Goodbye, Nauvoo Read online

  Worthy put down his fork. “What about them?”

  “When we leave Nauvoo, what will happen to them? Will they come with us?”

  “That depends on them. If they are ready to leave when we leave, then they are welcome to come with us.”

  “And if they aren’t?”

  Worthy took another bite. Lydia waited impatiently for him to swallow before he answered. “Then we go alone.”

  Lydia’s heart sunk. “I’ve never been without my family,” Lydia said quietly.

  “We’re family now, Lydia,” Worthy replied, glancing up at her.

  “Yes, but Martha’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “I understand,” Worthy said. He wiped his mouth on the back of his shirt sleeve and stood to put on his winter coat. “I can’t guarantee that you’ll always be close to you Martha and her family, but as long as you stay with me, you’ll always be close to some family. Where you go, I’ll go. I can only hope that you would do the same for me.”

  Lydia knew he was right. Worthy was her family now. When they were sealed in the temple, she made special covenants, or promises, to Worthy. Remembering those promises, Lydia resolved to be loyal to him. If that meant leaving her other family behind, she would do it. She would have to. There would be no other choice. Worthy was the most important member of her family now.

  “Of course, I would, Worthy,” Lydia said firmly. She stood to face him. “Where you go, I’ll go, too.”

  Worthy took Lydia in his arms and held her tightly. “We’ll travel in a train. I’m sure there’ll be one we can join. There’ll be plenty of other Saints leaving, getting pushed out by mobs, I’m sure. As soon as the wagon is loaded, we’ll leave Nauvoo.”

  While Worthy loaded up heavy items into the wagon, Lydia helped gather smaller provisions: bread, flour, sugar, bullets, water. She moved slowly, her body aching from the cold and fatigue. The night was late, and she was tired. She wanted to rest and leave in the morning, but that wasn’t possible. Worthy had his heart set on leaving tonight with the other companies.

  Lydia came across the drawings from her old cabin as she prepared her trunk with things to take West. She brought the pictures out for Worthy to see, hoping she could convince him those things were of value.

  “We don’t have room for these,” he said shaking his head.

  “What do you mean we don’t have room?”

  “Why would you want to keep drawings of your old life? They can’t help us where we’re going,” Worthy snarled. “We can’t use them on our journey. We can’t eat them or wear them, can we?”

  Tears welled in Lydia’s eyes. The drawings were sentimental to her. Leaving them behind would be like leaving the memory of Danny behind. Lydia knew she was married to Worthy now, but Worthy would never replace her first husband. Danny was a part of Lydia’s life story that could never be re-written.

  “I want to take them,” Lydia said with indignation, safeguarding them close to her chest.

  “I’m your husband now, Lydia. You must listen to me.” In one swift movement Worthy grabbed the wrinkled papers from her and tossed them into the snow. “Come now, we’ve got work to do, let’s go.”

  Lydia stood there, mortified. When Worthy turned his back, she dove for the drawings, but the moisture from the snow had begun to soak through them: the cabin, the oak tree, the temple, Danny’s likeness: they were ruined.

  Lydia fell to the snowy ground in a crumpled mess, grieving over the drawings. With her bare hands, she dug into the cold ground until she formed a deep bowl. There, Lydia placed the drawings, her last tangible memories of her life with Danny, and covered them with snow until they entirely disappeared. They deserved a proper burial at least.

  ✽✽✽

  News spread of the wolf hunt. The sound of fife and drum rang out in the dark, calling men to gather to plan the future of the Saints. Martha and Samuel had just finished supper when they heard the eerie, martial music pierce the night. Samuel ran out the door without saying a word, leaving Martha alone.

  Martha didn’t know her husband would return, and she worried even more about the news he would bring. The sound of fife and drum was a beacon to be used only in the most serious of times. The last time it was heard was when the Prophet Joseph Smith Jr. was martyred. This time, the haunting rat-a-tat of the drums and the fife’s military tune most certainly meant that the beautiful town the Saints worked so hard to de-swamp and establish would soon be abandoned and forgotten.

  Shortly after Samuel left, Martha heard a ruckus erupt from outside as she cleaned up from supper. It sounded almost like a festival - there must have been at least 40 men hollering and laughing, their odious noise growing louder and louder. Martha peeked out a window. It was a mob!

  “Quick, get upstairs, everyone! Malinda take Asenath!” Martha shouted to her children as she barricaded the door and hoped the mob wouldn’t break through. Her heart hammered in her chest as she blew out the candles downstairs, then followed her children as quietly and quickly as she could up the wooden staircase, struggling to feel her way through the darkness.

  Martha and her children cowered together in Martha’s bed. They listened in horror as the mob’s screams echoed through the house, their ungodly words threatening death and brimstone against the Saints. Frightened, Johnnie began to wail. Martha covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him with a lullaby.

  Undeterred, the mobbers pounded on the door and on the walls and Martha heard a window break downstairs.

  “Fold your arms,” Martha whispered to her children, helping Johnnie fold his own arms before she closed her eyes and uttered a short prayer.

  “Dear Lord,” she began, “please protect us from the mob. Soften their hearts that they may pass us, that they will not harm us. Bless Samuel, that he may come home safely. Amen.”

  Suddenly, the night was quiet and all that could be heard was their heavy breathing. Martha rose slowly with Johnnie in her arms and cautiously looked out the window to see if the mob had gone. A frightened Malinda and Sarah clung to Martha’s dress. The ruffians were on their way now to the next house, carrying torches and pitchforks. They had set fire to a neighbor’s barn, the flames curling in the darkness like a writhing snake. Martha and her house and family were spared.

  “Thank you, Lord,” Martha whispered, staring up at heaven.

  ✽✽✽

  Martha was pale and trembling as she rushed about the house preparing for an exodus. Little Johnnie and Asenath played nearby in the warmth of the hearth, apathetic to the threat of the earlier mob. Martha enviously wished she could be just as carefree as the frolicking children beneath her feet.

  In the center of the room sat a large black trunk stuffed with Martha’s favorite linens - quilts and clothes enough for the family to last a journey westward. Martha busily packed while waiting for Samuel to come home, trying to keep her mind preoccupied. She had long ago surrendered to the idea of leaving in the Illinois blizzards to go to some wild, unknown country. She wanted to be prepared for their journey away from Nauvoo.

  Martha heard a familiar knock on her front door and flew downstairs to let Samuel in, moving the barricade as quickly as possible. A billow of snow skirted itself onto the wood planked floor as the door flung open and Samuel entered, his face weary. He removed his hat and wool coat and fell himself into a chair near the playing children, then pulled a frightened Sarah to his lap and rocked her back and forth. Martha helped Samuel take off his worn boots so he could begin to thaw himself near the fire.

  “Well?” Martha said. She pulled off Samuel’s wet socks and laid them by the fire to dry, noting that they needed to be darned.

  Samuel sighed. “We will talk later,” he replied sleepily, “once the children are asleep.”

  His lack of urgency confused Martha. Would they be staying longer in Nauvoo after all? She had so many questions, but did not want to overwhelm Samuel with them all. She knew he was tired and would want to rest. Perhaps he d
id not want to worry the children too much with adult dilemmas. Martha took this as her cue to promptly get the children ready for bed.

  “Come, children,” she said, pulling John up from the floor as he struggled to escape from her grasp.

  Later that night when Martha’s children were still and quiet, Martha and Samuel sat in the light of the fire, the shadows casting fierce lines on Samuel’s face.

  “The barn next door.” Martha began, her eyes fixated on the fire in the hearth.

  “I saw,” Samuel said sadly.

  “The mobs came here, too. It was frightening. They pounded on the house and hooted and hollered. They broke a window...”

  “What a blessing that was all.”

  Martha nodded. “The children. I was fearful for them, what the mobs would do to them if they broke in.”

  “But they didn’t,” Samuel said, taking his wife’s hand. “We were spared.”

  “But what if we weren’t?” Martha asked, turning to her husband.

  He made no reply. Instead, he rose and began pacing the room.

  “Samuel, when do we leave Nauvoo?”

  “Soon.”

  “How soon? Tonight? Tomorrow? In a month?” Martha asked.

  “When we’re ready,” Samuel said. “I wish we could leave tonight, but we’re not. President Young instructed us to have the sea biscuits baked and the corn parched, ground, and sacked so that it can be easily carried. It’s not safe to stay until spring anymore. By June, the city will be deserted. The mobs warned that they’ll burn the city if the Saints don’t leave.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We stay and plan our departure.”

  “And what if the mobs come back for us?”

  “We cross the Mississippi and camp in Iowa,” Samuel replied.

  Martha shuddered at the thought of crossing the Mississippi River. At this time of year, the river was frigid and dangerous. There was the possibility that a wagon could tip over into the water or be crushed by raging ice, causing them to fall into the river’s cold depths. Martha heard of it happening before. The scenario played in her head with her family as the characters - if they didn’t drown or catch hypothermia in the river, losing all of their food and warm clothing to last the winter could mean fatal consequences. Still, it was a chance that Martha was willing to take. It was just as dangerous to remain in Nauvoo with the mobs. But there was no telling what her family would be subjected to if they stayed.

  “And you’re sure we shouldn’t leave tonight?” Martha asked. “Even when the mob came for us?”

  Samuel yawned. “I must go to town and see if I can sell our property. And we’ll need to prepare our food. And repair our wagon. We’ll have to wait until those things are accomplished first. No use leaving now. We’d starve on the trail. We’ll go when we’re ready. It might take a week. Maybe two or three.”

  “But what would we do with our house if you can’t sell it? Would we stay longer?”

  “Nothing. We would leave it behind.”

  “And have some mobber ravage it?”

  “We can’t exactly move it with us, can we? What happens to it after we leave is between the Lord and whoever stumbles upon it.”

  “I hope you can sell it then. To someone who’ll love our home like we’ve loved it. It just wouldn’t be right to have it be pillaged by a mobber,” Martha lamented. “This is where Johnnie and Sarah and Asenath were born.”

  Samuel took her hand. “I’ll try to do what I can, but I’m not hopeful I’ll get anything for it. But if we have to abandon it, remember: the temple is being abandoned as well. It's not fair that after all our hard work, we’re going to have to leave the temple and our home at the mercy of the mobbers. But the Lord will be with us. We have no choice but to rely on Him.”

  Chapter 28

  Lydia’s Goodbye

  That night, after Martha milked Old Meggie accompanied by Samuel with his rifle, Martha tried to relish her time in her home. She pieced fabric by the warmth of a fire while Samuel read the scriptures aloud. Her fingers still trembled from fear of the mobs, so her stitches were uneven and sloppy. But sewing gave her time to think, and most importantly it gave her time to remember her childhood in Mountain, Ontario.

  She recalled how in late winter Faddy would take her to collect sap from his maple trees. He would drill a few holes into the trunk of a tree, about three feet above the ground, into which he drove big, metal spouts. The sap would run through the spouts into buckets, which Martha would help carry home to Lucy. Martha loved to watch her mother boil the sap in huge kettles until it turned to syrup; the smells were sweet and heavenly. Better yet, the syrup produced the most delicious candy when it was sprinkled over the snow and hardened immediately. What she would have given to have a piece of that candy now!

  Martha thought about her family back in Ontario, especially her aunts and uncles that stayed in Canada when she and Samuel moved to Nauvoo. Sometimes she wondered what life would have been like if her family stayed. They would have enjoyed a stable life, free of the hardships of travel and mobs. Perhaps Beth and Lucy would still be alive if they remained in Mountain instead of buried deep in the cemetery. Martha felt guilty they were gone.

  Martha shook her head. No, I mustn’t think like that. Mother and Beth wanted to come here just as badly as I did. They knew the gospel is true. One day I will be sealed to them and we will be together forever. An eternal family. Heavenly Father had a plan for them and it was their time to return to Him.

  At that moment, there was a familiar rump-a-tump-tump on the door. Martha flew up from her rocker in excitement.

  “Lydia is here!” she cried happily to her husband.

  Indeed, when Martha opened the door, Lydia stood there shivering. Several shawls draped around her shoulders, and her feet were wrapped in thick burlap to protect them from the snow. Martha pulled her freezing cousin inside and ushered her to the fireplace.

  “Oh, Martha, I came as soon as it was heavenly possible,” Lydia said shakily. She appeared to be flustered about something: her face was crimson and her eyes moist.

  “What’s wrong, Lydia?” Martha asked.

  “Worthy…” Lydia began, then took a deep breath and shook her head. “Worthy wouldn’t let me come earlier for fear of being captured by an enemy on the loose, but I would rather be captured than to leave Nauvoo without saying goodbye to my kin.” Lydia peeled the cold, wet burlap from her feet and placed the cloth near the fire to warm and dry next to Samuel’s socks.

  “What do you mean, Lydia? Are you leaving Nauvoo?”

  Lydia nodded sadly. “Worthy and I are leaving Nauvoo tonight.”

  Martha staggered backward, shocked at the news. “But you can’t go! Not yet!”

  “My beloved, Martha,” Lydia said, taking Martha’s hands in her own. “We have no choice. We’re afraid of those mobbers coming for us. We’ve got to go.”

  Martha could scarce hold in the tears and began to weep. It seemed like the world was collapsing. She wasn’t sure if she would see her cousin again.

  “Please, don’t cry Martha, come with us. We can all make the journey together! It won’t be so bad that way, we will be safer, and merrier, and...”

  “Lydia, we can’t,” Martha said between her tears. “We aren’t ready to leave tonight. Samuel says we’re not prepared for the journey.”

  Samuel appeared at Martha’s side. Kindly, but sternly, he said, “Do not tempt the woman further, Lydia. You’ll have to go on ahead without us, unless you can wait a week or two.”

  Lydia shook her head sadly. “Worthy is dead set on leaving tonight. He’s got the wagon mostly packed.”

  “Then we will meet you in Iowa. Would that suffice you, Martha?” Samuel asked.

  Martha nodded up at her husband and grasped his hand. “I would like that more than anything. Do you promise that we will come find them?”

  “I promise.”

  Martha wiped away her tears and straightened out her back. It was no u
se crying. Lydia was a strong woman with an equally strong faith; she would be fine.

  “How will we find you?” Martha asked her cousin.

  “I will leave you a letter in Council Bluffs telling you of our whereabouts. I will make sure of it. It would be a blessing if we could all end up together.”

  Lydia looked up at the clock that sat on Martha’s mantelpiece. “Will you say goodbye to Faddy and Annie for me? I fear I don’t have time to see them tonight. I really must be going now, Worthy will chide me if he catches me out in the night like this. But I had to come, I couldn’t leave town without saying goodbye to my dear cousin!” She reached her hand into a pocket of her dress. She pulled out a necklace; it was an oval shaped pendant with a long, gold chain. “I want you to have this before I go.”

  Martha took the necklace and looked at it with a feeling of reverence. She ran her thumb over the pendant’s edge and opened the locket. Inside was a small lock of Lydia’s golden blonde hair.

  “It's just a little something to remember me by,” Lydia explained.

  “Before you go, there is something I want you to have,” Martha declared as she put the locket around her neck. She threw open her black trunk and took out her temple quilt and held it out to Lydia. “Here, please take this on your journey. I wanted to give this to you for your wedding.”

  Lydia’s eyes got as big as the moon. “Martha! I can’t!” she said, hesitating to take the quilt. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Surely you should keep this!”

  “No, I want you to have it, as something to remember me by. You’ll need it more than we will,” Martha said.

  “Thank you, Martha,” Lydia said as she took the quilt. All of a sudden, she threw her arms around her cousin. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

  Malinda appeared in the doorway to the main room. “Are you leaving?” she asked Lydia with a yawn, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Lydia released Martha from her grip and went over to the girl.

  “Yes, Malinda. We’re leaving for Iowa. We’re leaving tonight,” Lydia replied as she stooped to Malinda’s level. Putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders, Lydia asked, “Will you give your brother and sisters a kiss for me? And help your Ma and Pa take care of them?”