Chapter 23
Jennifer Jo McIntire Steed tiptoed quietly up to Kathryn’s bedside. Kathryn kept her eyes closed, pretending sleep, knowing who it was from the sound of the footsteps and the rustling of the dress. Kathryn was doing this kind of thing now, amazed at how quickly her other senses were developing. It had been only a week since she had regained consciousness, but she was discovering many things about herself that quite surprised her.
She could sense Jennifer Jo leaning over her, peering at her face to see if she was awake. When Jennifer Jo started to pull back, Kathryn let a tiny smile move around the corners of her mouth. “Good afternoon, Jennifer Jo.”
“Oh, you!” her sister scolded with mock severity. “You’re always doing that to me. How do you know for sure who I am?”
“It’s easy,” she said. “Your shoes squeak.”
“They do not!”
“Yes, they do,” Kathryn said solemnly. “Not bad, but they do. And Matthew’s boots have a little scrinchy sound. And Grandpa Steed’s are—”
“Scrinchy?” Jennifer Jo feigned incredulousness. “Is that what you do all day, lie here and make up new words?”
“That and wait for my sister to try and sneak up on me.”
Jennifer Jo leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you doing?”
“Good. It’s been a good day. Lydia was here. Grandma Steed came over and read to me for a while. And the kids were here too. They are so darling. I only wish I could reach out and hug them. What did the doctor tell you?”
She rubbed her dress where the roundness of her stomach pushed against the material. “He thinks I’m going to have a baby.”
Kathryn nodded gravely. “Have you told Matthew?”
Jennifer Jo giggled. “No, I thought I’d just wait until next month and surprise him.”
“A month?” Kathryn cried happily. “Is it really down to only a month now?”
“That’s about it. And I’m glad. Matthew is driving me to a frazzle. He’ll barely let me lift a dish out of the cupboard.”
“That’s good. He’s good for you.”
Jennifer Jo’s face broke into a smile soft with affection. “I know. He’s so excited to be a papa.” Then she straightened. “So, are you up to any more company?”
“Well, it’s a busy schedule, but I suppose I could squeeze someone in. Who is it?”
“Peter’s outside.”
Instantly Kathryn’s mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. She swung her head back and forth on the pillow. “I don’t want to see him.”
“Kathryn McIntire!”
“Well, I don’t. Tell him I’m asleep or something.” She quickly closed her eyes. “I am quite tired.”
“Every time he comes over you’re asleep. I think he’s beginning to get a little suspicious.”
“I won’t see him, Jennifer. I don’t need his sympathy.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.”
“Do I? He barely knew I was alive before all this happened. Now he’s feeling guilty. That’s all.”
“He’s been over to see you at least once every day, and you always have some excuse.”
“Oh,” Kathryn said sarcastically, “once a day even. How nice!” Then at the look which that won her, she relented a little. “Oh, I know, Jennifer. Aren’t I awful? But . . . I don’t want his sympathy, Jennifer. I don’t!”
Jennifer Jo sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. “Do you know what I think?”
“No, and I don’t want to,” Kathryn said petulantly. She knew she was in for a lecture.
Her protest made no difference to her sister, who was trying hard not to smile. In a way this was wonderful, for this was much more like the girl they had known before the accident. “I think you’re being absolutely shameful. And if you weren’t in this condition, I’d put you over my knee and spank you a good one.”
Kathryn giggled in spite of herself. “But I am in this condition, and if you tried something like that, people would think you were horrid.”
Jennifer Jo smiled, then got immediately serious again. “I’m bringing him in, Kathryn.” She stood.
“I don’t want him to see me like this,” Kathryn admitted in a small voice. “I must look awful.”
Jennifer Jo reached in her pocket and whipped out a hairbrush. “I knew you’d say that, so I came prepared. Do you want me to have Matthew come and help prop you up with some pillows? He’s right outside.”
After a long pause, Kathryn finally nodded. “Yes, that would be better.”
“Good.” Jennifer Jo leaned over and began brushing her hair.
“You really are quite the tyrant, you know,” Kathryn grumbled. “Has Matthew discovered that about you yet?”
“No.” She shook the brush in Kathryn’s face, looking very stern. “And don’t you tell him, either. He still thinks I’m adorable and wonderful and gentle and kind.”
Kathryn wanted so much to reach out and touch that wonderful face that hovered above her. But she couldn’t, no matter how fiercely she willed it, so all she could do was to say softly, “Then I promise not to give away your secret.”
Matthew and Jennifer Jo left immediately, backing out of the room to leave Peter standing there in front of her with obvious awkwardness. As Jennifer started to close the door, she raised her hand, shaking her finger at Kathryn in warning, just as she had done earlier with the hairbrush. “Be good,” she mouthed silently.
The door shut, and still Peter didn’t move. “Please sit down, Peter,” she said. “I won’t bite you.” There was a wry smile. “Actually, I couldn’t anyway, not unless you come close enough.”
Peter was obviously embarrassed by the direct reference to her condition. He came over slowly and sat down on the chair beside her. “How are you, Kathryn?” he finally mumbled.
“Well, doing the cleaning and the laundry today has really tired me out, but I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He blushed deeply, thinking he had asked the wrong question. She laughed lightly. “Peter, it’s all right. What happened has happened. If being all sad-faced and gloomy about it would make it go away, then I’d be the sorriest-acting female in forty-nine counties. But it won’t change a thing. So it’s all right to talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened, Kathryn. It must be very difficult.”
More terrible and difficult than you could ever, in your wildest imaginings, begin to comprehend.
But she only smiled again. “Oh, it has its advantages. Everyone waiting on you hand and foot. Never having to do any work. People coming to see you. Even Peter Ingalls.”
She thought he was going to faint with that much blood rushing to his face, and she remembered her sister’s pointing finger. “I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t mean to tease you. How are things at the printing office?”
He clutched for that like a man in a flood reaching for a passing log. “Fine,” he blurted. “I’m having the best time now with Elder Taylor. And Brother Joseph is often there working with us. It’s wonderful.”
“That would be wonderful. How do you—” She suddenly stopped, turning to look at him. “Oh, Peter. Can you scratch my nose please?”
He started momentarily, then leaned forward. Gently, tentatively, he reached out and rubbed the tip of her nose.
“Up a little. Oh, yes, there. Harder.” And then after a moment, she sighed. “That’s good, thank you.”
He was staring at her, his eyes quite filled with sadness. “I never thought about what that must be like.”
She shook her head. “When there’s no one around when I get an itch, sometimes I think I’ll go mad.”
He nodded, suddenly awkward again, and for some inexplicable reason, it angered her. She knew why he was embarrassed, even understood why it was difficult for him to face her like this. And had the situation been reversed, she knew that she would likely do exactly the same thing. But she didn’t need his pity.
“Thank you for coming, Peter.”
It came out so abruptly that he jerked up a little.
“It was very nice of you. Thank you.”
He stumbled to his feet, not meeting her eyes. “I wanted to. I tried before and you—”
“I know. I’m sorry. It was really very nice of you, but I’m getting quite tired now.”
“I understand. Well . . .” He lifted a hand. “Can I come see you again?”
She cut off her retort before it could clear her tongue, then finally nodded slightly. “I suppose.”
He started to turn, then swung back, remembering. “Oh,
I . . . I brought you something.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a folded sheet of foolscap. He started to hand it to her, then realized his mistake. She wouldn’t be reaching out for it. “I . . . It’s a poem I wrote for you.” Then almost in a panic, he dropped it on the coverlet and fled from the room. “Good-bye, Kathryn.”
She watched the door close behind him, then slowly closed her eyes. “Good-bye, Peter.”
It was not thirty seconds later that the door opened and Jennifer Jo came back in. She had a reproving look on her face, but when she saw Kathryn’s expression, she changed it to a quick smile. “Well,” she said brightly, “that was nice of him to come.”
“Yes, I suppose it was.”
She ignored that, spying the sheet of paper. “Hello, what’s this?”
“It’s a poem.”
“For you?”
“Who knows?” she replied caustically. “Maybe it’s one of his old castoffs that he wrote for Jenny.”
Jennifer Jo frowned at her, but let it pass. She picked up the paper. “Did he read it to you?”
Kathryn moved her head back and forth against the pillow.
Jennifer started to reply to that, then took a quick breath instead, obviously trying to hold her patience. “Would you like me to read it?”
“No,” she retorted. “Just leave it there on the chair. I’ll get up and read it when I have more time.”
Her sister watched her steadily for several moments, then put the paper back down again. “All right. When you need me, just call.” She turned on her heel and started for the door.
“Jennifer!”
She stopped, turning to look at Kathryn over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. Forgive me for being such a shrew.”
Jennifer Jo gave one quick bob of her head and returned, acting as if nothing had happened. She picked up the paper, opened it as she sat down beside Kathryn, and skimmed it quickly. Suddenly there was a shimmering in her eyes. Her lips pressed together as she read it again, more slowly now. Then her hand dropped and she turned her head quickly away.
Kathryn was astonished by her reaction. “What?” she asked softly. “What is it?”
She spoke to the opposite wall. “I don’t know if I can read it out loud, Kathryn.”
That was the last thing Kathryn had expected. Now any thoughts of anger toward Peter were forgotten. “What does it say? Read it to me, Jenny. Please.”
She saw her sister’s shoulders lift and fall. Her eyes were swimming, and Kathryn saw that the hand which held the paper was trembling slightly.
There was another moment as Jennifer Jo tried to collect herself; then she looked down. “He has titled it simply, ‘Flight.’” She began to read in a low, husky voice.
The bird in me flew free—
Over forest, over sea—
Rejoicing in the open sky;
Gliding through the endless, boundless space.
The hunter’s net unseen—
Blocking passage, snaring wing—
Disdainful of unfettered flight;
Clutching me within its cold embrace.
A rusting cage now home—
No more forest, no more foam—
Confining more than death itself;
Drooping down, my wings and heart debased.
But spirit deep within—
Unrestricted, lifts again—
Refuses to surrender joy;
Starts to seek alternatives to flight.
What bars of earthly form—
Steel or iron, wind or storm—
Can bind to earth my boundless heart;
Stopping me from pushing back the night?
My freedom lies within—
Only sorrow, only sin—
Can clip my inner wings;
And bind me tight.
Shackles of my own
Are all that stay my flight.
For several moments, there was silence in the room. Then Kathryn, her own voice tremulous and strained, spoke. “Will you read it again for me, Jenny? Very slowly this time.”
Generally, each Thursday afternoon at two o’clock the Female Relief Society of Nauvoo gathered in the meeting room on the upper floor of Joseph’s red brick store on Water Street and there met under the direction of Emma Smith and her counselors.
So it was that on the afternoon of April twenty-eighth, six women of the Steed family—Mary Ann, Lydia, Caroline, Melissa, Rebecca, and Jennifer Jo—climbed the stairs to the upper floor of the Red Brick Store. Mary Ann had asked about having Caroline become a member and was assured that was fine. Everyone knew she was a member in all but name only. They were greeted warmly at the door by the presidency, with Caroline and Olivia receiving a special welcome. As they moved inside, Mary Ann was surprised to see Joseph at the front of the room. He had his head down reading in his Bible and did not look up. “This is marvelous,” she whispered to Caroline. “I think Joseph is going to address us.”
“Oh, good,” Olivia whispered back. “I love to hear Joseph speak.”
After the song and prayer and general business were concluded, Emma stood again. “As you can see, we have our prophet with us today. It is an honor and a privilege to have him take this time with our society. He has consented to speak to us on some matters related to the priesthood, particularly as they apply to us as women. President Smith.”
Joseph rose, and as Emma passed him to sit down, he reached out and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Thank you, Sister President,” he said loudly.
An appreciative ripple of laughter flooded the room as Emma, pleased but embarrassed, inclined her head in acknowledgment.
Now Joseph’s demeanor brightened all the more. “What a grand sight this is! Your society is growing in size, and already there are reports of your good service. The Lord is pleased, sisters. He is very pleased.”