Goodbye, Nauvoo Page 9
“I understand you are a widow and need someone to care for you, being of a fragile species such as yourself.”
Lydia’s face flushed with anger. “Brother Fields, I am many things, but fragile is not one of them.”
Brother Fields took a step back. “Forgive me if I have misspoken. It seemed to me that for a woman in your state, it would be advantageous to...”
Lydia did not let him continue. “For a woman in my state, it would be disadvantageous to marry a man such as yourself. Did you think I would be too ‘fragile’ to realize your scheme?”
“Scheme?”
“Yes, your scheme to make me your property.”
The man began to stammer, but Lydia ignored him. Addressing her uncle, she said, “Brother Parker, I respectfully rescind my permission for Brother Fields to buy my land. I would rather let it rot than to be owned by this man for the rest of eternity. Goodbye, Brother Fields.”
As Lydia trudged upstairs, she could hear Faddy’s blubbering apology to Brother Fields. Lydia stayed at the top landing of the stairs, listening to their conversation.
“Forgive her, her widowhood is recent. She’ll come around and accept your offer, once she realizes that it's for her own benefit,” Faddy said.
Brother Fields spoke now, his voice tinged with anger. “You have misjudged her character, Brother Parker. I thought you said she was polite with excellent upbringing.”
“And she is. As I said, blame this change of character on her widowhood.”
“If that is how she treats a potential husband, then I cannot marry her. I am absolutely humiliated, Brother Parker. I have clearly wasted my time here.”
“Please, I beg you to reconsider.”
“Absolutely not! I sympathize with her late husband, Brother Parker. Perhaps it was her that sent him to an early grave. She will never remarry. Not with her temperament. She will die alone.”
And with that, Lydia could listen no longer. Pain that had no physical source exploded from her chest, sending her sprawling onto her bed. She heaved in tremendous sobs that she tried to muffle into her pillow, to no avail.
Was she really the cause of Danny’s death? Could she have done more to save him? Would she really die alone? Each thought caused her sobs to flow stronger and steadier like an unstoppable waterfall, until at last it seemed as if there was nothing left inside of her.
Chapter 14
Lydia’s Epiphany
Lydia was highly embarrassed by the ordeal with Brother Fields and angry that she had left her parents' home to escape an arranged marriage to almost be thrust into one again. Faddy, of course, didn’t have much of an excuse for Brother Field’s proposal. Lydia felt like a pawn, moved about at others’ whim. Faddy was no better than her mother promising her to Wilbur. Where was Lydia’s choice in the matter? No one had asked her what she wanted.
At the same time, Lydia didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She missed having a companion to share her life and her goals with. She yearned to have children one day. But she had denied any urgings for re-marriage for so long, it almost seemed wrong to change her mind.
Days passed after the encounter with Brother Fields, and still, no buyer for her land. Lydia wondered if she was wrong to reject Brother Fields’ offer, but the thought of marrying him did not sit right in her mind. And what he had said about her left a wound that she was certain would not heal easily. The only solution, Lydia determined, was to forget the ordeal altogether, to forgive Faddy and move on. Faddy would find another buyer. Wouldn’t he?
Lydia’s nightmares continued. This time, they included Brother Fields and Faddy. They encircled her, shouting out numbers, fighting for what price seemed right for her. Worthy also entered her dreams, galloping away with her on his horse, trampling over Danny’s grave. Lydia would awake from her dreams in a cold sweat, and eventually, it became hard for her to sleep at all in fear of what she would see when she closed her eyes.
During one sleepless night, Lydia took out the golden locket from inside her dress. Her fingers traced the warm gold, opened the locket and stroked the clipping of Danny’s black hair. She imagined his long locks, slicked back in the morning, but falling out in front of his eyes after a hard day’s work. That silky black hair ran in his family; Danny’s sister Fiona had it.
Fiona. Lydia still had not paid her a visit. She had procrastinated doing so; she had not been able to muster the courage to see her again. And yet, although it pained her to admit it, Lydia knew it would be best to visit Fiona. She was most likely the only one who understood exactly what Lydia was going through. Like Lydia, Fiona was a widow. Her husband had passed away in a tragic wagon accident, but Fiona had moved on, eventually remarrying a man named Henry. I must visit her, Lydia thought.
So the next day, Lydia found herself at Fiona’s door. Nervously, she stood on the doorstep, wondering if she was making the right choice. It would be so easy to turn around and go home. Why had she subjected herself to this?
Finally, Lydia rapped on the wood door and stood back, waiting for an answer. A shrill cry came from within the cabin, then the sound of shuffling. The door slowly creaked open, and from behind it a young boy stared up at Lydia.
“Charlie, is your mother home?” Lydia asked. The child, her nephew from Fiona’s first marriage, had a mop of jet black hair and pale skin. Lydia had always wondered if this is what her and Danny’s children would have looked like.
The child nodded bashfully then disappeared inside the house. After a few seconds, Fiona emerged in his place, holding a baby.
“Hello, Fiona,” Lydia said, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of herself.
“Lydia,” Fiona said. There was a touch of sadness in her voice. Sympathy perhaps, or maybe pity. “It’s been awhile. Come in.” Lydia wondered if she reminded Fiona of Daniel as well.
Fiona led Lydia into her little cabin. It was dark inside, except where the chinking had fallen out and the sunlight streamed in. The walls looked partly white-washed and a pallet covered with a straw tick was pushed into the corner of the room for a bed. Fiona pulled a chair out for Lydia and stood rocking her baby to and fro.
“It's his naptime,” Fiona explained. “The little lad won’t fall asleep unless I rock him.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia said. “I can come back another day.”
Fiona fiercely shook her head. “No, I’m glad you’ve come. Please stay. It’s good to see you.”
Lydia pulled the gloves off her fingers and examined them, searching for words to say.
Fiona spoke for her. “I’ve thought about you these last few months. I wondered what became of you.”
“I moved in with my aunt,” Lydia said. “I put our land up for sale.”
“Good.” Fiona nodded in rhythm with her rocking.
“And you?”
“We’ve been better. But we’ve been blessed. That’s all we can ask for.”
There was an awkward silence between the women. Lydia was again lost for words.
“How have you been getting along, without...” Fiona stopped before she said his name.
“Fine, I think.” Lydia paused, then shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t been fine. That’s what I’ve come to talk with you about.” Lydia took a deep breath, gathering all the courage she could to finally confront the obstacle that was placed in her path since that horrible February night.
“Yes, go on.”
With Fiona’s invitation, Lydia poured out the things she felt since Danny’s death. The pain, the sorrow, the disappointment, the frustration. She told Fiona her dream of being an old woman with a young Daniel and grandchildren present, and she told her about her reluctance to remarry despite the pull for her to do so. “You were the only one I knew who would understand,” Lydia said at the conclusion of her outpouring. “You’ve lost a husband. And remarried. You’re happy, I presume?”
“Yes,” Fiona replied. “Although happy is not a fair word to use.”
“What do you mean?”
“Does your husband not make you happy?”
Fiona paused. “Of course he does, Lydia. But happiness is a choice. It's not dependent on anyone but me. You see, I have this house. And wonderful children. A new husband who cares for me. I have two legs that can walk and eyes that can see. The Lord has blessed me abundantly. And recognizing His blessings helps me to be happy.”
The baby began to wail and dug his face back and forth into Fiona’s shoulder. Fiona looked down at him wearily. “Oh, not again, little one. I don’t have much for you.” She turned her attention to her older son. “Charlie, go and fetch water from the well. Quick.”
Charlie did as he was told, and when he returned, Fiona dipped a rag into the water and suckled the babe with it.
Lydia watched in surprise. “Don’t you have any milk for the baby?”
Fiona shook her head. “No. My milk’s dried up. And we lost our cow last week. The poor old thing finally keeled over.” Fiona sighed in exasperation as the crying baby rejected the water rag.
“Let me help you,” Lydia said. “We could make a porridge for him.” She started searching the cabin for something to feed the baby, but found a mostly empty sack of flour. Lydia poured its contents into a tin bowl. “Is there more somewhere?”
Fiona crumpled into a chair with the hungry baby in her arms. “No. That’s all.”
Lydia mixed the flour with water from the well bucket to form a grey gruel. “Here,” she said, taking the child from Fiona’s arms. She sat down and placed the baby on her knee, bouncing him up and down. She dipped a finger into the gruel and offered it to the babe. At first, the child refused the thin food, then began to suck on Lydia’s finger. Within minutes the child’s crying subsided to a whimper and ultimately quieted. When the gruel was gone, Lydia stood and rocked the child back and forth.
“Babies can sense your mood,” Lydia said. “If you’re upset, they can sense it. It makes them uneasy. They’ll become upset, too.”
The baby’s eyelids fluttered, and soon he was asleep. Fiona gave a sigh of relief.
“You’re my angel,” she said, tears in her eyes. “He’s been fighting sleep all day.”
“I would fight sleep, too, on an empty stomach,” Lydia replied, staring down at the empty flour sack. “I hope you don’t mind I used the rest of the flour.”
Fiona was quiet for a long while, her eyes downcast. “Henry lost his job and we’ve been running out of food. And I think I’m expecting again...”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lydia asked gently. “I could have helped.”
“I didn’t think you could. You’ve been going through your own trials.”
“Danny wouldn’t want his family to starve. He would have wanted me to help. I’m sure there is something I can do.” Lydia searched her mind for a solution to Fiona’s problem. Her face lit up as she thought of an idea. “Take my land, Fiona. You need it more than I. Perhaps you can trade it for something useful.”
“No,” Fiona said firmly. “We couldn’t. It’s yours.”
“It was Danny’s. Besides, I don’t need it.”
“We could never pay you back for it!”
“You don’t need to,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “It's a gift. Please, take it. I insist. Danny would have agreed.”
Tears began streaming down Fiona’s porcelain skin. “You really are my angel, Lydia.” With her free arm, Fiona embraced Lydia as tight as she could. “Thank you.”
“No. Thank you,” Lydia replied. "You’ve been my angel today.”
✽✽✽
The day was still young, and since Lucy had given Lydia the afternoon off, Lydia decided to visit Danny’s grave on the way home from Fiona’s cabin. Tall grass had grown atop his grave since his burial in February. Lydia kneeled in it now, planting her fingers in the cool, moist earth.
“Oh, Danny, what am I to do?” Lydia whispered, brushing the dirt off his lonely headstone. The wind rustled the trees above her as if in reply.
She sat for awhile, enjoying the peace the burying grounds offered. The quiet graveyard was a welcome haven for her, like an old friend whose home was always open. Lydia tried to visit when she could, although she found herself busy and unable to come to Danny’s grave as frequently as she wanted. She knew the names of the graves next to Danny’s, and they felt as familiar to her as family. Sometimes, she’d brush the dirt and leaves off their graves, too, and when she had a chance to pick wild flowers, she’d leave a few stems. The only gift Lydia brought them today was her presence.
“I went to visit Fiona today,” Lydia told Danny. “It's been too long.” Lydia paused between her sentences, as if expecting a response. “She’s had her baby. Has another one on the way. And I did something I didn’t expect to do. I gave her your land. I thought you’d want that. They’re struggling.”
Lydia went on, telling him of her troubles and the mundanities of her life. After awhile, she sighed. It was no use talking to a headstone. He couldn’t hear her. He wasn’t there. Or was he? Lydia always assumed the dead weren’t so far away, that a thin veil was all that separated them from the living. But Lydia couldn’t help feeling that today there was no one there. No one was listening.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a voice behind her said.
Lydia whirled around to see the speaker, then rose immediately. “Brother Clark! What are you doing here?”
Worthy gave her a wry smile. “Same thing as you, I presume.” He looked down at the headstone at Lydia’s feet and read its engravings. “Daniel Leonard. Ah, so this must be the late Brother Leonard. Beloved father. I didn’t know you had children.”
“I don’t. At least none that are living,” Lydia said sharply. She couldn’t help feeling a bit intruded upon having Brother Clark there. This was her private time with her deceased, after all. And yet Worthy’s presence was welcome among the dead. He was the only living, breathing man there and the headstones had so far ignored Lydia’s futile attempts at conversation. Lydia softened. “Her name was Rebecca.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Worthy said politely. “Is she buried here as well?”
Lydia shook her head. “At home. Under the big oak tree you tied your horse on when we first met.”
“I didn’t notice her grave,” Worthy said.
“It's not very noticeable. A tiny grave for a tiny baby girl.”
Worthy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Did you sell your land?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Almost.” Lydia laughed, thinking of Brother Fields. She was glad she could find humor in the situation now. “It's gone now, though. I gave it to his sister.” Lydia nodded to Danny’s headstone. “She needed it more than I did. We weren’t having much luck attracting a buyer anyway.”
“Not surprising,” Worthy said. “There’s high supply and low demand for property right now, and it's only going to get worse as more people start leaving Nauvoo. I’ve appraised more land in the last month than I have in the last year. Everyone wants the highest dollar; no one wants to admit that they might have to settle for less than what they were bargaining for.”
Lydia raised her eyebrows, but Worthy continued, oblivious he had caused any offense. “Your uncle seemed to think he could get quite a bit from selling it, seeing as the location was good and the land fertile. The lack of structures and presence of rubble did decrease its value quite a bit.”
“No matter,” Lydia interrupted, shaking her head. “It means nothing to me now. I appreciate your services, Brother Clark. I shall have to pay my uncle back for whatever fee it cost him to pay you.”
“Not necessary,” Worthy replied. “Your uncle bartered some of his summer melons in exchange for my service. I got the better end of the bargain if you ask me.”
Lydia smiled. “I’m glad you think so. He’d be awfully proud you said that.” Faddy grew all sorts of delicious fruits and vegetables. He spent
the first few years in Nauvoo trying to get his garden to grow, but now it was thriving and provided plenty of food for the family.
“Yes, I would have done it for free, however,” Worthy said. He immediately blushed, then fidgeted awkwardly with his hands. “Sister Leonard, I’ve thought a bit about what you said when I walked you home a few weeks ago and I’ve got to apologize for any wrong-doing on my part. I wanted to ask your uncle’s permission to court you, but I understand now how you feel about that.”
Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “Brother Clark! I must apologize, myself. I was rude and abrupt. I would love it if you courted me.” The words flew out of Lydia’s mouth unexpectedly. Lydia surprised herself, and Worthy, too, for he stood there stupidly, staring at her in awe.
“You really mean it?” he asked.
Lydia’s stomach tightened. “Yes, of course,” was all she could manage to say in her nervousness.
A broad smile appeared on Worthy’s face. “Then it's settled. I’ll be by Sunday evening, that is if your uncle agrees. Would you mind if I walked you home again?”
And Lydia agreed.
For the first time in a long time, Lydia felt elated to have something to look forward to. Somehow she had found hope in the solemn cemetery that had only provided her with feelings of disappointment and devastation before. Before she left, she stared down at Danny’s grave, half thanking him for what she believed was his blessing for her courting Worthy, and half pleading with him to understand. No matter what happens with Worthy, I’ll always love you, Danny, Lydia thought.
Chapter 15
The Steamboat
For the next few months, Worthy spent Sunday evenings at the Parker’s residence after they returned from Sunday services at the temple. Lucy and Faddy, along with Annie and Beth, accompanied Lydia and Worthy in the parlor as they read scriptures, discussed local events, and sang together.
Lydia loved hearing Worthy’s deep voice as it blended with Faddy’s violin, which Faddy had brought with him from Canada. Toward the end of the night, after Annie and Beth went to bed, Lucy and Faddy would retire early, allowing Lydia and Worthy time alone to talk at their leisure.