming the Big Field for another year, and it would also mean procuring all the roadwork he could—but so far he had no promise of any further work for the county. He had ridden his horse to Carthage one day and talked with county officials, but they seemed more hesitant than they had been the year before. They spoke of opening up the work to bids this year, and Will wondered whether men from surrounding towns had complained about the work going to a Mormon.
There was nothing to do but wait for now. There had been some pleasant days that spring, but each time the soil was almost dry enough, a hard rain would delay his plowing again. Will was good at many things, but waiting wasn’t one of them. He tried to help Liz all he could, and he worked on his fences and sheds, readied his equipment, even borrowed a rifle and hunted one day. He brought home a young white-tail buck and dressed it out. The fresh venison was a good change from the remnants of last year’s cured pork, but he wanted to hear his plow cutting through dark loam. He wanted to get seed corn in the ground, and he wanted to plant the garden by his house.
One morning, after a downpour of rain during the night, Will walked down to the brick store. He wanted to ask William Clayton how much would be expected from him as payment on his land. He had made a small down payment in the fall, but he knew he would have to come up with more this year. He passed Joseph’s log house and was continuing west to the store when he heard a big voice behind him. “Is that you, Will Lewis?”
Will turned around to see the Prophet. “President Smith, good morning,” he said. Will waited as Joseph strode toward him, and they shook hands.
“I have to get away from my house these days if I hope to carry out my duties for the Church,” Joseph said. “There are far too many folks living with us.”
Will knew that Joseph had a houseful with Emma and their four children, along with Lucy Smith, his mother. Eliza Snow, who was still serving as the Smith children’s schoolteacher, had moved out of the house not long ago, but on the same day, Lucy had moved in. In addition, there were Emily and Eliza Partridge, who lived in the house and helped Emma, and there were the four Walker children. Sister Walker had died the year before, and Joseph and Emma had taken in the oldest four of her ten children. Lucy and Catherine Walker worked in the house, and Lorin and William worked for Joseph and, among other things, delivered firewood to the poor. What Will had also learned was that during the winter, while he had been gone, the Walkers had played a big role in creating the Young Men’s and the Young Ladies’ relief societies.
“Your new house is coming along well, though,” Will said. “Won’t that give you more room?”
“Yes, it will. And I look forward to it, but we’re adding rooms so that it can be used as an inn. Until we get the Nauvoo House built, we’re going to need a place for travelers to stay.” He clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “I heard a good report on your mission, but I’ve never had an opportunity to talk to you about it. How did you fare?”
“Let’s just say that most people were less than welcoming. But a few embraced the gospel, and they made up for all the others.”
“I know it was a hardship for you, but I think I see a little change in you—and for the good. Next time you’re called, you may have to sacrifice a little more than you did this time, but I suspect you’re ready for that.”
The idea actually worried Will a little, but he only said, “I’ll do what the Lord calls me to do. I promise you that.” He grinned. “Liz won’t let me do otherwise.”
“Well, let’s hope for a good harvest—both of grain and of souls. It should be a better year if we can just be left alone. What worries me is Thomas Sharp, down in Warsaw. He never misses a chance to complain about us in his newspaper—and far too many are taking up his attitude.”
Will had been hearing about the trouble in the county, with more people saying that the Saints ought to be expelled from the state—the same as had been done in Missouri. When Governor Ford had been elected the previous fall, he had soon advocated that the Nauvoo charter be rescinded, and some in the legislature had grabbed at that idea. They had wrangled over the matter all winter while Will had been gone, and finally, this spring, those against the Saints had come within one vote of getting their way.
“We won’t turn from this place unless they give us no choice,” Joseph said. He glanced to the north, where everything was green and gleaming after the night’s rain. The trees were in full leaf now, and the whitewashed homes were reflecting the morning sun. The mud was deep, and some of the sheds and outhouses looked weathered, but Will had learned to see the city with Joseph’s eyes, and it was beautiful. “If trouble starts, the way it did in Missouri, we may have to locate a place where we can build our own city in our own way. I have men out looking at Oregon and the Rocky Mountains.”
“But we can’t be driven out this time, can we?”
Joseph now looked the opposite direction, out across the broad river. Will didn’t know whether he was trying to decide how to answer or just being careful about what he said to Will. Finally, he looked Will squarely in the eyes and asked, “Have you joined the Legion, Will?”
“Not yet, I haven’t. I don’t know the first thing about the military.”
“Every man between eighteen and forty-five, by Illinois law, is required to join a unit of the state militia—even new immigrants. But all the complaints I hear are that our army is too big. How can they have it both ways?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We may need to protect ourselves this time. It’s clear that no government will stand with us. Every man in Nauvoo ought to be willing to lay down his life for his people—if it comes to that.”
Will nodded. “I’m not a coward, Brother Joseph. I haven’t thought of it that way. The Legion has seemed all parades and sham battles to me.”
“And so it is—for now. But there could be real battles ahead. The way I see it, though, if we make a show of force, many a man in Warsaw and Carthage might think better of marching their own puny militias against ours.”
“You’re right about that. Brother Joseph, I’ll go ahead and join this year.”
“Good. Die with me, if that’s what it comes to. But better yet, let’s live. Let’s spread the gospel to the world—even if the devils of hell come against us.”
“Aye. I gained a taste for preaching this winter. I want to do some more of it. But I do have to pay my bills. I came down to ask Brother Clayton for a little time to make the next payment on the farm I bought last fall.”
“Go ahead and farm that land, Will,” Joseph said. “It’s yours. Pay the balance as your crops come in. But help others, as you’ve done for Brother Matthews and Brother Johns. Share in your prosperity; keep your eye on our higher purposes.”
“It’s what I want to do, Brother Joseph. Thank you.”
So Will turned back and headed home. But he kept thinking about Joseph’s words. He still wanted a better home for Liz, but he suspected the best thing he had done in Nauvoo, so far, had been to hire Jesse and Dan. The other words that also came back to him, however, left him uneasy: “Die with me, if that’s what it comes to.”
• • •
Liz didn’t like the idea of Will joining the Nauvoo Legion. She didn’t understand why Americans loved their militias so much. Young men in England joined the army, and they went away to train, but Americans seemed to revel in their titles and their uniforms and their weapons. Mormon men didn’t gather at a pub and drink all evening, but they liked to go off and pretend they were shooting one another, like little boys.
Still, there was not much Liz could say, since Joseph Smith himself had asked Will to join. And now that he had done so, Will was being called away to drills quite often. He came home talking of battle formations and drilling commands, and he soon began speaking of his need for a uniform. Liz did her best to sew one for him that was patterned after the fancy suits some of the others wore, but all the fabric and buttons and epaulettes didn’t come cheap. What she managed to make for him remained rather simple—a blue coat with tails, a bit of gold trim, and a red sash. But he wore his everyday trousers and boots, and he had no hat to match the tall plumed ones that some of the men had purchased.
When Will came home from training one evening, he seemed hesitant about something. “Liz,” he finally said, “I suppose I received something of an honor today—but one I could have avoided and perhaps been just as pleased.”
Liz had long since finished cooking dinner. She dished out some of the venison he had brought home that spring, with some withered potatoes, almost the last of those that had lasted through the winter. “And what great honor is that?”