Benjamin whirled on her, his face suddenly twisting. So this was what it was about. Mary Ann had gone to Joseph and reported on him.
“That’s correct, Sister Steed,” Joseph said. Then his eyes went stern, even though his voice remained light. “Now, Ben, don’t you be looking at your wife that way. She has not said a single word to me. So get that thought out of your head.”
As Benjamin dropped his eyes away from Mary Ann’s, Joseph half turned and looked at Lydia. He winked at her. It was true. Mary Ann had not said anything to Joseph. But Lydia had. She had sought him out earlier in the day and told him everything that had transpired the previous night.
“Sister Lydia,” Joseph said, “could you briefly retell for the children the parable of the unmerciful servant?”
“Yes.” She glanced quickly at Benjamin, not totally comfortable now with what was happening. “There were two men, each of whom owed a debt. The one owed ten thousand talents, the other a hundred pence.”
“And how much is that, ten thousand talents?”
Lydia was taken aback by the question. “I don’t know.”
“A huge amount?”
“Yes, very large, I would imagine.”
“And a hundred pence?”
“A pittance in comparison.”
“Good. So what happened?”
“The first man owed the debt to his master. He went to him and begged for time to repay the debt. But the master just forgave it. He didn’t have to pay any of it back.”
“And then?”
“The second man was a servant also, but he owed the hundred pence to the first servant, not to the master. When he begged for more time to pay it back, the first servant showed no mercy. He was angry and threw the man into prison.”
Joseph turned to little Emily, who was watching him with wide eyes. “Emily, if you were the king who forgave the first man a great big debt, how would you feel when you found out that that same man would not forgive the other servant who owed him a little tiny debt?”
Emily’s lip jutted out in a pout. “I would be very angry with him.”
Joseph smiled and turned to the group. “This is a parable that even a child can understand,” he said evenly.
Benjamin didn’t look up. He was concentrating on helping Savannah smooth out her dress. But he knew his face was burning.
“Next question,” Joseph said, swinging back to let his eyes catch Benjamin again. “Not long ago there was a man who did some terrible things to his wife. He beat her up and drove her from his house. Then he did equally terrible things to his brother.”
Benjamin could not stop it. His head came up slowly, and his eyes locked with Joseph’s. “In a way,” Joseph went on, his eyes filled with gentleness, “these were also crimes against the whole family. They hurt the parents. They hurt the brothers and sisters. They were, in fact, crimes that would injure his future family, people he did not even know at the time.”
Joseph had turned to look at Caroline and her children. Caroline’s head was down, her hands rigid in her lap. The silence was total now. Even the smallest of the children sensed the tension in the room and watched Joseph carefully. Slowly now, Joseph swung back around to Benjamin. Those blue eyes with their terrible power were boring into him again. And now Benjamin was having trouble breathing.
“While the acts of this man injured many, to which of the two family members does he owe the greatest debt?”
Mary Ann was looking at Jessica. “To the wife whom he drove out,” she murmured, “and to the brother whom he whipped.”
“That is correct,” Joseph said, never taking his eyes from Benjamin. “And if those two, to whom was owed the greatest debt, frankly forgave the man, what should that say about those to whom is owed a lesser debt?”
Benjamin could not have answered even if his mind had willed it. Savannah looked up at her grandpa, then reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. He groped for it as if it were a rope thrown to him from the top of a precipice.
The Prophet now let his eyes go to Lydia. They stopped there, and she dropped her gaze. They moved to Caroline. She couldn’t bear it for more than a moment either. One by one he moved around the room. Matthew. Rebecca. John Griffith. Mary Ann. Will. Every one who had been touched by Joshua’s actions and left wounded was included in that penetrating examination.
For one last time Joseph turned back to Benjamin. “How many times in the past ten years has your good wife prayed for Joshua do you suppose?”
“Hundreds,” Benjamin whispered.
“And how many times have you prayed for your son, Benjamin?”
His mouth opened, then shut again, and he looked away. He couldn’t bear Joseph’s gaze.
Joseph’s voice was soft now and filled with infinite kindness. “And at the judgment bar, when the Savior asks why there are not any of your prayers recorded in Joshua’s behalf, what will you say, Benjamin? Will you tell the Man who suffered until he bled at every pore, will you tell the Man who had nails driven into his hands and feet and who hung from a cross so that all people might be saved—will you tell that Man that Joshua hurt you so terribly, he does not deserve your forgiveness?”
Benjamin felt as though he were being lashed. Blindly, he put his arms around Savannah and held her close to him. Mary Ann was crying softly. She reached out her hand for him, but he recoiled from her touch. He felt like a leper.
Joseph did not wait for Benjamin’s answer. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a book from his pocket. “Lest we think forgiveness was only a New Testament injunction, may I remind you of the following.” He opened the book and turned the pages. When he had his place, he lifted the book up higher so that he could see his audience over the top of it. He began to read, clearly and with emphasis. “‘My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another, and forgave not one another in their hearts.’” His voice rose sharply. “‘
And for this evil
they were afflicted, and sorely chastened: wherefore I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another, for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses, standeth condemned before the Lord, for there remaineth in him the greater sin.’”
Now his voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Did you hear that, Benjamin?” he asked slowly. “Did you hear that, Sister Lydia? Caroline? John? All of you? Did you hear what the Lord said? There remains in us the
greater
sin.”
He raised the book again and finished slowly. “‘I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.’” He shut the book and moved slowly across the room. He dropped to one knee in front of Benjamin. “What I say to you, Benjamin Steed, I say to every one in this family who has been wronged by the actions of Joshua Steed. His crimes are terrible in the sight of God, but you have not been called to serve as his judge. Only God knows his heart. Only God can determine what is right to do in this case.” He reached out and took Benjamin by the shoulder. “Do you understand that, Benjamin Steed?”
“Yes.” It came out as little more than a hoarse gasp.
“Can you forgive your son for what he has done?”
Benjamin’s eyes were like two holes torn out of his face. They stared wildly at Joseph, then they closed. Benjamin lowered his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
Joseph stood, nodding slowly. “I understand. I do not accept that answer, but I understand what lies behind it.” Then his face grew very solemn. “Brother Benjamin, do you remember that day back in Kirtland when you came to my bedside and we talked about the destiny of the Church?”
Benjamin looked up in surprise. “Yes. Clearly.”
“Well,” Joseph said somberly, “that destiny still rolls on, and you, Benjamin Steed, have an important role to play in it. But as I told you then, no unhallowed hand can stop this work. This church—God’s work—will prevail!” His eyes softened, and his voice dropped to a gentle whisper. “But so long as your heart is filled with bitterness, Ben, you cannot effectively carry out your part in God’s great work. No unhallowed hand can stop this work.” He paused, then finished slowly. “And no unhallowed hand will help move it forward.”
Without further word, he turned and walked to the door. The whole group, still half in a daze, followed him with their eyes in disbelief. Was that it? Was the lesson done? Was Joseph leaving?
But as he put a hand on the latch, he stopped for a moment. “This morning has been a busy one,” he said with a smile. “First Lydia came to me and raised some concerns she had about what was going on in the family. While I was still pondering on that and on what to do, I received two other visitors. I didn’t know they were coming. No one here knew they were coming.”
He opened the door and stepped halfway out, raising one arm to beckon. “It’s time,” he called. He stepped back, opening the door all the wider. A moment later a figure appeared at the door. Joseph reached out his hand and gripped the other’s. They embraced.
Lydia was instantly on her feet, staring. “Nathan?” she breathed.
But before she could move, a second figure stepped through the door. Joseph stepped to him, hand extended. He pulled him further into the room. “Joshua, your family are all here. Welcome home.”
Now Caroline was up, gaping, not daring to believe. Will leaped to his feet, his face infused with joy. Olivia was staring, her mouth open, her eyes rapturous. There was only one who seemed not at all surprised by the figure’s appearance. Savannah wiggled free of her grandfather’s grasp and slid to the floor. Arms outstretched, she trotted around the legs and the feet and the furniture that blocked her way. “Papa, Papa,” she cried.
Joshua dropped to his knees and swept her up. He stood, hugging her little body fiercely to his. “Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured. Then in an instant Will and Olivia were also to him. He reached out with one arm and brought them in too.
All present were on their feet now, but no one moved except Caroline. She walked toward him, as if half-numb. Joshua saw her and handed the baby quickly to Will. Then she was in his arms, and he buried his face in her hair. “Oh, dear Caroline,” he whispered against her. “Can you ever forgive me? I’ve been such a fool.”
After a moment, she pulled back. She reached up and touched his chin. “Your beard?”
“Yeah, Papa,” Olivia said, looking up at him. “What happened to your beard?”
Joshua pulled free of his wife and turned to Matthew, smiling sadly. “Several weeks ago I found that my family did not know me with a beard.” And then suddenly his hands were trembling. He turned to face his mother and father. “And I wanted my family to know me,” he said, his voice barely audible.
With one great racking sob, Mary Ann was across the room and into his arms. “Oh, my son, my son, my son,” was all she could say.
Matthew came up then, and Rebecca right behind him. Joshua reached out and touched her face. “Beautiful Rebecca,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it that day on the road. My little Becca grown into a lovely woman.”
As they clung together there, Nathan moved over to Lydia. He slipped an arm around her waist, reaching out with his other hand to touch the baby’s hand. “You’re all right?” Lydia asked.
He nodded, his eyes moist. “Yes. Everything’s all right now.”
Suddenly Joshua turned and looked to where Jessica stood quietly waiting next to John Griffith. Rachel stood at her side, looking a little confused. Caroline, Mary Ann, Rebecca, Matthew—in one moment they all stepped back and the room fell quiet. Joshua looked frightened, but slowly he moved across the room. His eyes did not leave Jessica’s face. “Jessie,” he started.
She shook her head quickly. “You don’t need to say it, Joshua,” she smiled. “This is enough.” She turned. “I would like you to meet my husband, John Griffith.”
John extended his hand, and Joshua gripped it hard. “I’m pleased to meet you, John Griffith.”
John nodded, but Joshua had already turned to Rachel. His hands came up, and for a moment it looked as though he was going to take her in his arms. But her eyes were frightened, and she shrank back against her mother.
“This is your father, Rachel,” Jessica said. But Rachel only pushed the harder against her.
“It’s all right,” Joshua said. “Joseph has invited us to stay for the Independence Day festivities. There’ll be time to get to know her.”
He straightened and turned. And all in the room knew that the moment had arrived. They moved back, opening the space between Joshua and his father. Benjamin had not moved from the moment he had stood up. He looked like a shattered man. His shoulders were stooped, his face old and tortured.
For what seemed like an eternity, no one moved. Then Joshua took a half step toward his father. “Pa?”
There was no answer. Benjamin just stared at him, his eyes haunted, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Joseph, who had been watching all of this from the corner near the door, came forward a step. “Benjamin,” he said softly, “it’s time.”
And with that, Benjamin Steed opened his arms and started slowly toward his oldest son. Then, with a sob that was a great cry of pain and freedom and release, he broke into a stumbling gait, and in a moment father and son were in each other’s arms, clasped together in a grip that not even death itself could have broken.
Notes
Chapter One
The vision of Jesus Christ, Moses, Elias, and Elijah, which took place in the Kirtland Temple one week following its dedication, is described in the novel as it is found in Doctrine and Covenants 110 and in
History of the Church
2:434–36 (hereafter cited as
HC
). April third in the year 1836 was Easter Sunday and Passover season.
Chapter Four
Heber C. Kimball’s blessing of Parley P. Pratt is taken almost word for word from the latter’s autobiography. Thankful Pratt’s consumption (tuberculosis) and her ten years of childlessness are also as reported by Parley. (See
Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt
, ed. Parley P. Pratt, Jr. [1874; reprint, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1985], p. 110; hereafter cited as
PPP Auto.
) Nathan Steed’s presence is, of course, a fictional addition.