He leaned forward slightly, straining to hear. Her back was to him, so he couldn’t pick it out clearly, but she was not just humming or singing wordlessly to herself. He heard words and phrases—“to your heart,” “God,” “Papa, don’t you . . .” But it was just snatches, not enough to understand. Her voice was low and husky for a child of her age. Caroline said she would be a lovely contralto when she grew older, whatever that meant. Occasionally some of the other children teased her about sounding like a boy, which she flung back at them without the least bit of shame.
He took a step forward, wanting to hear what she was singing. He was not aware of any sound he made, but she gave a little cry and whirled around. For a moment he thought she was going to fall into the water as she tried to stand and teetered precariously.
“Papa! You scared me!”
He walked forward. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I didn’t mean to.”
She gave him a sharp look, obviously questioning his veracity. She knew the game as well as he did.
“Really. I was going to try and scare you and then—” He decided not to tell her everything. “What are you doing?”
“Washing the pot for Mama, and getting water for the wagon.”
He nodded his approval. “Good.”
Savannah had turned nine in March. But she had been at least ten years older than that since she was three. The red hair had darkened somewhat now, so that it wasn’t such a fiery color. In facial features she didn’t look much like either Joshua or Caroline, though she had Caroline’s eyes. Mary Ann said that she looked a lot like her mother, Savannah’s Great-grandmother Morgan. She had become a touch more serious as she grew, but Joshua suspected that that impish impudence would be something that would be part of her nature even into womanhood. He certainly hoped so, for he could not imagine her without it.
“Mama told me what a big help you were with Charles and Livvy while I was gone, Savannah. I’m proud of you.”
She seemed surprised. “But Papa, I promised.”
“You promised?”
“Yes. When you let me be baptized, remember? I promised I would always try to do what’s right and to help Mama.”
There was a sudden tightness in his throat. “Yes, you did, Savannah, and you’ve kept that promise.” At the time it had been a compromise, a way to let two strong minds honorably back away from the impasse between them. He had accepted her promise, thinking it was just a child’s willingness to say anything in order to get her way. He supposed it might last for a week or two or, knowing Savannah, maybe as long as a month. But he had been wrong. It had been over a year now, and she had not wavered even a trifle in her determination to be a better person. “I do remember, Savannah,” he said softly, “and I am very pleased that you have kept that promise.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
He put an arm around her and squeezed her with deep affection. “I’m very pleased to have you as my daughter.”
“Thank you, Papa. I thank Heavenly Father every night and morning that you are my father.” It was said with such simplicity and such honesty. She had an astonishing ability to get to his heart.
“You do?”
“Yes, and Mama too, of course.”
“Of course.” He waited a moment. “Do you ever think of Grandpa, Savannah?”
Her head dropped and her hands came together. “All the time, Papa.”
“Me too.”
“Each day I try to remember that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Grandpa.”
“What he did was very brave.”
“I know. I wish I could see him and thank him for it.”
“You will someday.”
She looked at him, a little surprised that he had said it. “I know,” she said simply. “I just wish it were now.”
He nodded, then decided the timing was good. “And what about Olivia? Do you think of her too?”
“Yes, Papa. Every day. I miss her so much.”
“I do too, Savannah. A great deal.”
She didn’t answer. He heard the quiet buzz of a mosquito near his ear and brushed at it absently. “Do you know,” he said, keeping his voice casual, “when I was out hunting the other day, I found myself humming Olivia’s song? How’s that for strange?”
“You did?” She peered up at him, trying to read his expression.
He decided he didn’t want to be deceptive with her. “Wasn’t that Olivia’s song you were just singing?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
“I love that song. I wish Olivia were here to play it for us.”
“Oh, me too, Papa.” And then, looking down, she said shyly, “Did you know I have made up some words for it?”
He chuckled. There was no sneaking up on this one. “I didn’t know that, but I thought just now I heard you singing words.”
She nodded. “I was.”
“Will you sing them for me?”
She shook her head so quickly that the red hair danced briskly on her neck.
“Why not?”
“My voice sounds like a frog.”
He laughed aloud, then sobered immediately. “You have a lovely voice, Savannah, and I can’t think of any frog I would more like to have sing for me.”
She was bright scarlet now. “I don’t sing around people, Papa. I only sing to myself.”
He nodded, disappointed but not wanting to push her against her will. He put an arm around her and pulled her in close. “Will you tell me what the words say, then?”
Her color only deepened. “I wrote the words for you, Papa.”
“You did?” He certainly hadn’t expected that. “What do they say?”
Again there was the wagging of her head. “I would feel funny telling you, Papa.”
“Then just sing them to me.”
“I only sing to myself,” she said again, starting to feel cornered now.
He had an idea. “Then maybe someday you’ll be singing to yourself, like now, and I’ll sneak up and listen to you.”
She giggled a little. “If I see you, I’ll stop.”
He rocked her back and forth, looking outraged. “You’d better not.”
“Then don’t let me see you,” she suggested, with the impeccable logic of a child.
He laughed again. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Like now,” she suggested in a tiny voice. “If I hadn’t seen you coming, you could have heard me sing.”
“Ah,” he said slowly, understanding now. “All right. I’ve got to go, Savannah. I’ve got to go check on the oxen.”
She smiled, her eyes showing her gladness that he understood. “All right,” she called as he started away. “Good-bye, Papa.”
“Good-bye, Savannah.” He started back the way he had come, waving airily. When he reached the willows, he turned and started right back again, tiptoeing carefully.
She had her back to him, but not fully, and he saw that she had seen him out of the corner of her eye. She immediately turned her head away, bent down, and rinsed the kettle out one last time. By the time Joshua was only ten feet behind her, she had filled the bucket as well.
He stopped, standing perfectly motionless. She hesitated for a moment; then he saw her chest rise and fall as she took a breath. She began to hum the song. With the sweetness of the melody and the richness of her voice, it was all Joshua could do to stop from turning around and walking away. His eyes started to burn as the pain of Olivia’s memory lanced through him with a sharpness that made him gasp.
She went all the way through the song, took another breath, half turned, careful not to look at him but moving around far enough that he could clearly hear her, and started to sing, only this time using the words.
Listen to your heart,
It will help you see
That God is waiting now for you
To turn to him.
Papa, don’t you know
That I am praying for you?
Oh, won’t you turn to him
So I can be with you?
The song was finished, but she didn’t stop. Her eyes closed, and with even more feeling than the first time, she sang again the last few lines.
Papa, don’t you know
That I am praying for you?
Oh, won’t you turn to him
So I can be with you?
Only when she was finished and the last sounds of her voice had died away did she finally turn to face him. He had fully intended to play out the charade, throw up his hands in mock surprise, and say how he had just happened to stumble upon her singing and stopped to listen. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. His eyes were blurry and he could barely make out her form before him.
To his surprise, she walked up to him slowly, her eyes like great emerald pools. He dropped to one knee and held out his arms. She stepped into them willingly, then put her arms around him and held him tightly. “I love you, Papa,” she whispered.
He put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair so she couldn’t see his tears. “I love you too, Savannah, very much.” He hesitated, then spoke. “You said you want to be with me, Savannah. I am with you. I’m not going to leave you. Don’t you know that?”
She pulled back, surprised that he would misunderstand. “But I mean forever, Papa. I want you with me and Mama forever.”
And that left him without an answer. After a moment, she touched his cheek once, then stepped away. “I’d better get back with the water. Mama will be wondering what happened to me.”
Long after she was gone Joshua remained where he was, crouched down and staring at the stream in front of him. He was probably within sight of some of the camp, but he was not mindful of that. The smell of Savannah’s hair lingered in his nostrils, and he could still feel the pressure of those thin little arms around his neck.
I love you, Papa.
The sweetness of the moment still lay upon him so powerfully that he could not have spoken if it had been required of him. It was the perfect cap to the things he had felt earlier, watching his mother in the morning sun, listening to Savannah and Charles as they worked, laughing at his elfish Livvy, who could not sit still for her mother’s grooming. It was as though he had just awakened from a sleep and was seeing things clearly for the first time. Not physically. Mentally. Spiritually! He was at peace. There was no other word to describe it. It was the most sublime feeling of peace he had ever experienced.
It lasted for about a minute, and then slowly it began to subside. It didn’t go away completely, just ebbed slowly until it was a wonderful glow somewhere down inside him.
And then, like a wave rushing in toward the shore, swelling and growing with every moment until it crested and crashed thunderously against the beach, it came to him. Was it thought or feeling? Even much later he would not be sure. Perhaps it was both. Whatever it was, it came in perfect simplicity and purity.
If I have given you all of this, how can you question my love for you?
He sat back fully in the grass, dazed by the power of the thought. Joy and happiness and peace welled up inside him, expanding so swiftly that it filled him with dizziness. He felt like he needed to dig his fingers into the earth so that he didn’t simply float away. And then came the next thought, only this time it was an echo of Caroline quoting from the Doctrine and Covenants.
Did I not speak peace to your mind? What greater witness can you have than from God?
That was it, he thought, marveling. There was no other word which so perfectly described what he was experiencing. It was peace. A peace like gentle rain falling upon ground long parched and baked in the sun. From long ago, another scriptural phrase came tumbling back. Something about the “peace that passeth all understanding.”
“Yes!” he exulted, closing his eyes. He was astonished by the crispness of his thoughts, the perfect clarity of all that was rushing through his mind. And then, as full realization of what had just happened to him sank in, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude took over. His head dropped. As naturally as if he had been on his knees since he was a child, the words came.
“Heavenly Father. Thank you! I have cried unto you in my anguish, and in your great mercy you have answered. I understand now how your love is possible. It is like I am on fire within me, O Father. Humbly I say thank you. You have given me my life again, and now I offer it back to you. I will enter your kingdom, though I am not worthy. Thank you, Father. You have made me whole again.”
Chapter 28
He walked slowly back to the camp, knowing that he needed to bring the oxen but also knowing they could wait for another few minutes. As he came back to the small circle of their wagons, he looked around, savoring every detail of what he saw. Lydia was by her collapsed tent, kneeling beside her son as they began to fold it up. Josh glanced up at him and smiled, then went back to helping his mother.
Mary Ann had been interrupted by three of the grandchildren. They stood before her, showing her something. As she explained whatever it was they wanted to know, they listened to her in rapt attention. Jenny and Betsy Jo were sitting on the wagon tongue trying to feed Emmeline, who kept turning her head away from the spoon. Betsy Jo wagged her finger at the baby, a miniature Jenny, telling her gravely what would happen if she didn’t eat right. Rebecca was working with her children, putting things back in the wagon. Emily and Rachel were seated on the ground, their heads together as they whispered back and forth while they put silverware back in its box. Caroline was at the back of their wagon with Savannah and Charles, helping them organize what was going into the limited space. Livvy was down on her stomach in the grass beneath the wagon, peering at something with great fascination.
Again that sense of warmth and joy and peace came over him, and for a moment he stood there, just watching.
Caroline stepped out from behind the wagon and saw him. “Oh. Did you get the oxen watered?”
He shook his head. “They’re still down at the creek. I’ll go get them in a few minutes.”
She seemed a little surprised by that, but it lasted only a moment as her mind came back to what had to go into the wagon next. He watched as Caroline bent down and started to sort through the pile.
“Caroline?”
Her head rose, but she didn’t turn around. “Yes?”