Lydia Steed had always liked Carlton Rogers, though he often left her exasperated. His red hair and prominent freckles gave him a bit of a little-boy look, which could not be dispelled by the fact that he was twenty-seven years old and starting to visibly benefit from Melissa’s excellent cooking. He had a quick humor, and an easy way with people, probably the result of working with the public in his father’s stable since he was a young child. But he could also be stubborn and bullheaded. He was like an English bulldog: once he sank his teeth into an idea, you couldn’t pry it from him with pick, ax, or shovel.
Now he was throwing gibes about the Mormon poor and how they were taxing Kirtland’s resources. But Lydia had never been known for being a weak-minded person either, and though she sensed that Carl was deliberately baiting her, she didn’t hesitate to pick up his challenge. She smiled sweetly, but there was the tiniest bit of bite to her voice. “We’re doing more for the poor than any other church is doing.”
He looked incredulous. “The vast majority of those people are Mormons. Why should it be our obligation to take care of them?”
She feigned surprise. “I thought the Bible said something about Christians caring for the poor. I don’t remember that it specified any particular religious denomination.”
“Ha!” It came out as a puff of derision. “You can’t care for your own, so you expect us to solve your problem.”
“It’s not a sin to be poor, Carl. Other than that, what is it that you find so offensive about us?” She spoke in a half-teasing tone, baiting him back a little.
To her surprise, he went very quiet, and his face lengthened noticeably. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Of course,” Lydia replied.
He looked at Mary Ann, then away.
Mary Ann smiled encouragement to her son-in-law. “You can speak your mind freely, Carl. I think we’re up to it.”
“All right.” He took in a breath, then released it slowly. Finally, he turned back to Lydia, and in that moment she realized this was the reason why Carl had stayed. The other comments were only prelude. Lydia had fallen right into his setup.
Melissa was watching him closely now, her eyes worried. She too sensed that a turning point in the conversation had just been passed, but she wasn’t sure why or what it was.
“All right, Carl,” Lydia said evenly. “What is it that you find so bothersome about us Mormons?”
His chin came up. The eyes were steady and challenging. “I think your church tears families apart.”
It would have been difficult to tell who was the more surprised by his accusation. Mary Ann’s eyes widened. Lydia’s mouth dropped open slightly. From Melissa there was a soft intake of breath.
“Well,” he said, half defensively. “You said you wanted to know.” He glanced at his wife, then away quickly. “Melissa’s going to think I’m just talking about her and me. But we’re only one example. Everywhere you look, your religion is drivin’ wedges between people.”
“
Everywhere?
” Lydia said, making no attempt to hide her skepticism. “Isn’t that a little strong?”
“All right, not everywhere. Not everyone. But I can sure give you plenty of examples.”
“Name one,” Lydia demanded.
“Martin Harris.”
Lydia shot a look at her mother-in-law. Lucy Harris had been so incensed over Martin’s support of Joseph, they had separated shortly after the Church was organized. They had never divorced, and Martin had come to Kirtland to live, leaving Lucy in New York. But he had sent her money up until a few months ago when he received word that Lucy had passed away.
“There were serious problems in that marriage long before Joseph Smith ever came along,” Mary Ann said.
Carl brushed that aside. It was obvious that he had kept these thoughts pent up inside him for a long time. “All right. You want honesty? What about your own family?”
“Carl!”
He didn’t look at his wife, just went on doggedly. “Well, can you deny it? Look what Mormonism has done to you. Look at Joshua and Benjamin. A son run away from home, a father who won’t even speak his name. Then there’s Joshua and Jessica. Jessica became a Mormon and the marriage ended in divorce.” His voice dropped. He was looking at Lydia. “Or what about you and your own parents?”
No one spoke. There was too much pain with every example he had given. Lydia’s hand had come up to the lace collar at her throat and was picking at it with quick, fluttering movements. Carl’s face softened as he saw her pain, but his eyes were filled with determination. “I’m sorry, Lydia, but it’s true. Your own parents won’t even speak your name in their house. I’m not saying you were wrong to leave them, I’m just saying this church of yours seems to break up families.”
Lydia finally looked up. “What Nathan and I have found together is worth more to me than what I lost with my family.” She looked down, then her head came up again in challenge. He had spoken his mind, now she’d speak hers. “I just wish you and Melissa had what we have.”
Melissa stirred, wanting to stop what was happening, but Carl went on quickly before she could speak. “That’s right,” he said bitterly. “If you’re both Mormon, everything is wonderful. But if not . . .” He gave a little exclamation of disgust. “Look what happened to Rebecca and Arthur Wilkinson.”
“And thank the Lord for that,” Lydia retorted tartly. “We’ve come to see that Arthur Wilkinson is not quite the nice young man he seemed to be.”
Carl threw up his hands in exasperation. “Only because he was so frustrated.”
“Only because he was a scoundrel,” Lydia said hotly.
“Like you and Melissa are frustrated, Carl?” Mary Ann said quietly, stepping into the conversation.
Carl shot Melissa a quick look before nodding. “Yes. I’ll be honest, Mother Steed. I don’t like what Mormonism is doing to my family.”
She sighed wearily. “I understand. I understand the situation, and I understand the pain that it brings.”
Carl turned to his wife, and suddenly there was a pleading look in his eyes. “It’s the only thing between us that ain’t right, Melissa. I love you, and I love our children, but I don’t care one whit for Mormonism, because it keeps coming between us. All the time. Like some great wall we can’t move.”
“I’ve not pushed you to believe as I do, Carl,” Melissa said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I know. And I’m grateful for that. But you can’t deny it’s come between us. Can you?”
She only hesitated for a moment, then dropped her head. “No.”
Mary Ann felt her heart ache for the anguish in Melissa’s eyes. “May I try to respond to your concerns, Carl?”
Carl turned back to his mother-in-law. “Yes.”
“And may I be as honest as you have been?”
“I would be disappointed if you weren’t.”
“Lydia spoke of the relationship between her and Nathan. I’d like to speak of my relationship with Benjamin.” The corners of her mouth softened with the memory of long-ago times. “I’ve loved Benjamin Steed since the day I first saw him. He’s always been a good man. A decent man. But he was also one of the most stubborn men I know. Hardheaded as a piece of granite. You met him not long before he joined the Church, so you’ve never really known him except as a Latter-day Saint. But I can tell you this—the gospel has changed him, Carl, changed him in ways that I never dreamed were possible.”
Tears suddenly welled up, as much to her surprise as to the others’. “He is so gentle, so much more patient now. The gospel’s changed him. And if—” She had to stop for a moment. When she finally went on, her voice was strained with emotion. “And if the Benjamin Steed I’m married to now had been the Benjamin Steed who went looking for Joshua that night nine years ago, I think . . .” Her shoulders lifted. “
I know
things would have turned out very differently than they did.”
Her voice cleared and strengthened. “That’s what the gospel of Jesus Christ has done for our family, Carl. And I pray constantly that you and Melissa can someday find what Benjamin and I, and Lydia and Nathan, now have.”
“That’s all well and good,” he said quietly, still stubbornly trying to make his point, “but what I don’t understand is why you think everyone has to join the Mormon church to unite the family. Benjamin becomes a Mormon, now you’re happy. Lydia and Nathan both join the Church, now they’re filled with bliss. Arthur Wilkinson refuses to accept Mormonism, so break it off; he and Rebecca can’t be happy.”
“Carl—,” Lydia started, but he shook his head quickly.
“No, let me finish. I’m not Mormon, but I love Melissa. I love our sons. I belong to a Christian church. I try to follow Christ. Why should I be the one to join your church so Melissa and I can unite our family? Why doesn’t Melissa renounce Mormonism and become a Methodist with me? That would eliminate the conflict too.”
He sat back, relieved to have finally gotten it out. For a moment, no one spoke. Melissa was staring at her empty plate, toying with the fork. Any desire on Lydia’s part to strike back, to best him in a conversational game, was now gone. She watched him with sad eyes, wishing she could make him understand, but not knowing what more to say.
He laughed scornfully. “Well, I see no one has an answer to that.”
Mary Ann took a deep breath. “I have an answer, Carl.” She appraised him with a steady, calm look. “But it may not be what you want to hear.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re right. You and Melissa do need to be unified on the question of religion in your marriage. For your sake and for the children’s.”
His face reflected his surprise. He had expected defensiveness, a quick lecture on the fact that the Mormon church was the only true church on the face of the earth. He had been prepared to answer that with a contemptuous retort. He didn’t know what to say to this.
“So I have a suggestion,” Mary Ann said.
Carl looked suspicious. “What?”
“Why don’t you and Melissa start this very night? Kneel down at your bedside together, and tell the Lord that you desire to be united in your religious views, that you both want to belong to the same church, so that your present religious differences will not be a dividing force in your family. That is a good desire. So ask the Lord for his help. Ask him which church you should both join—yours or Melissa’s or maybe another. And tell him that you are willing to abide by his answer. Continue your petition every night until the Lord gives you both an answer. Fair enough?”
He looked quickly at Melissa. “And what if the Lord says for Melissa to become a Methodist?”
“Then I’ll do it,” she said without hesitation.
Now Lydia leaned forward. “And what if the Lord says for you to become a Mormon?”
The question hung in the air. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at Mary Ann. Finally he turned to his wife. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can pray about it. I’ll have to think about it.”
* * *
Lydia held Emily’s hand tightly as they walked down the path that led from the bluffs down into what everyone called Kirtland Flats. Below them, still about three hundred yards away, the meandering of the river, marked by a dark line of trees and brush, cut across the snowy landscape. Near the junction of four of Geauga County’s main roads stood the Newel K. Whitney store. It was flanked on both sides by homes—one his own, and the other Orson Hyde’s, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. All three buildings were nearly lost against the whiteness, since they were painted white and their roofs were snow covered. The two-story Johnson inn, across the street from the store, was made of local brick and was a bright red gash against the whiteness. All four buildings had lazy columns of smoke rising from their chimneys.
It had started raining lightly just at dusk the night before, then turned to snow during the night. It was less than an inch deep, but the wet base had frozen, and the pathway was slick enough underneath Lydia’s feet to make for treacherous footing. Twice Emily’s feet nearly went out from under her and Lydia had to pull her back up again.
On the path, two sets of footprints, a man’s and a woman’s, and a set of narrow wheel tracks were the only marks in the new snow. It was early enough in the day that most of Kirtland’s population were still in their homes, but obviously someone was out before Lydia and her daughter. As they rounded a slight curve in the path and cleared a row of low-lying bushes, Lydia saw a man and a woman ahead of them about half a block. The man was pushing a baby’s pram. He was tall, broad shouldered. He wore no hat, and his hair was light brown, combed high and back from his forehead. The woman had a small woolen bonnet on, but it did not completely cover the mass of dark ringlets that bounced lightly as she walked.
Lydia tightened her grip on Emily’s hand. “Come, Emily. Let’s hurry a little. That’s Brother Joseph and Sister Emma. Let’s catch up to them.”
Joseph must have heard them, for he stopped and turned around. Immediately a broad smile filled his face. “Sister Lydia,” he called, “you’re out bright and early.”
Emma turned too, her eyes lighting with recognition. “Hello, Lydia.”
“Hello, Brother Joseph. Hello, Emma.” She came up to join them, pulling off her woolen mittens to shake hands with them.
Joseph went down on one knee, peering up beneath Emily’s winter bonnet. “And who have we here?” He reared back, feigning wondrous surprise. “Why, I do believe it is the lovely Miss Emily Steed.”
Emily’s dark eyes danced with pleasure. “Yes, it is, Brother Joseph.”
“Well, bless my soul. And aren’t you getting to look more like your mother with every passing day?”
Emily curtsied slightly. “I hope so, thank you.”
That won her a laugh from all three adults. Joseph fished inside the pocket of his vest and found a small coin. He handed it to her. “I understand Brother Whitney has some new licorice candy. Why don’t you run along before it’s all gone. We’ll be along shortly.”
“Yes, sir!” Emily said, her eyes wide. “Is it all right, Mama?”
“Yes, dear. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Tell Mr. Whitney we’re coming, or he’ll wonder what you’re doing out all by yourself.”
With a perfunctory nod she was gone, her little feet making hardly any sound in the snow. Joseph watched her for a moment, then turned to Lydia. “She really is getting to be quite the little beauty. You and Nathan will have to watch her when she gets to be sixteen or seventeen. She’ll have every eligible man in the county after her.”