Goodbye, Nauvoo Read online

  “She is fine. My mother is taking good care of her.”

  “So she never married, did she?” John asked sadly.

  “She did,” Martha answered quickly. “But her husband passed earlier this year. From lung fever.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” John hung his head and tore off a chunk of bread in silence.

  “Let’s find a place for you to sleep, John,” Martha suddenly declared in an effort to change the subject. She rose from her place at the table. “Are you staying long? You may stay with us as long as you’d like.”

  “I don’t plan on staying long at all,” John replied as he stood. “I’m passing through to go to Iowa, actually. I met a Saint who bought land there and came back to move his family. He said the land is very pristine for farming. I plan on finding my own plot there.”

  “You won’t stay here and find a wife first?” Martha asked.

  John shook his head. “I was told there are other good Latter-day Saint families that reside in the area. I figure I have as good of a chance at taking a wife there as here. At least in Iowa, I will have less chances of producing a widow.”

  “But what of traveling across the Rockies?” Martha asked.

  “I have no mind to travel more than necessary,” John replied after stuffing more bread into his mouth. "I’ve traveled across the country once already. I’ve seen my share of new lands and of persecution and tribulation. My feet are ready to stand still and be planted in the ground. If Iowa is as fertile as I expect, then that’s where I’d like to settle.”

  Martha looked to her husband, who she knew shared John’s sentiments. Samuel was a man who valued stability. If Sam had his way, he would stay in Nauvoo until the day he died. Necessity is what drove him out of Mountain, and necessity would drive him from Nauvoo as well. To Martha’s surprise, Samuel’s face was stern.

  “Your sister needs you. Perhaps you should stay awhile for her sake,” Samuel said.

  John shrugged. “I’ve already made plans to go to Iowa.”

  “Have you planned on what will happen to your sister if you leave?”

  John took another bite of bread before replying, “Lydia can follow me if she’d like. I’m not changing my plans for her, though. I’m not her keeper.”

  “I think it should matter to you what became of her, seeing as she is your closest family,” Samuel said, his face growing even more stern. “Is her happiness and wellbeing not your responsibility?”

  John’s face flushed with anger. “Lydia’s life is her own. The choices she’s made, not mine, have brought her here, away from our family, therefore she is responsible for herself.” With that, John grabbed the rest of his bread from the table and stomped away, barreling out the back door and into the night.

  Samuel was fuming. “Unfathomable,” he said with disgust when John was out of sight. “How can you not care about your own flesh and blood?”

  “Samuel, he’s young. He doesn’t understand.”

  “Lydia needs him to protect her.”

  “Lydia does well on her own.”

  “Perhaps Lydia’s cabin wouldn’t have burned had John been there to protect her? Perhaps she wouldn’t have had to leave it in the first place if he was there to help take care of her farm.”

  “Enough now, Sam. You’re giving me a headache.”

  Martha slumped down into her rocking chair, picking up her sewing where she left off. She stayed there late into the night waiting for John to return, after Samuel went to bed. When John lumbered sleepily through the door, Martha ushered him in as if nothing happened.

  “Here, make yourself at home,” Martha said as she picked up a quilt and handed it to her cousin. “I will fetch some water for you to bathe yourself, if you wish. You can borrow some of Samuel’s clothes, and I will wash yours tomorrow.”

  Quietly, John took the quilt and found a place on the floor to make a bed. Martha stood awkwardly watching him unpack his knapsack, wondering how her little cousin had grown up so quickly.

  “Won’t you stay with us awhile, John?” she said finally. "It would be a shame for you to rush off just as soon as you’ve arrived.”

  “I have no intention of wearing out my welcome,” John replied curtly. “And if I recall Samuel’s reaction, there is no welcome here for me at all.”

  “Don’t mind Samuel. He means well.”

  “He might, but he’s not my father. He has no place in telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

  Asenath began to wail from her cradle in Martha’s bedroom.

  “I must go,” Martha replied. “Asenath needs me. That’s our new baby girl.” She clapped her hands together, her face filled with excitement. “Oh! There’s Johnnie you will have to meet as well. We named him after you. And there’s also Sarah. Malinda may not remember you, it's been so long.”

  “Martha!” Samuel called from their bedroom. “The baby!”

  “I really must be going,” Martha said before she rushed away. “Goodnight John.”

  The next morning, Martha saw to it that John had a hearty breakfast before he left. He met the children and took them upon his knee, telling them stories of Warsaw. Martha cried knowing that this would possibly be the last moment John spent with them on this earth. The chances of finding him in Iowa would be slim. Martha tried her best to savor the moments she had left with her cousin before he waltzed out the door on his way to Lucy’s home to say goodbye to Lydia.

  ✽✽✽

  “So you’re off again for your next adventure, John?” Lydia asked as she and her brother John stood on the front steps of Lucy’s home.

  “I am,” was all he replied. His torn hat in hand and leather bag draped over his shoulder, he was ready to go.

  Lydia’s eyes were filled with tears. She tried hard to hold back her emotions, to no avail. It had been years of hoping and praying that he was safe on his own. His return brought her much joy, until he told her of his plans. He was wasting no time in Nauvoo to go to Iowa. He was merely passing through.

  “Look at you,” Lydia said, dusting off his shirt as she had done when he was a young boy. "What would Mother say to see you looking this way?” She wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped back to take a look at her brother. He had grown considerably since she last seen him. Her little brother was now a man, an independent, adventure-seeking man.

  “That’s why I don’t plan on going home, now isn’t it?”

  “You need to take care of yourself, John. Look well-groomed so you can attract a wife. That’s what Mother would say. That is what you want, isn’t it? You can’t live the bachelor life forever. The last few years you’ve been on your own, and you’ve learned a lot and seen a lot I imagine, but that’s a lonely existence. I don’t recommend being alone to anyone.”

  “I’ll be fine, Lydia. I’ve taken care of myself thus far, I can continue to do so. I’m old enough now. I’m a man.”

  “Being a man isn’t based on your age, John, it's based on your actions. Just remember that.”

  "Alright, alright," John replied impatiently as he shifted from one leg to another. "It's about time I.."

  Lydia didn't let him finish. "Wait! Before you go, I have something for you." Lydia left John outside while she retrieved Danny's old wool coat from her trunk. She held it to her cheek as she lifted out of her trunk; it still smelled like Danny.

  Remembering she had left John outside, Lydia shook herself from her reverie and brought down the coat to John. "Here, take this. I can't use it, but maybe you can."

  John asked no questions, but took the coat thankfully, holding it up to himself. The coat seemed to be a bit too big for him, but he threw it over his shoulder anyway. "Well, I better be on the move now. I want to get well into Iowa before sundown." He slapped his hat onto his head and gave Lydia a broad smile.

  Before Lydia knew it, John was off, happily strolling down the street.

  “You will write me, won’t you John?” Lydia called out to him before he was too far.

  He tu
rned for a second, silently waved his hat in the air at her, then continued on his way.

  Lucy came out of the house just in time to see him turn at the corner of the street.

  “Well, I’m sure glad he stopped by, even if it was for a brief spell,” she said sincerely. She closed the door behind her and came over next to Lydia.

  “It was a quick visit. Too quick,” Lydia replied. “I had hoped he would stay so that we could get reacquainted. He’s changed so much since I’ve seen him last. And now he’s off again.”

  Lucy nodded and peered out at the city around her, hugging her shawl to herself. “Yes, I don’t expect much from John. He’s young. Men at that age live for themselves. Always fleeting from one thing to another.” She sighed.

  Lydia gazed at her aunt. “Was Faddy like that?”

  “No, no. Faddy was never like that. At least, not when I knew him. He has always been a rock. Steady and predictable. He has always wanted to be near family, not off cutting his own path like your brother.”

  “Oh. I think Danny was like John when he was younger. Out for adventure. Until he met the missionaries and came here. I sometimes can’t believe that he would sail across the ocean with no one but his sister, leaving his family behind in Ireland. And then I realized that I did almost the same thing.”

  “And then he met you, and his adventuring days were over I take it?” Lucy said with a smile.

  Lydia grinned. “Yes. And the rest is history.”

  “That’s what will tame your brother. One day he’ll meet a woman that will make him want to settle. Don’t you worry. He’s a handsome young fellow. Most men eventually do settle down. They just have to get some miles under their feet before they do so.”

  Lydia’s eyes followed the path John took away from her. Being the older sister that she was, Lydia always tried to keep him away from trouble, but John was an independent, strong-willed boy. When he left Mountain with her, John did so because it was an adventure, a chance to see the unknown territory of America. Of course, he did believe the gospel was true, but his boyish desire for independence propelled him much more than any desire for religious freedom. Lydia could relate. She had wanted independence from the stifling grasp of their parents.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Lydia said. “I can’t be too upset with him for wanting to leave. It's just in his nature.”

  Lucy nodded. “You don’t worry too much about him. He’ll come around.” She returned inside, leaving Lydia alone.

  Thinking of how Danny had come to Nauvoo with his sister reminded Lydia that she had not seen her in months. Her name was Fiona, and she was just a little younger than Lydia. Lydia had forgotten all about Fiona, and she felt guilty for not visiting her. Fiona had been in the family way when Danny passed, and Lydia was so preoccupied with her own troubles and Martha’s confinement she hadn’t even paid a mind to Fiona’s wellbeing.

  Perhaps it was best if she didn’t pay her a visit. Fiona reminded Lydia of Danny, and not in a good way. It reminded her that Fiona was alive, and Danny was not.

  Lucy poked her head out the door. “Are you staying outside? I was going to make a pie to take to Martha. Would you be so kind as to pick some fresh berries from the garden while I make the dough?”

  “Gladly. It would be nice to get some fresh air.”

  “Thank you,” Lucy said tipping her head in appreciation. “The weather is fine today for berry picking. In fact, once you bring the berries in, I have some deliveries that need to be done while you’re at it. I can have Faddy accompany you for protection if you’d like. He doesn’t get home until later today, however.”

  Lydia smiled at her aunt. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine by myself, thanks. I’m not afraid of the mobbers.”

  Lucy hesitated, then eyed her niece curiously before slipping back into the house. “Alright. Suit yourself.”

  ✽✽✽

  Wicker basket in hand, Lydia made her way through town delivering the laundry and sewing that Lucy completed. Lydia followed a carefully mapped route that Lucy wrote out for her. Lucy had tied each bundle with some twine and scribbled the name of the recipient, and had even been so particular as to arrange the completed projects in order of deliverance in the basket.

  Lucy’s clients were mostly widowers, bachelors, and older women who could no longer see to thread a needle. One middle-aged woman, Sister Baker, had lost a hand to gangrene. When she opened the door, ten little children were running mad and screaming behind her, and there was worry written in the wrinkles of her face. Lydia was instructed to charge her less than half the cost, only 10 cents, even though the job was a large one mending her children’s hand-me-downs. Sister Anderson, an old widow woman whose hands shook too much to make even stitches, was Lydia’s next stop. Lydia could sense her loneliness when Sister Anderson invited her into her home. The woman paid Lydia extra for her time, despite her refusal. Lydia would have gladly kept her company at no cost.

  “Block 41. Lot 1. Brother Clark?” Lydia read aloud from the list as her last stop. “Is that who I think it is?”

  Clark is a common name, she reasoned, It can’t be.

  Lydia made her way through town, until she reached block 41. The man’s house was set back from the road, almost hidden by overgrown trees and bushes. It was a small framed home, quaint. A little garden and henhouse sat behind the house.

  Lydia rapped at the man’s door, to no avail.

  “Hello? Is anyone home?”

  She was about to retire home when she heard a man’s deep voice call to her from the side of the house. “Over here, miss.”

  Lydia turned to be face to face with Brother Clark, the same man she had met at her property. His hands were covered in dirt.

  “Why hello,” Brother Clark said. “I didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon.”

  He extended a hand to greet her, then realized his mistake and wiped his hands clean on his dark green trousers.

  “Excuse me,” he said abashed. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “I understand,” Lydia replied, shaking his hand. She reached into her wicker basket and pulled out his bundle. “It is good to see you again, Brother Clark. Here, I’ve brought you your mending.”

  “So I see,” he replied. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a small, velvet satchel, from which he brought out a handful of coins and exchanged for his clothing.

  “Thank you, kindly, sir,” Lydia said as she counted the coins. “My uncle said you were a good man to do business with.”

  “As well as he,” Brother Clark replied with a chuckle.

  “I didn’t know you were a client of my aunt’s.”

  “Yes. Your aunt has been a blessing to me and my father. There are things a woman can do that a man just does not have the same touch for. Laundry and mending is one of them.” Brother Clark smiled. “My clothing would be bedraggled and unwearable if it weren’t for her.”

  “I’m glad that she could be of service to you then,” Lydia said, bowing her head. “I must be going now. Yours was the last stop of the day, and my aunt and uncle will be expecting me back in time for supper.”

  “Perhaps I could walk you home. It is a beautiful day, after all, and I am in need of a break to enjoy it.”

  Lydia thought for a moment. What could be the harm of letting Worthy walk her home? She would be safer that way anyway if she happened upon a mobber.

  “Alright,” she relented. “A stroll would be nice.”

  Brother Clark followed Lydia out the gate and down the road. For the first fifty feet they walked quietly, Lydia’s face looking forward at the path in front of her. Brother Clark was right. It was a beautiful afternoon. Trees shaded their path as they went along. Song birds flitted through the air and filled the world with their jolly tunes. Flowers grew in bright colors along the path. For a moment, Lydia thought that she was in paradise, taking a stroll in the Garden of Eden.

  “So, where are you from?” Brother Clark asked, breaking the silence. �
��You have the slightest bit of an accent.”

  “Canada,” Lydia replied, her eyes never leaving the path.

  “I’ve never been. What is it like there?”

  Lydia thought a moment. “It's not too different from here. There are green pastures and the land is fertile. I’m from a town called Mountain, but there aren’t a lot of mountains.”

  “Ah, I see. I’m from a town called Chester, in Pennsylvania, but there aren’t a lot of Chesters.”

  Lydia broke a smile, finally turning to meet eyes with Brother Clark.

  “So, you’re Canadian, aye? What brought you here to Nauvoo?”

  “The missionaries, of course. I heard them preach the gospel and was converted. They told of the gathering of the Saints in Nauvoo, so now here I am.”

  “And you came here with your aunt and uncle?”

  Lydia nodded.

  “Were you orphaned?”

  “No, my parents are alive and well, at least they were when I left. It's been six years since I’ve seen them.”

  “You wanted to run away?”

  Lydia grinned scathingly at him. “They didn’t believe the gospel was true. They were Methodists, born and raised. So was I. It was a very tragic day for them when I told them I was going to get baptized a Latter-day Saint.” Lydia shuddered recalling that day. “Religion wasn’t the only thing we didn’t see eye to eye on, so it was time for me to leave.” Lydia looked down at the unpaved road again, picking up her skirts as she stepped over rough rocks. “What about you, Brother Clark, did you run away?”

  “Please, call me Worthy,” he said. “And if you have to know, I did run away, but my father ended up following me when I did.”

  Lydia smiled. “That must be terrible,” she said, the slightest bit of sarcasm in her voice, “having your family follow you.”

  “Yes, unfortunately for him, I got mistaken for him all the time since we share a name. Him being a member of the Seventy made it even worse. There’s a higher standard of spirituality you must live by if you are a Seventy, you know.”

  “Oh! Even more terrible then!” Lydia laughed. “Does your father live with you?”