“You do? Why?”
“He’s feeling all these things. Having all these experiences. Teaching the gospel. Feeling the Spirit. Interpreting tongues. That little miracle where he blessed Joshua’s wife and she was able to carry the baby.” She stopped and looked at the floor. “I would love to have something like that happen to me. I would love to feel something again.”
The pain in Melissa was suddenly so sharp and intense that she had to stand. She turned away from Lydia and stepped to the window, feeling her chest constricting, fighting back the burning in her own eyes.
Lydia misinterpreted her reaction. “Do I shock you, Melissa, talking that way?” There was soft bitterness in her tone. “Lydia the faithful, Lydia who left her family for the gospel’s sake now becomes Lydia the lifeless, Lydia the doubter.”
Melissa swung around. “Shocked?” She gave a soft hoot of self-derision. “Let me see if I can describe what you’re feeling.” Her eyes took on a deep sadness. “Is it like you know exactly what you ought to be feeling, need to be feeling, but you can’t seem to recapture it anymore?”
Lydia’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
“Is it knowing that you ought to care more about the things of the Church, of God, than you do? But simply knowing doesn’t seem to make any difference?”
“You too?” Lydia said, standing slowly.
Melissa turned away, talking to no one now. “Is it knowing that you need to go to Sabbath services every week, but not having the energy to pull yourself together and go alone? Or when you try to say your prayers, you start, but you know your husband is lying there waiting for you, wondering what’s going on in your head, not understanding this part of you, and you finally give up because you’re not feeling much of anything anyway. You leave the Book of Mormon on the shelf now, not because your husband would ever say anything if you spent time reading it. But you know it’s something you don’t share together, and he’s so good, and so gentle, and so kind, that you’re not sure you want to have things you don’t share.”
Lydia walked to Melissa and put an arm around her waist. For several moments they stood there, not speaking, each lost in her own pain.
Finally, Lydia spoke. “I know Nathan is doing what God wants him to. I know he needs to be a missionary, and go to the School, and all the other things. But I miss him so terribly when he’s gone. And then the resentment starts growing in me, like some ugly weed I can’t ever get to and pull out.” Her lower lip started to tremble, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and started a slow trickle down her cheeks. “He wasn’t here when Emily was born, Melissa. He didn’t even get to see Joshua take his first step.”
“Then, say something to him!” Melissa burst out. “I know the Lord needs him, Lydia. But so do you.”
Lydia shook her head, the sorrow in her eyes nearly breaking Melissa’s heart. “That’s the very worst thing.”
“What?”
“Knowing in your head—absolutely knowing—that you’re wrong, that you’re being selfish and faithless.” She stopped and dropped her face into her hands. “It’s knowing that in your head, but not being able to make your heart accept it.”
“Jessica, it’s your father.”
“My father?”
Sister Lewis nodded quickly. “I asked him in, but he said he needs to talk to you outside.”
Jessica had been nursing Rachel, but the child had had her fill now and lay asleep, the long lashes lying on her cheeks, her mouth drawn into a tiny little pout as she slept. Jessica leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. “Can you put her to bed for me?”
“Of course.” The plain farm woman was not much more than five years older than Jessica, but in the last eighteen months she had become sister, mother, and friend to Jessica. She lifted Rachel from Jessica’s arms and cradled her, smiling down at her. It was the last of January. A week ago Rachel had had her first birthday.
Jessica stood, reaching for the shawl that hung over the chair. Sister Lewis shook her head quickly. “You’ll need a coat, Jessie. It’s very cold out there.” But Jessica shook her head and went out.
When she came out, her father was standing next to his horse, smoking a cigar. He quickly dropped it and there was a soft sizzling sound as it hit the thin layer of snow that covered the ground.
“Hello, Pa.”
He turned, nodding. “Hello, Jess.”
“This is a surprise.” She had neither seen nor heard from her father or Joshua since that night the previous summer when Brother Lewis drove Joshua off at the point of a gun. Clinton Roundy was clearly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and he jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers to stop them from fluttering.
“Joshua made me—uh, asked me to come.”
“Joshua?”
“Yeah.”
She kept her face impassive, not wanting him to see the emotions that suddenly swirled inside her.
Now her father was clearly in pain. “I told him it weren’t right for me to be the one. But he wouldn’t listen. You know how he can get sometimes.”
She laughed bitterly. “Yes, I know that, Pa.”
“He said there weren’t anyone else who could do it.”
“Do what, Pa?”
He pulled off his gloves and fumbled inside his heavy winter coat. When his hand came out, he was holding a sheet of paper folded over twice. He thrust it at her, not meeting her eyes.
She took it slowly, gingerly. “What is this?”
He took a quick breath. “It’s the divorce paper.”
Her mouth opened, but the pain was too sharp and it shut again.
“He said it’s all legal and everythin’. You can get a lawyer to look at it if you want.”
She jammed the paper under her arm, feeling as if it were suddenly burning the palm of her hand.
Her father’s eyes were watching her closely. Now his face softened. “At first he was talkin’ about tryin’ to take little Rachel away from you.” He stopped as her head came up sharply. “But,” he went on hastily, “I told him that wasn’t right. Besides, I told him if you wanted to make trouble it could be bad business. Even the worst Missouri wildcat don’t take much to a man beating up a woman, especially a woman with child.”
It was as if he were speaking to her from across a wide field. She felt herself nod, her lips pressed tightly together. She turned and started back toward the house, walking slowly, without looking down.
“Jessie, it ain’t too late.”
She stopped.
“Leave this religious foolery you’ve got into your head. Come back to him. He’s better now. He hardly ever drinks anymore. You can make it work again. I know you can.”
She didn’t turn. “Did he tell you to say that?”
“No, I...” He stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. “Jessie, listen to me. Feelings are running high in town against the Mormons. The old settlers don’t like what’s happening. Hundreds of you Mormons are here now, and more coming all the time, buying up the best land, putting on airs like you was better than the rest of us. There’s gonna be trouble, sure as men drink whiskey. You’ve gotta git yourself outta here.”
“Thank you for troublin’ yourself, Pa. I know it’s a cold night and a long ways to ride.”
“Jessica!” His fingers dug into her shoulders. “Why are you bein’ like this? You know these Mormons are just a bunch of empty-headed fools. It ain’t like you to be so blind.”
“Good-bye, Pa.” She pulled free from his grasp and started toward the door.
“Jessica!”
She kept moving, her head held high, her step sure.
“Joshua has met a widder woman.”
Her hand was reaching for the rope that pulled up the inside latch on the door. It froze in midair.
“She’s a real looker. Got two young’uns. She’s got marriage on her mind.”
Jessica turned slowly, remembering the night she stood behind a bedroom door peeking through a tiny nail hole. It all came flooding back. “Your wife a looker?” the gambler had asked Joshua. She would never forget the look in Joshua’s eyes as he wrestled with that one. Jessica knew, without being hurt by it, that she was a plain woman, without much of what men called beauty. If Joshua had simply said, “No, she’s not,” it would have been infinitely less painful. Instead he had glanced in panic at the door where she stood, then looked away and not answered. It was that look, coupled with the shame she felt in helping her husband cheat, that had finally given her the courage to turn around and walk out of the bedroom, leaving Joshua to win his own poker games.
“Good-bye, Pa.” She turned again and entered the house, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Chapter Twenty
Y
ou’re asking
me
what I think?” Benjamin said in disbelief. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Joseph laughed. “You think I can’t handle a little disagreement?”
Mary Ann watched her husband, the anxiety clearly written on her face. She had feared this from the beginning, when Benjamin had insisted on inviting Joseph and Emma over for supper. She could tell something at the temple ground-breaking had put a burr under his saddle and that he was itching for a chance to have at Joseph.
They had finished supper and left the kitchen to Matthew and Becca for cleanup. Now they were in the sitting room. Emma was on the sofa beside her husband, content for the most part to listen. Across from them, Mary Ann and Benjamin sat on matching chairs that flanked a lamp table.
“Ben, if the Lord wants us to build a house to his name, then build a house to his name is what we shall do. And I would appreciate any advice that you have to give. I have come to realize that you have an uncommon amount of good sense. I trust your judgment.”
“Then, abandon this project,” he said bluntly and with hard finality.
“Benjamin!”
He glanced at his wife, his face stubborn. “Well, he said he wanted to know what I think. That’s what I think.”
Joseph sighed. “But that’s the problem, Ben. That’s not an option. The Lord has commanded that it be done, and when the Lord commands something, my motto is to do it.”
Emma stirred beside him. “The Lord is displeased that we have not started sooner. Joseph received a stern rebuke last week.”
“You did?” Mary Ann asked.
The Prophet nodded soberly. “It was last December when the Lord first told us that we were to build a house to his name. We heard, but we did not really listen. During the ensuing months we managed to purchase the land for the building of the temple, but we didn’t get started on the construction. Well, about a week ago, the Lord gave a revelation of chastisement. He said we have sinned a grievous sin because we have not taken seriously enough his commandment to build his house. It’s been about five months now, and we have accomplished little.”
Benjamin hooted. “So you send two men out to start digging a trench for the foundation? I’ll bet the Lord is impressed.”
Emma was stung by the sarcasm more than Joseph. “Joseph’s cousin, George A. Smith, the one who moved here last month with his father, he hauled the first load of stone from the quarry south of town today.”
“Good,” Benjamin said dryly,
“three
men.”
Now Mary Ann understood what had set Benjamin off. This morning she and Benjamin had gone to look at some land south of town. As they passed the site where the new temple was to be built, they had seen Hyrum Smith and Reynolds Cahoon digging the trench for the foundation in the midst of a wheat field. They also noticed that a pile of stone had been dumped at the site. Later that day when they returned, the trench was nearly done. Benjamin had insisted they stop and ask Joseph and Emma to dinner. Now it was clear why. He was not a man to let something that was bothering him go unsaid.
But Mary Ann decided she was not going to let her husband’s negativism be the only voice heard. “I think it’s wonderful that the construction is getting under way. It’s started now, and that says to the Lord that we are taking his commandment seriously at last. I felt a real witness from the Spirit that what Hyrum and Brother Cahoon were doing this morning was pleasing to the Lord.”
Benjamin harrumphed his disgust. “Well, the Spirit isn’t going to build those walls or put on no roof.”
He was trying to bait her a little bit, and Mary Ann knew it. Instead of responding in kind, she simply looked at him steadily.
He began to squirm a little. “What?” he finally asked.
“I watched you this morning, Benjamin Steed, when those brethren told us what they were doing,” she said quietly. “I watched your face. I watched your eyes. You felt something, just like I did. And you can’t deny it.”
He looked away quickly, not answering, and Joseph chuckled for a moment at his discomfiture. Then the Prophet quickly sobered. “That’s why we need your help, Ben,” he began eagerly. “Look at you, farmer turned businessman. You shocked us all a little when you decided to buy land and develop it into lots for the new people moving in rather than buy another farm. Now, in little more than a year, you’ve become one of Kirtland’s more successful businessmen. You’re prospering. We need that kind of expertise, that kind of good judgment. Ben, help us. Help us build this temple.”
Benjamin was embarrassed but obviously pleased by Joseph’s sincere praise. But still his head began to move back and forth. “If I have any good sense, as you say, then I’m telling you, you have taken on an impossible task.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You’re not talking about a church house here, Joseph. This building you’ve planned is huge.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Three stories high?”
Joseph was smiling. “And with a tower that rises even higher than that.”
“And Hyrum said today you won’t even consider using logs. Even with logs I’d say you were mad.”
Emma reached out and took Joseph’s hand, her face glowing with pride. “Joseph can’t build it of logs,” she said.
Benjamin looked suddenly suspicious. “Why not?”
“Yes,” Mary Ann came in, “why not?”
Emma looked at Joseph as if asking his permission. He smiled at her and nodded. She turned back to them. “Because he knows exactly what the building is to look like.”
“You do?” Mary Ann asked, looking at Joseph.
“You do?” Benjamin echoed.
“Yes,” Emma rushed on, “he’s seen it in vision. Tell them, Joseph.”