Jenny had sensed that hostility in him almost from the first instant they met, and it had nearly cost him any chance of becoming friends with her. Even now sometimes, when some aspect of the Mormons was mentioned, he felt himself turning away, bristling all over again. It was stupid. It was totally irrational. But it was there. And Jenny seemed to know that too.
There was the snap of a twig and Will looked up in surprise. Joshua was standing across from him, on the other side of what was left of the fire. “May I join you?”
“Of course.”
Joshua came around and sat beside him. Like Will, he leaned forward to stare into the embers. After a long time, he turned his head. “I’m sorry, Will. I should have told you before. It’s not something I can speak of very easily. I consider it to be one of the darkest days of my life.”
“I understand. Thank you for telling me now, Pa.”
“You would have seen Nathan’s back sooner or later. I’m just glad I was here to be the one to tell you about it.”
“Me too.” Will pulled his legs closer and hugged himself. With the fire down, the cold was edging in on them. “Pa?”
“Yes, son?”
“I just realized that what Nathan said—about hate? Well, he was talking to me, wasn’t he?”
Joshua stiffened. “You?”
“Yes. All those months of thinking you were dead and that the Mormons had done it to you. He knows how much I
hated—”
Joshua was shaking his head doggedly back and forth.
“What?”
“Don’t you understand, son? Nathan knows full well what’s happening between your mother and me over this Mormon thing.” There was discouragement in his voice now. “No, Will, Nathan wasn’t talking to you. He was talking directly to me.”
In addition to his assignment as a member of the building committee for the temple, Benjamin was also doing considerable work with and for the acting city council. John C. Bennett had been in Springfield since October conference, vigorously lobbying the state legislature for the passage of the Nauvoo City Charter. In his latest letter to Joseph he reported that he was getting a surprisingly warm response to the proposal. Much of that was the result of the political parties’ courting the growing bloc of Mormon voters, but be that as it may, Bennett predicted passage of the charter before the end of the year. So Joseph called together a committee and asked them to begin working out plans for implementation if the charter passed. Benjamin was one of those called.
All of that had happened just before Benjamin left for Wisconsin. Now, back only two days, he found that his desk in the room where the building committee had taken up temporary offices was still piled deep with papers. Most were related to the temple, but several were papers relating to the city’s government. He was determined to get through the work and told Mary Ann not to wait supper on him. So when there was a knock on the door just after six p.m. and Caroline and Mary Ann walked in, it came as a surprise.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Benjamin,” Mary Ann said without preamble, “but we have a question, or rather a proposal.”
“All right.”
“If you agree, we need to get started on it immediately, like even tonight.”
He laid the pen down and pushed the papers aside.
“Go ahead, Caroline,” Mary Ann said.
Caroline stepped up beside her. “Sister Charity Blackmun was in the store this afternoon. She’s from Massachusetts originally, and somehow we got talking about Thanksgiving. She said what a disappointment it has been to her that Thanksgiving isn’t celebrated here.”
“Thanksgiving? You mean like the Pilgrims’ Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. It’s widely observed in New England. Several of the states back there have even made it a state holiday. But it’s not here in Illinois.”
He shrugged. He hadn’t even thought about it.
“Well,” Caroline went on, “Charity says she and her family are going to start it here. She’s going to have a big dinner on Monday for the whole family, with all the things the Pilgrims ate—wild turkey, pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes.”
Benjamin smiled. “She’ll have to pass on the cranberries. Not a lot of cranberry bogs in Nauvoo that I know about. That’s for sure.” He paused for a moment. “Why Monday?”
“That’s the last day of November,” Caroline answered. “That’s when they always celebrated it back home.”
Now he saw what was coming. “And you think it might be a good idea if the Steeds did the same thing?”
Mary Ann was eager now. “Yes. We have so much to be thankful for, especially this year with Will home and Carl and Melissa here. Let’s get our family together and thank the Lord.”
That was not a difficult decision to make. “I like it,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
It was a sumptuous feast by any standard. Nathan and Carl and Will had rowed across the river and spent a full day hunting along the streams west of Montrose. Mary Ann had specifically ordered the things she wanted them to get, but that was easier said than done. Twice they heard the gobble of wild turkeys, but they never even got to see them. But they did bag three quail, two Canadian geese, and a yearling buck deer. Joshua had his drivers round up two bushels of apples, a large sack of potatoes, a whole wagonload of pumpkins—most of which Joshua then gave away to neighbors and friends—and enough flour, sugar, and honey to make a dozen pies. The children scoured the river bottoms for currants and other edible roots and berries, while the wives scrubbed the house until it shone.
On the thirtieth, Jessica took a rare holiday and dismissed school, mostly so that Peter and the McIntire girls could watch the store and tend the children, which would free the women to spend the day cooking. Joshua and Caroline had the biggest house, so they decided to have the gathering there, but even then, with the Pottsworths, there were thirty-one people coming to dinner, counting the babies. So out went the furniture and in came sawhorses and long planks. Two long tables were set up and tablecloths spread over them. Each family contributed their finest dinnerware to provide the place settings. When everything was in readiness, they all trooped back to their individual homes to wash and change. Promptly at six p.m., the banquet began.
Benjamin stood at the head of the table and surveyed the faces around him. The room grew very quiet. “I think it is appropriate if we say a word or two before we begin. Mama tells me that we have a few minutes before the meat is done.”
Mary Ann nodded beside him.
“As you know, this is Thanksgiving Day. I don’t know why we haven’t paid much attention to it before, but I, for one, am glad that your grandmother and Caroline proposed that this year we do so.”
“Hear! Hear!” Nathan called out.
“Rather than hearing some long, boring talk from me, Mama and I would like to propose something else. We would like each person to think of one thing that they are particularly thankful for on this day and then tell us about it. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life. It doesn’t have to be important to anyone else but you. Just tell us the one thing for which you are most thankful. That includes the children. When the last is finished, we’ll ask Nathan to return thanks on the food and then we’ll eat.”
Murmurs of assent rippled through the family and heads were nodding. He looked down at Mary Ann and took her hand. “I would like to begin.” Every eye turned to him now, and he straightened noticeably. “This was hard for me, because so many things came to mind. But . . . A year ago in July, I was lying on my bed, too weak to move, thinking I was going to die. But I didn’t. So I am thankful for the gift of another year of life, another year to be with all of you”—he looked down at Mary Ann—“and another year to be with this woman. She still has much to teach me and I’m trying to learn.”
He sat down amid murmurs of affection and approval. Then, as it quieted, everyone looked around. He hadn’t designated any order and they weren’t sure who was next. Benjamin noted the momentary confusion, but said nothing. After a moment, Joshua slowly stood. “I would like to be the first after Pa.” He looked at his father and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Pa. You said we could say only one thing, but I have two things that I am grateful for. First . . .” He looked around at the family. “First, like Pa, I am glad that I am sitting here tonight at this table with my family. I nearly died too, but it’s more than that. I spent many years away from this table and away from you, and it is good to be back.”
He took a deep breath and looked at Will. “Second . . .” Now his voice betrayed him, and he looked down. His hands gripped the back of his chair until the knuckles were white. Finally, he looked up. His gaze was still on Will. His eyes were filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I think you know what the second thing is.” And he sat down. Two seats away from him, Will was blinking rapidly, trying to hold in his own emotions.
Joshua was barely down before Caroline was up. She had Charles in one arm, but she reached out with her other hand and laid it on Joshua’s shoulder. Her lower lip was trembling, but when she spoke her voice was clear and steady. “I am thankful for a God who hears and answers our prayers and who has brought our son home again.” She sat down.
Olivia and Will both started to get up, but Jessica beat them to it. Her head was up and her eyes were dry, but the effect of her words was even more powerful than if she had been weeping. “I am thankful for John Griffith. Though he is not with us now, he was a blessing to my life that will last into the eternities. He gave me three wonderful sons.” She looked down at Rachel. “And he was a good father to my daughter. And . . .” A wonderful joy filled her eyes. “And he taught me the meaning of love.”
And so it went. It was not just a catalog of thanks, but a litany of remembrance and a listing of blessings. Lydia spoke of peace found and purpose renewed. Nathan said he was thankful they had followed Benjamin’s advice and gone back to Palmyra because of what it had meant to Lydia’s parents and to him and Lydia. Their Emmy, every bit the miniature replica of her mother, brought smiles all around when she gave thanks for her new little sister. Lydia wasn’t due yet for another month, but Emmy wanted a sister, and so a sister it had to be.
Olivia also spoke of Will. Then, a little chagrined, she admitted that the piano her father had bought for her was also a treasure for which she was especially grateful. Abigail Pottsworth gave thanks for newness—a new country, a new start, a new “family,” and a new life among the community of Saints. Jenny expressed joy in being able to hear the Prophet Joseph Smith in person. Peter said he was grateful that Derek had found the Pottsworths and helped them come to America.
Like his father, Will stood but couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. When he finally sat down, shrugging helplessly, there were tears enough around the table to say it all. Young Joshua and Rachel both said they were thankful for the gospel. Redheaded Savannah was thankful for Will and her grandpa. Jennifer Jo McIntire (with two Jennys now, everyone had followed Matthew’s lead and taken to calling her by her full name) expressed gratitude for two people, both of whom were gone from her life—her mother, dead now for over a year, and Matthew, gone to England.
Kathryn echoed those sentiments regarding their mother, then thanked God for the new “mother” he had given them as a replacement. With that comment, everyone looked at Jessica and smiled. Now she couldn’t stop the tears from rising up. Jennifer and Kathryn McIntire were far more now than just her boarders, and everyone knew it. Carl surprised everyone by talking mostly about how happy he was that he and Melissa had come west. Melissa almost duplicated Caroline in thanking God for answering prayers.
When it had gone all the way around, Benjamin turned to Mary Ann. “Mother?” he said gently. “I think you’re the last.”
She rose to her feet and let her eyes move slowly across the whole group. They were shining with happiness and contentment. “There is only one thing I ever really wanted, and that was to have all of my family together with me. I knew it was not possible. I knew it was only the dream of a sentimental old grandma. And yet, here it is. Here you all are.” She smiled down at the Pottsworths. “And how happy we are that our family keeps growing.”
“But what about Matthew and Derek, Grandma?” Emily asked with concern. “They’re not here right now.”
“Oh yes they are, Emmy,” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her heart. “Oh, yes they are.”
“And that about says it all,” Benjamin said as she sat down. “Nathan, would you offer grace on the food, please?”
Jennifer Jo tiptoed into the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. Moving carefully so as not to bump anything and awaken Kathryn, she crept to the bed and started to get into it. Then she heard the soft sound of crying. “Kathryn?”
Her sister rolled over, and in the faint moonlight coming through the window Jennifer Jo could see the wet streaks on her cheeks. “Kathryn, what is it? What’s the matter?”
There was a quick shake of her head, and another convulsive shudder ran through her body.
“Kathryn,” Jennifer Jo said, lying down beside her and putting an arm around her. “Peter didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“I know.” It came out in a strangled little whisper.
Jennifer Jo sighed. This was not the first time Kathryn had gone to bed with tears because of Peter, and normally Jennifer just tried not to smile as she gave Kathryn the comfort she needed. Kathryn was still only fourteen years old, and her feelings for Peter hovered between juvenile infatuation and adoring adulation. Two years her senior, Peter was, for the most part, blithely unaware of the torture he was putting her through. They were good friends, but Kathryn read so much more into it than he did. And thus the constant seesaw between ecstasy and despair. On one day, Peter would share a poem with her that he had written or slap her playfully on the shoulder, as he would any other friend, and she would come home dreamy eyed and keep her sister up for hours talking about it. Then he would turn right around and go days on end acting as though he barely knew her. Those were the nights for the tears.
Jennifer Jo talked to Jessica about it once, but Jessica had just smiled and said that that was part of growing up for girls. Let Peter and Kathryn mature some more, she counseled. One day, and perhaps soon, he will open his eyes and see that Kathryn has become a lovely young woman. He will start to notice how comfortable she makes him feel, and how much they have in common. And then everything will be fine. In the meantime, they just had to help Kathryn learn to be patient.