The Work and the Glory (562 page)

“O God.”

He stopped. The last time he had prayed had been while he was still living with his family back in Palmyra almost twenty years ago now. And even though he could remember some of the words and phrases from back then, they seemed so alien to him now.

“I don’t know if you’re there. And if you are, I don’t know that you would have any cause to listen to me.”

An overwhelming feeling of being the fool rushed over him. His tongue felt heavy and thick. What was he doing? Here he was kneeling on the ground, talking out loud to himself, as if he were some crazy man or something. He opened his eyes, starting to rise, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching, silently vowing that he would never, ever make this mistake again. But then as he got to one knee, his eyes fell upon the deer. It was still propped up a few yards from where he was, the large lifeless eyes gazing at him steadily.

He sank back down and closed his eyes. “O God. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to ask you for anything. But I want to know if my Olivia is still alive. I’m so sorry for the things which I did that led to her death. I was such a fool. If only I could know that she’s not gone forever. And Papa too. I would like to know about him too. Mama and Nathan and Caroline and all the rest say they know he’s still alive. I don’t know how they know, but if that’s possible, I would like that too.”

For the third time the words ceased and his eyes opened. He wasn’t fighting it anymore. He just didn’t know what else to say. Finally, he lowered his head for the last time, staring at the ground before him. “I’m sorry for what I am. I wish there was a way to make it different.” And then, after another moment of silence, he finished lamely, “Amen.”

It was almost midnight by the time they got the deer back to their lean-to shelter and hoisted it up high enough between two trees to keep it away from wolves, foxes, raccoons, or any other creatures that might want to sample the fattened flesh. Once it was safe, they started to prepare for bed. Nathan stayed outside for a time, and Joshua knew he was saying his prayers. He did it out alone so that Joshua would not be embarrassed by it. When he came back he undressed quickly and crawled inside his bedroll. There was a deep sigh of pleasure. “Now, that feels good.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Brigham came by the Taylors’ wagon tonight. There’s going to be a worship service tomorrow. They estimate we’re up over three hundred wagons already. Probably more than a thousand people.”

“I would guess that’s pretty close.”

“In addition to worship services, it will give Brigham a chance to speak to everyone about what he’s thinking.”

“They need to know.” Joshua was chuckling inwardly now. He could tell that Nathan badly wanted to ask if he planned to go to the meeting, but was holding back. Then he decided it wasn’t fair to play with him in this way. “Yes,” he said.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’d like to go to the meeting.”

Nathan laughed softly. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

He smiled in the darkness. “When you split logs with a man, you get to know his mind.”

“I wish that were true.”

There was no answer, and the silence was suddenly heavy and awkward.

Nathan made a sound of mock pain. “Sorry. Comment withdrawn. I wasn’t—”

“No apology necessary,” Joshua cut in.

They lay there, listening to the sounds of the night—the crickets just outside their shelter, the lower-pitched chorus of frogs coming from the river, the soft hoot of an owl somewhere above them. Both were very tired; both were far from sleep. After almost five minutes, still wide awake, Joshua turned his head. “Nathan?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something you ought to know.”

“What?”

He searched for words that would not sound utterly foolish; then he decided to just say it straight out. “I know now that Olivia still lives somewhere. And Papa.”

Nathan’s eyes half closed. It was as though someone had jabbed him, only the sensation was not pain but pure joy. “Really!” And then after a moment, “Can I ask how you know?”

“It’s a long story. It happened while I was cleaning the deer, but . . . I finally asked God.”

Nathan had to swallow hard twice as the enormous implications of that statement hit him. “That’s wonderful, Joshua.”

“I know. I don’t understand it all. I’m not even sure how it came. But I know.”

“Then that’s enough for now,” Nathan said softly.

“Yes.” Nathan could hear the wonder in Joshua’s voice too. “Yes, it is for now.”

Chapter Notes

The Brooklyn sailed from Robinson Crusoe Island off the coast of Chile on 9 May. They would not land in Hawaii until 20 June. There were two children born during the voyage who were named as indicated in this chapter, though the Robbins baby was born a little later than is shown here. (See “Voyage,” pp. 53, 59–60.)

After having returned to Nauvoo for a short time to attend to some business, John Taylor arrived at Mount Pisgah on Saturday, 23 May 1846. His report of how many wagons he had passed between Nauvoo and Mount Pisgah was electrifying to the Church leadership and spurred them on to even greater efforts to prepare for those who were to come. (See CN, 25 May 1996, p. 12.)

Chapter 22

  The formal count on Sunday morning showed just over three hundred and fifty wagons at Mount Pisgah, with over a thousand people. In spite of the large number, Brigham called for a general worship service, starting at noon. When the bugle sounded, announcing that it was time, Nathan and Joshua walked together up the hill toward the main encampment.

The business portion was brief. Brigham said little about pressing on to the Rocky Mountains with a vanguard company that Nathan and Joshua did not already know, then asked each family to discuss their circumstances and needs. Then he started the meeting. Nathan found it interesting that President Young set the theme for the meeting by speaking on the plan of salvation. All of the other speakers followed suit. From time to time Nathan would cast a sidelong glance at his brother to see if he could tell what Joshua was thinking, but though Joshua listened attentively, there was no reaction at all.

As they walked back to their campsite, it was almost all that Nathan could do to stop from asking Joshua what he thought, but remembering his vow, he steered the conversation to what had to be done before the family arrived. If John Taylor was right, they would arrive sometime tomorrow. That left a lot of work to be done. They discussed possible campsites, where to graze their animals, how much firewood they would need. Then, as they ate, they talked again at some length about whether or not to go west with the vanguard company. As before, they decided that until they could bring it before the family, they couldn’t determine which course to take.

When the meal was over and the dishes washed in the brook, Nathan went inside the lean-to and started rummaging through his gear.

“What are you looking for?” Joshua called.

“My pen and some paper. I thought I’d write Melissa and Carl a letter in case someone is going back to Nauvoo.”

“I thought you still owed me the answer to one question.”

There was silence; then a moment later Nathan stuck his head out of the shelter to look at him with some surprise.

“Well,” Joshua said, waving Lydia’s Book of Mormon, “do you or don’t you?”

“I do. Just a minute.” When he reappeared a moment later, he had his own Book of Mormon. He came down and sat across the fire from Joshua. “All right.”

“Do you even remember what my question was? It’s been over a week now.”

“I do. You were bothered by the concept of redemption. You wanted to know how something bad could be atoned for, or paid for, if nothing in the past could be changed.”

“Very good. So, do you have an answer?”

“I do, but whether or not it will satisfy you remains to be seen. This is pretty heavy doctrine. Simple in a way, and yet very profound.”

“Try me,” Joshua said dryly.

“All right. We talked about agency, about why God allows us the freedom to choose, even though some people will choose to do bad things, even very bad things. The problem is, this is not fair for others. Papa drowns because an evil man made a terrible choice. Jessica loses a husband because other men choose to try and drive us out of Missouri. That’s not fair.”

“Who ever said life was fair?”

“But wait,” Nathan said quickly, “remember that God is perfectly just. If not, then he is not God. I’m not saying that all things will turn out to be perfectly fair in this life. Not at all. But in God’s eyes, this life is only a tiny part of our existence. So as long as it is made right, then justice is done.”

“So you’re about to tell me your answers are not answers for this life.”

Nathan pointed a finger at him and wagged it a little. “Don’t be putting words in my mouth, Joshua. Just hear me out. I want to show you how payment can be made and justice done.”

Chastened, Joshua nodded. “Go on.”

“Before, I used an example of how you deal with Savannah to teach you how God deals with us. Let me do that again, only let’s use Charles this time.” Nathan hesitated for a moment, knowing he was about to move onto very sensitive ground. “Before I do that, I want to ask you some questions. They may be a little painful.”

“Go ahead,” he said warily.

“Do you consider yourself worthy of Caroline?”

“No.” It came out flat and without equivocation.

“Why?”

“Because of what I was. What I’ve done.”

“But you’ve changed.”

He sighed, suddenly tired of it all. “Maybe I have changed, but those things haven’t changed. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The past will always be there, no matter what I do now.”

“I understand. And since Caroline has nothing like that in her past, it’s not fair that she should have to have a man who did do those terrible things. Is that it?”

There was a brief nod, his eyes not meeting Nathan’s now.

“And part of why you feel so terrible about Olivia is that it is so unjust that she should suffer for your mistakes, right?”

It was barely a whisper now. “That’s it exactly.”

“So there’s our dilemma again. God is merciful, and because you’ve truly changed he wants you to be with your family forever. But you say that your change of heart doesn’t take away the past. In other words, it isn’t fair—or just—that Caroline and Olivia should have to deal with a father and husband who has been far less than they have been.”

Again there were no words, just a brief movement of the head.

“All right, now to my example with Charles. Let’s suppose that he is playing stickball with some of the boys. They are in a field across the street from a general store. Charles knocks the ball with a solid hit. It soars out of the field, across the street, and right through the window of the general store.”

There was a bemused smile. “That sounds like Charles, all right.”

“So here we have a interesting situation. The storekeeper has lost an expensive glass window. He wants to be paid for its replacement. He wants justice. And that is only right. But you are the father. You want mercy for your son. This wasn’t a malicious act. He’s only six. He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t understand the consequences of his actions. Should he be blamed and punished? And if so, how can he possibly pay the damages? He earns no money, has no resources of his own.” He stopped and waited a moment before saying, “Do you see the conflict now between mercy and justice?”

“Well, I probably would have put it in different terms, but yes.”

“So how do you resolve it so that both mercy and justice are satisfied? Would you make Charles go to work at the store until the debt is paid?”

“He’s only six,” Joshua protested.

“And that wouldn’t be very merciful, would it? So be merciful to Charles. Just tell the storekeeper that Charles is only a boy and that he—the storekeeper—will have to replace the window himself.”

“No, that’s not fair either.”

“Now you’re beginning to see why the Book of Mormon says that mercy cannot rob justice. That would not be right.”

“What if I paid it?” Joshua suddenly said.

“Ah,” Nathan said softly.

Joshua shook his head ruefully. “Every time you say ‘Ah,’ I feel like I just stepped into a trap. Ah, what?”

“That’s your answer, Joshua. If you pay the storekeeper, will he be satisfied?”

“Of course.”

“He won’t insist that Charles actually make the payment?”

“No, not unless he’s a dolt.”

“One more question, then I’ll make my point. If you pay for the window to the satisfaction of the storekeeper, is everything all right now?”

Again Joshua sensed he was being led, but there was only one answer to that. “Yes.”

“But you haven’t changed the past,” Nathan said quietly.

Joshua saw it now and it hit him with full force. It showed in his eyes and around the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing in the past has been changed, Joshua, but mercy has been shown and justice has been satisfied.” Nathan went on, slowly now, choosing his words with great care. “Suppose, then, that Jesus Christ went into the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross, and there he suffered so intensely that he paid the price for all those horrible things that Joshua Steed did in the past. Suppose that he suffered enough that Joshua’s beating of his wife was paid for, not by Joshua, but by the Redeemer. Would Jessica be satisfied with such a payment? not from you, but from the Savior?”

“Jessica would,” he finally said. “Others might not, but Jessica would.”

“And Olivia? If she knew that the Savior of all mankind suffered all of the pain and all of the injustice that her father’s foolishness brought upon her, would she say that justice had been paid?”

He dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Nathan urged. “You do know, Joshua. You know that Olivia has already forgiven you and if you could see her right now, she would throw her arms around you and tell you how much she loves you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It came out in a tortured whisper.