The Work and the Glory (43 page)

“Have you heard from Lydia yet?” Joseph asked Nathan.

There was a quick shake of the head, accompanied with a soft sigh. “No. I told you I wrote to her about being baptized. But I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

“It will be all right,” Joseph said with confidence. “She’s a fine woman.”

“I hope so.” He paused for a moment. “Where’s Oliver?”

“He and Martin went down to the village to get some things.”

Mary Ann looked up. “Martin Harris?”

“Yes. He’s been here for a few days. But he has to go back to Palmyra after supper.”

Nathan smiled.
Martin too.
This was good. It would be an evening with much to listen to.

With Matthew hanging on to his neck, Joseph put out his arms and swept Melissa and Rebecca in front of him. Motioning with his head to Nathan and his mother, he said, “Come on, I want you to say hello to Emma and meet the Whitmers.”

It had been almost four months now since Oliver Cowdery had gone to Pennsylvania to meet Joseph Smith for the first time. A day or two before leaving Palmyra, he had become acquainted with a young man come to Palmyra from Fayette to do some business. A quick friendship was struck, and Oliver had told David of his intent to go to Harmony and learn for himself whether there was any truth to the account of gold plates and angelic visitations.

Oliver, in company with Joseph’s brother Samuel, stayed overnight at the Whitmers on the way south, and once again Oliver spoke of Joseph. David made Oliver promise that once he arrived there, he would write and tell David what his conclusions were. Oliver had written not once but twice, telling David about the sacred record and his new calling as scribe to Joseph. The Whitmers were impressed enough that they began to pray about the matter.

Meanwhile in Harmony, problems began to get worse. Emma’s father, who had softened somewhat toward Joseph and had agreed to help them while Joseph translated, had cooled again as opposition from the locals began to increase.

Joseph suggested Oliver write to his friend and see if the Whitmers could provide a place for them to live until the translation was finished. The Whitmers had agreed immediately and sent David with a wagon. And so the Whitmer family had been increased by three more adults.

“How is the translation coming?” Nathan asked eagerly as they approached the cabin.

Joseph stopped, grinning almost as boyishly as Matthew. “It’s done, Nathan.”

Mary Ann stepped forward and touched his arm. “Really, Joseph?”

“Yes. Completely done. Finished three weeks ago. July first, to be exact. One month to the day from when we arrived here.”

“That’s wonderful, Joseph,” Nathan exclaimed.

“It’s more than wonderful,” Joseph agreed happily. “Oliver has been making another copy of the manuscript—” A quick frown darkened his features. “I’ve learned the foolishness of having only one copy.”

Mary Ann nodded soberly, remembering Joseph’s devastation at the time Martin Harris lost the only copy of their work.

Joseph instantly brightened again. “Now the task is to find a printer, but I think we may even have that problem solved.”

Mary Ann felt her heart soar. “That is good news, Joseph.”

He nodded, sweeping them up again. “After supper we’ll read some of it for you.”

Mary Ann Steed had grown up with the Bible. Some of her earliest memories were of sitting in front of the fireplace and listening to the melodious voice of her mother reading from the pages of the Old and New Testaments. She had taught her own children to read from those same pages, tracing the lines with their stubby little fingers as she read aloud to them. She loved the word of the Lord and had come to recognize the power which flowed from the Bible into her life whenever she supped from its pages.

Because of her own experience in searching for the right church, Mary Ann had not had any problems believing the story of Joseph’s visitation from God. Indeed, she had felt her spirit resonate in response to the story as Nathan had recounted it. After that, she had prayed mightily to know whether Joseph spoke the truth. She felt she had received confirmation of that thrice over.

But as events with Joseph continued to unfold, other feelings began to trouble her. It was not really doubt. She still continued to pray about Joseph, about the sacred record, about his calling from God, and she still found peace each time she did so. On the other hand, she knew what people were saying about Joseph. She had listened to their gibes, felt their scorn for him. No small part of that scorn came from her own husband. And that created a sense of turmoil within her. It was as though she were standing in the midst of a violent storm. She did not question whether the place where she stood was right or not, but the winds which howled around Joseph buffeted those who chose to stand with him. She was willing to stand with him; more than that, she wanted to stand with him. But if she was going to do so, she needed something more tangible, more substantial than just subtle feelings of peace.

She fully understood what had driven Martin Harris to go to New York City and seek out the professor of ancient languages. He didn’t really doubt Joseph. But when everyone around you was incessantly battering at you, trying to cut the ground out from under you, you needed some kind of anchor point, something you could sink your roots into to help you weather the storm.

Over the past several months, Mary Ann had gradually determined what the test would be, what would provide a sufficient anchor point for her faith. She had not spoken of it to anyone, not even Nathan, but that was one of the reasons why she had not backed down in the face of Benjamin’s anger that morning. She had to come. This was her chance to know. Standing with Joseph would not be without its costs. She was already paying some of them—Joshua was gone, Nathan and his father were experiencing increasing strain, and a coldness had crept into her marriage which left her with an ache in her heart. She was willing—more than that, determined—to pay those costs, but she needed additional confirmation.

She loved the scriptures. She knew how she felt inside when she read the Bible. She knew why the Lord had called his words the “bread of life.” And this would be her test. If this record Joseph was translating was the word of God, as he claimed it was, she would know. She had no doubt of that. It would either produce the same feelings, give her the same power, nourish her spirit in the same way as the Bible, or she would put the whole thing aside and make her peace with Benjamin.

The supper had been pleasant. The Whitmers were gracious hosts and seemed not to even notice the fact that five additional mouths had sat at their table. After supper, dishes were quickly cleared and washed and the older children sent out to play and tend the Whitmer grandchildren. Now the adults sat in a semicircle around the great stone fireplace that half filled the south wall of the cabin. There were eighteen of them in all, spread around the main room of the cabin which served as kitchen and main living room.

In addition to Nathan, Melissa, and Mary Ann, Martin Harris sat near the west window. As usual, he was impeccably dressed and looking very distinguished. Next to him was Peter Whitmer, Sr.—or Father Whitmer, as all called him—and his wife, Mary. Hardworking, filled with integrity, expecting nothing from life but that which they earned by their own labor, they were of that stock found across the face and breadth of America. Come to New York State in 1809 from a colony of German immigrants in Pennsylvania, both still spoke with a pronounced German accent.

Elizabeth Ann—at fourteen the youngest of the Whitmer children—was out with Matthew and Becca, but the older ones had stayed, and now all, save one, sat together. Four sons—Jacob, John, Christian, and Peter, Jr.—sat in a row along the east wall. Jacob and Christian sat with their wives. John and Peter, Jr., not yet married, sat next to their oldest sister, Catherine, and her husband, Hiram Page.

Mary Ann noticed that Peter, Jr.—at nineteen the youngest of the four—had sat where he could catch Melissa’s eye. And Melissa, blushing at almost every turn of his head, was like a flower burst forth in the spring sunshine. All of the boys had shown considerable interest in their winsome visitor, but it was Peter, closest to Melissa in age, who had pursued that interest with vigor, and she positively basked in his attention.

Next to Hiram Page sat Oliver Cowdery. He and Martin had returned from Fayette Village shortly after the Steeds’ arrival. Almost immediately Mary Ann understood why Nathan had spoken so warmly of Oliver. He was, for that time, a particularly well-educated young man, and it showed in the polish of his speech and the graciousness of his manners. And his experience as a schoolteacher showed in his open love for the children. In moments after his return, he and Joseph had the younger children rollicking in the meadow behind the cabin.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Oliver was David Whitmer, the fifth of the Whitmer sons. Almost the same age as Oliver and Joseph, David was more serious in nature than either of the other two. Quiet and less given to idle conversation, he was nevertheless affable and pleasant to be around. He smiled easily, had a quiet sense of humor, and, of all the children, had made the greatest effort to make the Steeds feel welcome. Now, as he spoke quietly to Oliver, Mary Ann detected a slight German twang in his speech as well, though not nearly as pronounced as the accent in his parents’ speech.

The last two in the room were, of course, Joseph and Emma. Mary Ann had met Emma only once before, and then only briefly in the village. Nathan had nothing but praise for Emma, and Mary Ann had looked forward to finally getting to know her better. She had not been disappointed. Emma was a woman of quiet dignity, culture, and good manners. She was a gracious lady in every sense of the word and provided a fitting and proper wife for Joseph.

And then there was Joseph. He had sat quietly for the past several minutes, content to let the group converse with one another, pleased with the company around him. Beside him on the table sat a thick sheaf of papers. This was the copy of the manuscript which Oliver had made. She could see the lines of neat and precise handwriting on the top page. She was ready for him to begin. This was what she had come for, and while she found the conversation and the company most pleasant, she willed Joseph to begin.

Finally he stood, picking up the manuscript, and the room quieted almost instantly. Mary Ann breathed a quick, inward prayer. “O Lord, if this be thy word, help me to know it without question. Open my heart to thy feelings, Heavenly Father, I pray in Jesus’ name.”

Joseph was clothed in an open-necked shirt and linen breeches. His hair was still slightly tousled from his wrestling with the children, which gave him a touch of boyishness. He smiled as his blue eyes scanned the faces of those present. Mary Ann saw Emma smile up at him and nod her encouragement.

Carefully, so as not to wrinkle the foolscap, he pulled off the top two-thirds of the stack and set it on the table. He turned more pages, now one at a time, searching for the place he wanted. After a moment he found what he was looking for and set a few more pages aside. He looked up, quite sober in his demeanor. “The part I would like to read this evening takes place in the Americas shortly after the time of the Savior’s crucifixion and resurrection.”

The blue eyes that could be so piercing, almost looking through a person, were suddenly filled with joy. He looked directly at Mary Ann. “Of all the Book of Mormon, I particularly love this part,” he said simply. As he read, his voice was deep and sonorous, and it was obvious that he was familiar with the material, for he did not stumble. But within moments, Mary Ann forgot about Joseph’s voice. She focused on the words he spoke, letting her heart open to make its own judgment.

There was mention of prophets. They had foretold of the signs which would accompany the Savior’s death. Now those signs were given. A terrible storm arose across the face of the land. Thunder cracked with terrifying power. Exceedingly sharp lightnings flashed downward, setting buildings on fire. A great tempest, the likes of which had never before been seen, swept across the land, carrying people away. A terrible earthquake shook the earth, wreaking terrible destruction.

After the earthquake a thick darkness settled across the land. For three days and three nights the darkness prevailed. The people were astonished. Their prophets had warned them of these things and called on them to repent of their evil ways, but many had not listened. Now, the survivors rent the air with their cries.

Joseph stopped for a moment, and Oliver spoke quietly. “Listen carefully,” he said. “I wept when we were translating this part.”

Nodding, Joseph went on, reading more slowly now. The darkness lifted, the earth was finally still. A group of disciples, those who had believed and looked forward to the promised signs, gathered at a temple in a land they called Bountiful. While they were conversing one with another about the great and marvelous things which had transpired, they suddenly heard a voice, coming from the heavens.

Mary Ann felt a sudden thrill course through her body. She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Joseph’s face as he read.

“‘And it came to pass that while they were thus conversing one with another, they heard a voice, as if it came out of Heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice, it did pierce them that did hear, to the centre, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn.’”

That brought Mary Ann up sharply. In Luke’s Gospel, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus had used those same words. They had walked and talked with the resurrected Christ, though they did not recognize him. After he vanished from their sight, one said to the other, “Did not our heart burn within us?” She had always loved that phrase, for it best described how she felt when she read the Bible. She felt a leap of joy. It also described how she was feeling at this very moment.