Again there was a tiny flicker of a smile on Benjamin’s face. “That was given in September 1831. Now it is September 1837. We’re a year overdue.”
Nathan leaned forward. “Overdue for what?”
Benjamin looked at Mary Ann, then reached across the table and took her hand with his free hand. He still held his copy of the Doctrine and Covenants in his other hand, one finger marking his place. “We’ve been thinking a lot about Missouri lately, your mother and me.”
“Missouri?” Rebecca blurted.
“Yes. We’re pleased that things are going so well for Jessica since her marriage, but your mother has been much concerned about Matthew. He’s still quite young to be all by himself, running a farm, with no family close by.”
Lydia sat back in wonder. “You’re not thinking of . . .” Then she laughed softly. That was exactly what they were thinking of.
Benjamin smiled at this daughter-in-law who had become as close to him as either of his natural daughters. “It’s been six years since the Lord said we could expect five years in Kirtland. With what’s happening now, I think we all see the handwriting on the wall. Kirtland’s heyday has passed.”
Carl Rogers looked angry. “Kirtland is doing just fine.”
“Oh, Carl,” Benjamin said, with just a touch of impatience, “I’m not talking about Kirtland as a town, but Kirtland as a place for the Latter-day Saints.” He turned and looked at Nathan and Lydia. “Now let me read you what the Lord says in this same revelation.” He opened the book again and read quickly. “‘And after that day’—after those five years are up—‘I the Lord will not hold any guilty, that shall go, with an open heart, up to the land of Zion.’ ”
Melissa shot forward. “You and Mama are thinking of going to Missouri?”
“You can’t!” Nathan cried, not waiting for the answer that was now quite obvious.
“Why not?” Mary Ann said calmly. “What is there left for us here? The farms are gone. The crops you are harvesting now will only go to the new mortgage holder. Our property in town has gone into foreclosure. All we have left now is this house.”
“And your family!” Melissa cried.
Mary Ann looked away, her lip suddenly trembling. “Yes. And our family. But we have family in Missouri too.”
Rebecca was shaking her head, half-incredulous and yet instantly accepting. Kirtland held no special attraction for her, not since Arthur Wilkinson had started spreading his stories about her. “Joseph is talking about
all
of the Saints gathering there,” she said to Melissa. “They’ve called a conference for later in the month to talk about that very subject.” Suddenly a thought hit her. “Maybe if we go, we could even find Joshua.”
Benjamin’s head jerked around sharply, and his eyes were suddenly cold.
Mary Ann jumped in quickly. “I don’t think so. First of all, it’s not safe to go to Jackson County. But if you remember, in one of Jessica’s letters almost a year ago she said that Joshua has gone, moved to Georgia or somewhere.”
Rebecca’s face fell. “Oh, that’s right.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary Ann saw Nathan look away, though whether in gratitude or disappointment she could not tell.
Benjamin cut in brusquely. “Your brother has nothing to do with this. He’s never answered our letters. He’s not been a part of our family for years. That’s not going to change.” Then, before Mary Ann could contradict him, he changed the subject. “After the meeting this morning, Joseph told me that he and Brother Rigdon are planning to go to Missouri after the next conference. Your mother and I are seriously thinking of going with them.”
“In less than a month?” Lydia said softly, her eyes suddenly tearing. “So soon? So terribly soon?”
Mary Ann swung around to Nathan and Lydia. “Come with us. There’s nothing to hold you here either, now that we’ve lost the farms. You don’t want to farm them for someone else.”
Lydia was shaking her head slowly. “I . . .” She reached for Nathan’s hand. “Actually, we’ve been talking about going to Zion too. But . . .” She turned to her husband.
Nathan gave her a questioning look, and she nodded. He looked at his parents. “Lydia is with child.”
All three of the other women burst out together. “You are?”
Lydia nodded happily. “Yes. The baby’s due in late April or early May.”
“That’s wonderful, Lydia,” Benjamin said.
Instantly, Rebecca was to Lydia and kneeling in front of her, clasping her hands. “It
is
wonderful, Lydia. I’m so happy for you.”
Nathan touched his younger sister’s shoulder. “We’re very happy too, but we’ve already traveled once when Lydia was carrying a child. From Palmyra to here. It wasn’t much fun for her. We’d have to wait until spring.”
Benjamin leaned forward, obviously pleased. “By spring we could have a place ready for you.”
Mary Ann had turned to watch her oldest daughter. Melissa was staring at Lydia, forcing a smile, but her eyes were bleak. Mary Ann spoke very softly. “Melissa?”
She turned.
“We know what this means. But we also know that things are different for you. Carl has the livery stable here, and—” She stopped. And what? What else could she say? Carl despises the Mormons. Carl rejects everything that would draw us to Zion. Carl would laugh in our faces if we asked you to come with us.
Melissa closed her eyes. “I know, Mama, I know.”
Carl startled everyone by standing abruptly. His mouth was set in a tight line, and his eyes were grim. “I’m sorry, Benjamin, but there’s something we have to say.”
Benjamin looked up at his son-in-law calmly. “Say on, Carl.”
He blew out his breath, looking quickly at his wife, then away. “Melissa and I have been talking a lot about things lately too. We were glad when you said the family was going to meet to talk tonight.”
And then in the face of Benjamin’s steady gaze, he lost his nerve. He reached down and pulled at Melissa’s arm. “Tell them, Melissa.”
“Not now, Carl. Not with all this.”
“Tell them!”
Mary Ann stood and went to her daughter. She took her by the hands and pulled her up. For a long moment she looked into her eyes, holding her hands tightly. “I think your father and I already know, Melissa,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You can tell us.”
There was a stifled sob, a looking away, then slowly Melissa’s head came back to face her mother. “I can’t go on any longer, Mama. It’s tearing me apart.”
Mary Ann bit her lower lip. “I know.”
Melissa swung around, suddenly angry, turning on her father. “After what they did to you, Papa, how can you still be one of them?”
His head came up slowly. “I’m not one of them who did this to me.”
“How can you still stay a Mormon?” she burst out. “The Church is falling apart. You’re fighting amongst yourselves. Even three of the Quorum of the Twelve have turned against you.”
“You claim to be the only true Church,” Carl snorted in derision. “But look at what’s happening. Bickering, infighting, one group turning against another.” His eyes were hard and challenging. “Beating up one another.”
Benjamin watched his son-in-law steadily for a moment, and then spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully. “That’s true, Carl. And I can see why that would upset you and Melissa. But I assume, then, that you’ll want to give up on Christianity altogether.”
Carl’s eyebrows lifted sharply. “Why would you say that?”
Reaching over to the table, Benjamin set down the copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and picked up the Bible. “I told you I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately. I’ve always mostly read in the Gospels when I’ve read the New Testament. But these past two weeks I’ve been reading a lot in the book of Acts, and in the writings of the Apostle Paul. It’s been most interesting.”
Carl was wary now.
Benjamin pressed on. “After the Resurrection, the church Jesus organized saw fantastic growth both in numbers and in the areas where the Church went. But all was not wonderful. Over and over there were challenges. Some were challenges from the enemies outside the Church.” He gave Carl a sharp look. “But some were challenges
within
the Church. For example, Paul warned Church leaders from Ephesus to watch out for ‘grievous wolves’ who would enter in among the flock, leading away many. He even predicted that some among the leadership would arise and lead away disciples after themselves.”
Carl said nothing. Melissa was looking at the floor. Benjamin sighed, not liking what he was doing, but knowing it had to be done. “Again and again Paul talked about false teachers in the Church who went around trying to deceive people. Almost every one of his letters was sent to correct problems among the Saints.”
Subconsciously he let one hand steal up to rub at the spot where his ribs had been broken. “Paul was beaten and stoned and scourged. And sometimes that was done by members of the Church.”
Now he looked directly at Carl, challenging him openly. “So with all that, Carl, I just hoped you’d be fair. If you’re going to reject the Mormon church because it has these kinds of problems in it, then I assume you’ll reject Christianity altogether, for the early Church had exactly the same kind of problems.”
Carl was breathing heavily. His face had turned sullen, but he had no answer. Melissa watched him and her father for a minute, then stepped forward. “Papa, I don’t know what is right and wrong anymore. I don’t like what I see happening in the Church. But I don’t know who or what is to blame. All I know is that Carl and I can’t go on like this, fighting among ourselves, jerking the children back and forth.”
Benjamin turned to his daughter, his eyes dark and filled with an immense sadness. “I understand, Melissa.” He turned to Carl. “Did you ever pray about finding a church that you both could be united in?”
“You mean did I pray about whether the Mormon church is true or not?” Carl said, almost sneering.
“That’s not what Mary Ann suggested you do. What she said was—”
“You don’t pray about something you already know the answer to,” Carl cut in bluntly. “No, I didn’t pray about it.”
“I see.” There was a great weariness in him.
Melissa stepped between these two men whom she loved. Now her cheeks were wet, and she was fighting hard to keep her voice under control. “Papa, I’ve started going to Carl’s church. It’s . . .” A slight shudder shook her body as she fought back her emotions. “It’s just easier.” She tensed, waiting for his reaction.
But to her surprise, he did not get angry. Instead, he opened his arms and took her into them. He pressed her head down against his shoulder, wincing for a moment, with the movement. Then he began to pat her shoulder softly. “I understand, Melissa,” he whispered. “I understand.”
“Don’t go, Papa. Please don’t go.”
He pulled back, reached out and lifted her chin, looking deep into her eyes. “We have to, Melissa.” He stopped. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice, and then to everyone’s shocked surprise, there were tears in his eyes. Benjamin Steed was crying! “We have to. We just have to.”
Melissa began to sob openly now. Benjamin shook his head, trying to shake away his own emotions. Failing in that, he pulled her to him again and held her tightly to him. He buried his face in her hair. “But I want you to know that the thoughts of leaving you and your family behind—” His voice broke, and he had to stop for a moment. Finally, he took a deep breath, and in a strained whisper finished his sentence. “That will be the hardest thing your mother and I have ever done.”
* * *
Jessica Roundy Steed Griffith was softly humming one of the hymns to herself as she moved about the small, one-room cabin picking up after Rachel and the boys’ hasty departure to go out with their father for a load of firewood. The early September sunshine came through the south window, filling the room with brightness. This was her favorite time of the year. Indian summer was in its full strength on the Great Plains, and she loved its warmth and golden brightness.
Suddenly she stopped and dropped a hand to her stomach. She probed carefully. Had she felt something there? But instantly she shook her head. At most she could be only three months along. It was too early to feel life. Much too early. And yet she thought about it every day. Ever since she had realized she was with child again, she had anxiously awaited the time when she would feel life. She was growing, swelling slowly but steadily now, and that encouraged her. But she had grown in those first times too, back with Joshua in Independence. But there had never been any stirrings of life, and eventually she had miscarried.
But while she lived daily with the worry, somehow it was not the same as back in those times with Joshua. There was a feeling of peace, of steadiness. It was as though the Lord were comforting her, telling her that the days of lost babies were past.
And there was something more. The losses back in those days when she had been married to Joshua not only had been bitter personal tragedies but also had brought a great strain into the marriage. If she did lose this baby—heaven forbid!—she knew it would be different with her and John. They were still developing their relationship. The awkwardness had not yet fully disappeared between them—they had been married for only four months—but to her constant surprise and wonder the marriage had brought her a joy that she had never known to this point. John Griffith was a gentle and kindly man. He treated her with respect, and she could sense that something was developing between them. It would take time, but when it fully bloomed it was going to be a source of great joy to them both.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. A little surprised to have company this early in the day, she walked over to it. She opened it, then stepped back in pleased surprise. “Matthew?”
“Hello, Jessica.”
* * *
“No,” Matthew said firmly, looking John Griffith straight in the eye, “I’ve thought this over very carefully. My mind is made up.”
Jessica’s husband shook his head. “It’s not a fair trade. You get a cabin no bigger than what you already have, smaller maybe. And I get a cabin and five acres of land.”
“So, I’ll sell the land to you. Two hundred dollars. You pay it off whenever you can. No interest on the mortgage.”