Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was a cold night. Snowflakes floated gently down from the sky, covering everything with a soft new layer of white. They met at Lydia’s house so that Lydia, now only a couple of weeks away from delivery, didn’t have to go out, but they came at the behest of Mary Ann. All of the women of the Steed clan were invited, including the McIntire sisters and the Pottsworths. Olivia, now thirteen, was, for this purpose, considered to be a woman too. They chose a Sabbath evening so the men could watch the children. In order that the two homes where there was no man would also be covered, Nathan took his and Lydia’s children over to Jessica’s house, and Rebecca brought Christopher there as well.
Jessica and Rebecca went to Lydia’s early to help Mother Steed bake apple dumplings, so Jennifer Jo and Kathryn stayed behind to tend the children until Nathan came. Because of that, the McIntire sisters were the last to arrive. As Rebecca helped them off with their coats, Jennifer Jo saw that the only open seating left was between Caroline and Olivia on one side and Jenny Pottsworth and her mother on the other. Kathryn saw it too and shook her head quickly at her sister. But there was no other choice. Determined to make the best of it, Jennifer Jo led the way to the two seats.
“Oh, good evening, Jennifer Jo,” Jenny said, looking up. “Good evening, Kathryn.” It was said warmly and with genuine pleasure.
Jennifer Jo nodded and forced a smile. “Good evening.” Kathryn murmured something that was not distinguishable.
“Hello, Jenny,” Olivia said with a cheerful smile. She was the only one who still insisted on calling Jennifer Jo “Jenny.” She didn’t care about trying to keep the two Jennys separate.
“Hello, Livvy,” Jennifer Jo said, taking the seat closest to Jenny so that Kathryn wouldn’t have to sit right beside her. “What a lovely dress. Is that new?”
Olivia beamed with pleasure and held out the skirt so they could see more of it. “Papa bought it for me. He got Savannah one too.”
Caroline was listening and shook her head ruefully. “Joshua spoils these two girls shamelessly. You’ll have to come see Savannah’s. It’s green velvet with white ribbons. She is so proud of it, I can barely get it off her so she can go to bed.”
Jennifer Jo laughed, as did the others. That was Savannah, all right.
Sister Pottsworth leaned forward. “Have you heard from Matthew of late, Jennifer Jo?”
She frowned and shook her head. “Not for about two weeks now. Since he’s gone to London, it seems like it takes even longer for his letters to get here.”
Jenny reached out and touched Jennifer Jo’s arm. “Olivia was just telling us how she used to think she was going to marry Matthew.”
As Olivia blushed, Kathryn smiled for the first time. “Yes. For a time there, after Matthew announced that he and Jennifer Jo were promised, we didn’t know if Livvy was ever going to speak to us again.”
“But that’s all behind them now,” Caroline said. “Isn’t it, Livvy?”
Olivia cocked her head, and the wide green eyes got a little impish look in them as she looked up at Kathryn. “Yes. Now I’ve decided I’m going to marry Peter.”
At school, Olivia and Kathryn sat next to each other. Though there was a year-and-a-half difference in their ages, they had become very close friends. Olivia knew full well how Kathryn felt about Peter, and her comment was only meant to tease. Instead, Kathryn visibly flinched, and then she blushed deeply. She looked down, her hands twisting around each other.
Caroline saw instantly what had happened and decided to change the subject rather than try to smooth things over. “We were talking about Matthew,” she said to Jennifer Jo. “Abigail was saying what a fine young man he is.”
“Aye,” the Englishwoman said, puzzled by Kathryn’s reaction, but sensing this was a way to turn attention away from her and save her further embarrassment. “A finer lad I’ve not met. You’ve got good reason to be proud, Jennifer Jo.”
“I know,” she said, still half watching Kathryn out of the corner of her eye.
Jenny seemed oblivious to the undercurrents around her. She had a dreamy look in her eye as she turned to Olivia. “I don’t blame you for setting your cap for Matthew,” she said. “He would make anyone a fine husband.” Then to Jennifer Jo she added, “You are very, very lucky.”
Jennifer Jo involuntarily stiffened. “Thank you,” she finally managed, forcing a smile only with some effort. Ever since the disastrous night of the Thanksgiving dinner, Jennifer Jo had been struggling with her feelings about Jenny Pottsworth. At that time, those feelings had sprung only from her natural defensiveness for her sister. But a few days later, Matthew’s next letter came. In his first letter from London, he had told the family about the Pottsworths’ coming to America, but had said little about Jenny, other than that Peter would be very thrilled to know she was coming to Nauvoo. But in the next letter, with his characteristic honesty, Matthew told Jennifer Jo about the farewell kiss on the docks of Liverpool. He made light of it, and mentioned that Brigham had given permission only if it were on the cheek and very brief. She knew that Matthew had not been influenced by it—she could tell that from the innocent manner in which he spoke of it—but since then, not all of Jennifer Jo’s growing resentment toward Jenny Pottsworth stemmed from her sisterly concern for Kathryn. Now came this comment, wide-eyed and innocent, about Matthew’s potential as a husband. Jennifer Jo looked away, feeling herself starting a slow burn.
Thankfully, Mary Ann stood up at that point, and the conversations stopped. She looked around, smiling at them with great affection. “Thank you all for coming. I think this is a first for us. We’ve had family councils before, but I think this is the first one exclusively for the women.”
“I like it,” Rebecca spoke up. “I say we do it every month.”
There was general laughter and assent to that comment. “How about every week?” Lydia quipped. “I like having a night to ourselves.”
“Well, actually,” Mary Ann said, “what I am going to propose tonight will require that we meet together often, and I like that idea too.” Now she grew more serious. “Let me jump right in. For the last two weeks, I’ve not been able to get Thanksgiving out of my mind. What happened before dinner, when we all expressed thanks for our blessings, was a special thing to me.”
“Yes, that was a wonderful experience,” Melissa murmured.
“But it is one thing to be thankful in our words. I think it’s something else to show that thankfulness by our actions.” She stopped, thinking how to best express what she was feeling. “We have had so many blessings from the Lord. I can’t begin to count them. And thanks in large measure to the wonderful help we got from Joshua and Caroline and Carl and Melissa as we were driven from Far West, we are much better off than many of our brothers and sisters.”
“Amen!” Sister Pottsworth said fervently. She and Jenny had not been in Missouri, but they too were recipients of Joshua’s generosity. Shortly after their arrival in Nauvoo, Joshua offered them a small one-room cabin behind Joshua’s freight office. Ashamed that it was so cramped and tiny, and also that it was close enough to the corral that one always knew which way the wind was blowing, Joshua charged them no rent. Abigail wouldn’t accept that, so they finally settled on Abigail’s doing laundry service for Caroline in exchange for their housing. Abigail and Jenny were ecstatic with the arrangement. Not only was the cabin larger than the flat they had occupied back in Preston, but here they didn’t have to share it with anyone else. And the smell was no worse than that of the raw sewage that ran down the alleyways of Preston.
Mary Ann waved her arm at the room around them. “Look at us. We each have a comfortable home. We have the store. We have Carl’s brickyard. We have Joshua’s freight business. We are about to get into the lumber business. We are truly prospering, and I mean in the temporal sense as well as in our spiritual lives.”
Caroline was looking at Olivia’s new dress and nodding slowly. Joshua wouldn’t tell her what he had paid for
the two dresses he bought for his daughters, but she knew it was more than many families had to spend on food for a month, or clothing for a year. The cost of Livvy’s piano would have built some families a home.
“If we are truly grateful,” Mary Ann went on, “then we must show it to the Lord. And since we cannot give anything directly back to him, we must do it by helping others.” She turned and walked to the big cedar chest by the fireplace. The large family Bible she and Benjamin had received as a wedding gift was sitting there. She picked it up and the others saw that she had marked a place with a piece of paper. She opened it to that place, then looked back at her family. “You all know what the Book of Mormon says about service.”
Olivia’s hand shot up. Jessica had made them memorize this in school.
Mary Ann nodded at her. “Yes, Livvy. Do you know that scripture?”
Olivia stood, as though it were a classroom, and recited quickly. “ ‘When you are in the service of your fellow beings you are only in the service of your God.’ ”
“That’s right, Livvy. Very good.”
Turning, Olivia saw Jessica’s smile and complimentary nod. She sat back down as her mother patted her shoulder.
“Well, besides King Benjamin’s comment, which Livvy has quoted perfectly, I would like to read you something from the Bible. From the book of James.” She looked down and began. “ ‘Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.’ ”
She shut the book, set it down, and returned to her place. She waited for a moment, letting the implications of the scripture sink in, and then she began again. “The fatherless and the widows. As I think about that, I think of Sister Mary Beth Bingham. Her husband abandoned her over a year ago, leaving her with three children and nothing more than a filthy shanty to live in. I think of the Leavitt children, both parents struck down with cholera, and cared for now by the oldest son, who is barely fifteen. I think of the Seegmillers, who came on the ship with Jenny and Abigail. They have four children and he cannot find work. They’re living in Brother Brewster’s wagon out back of his house.”
She stopped. Caroline raised her head. “The Bartons, who live behind us—she has consumption.”
Lydia was nodding now too. “And what about Sister Kohler? Nine children. Her husband is a hard worker, but they are still very poor. They don’t even have enough shoes to bring all of the children to church at the same time.”
Pleased, Mary Ann leaned forward. “That is exactly what I am talking about. We can’t do everything. There is far too much need. But we can do something! I suggest we take the next few minutes to talk about who is in need and what we could do to help.”
The meeting was breaking up. The pan of apple dumplings was almost gone. The bottle of cream, which Mary Ann left outside until it was so thick it had to be put on with a spoon, was empty. The warmth of the meeting still lingered in the air.
Abigail Pottsworth stopped by Lydia’s chair to say good night. Lydia was too tired and too awkward to get up and bid everyone good-bye. “Thank you, Lydia, for having us. It’s been a wonderful night.”
“It has,” Lydia said. “We’re so glad you and Jenny would come. We think of you as part of our family, you know.”
“I know, and that has been a great blessing to us.” She straightened and turned to Mary Ann. “And that reminds me. I was so pleased with your idea for helping others. I have a proposal too.”
“What?” Mary Ann asked. Jessica and Rebecca were at the door, their coats and scarves on, and were ready to walk out. Caroline and Olivia were just putting their coats on. Melissa, Kathryn, and Jennifer Jo were clearing the last of the dishes. At Sister Pottsworth’s comments, they all turned to listen. Abigail walked over to stand by Mary Ann.
“One of the sisters I do laundry for was telling me that for Christmas you hardly do anything here. That there is no holiday celebration. Is that correct?”
“Well, yes,” Mary Ann said, not sure what the question was getting at. “We do talk about Jesus somewhat on that day, but we know that he wasn’t actually born in December. He was born in the spring.”
“Yes, I know. But do you mark his birthday in the spring?”
Mary Ann shook her head. “No.”
“Then why not use Christmas to celebrate his birth? We do in England. It’s an important holiday there. I mean, this is our Savior, the most important person who ever lived on the earth. Derek told me you have a big celebration on the Fourth of July, the birthday of your country. Don’t you think we should honor the birth of the Master too, then?”
From her chair Lydia spoke. “I’d never thought of it like that. I think it sounds like a good idea. Tell us what kinds of things you do.”
“Ah,” Abigail said, shaking her head with a warm smile. “In the Old Country, Christmas is a wonderful holiday. We have a big feast. People go out caroling.”
“Singing?” Olivia said. “What do they sing?”
Jenny couldn’t believe it. “Christmas carols,” she burst out in exasperation. “ ‘Silent Night,’ ‘Good Christian Men Rejoice,’ ‘While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night,’ ‘Adeste Fideles,’ ‘Joy to the World,’ a dozen others.” She had to stop to catch her breath. “We go out on Christmas Eve and carol from house to house, and then the people invite the carolers in and give them a drink of wassail.”
“Wassail?” Rebecca repeated tentatively.
“Oh, yes. It’s a hot drink with all kinds of good things in it—roasted apples, eggs, sugar, and wonderful spices.” Suddenly one hand came up to her mouth. She looked to her mother. “And ale. I had forgotten that, Mum. We couldn’t do that, then. Not with the Word of Wisdom.”
“I’ve already thought about that,” her mother said. “We’ll use apple cider.”
“I think it sounds wonderful,” Caroline said.
Jenny turned back to Olivia. “And we hang our stockings by the fireplace at night so Father Christmas can come and put candy and gifts into them.”
“Who is Father Christmas?” Olivia asked with a puzzled look.
Jenny threw up her hands. “You don’t know who Father Christmas is? Santa Claus? Old Saint Nicholas? Don’t any of those names mean anything to you?”
Olivia shook her head.
“He has many names, depending on which country you are in, but Father Christmas is the best part of the celebration. Each child hangs a stocking from the fireplace. Then, if they have been very good children, Father Christmas will come down the chimney after they are asleep and fill their stockings with candy and presents.”
“Really?” Olivia asked with widening eyes.
“Really,” Abigail said, giving the adults a knowing smile. “Father Christmas is the symbol of giving, of doing good things for others.”
She looked around the circle now. “I could scarce believe my ears when Sister Colfax told me that you do practically nothing here to celebrate Christmas. She said you don’t even close school. Is that right, Jessica?”
Jessica seemed a little startled by the question. “Well, no, I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Then I have a proposal. Jenny and I are going to give you Americans a good old-fashioned English Christmas. Just like we decided to start a family tradition and have Thanksgiving, I suggest we start another family tradition and celebrate Christmas.”
Suddenly a look of concern crossed Jenny’s face. “Do you suppose it’s contrary to the gospel to do such a thing? Is that why you don’t do anything here?”
Lydia shook her head immediately. “I wouldn’t think so. Joseph is always telling us that a religion should be something that makes people happy. And those sound like very happy things.”
“They are,” Abigail agreed warmly. “Especially for the children.” She brightened as a thought came to her. “I know. I’ll find Joseph first thing tomorrow and ask him if that would be displeasing to the Lord.”
Will stomped hi
s feet and pulled his coat tighter around him. He reached up and cupped his hands over his face, letting the warmth of his breath thaw the flesh a little. It was well below freezing, and trying to hold back the cold was getting more and more difficult.
He turned his head at the sound of the door opening, and stepped back farther into the shadows. With the opening of the door came the noise of women’s chatter and a flood of light. Then two figures stepped out onto the porch. He leaned forward a little, peering at them. It was Jessica and Rebecca. They called out their farewells, waved to someone standing at the door, then walked down the steps. The door shut again, but he was encouraged at least. The meeting was ending.
Two minutes later, the door opened again. Now his patience paid off. Jenny stepped out first, and her mother came right behind her. Calling her good-byes, Jenny came down off the porch and started toward the gate. She stopped. Her mother was still on the porch talking to Grandma Steed. Will smiled. Abigail Pottsworth was a talker, and this was the very chance he had hoped for. Lowering his head, he stepped out and started toward his parents’ house, across the street from Lydia’s, striding as though he were anxious to be home.
Jenny was waiting just inside the fence that surrounded Nathan’s home. She turned at the sound of the footsteps on the snow, then took a step closer. “Will,” she called. “Is that you?”
The Work and the Glory Page 254