Goodbye, Nauvoo Read online

  “Faddy,” Martha echoed. “Believe it or not, he..” She paused, mustering up the courage to go on. “He isn’t my father.” Martha felt a giant weight lift off her shoulders. She gave a little laugh at the relief of it, how easy it was to say although it felt like her mouth was locked shut.

  “Did I hear you right?” Lydia asked. “You can’t mean it. Faddy isn’t my uncle?”

  Martha shook her head. “He’s not. Not in the slightest. By marriage perhaps. But by blood, no.”

  “How?”

  “Lydia, I was born out of wedlock. My real father is Richard Bolton. He and my mother never married. But Faddy married her, pretended that I was his.”

  “No!” Lydia cried. “I cannot believe it. Your mother.. No! It's not possible.”

  “It's the truth. Mother told me before she died. Faddy confirmed it. They kept it a secret all these years.”

  “Martha, I am so sorry,” Lydia whispered, her hand to her mouth. “I cannot imagine finding out. What you must be feeling. And now with your mother gone.” She stared at Martha with wide eyes. “How are you taking the news?”

  Martha didn’t want to tell her cousin the revelation caused her to have sleepless nights, that she couldn’t stop thinking about the lie that her mother told, about the pain and shame that haunted her. It would never go away. Although she knew she already forgave her mother and Faddy, she could never change the fact that she was born illegitimate.

  Martha gave a defeated shrug and answered as truthfully as she could. “Well enough, I suppose.” She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the letter addressed to Richard. “Mother wanted me to write to my real father after she passed. To tell her she forgave him.”

  “It makes sense now,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “I should have known when your mother went rambling on about men and settling down to me when John returned. My mother must have known, too. There was always some tension there between them, and I never knew what it was.”

  “Do you think that is why she wouldn’t listen to the missionaries?” Martha asked. “Aunt Barbara knew Mother’s secret, and distrusted her because of it?”

  “Possibly,” Lydia said. “Again, it is hard to tell. If she did distrust your mother, she never made it known to me. But I can’t imagine she didn’t know. Being sisters, they must have told each other their secrets. How would she not have known?”

  “Faddy said that Grandmother Boyd sent Mother away when she found out she was with child. Mother’s absence would have been hard to explain to the rest of her siblings. Aunt Barbara was the oldest girl in the family and her and Mother were close in age. I’m sure Mother would have confided in her about being enceinte before she even told Grandmother Boyd.”

  “Oh, Martha,” Lydia said, shaking her head slowly back and forth. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for your mother. The shame she must have felt. I still cannot believe it. How has Samuel taken the news?”

  “I haven’t told him yet. I’m not sure how to.”

  “You’ll tell him eventually won’t you?”

  “I think so.” But Martha’s tone of voice spoke otherwise.

  “You have to tell him. You can’t keep it a secret forever. Eventually he’ll find out. Just think of Worthy. He thought no one would…”

  Martha interrupted. Her face had gone white. “Oh, Lydia, do you know what this means?”

  Lydia looked at her, puzzled. “What?”

  “This means that we were wrong about Worthy.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Martha.”

  “Well, my mother had me out of wedlock. And Worthy had a child out of wedlock, right? And yet we love my mother and hate Worthy.”

  An expression of understanding fell upon Lydia’s face. “Oh,” she said. “You’re right.” She paused for a long time, then continued. “Your mother sinned, just like Worthy. And I respected her, I admired her. And still do! And yet I rebuked Worthy as if he wasn’t as deserving of my respect. I rejected him prematurely. And now it's too late. It shouldn’t have mattered when his child was conceived, just that he repented, that he was a new man.”

  Martha took her cousin’s hand. “Lydia, I apologize. I listened to Margaret. I’m the one who told you not to marry Worry. It shouldn’t have mattered to me. It was just gossip.”

  “But you were right to do that, Martha. I don’t blame you, it was the truth after all. I would have done the same thing for you.”

  “The truth or not, the Lord has asked us to forgive others of their transgressions and judge not. How could we so easily forgive my mother’s transgression while denying others the same treatment? In doing so, we’ve sinned, Lydia. But that is the beauty of Christ’s Atonement. We can be forgiven, just as Worthy and Mother can be forgiven.”

  Lydia looked perplexed. “Then what do we do now? I was wrong about Worthy, but I fear it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

  Martha thought for a moment. “You could seek guidance from the Lord,” she said. “Pray to him. Read the scriptures. Or you could go to the temple. It is the Lord’s house after all. I always find answers there when I go to do baptisms for the dead. The Lord speaks to me through the Spirit there.”

  Lydia gave Martha a look of horror. “Do you not remember what happened in Mountain when I was baptized for myself?”

  Martha laughed. “Yes, the poor missionary dropped you in the water. I remember.”

  “Then what makes you think I’d want to be baptized again for the dead?”

  “Because of the blessings it brings. For you and the dead. The dead need salvation, too. And there’s no chance of drowning. The font is like an oversized bath. You’ll see. I haven’t gone since before Asenath was born. But I hear President Young commissioned a new stone font. Perhaps we could go together and see it. I could have Margaret watch my children. We could go today. It seems like you could use a break.”

  “Do you really think I could find answers there?”

  “Absolutely,” Martha replied.

  Lydia relented. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

  Chapter 21

  The Baptisms

  When Lydia stepped off the staircase leading down to the Nauvoo temple’s basement, it was hard to miss the font. It was built in the center of the room, raised from the ground on the backs of twelve perfectly carved oxen. On the north and south ends of the font were stairs leading up to its clear waters, one staircase reserved as an exit and the other an entrance where a mass of people in white robes who were lined up waiting to be baptized. Inside the font there were two people, a man and a woman.

  Lydia watched as the man dunked her under the water and immediately brought her back up. The dripping wet woman wiped the water from her eyes and beamed proudly at Lydia as she stepped down from out of the font.

  “She’s been waiting for so long,” Lydia heard the woman say excitedly. “Now she doesn’t have to wait any longer.”

  “What does she mean by that?” Lydia asked her cousin, her voice a whisper.

  “The dead who didn’t have a chance to hear the gospel in this life - they’re up there waiting for their temple work to get done,” Martha said as they lined up behind the others at the font. “Without it, we - they - can’t return to live with Heavenly Father one day. It's up to us to help them receive the ordinances they need to do so.”

  Martha led Lydia to the changing rooms across from the font. There they got dressed in white baptismal clothing before taking their place in line at the font. Lydia watched as the line in front of her became shorter. Again and again, the man in the font said a few words, replacing the name of the deceased individual who was receiving their temple work and their proxy, then dipped the proxy under the water. Finally, Martha was next.

  “You go on ahead of me,” Martha urged.

  Just then, the man in the font stepped out, and another man, his back to Martha and Lydia, pushed his way up to the front of the line and replaced him.

  “What’s goi
ng on?” Lydia asked.

  “They’re changing Elders. It’s someone else’s turn to baptize people now,” Martha explained.

  Lydia nervously eyed the water, then slowly made her way up the steps as if her feet were made of lead. The man in the font turned to help her down into the water, and Lydia found herself staring into the sky blue eyes of Brother Clark.

  “It's you!” Lydia cried as she took his hand.

  To her surprise, Worthy smiled. “Fancy seeing you here. Who are you being baptized for, Sister Leonard?” he asked gently.

  “Teuntje Dingman, my grandmother,” Lydia whispered.

  “Tayn-ty..” Worthy repeated. He fumbled a bit with the name, mispronouncing it each time.

  Lydia shook her head. “Tone-che. Tone-che. It's Dutch.”

  “Tone-che?”

  Lydia nodded, and Worthy looked pleased with himself.

  “Here,” he said, grabbing her left hand and placing it on his forearm. “Hold on tight. Be ready to hold your nose with your other hand.” He took hold of her by the wrist of her opposite arm, his grip strong, yet tender, then raised his right hand behind her. “Ready?”

  Lydia nodded and shut her eyes tight. Her heart raced. She could feel his breath on her cheek he spoke the words of the baptism prayer, then his prayer ended and she was suddenly immersed backward in the water and brought back up again.

  When Lydia opened her eyes, she found Worthy expressionlessly staring at her. He still held onto her wrist, but loosened his grip.

  “It was nice seeing you again,” he said as he helped Lydia step out of the font and nodded to Martha, who was waiting across the font to enter the water.

  ✽✽✽

  On the way home from the temple, Lydia couldn’t stop thinking about Worthy. She knew she had wrongly judged him when she saw him there in the font dressed in white. The thought weighed heavily on Lydia as she and her cousin walked home side by side, joined at the elbows like school girls. Their wet hair clung to the sides of their heads. Storm clouds that had formed on the horizon earlier in the day now loomed over them, pushing them home. Carriages and wagons rumbled down the rocky road past the women, leaving clouds of dust in their tracks.

  “That man who baptized us,” Lydia began, squeezing her cousin’s arm, “did you see him?”

  “Of course I did, I would have been blind not to,” Martha said with a little laugh.

  “That was Worthy!” Lydia said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  “Well, you found your answer in the temple, haven’t you?”

  “I’m not so sure, Martha. After how I treated him, he’ll never want to see me again.”

  “You should go to him, Lydia.”

  Lydia shook her head sadly. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” Martha admonished. “I’m sure he’ll understand if you tell him the truth. Besides, I heard what he told you. He said it was nice seeing you. There’s hope for you still, I believe.” She stared up at the storm clouds growing darker and darker by the minute, threatening to burst upon them. “Come,” she said, pulling her cousin with her as they began home again at a quickened pace. “I don’t mind a bit of rain, but I don’t want to get caught in the mud!”

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia paced her room as she watched the rain fall down from a crimson red sky. She thought all evening about Worthy as she helped Annie make and clean up after supper. Was Martha right? Would he understand if she told him the truth, that she misjudged him? Would he forgive her and take her back? Seeing Worthy at the temple seemed to be a sign from God – perhaps he had been placed in her life for a reason, and that gave Lydia some hope. But Lydia wanted confirmation. She knelt down at the bed she shared with Annie and poured out her soul to Heavenly Father, asking Him to help her know what to do.

  As Lydia rose up from the floor, she looked out again into the formidable weather, feeling an unmistakable pull to go out into the storm to ask Worthy to forgive her. Lydia wondered if it would be seen as an act of bravery or foolishness if she stepped foot outside.

  Determined to follow her prompting, Lydia pulled on her cloak and left a note for Faddy and Annie, should they be looking for her, and fled from the house, ignoring the rain as it fell down from the ominous sky. The road was dark, but she remembered her way. By the time she reached Worthy’s home, Lydia was drenched and cold, but it didn’t matter. A light in Worthy’s window gave Lydia another shred of hope, and she rehearsed the words she would say to him as she stood at his doorstep.

  It seemed like ages before she got the courage to knock on his door. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. Would he ever answer? She heard his footsteps on the hardwood planks inside, then watched as the door handle slowly turned. A slit of light appeared as the door opened a crack and Worthy peered out.

  “Lydia?”

  “Worthy, I’ve come to apologize,” Lydia declared, her words spilling out into the night and into the puddles around her.

  Worthy stepped out of his house and into the rain with Lydia. “Apologize for what?”

  “For how I treated you at our last meeting. I shouldn’t have scorned you so. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I am the one that should apologize,” he said. “You were right. I withheld the truth from you. I didn’t want you to reject me because of my past.”

  “Well, I forgive you. But I shouldn’t have cared about what you’ve done in the past. You said you repented. I should have trusted you.” Lydia shook her head and took his hand, rough from his out-chores.

  Worthy pulled away, stepping back under cover from the rain. “What makes you think you can trust me? You so clearly stated that I lied to you before. Surely I must have shaken your trust. What has earned it back now?”

  Lydia took a deep breath before she spoke. Her voice quivered from her nervousness and the biting cold of the rain as she clutched her sides, trying to keep warm. “I saw you in the temple today. It reminded me of my late aunt. She sinned, yet she repented. And then it reminded me that I’ve sinned, too. That we all sin, but we are all worthy of Heavenly Father’s love and forgiveness. And I realized that that’s true for you, too. I sinned by holding your past against you. I judged you, and then I turned you away without showing you the mercy that Heavenly Father has already shown you.”

  Lydia paused, waiting for Worthy to say something, anything, but he just silently listened, so she continued. “Worthy, I have never felt so strongly that anyone understands me the way that you do. What it means to lose a spouse and a child. That pain. Not everyone understands that. But I know you do. We don’t deserve the grief we’ve been dealt, but perhaps we can get through it together.”

  “Together?” Worthy said. “Grief is something so personal. You will never understand my grief, and I will never understand yours.”

  “But Heavenly Father understands, Worthy. And so does Christ. And they can help us understand each other just like they can help us forgive and love one another.”

  “According to society, I am not someone who deserves love. Now, excuse me, I must get out of the storm,” Worthy said looking up at the dark sky, recoiling back into his house and shutting the door.

  Lydia lingered at Worthy’s porch, the rain pouring off of her shoulders, wishing she could melt into the puddle she stood in. Worthy had dashed all shreds of hope she clung to. She expected him to pronounce his love for her, to swing her up into his arms. But he told her nothing. He hadn’t even said that she was forgiven. Lydia wondered if she’d been mistaken. Did she misread him? Or maybe it was too late. She had ruined it all. Ruined it with her impetuousness.

  She began toward home, huddled in the wet cloak that provided her no shelter against the tempest. The storm hit her head-on in powerful torrents, sending her staggering back and forth. She could only see a few feet in front of her with her head bowed, pressing against a fierce wind. She had no light, no way to see the path before her, but she continued on, one foot at a time.

  “Wait!”
A voice called from behind her.

  Lydia turned to see a mysterious figure drawing near holding out a lantern. “Worthy?” she called out to him.

  “You left before I could fetch my lantern to walk you home. Why on earth would you come out in a storm like this?” he said, next to her now, his hand on the curve of her waist to steady her.

  “To apologize to you,” she countered, speaking loudly against the storm.

  “Well you shouldn’t of.”

  “What should I have done?” Lydia asked.

  “Forgotten me and moved on like I thought you did.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “And so have I. But not successfully.”

  “You have?”

  “Of course. How could I forget you? Especially when you come to the temple to taunt me.”

  “Taunt you? I did no such thing. I didn’t know you were going to be there.”

  Worthy laughed, “Of course you didn’t. But you were there, and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Funny how the Lord puts us where we need to be. I’d like to think it was more than a coincidence you happened to be there today. I wondered what happened to you. I feared that you were ruined by your sorrow, or by a mob. And then there you were. Live and well in front of me.”

  Lydia scoffed. “Ruined? I think I can manage fairly well on my own, thank you. Besides, what is it to you what happens to me?”

  “The same reason I am here with you now, walking you home. I still cannot believe you would come in such a storm,” Worthy said.

  “What should I have done? What would have happened if I had never come? I would have never seen you again.”

  “I would have come for you.”

  “After I offended you? And rejected you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to see you again.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?” Lydia repeated more forcefully.

  “Because I love you,” Worthy declared. Without warning, he kissed her, stopping her dead in her tracks. His lips were warm and welcoming, pulling Lydia into a trance. And as quickly as it happened, they began walking again through the storm together, Lydia stunned and silent.