Because of the Word

By Hazel M. Thomson

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Chapter 6

Ruth lay on the bed and wept for a longtime. Alone! Here in Kirtland on the edge of nowhere, the baby almost due, and Vic gone! And living among people, most of whom she still considered strangers.

At last, her fury spent at Vic for being able to even think of leaving her now, she sat up and looked dully around the tiny room. The house! That was it! With Vic gone she could negotiate openly and even be moved in the new house when he returned. She slid heavily from the bed, walked to the washstand and poured cold water form the pitcher. She splashed it again and again over her swollen eyes.

Inwardly, she knew that this was her way of repaying Vic for what she felt to be gross inconsideration. With everyone else giving their all for the temple, or to build up Zion in Missouri, he would be more embarrassed at her buying the house right now than he was when she wore a different kind of dress to church.

Ruth put on her bonnet and started for the temple lot. This was where she would find Mr. Smathers who owned the house. She saw Mary out in the yard as she passed, but did not stop to chat. She remembered talking to Vic about Mr. Smathers, old and crippled with rheumatism, when Vic had mentioned the pain the old man suffered.

“Why doesn’t Joseph or someone send him home where he belongs?” Ruth had asked.

“And break an old man’s heart?” Vic had answered. “This isn’t just a building to him, Ruth. It is the temple of God. He has said many times that it is the greatest privilege of his life just to work on it.”

“You’re always saying how they need every able-bodied man they can get. I have no quarrel with that,” Ruth had continued, “but anyone can see that he certainly isn’t able-bodied.”

“He can stand guard as well as anyone,” Vic had answered quietly. “Someone has to, or the actions of the mob right here in Kirtland would prevent the temple’s ever being completed. Besides, he gives invaluable advice on how to build it, from his long experience. He has a new idea for finishing the outside.”

Ruth could see the old man as she drew near, seated near the front of the building, working with hammer and chisel on the great pile of stone. His gun lay nearby.

As the Prophet had said, the work was going forward, though Ruth could see that the working force was much smaller than usual. Strange, how in her own mind, she always referred to Joseph as the Prophet, just as Vic did.

Mr. Smathers recognized her at once and knew also why she had come, from their previous conversations.

“Mrs. Hall,” he said, reaching out his hand, the fingers drawn forward by years of pain. “You want to know about the house, I reckon. Well, it’s still for sale. That little one of yours will suit me better anyway, since my wife has gone on. I’d be right proud at my age to be able to make a sizable contribution in money to the temple. I work every day all right, but no use fooling myself about how much work I can do.”

“Oh, Mr. Smathers,” said Ruth, “you make me so happy. I’ll love having your house, and I’ll take care of it just as your wife would have.”

“I’m sure of that, and, because I am, I can sell the house. You see, I built it just as my wife wanted, and it was only finished a few short years before she died.” The old man was silent for a moment, a faraway look clouding his eyes, then he said, “When would you like to move in? Not until Brother Hall gets back, I suppose?”

“That’s just it,” said Ruth. “I want to surprise him.”

“But, Ma’am,” said Mr. Smathers shyly, “you – you’re in no condition to be doing a lot of heavy work, if you’ll excuse me for saying it.”

Ruth smiled. “That’s true, but since it is all right with you, I will see if I can get enough help to manage it. The money is ready anytime.”

Then she looked again at the temple. “The work keeps right on,” said Ruth, “even though so many men did go on the expedition.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Smathers, rising stiffly to his feet. “Come inside and see how much progress has been made.”

Ruth followed the old man, stepping carefully among the bits of smaller stone that lay on the ground. They stood inside the great rectangular structure, the bright May sky brilliant above them.

In one corner near the door, Ruth noticed a pile of dishes, some whole, some broken odds and ends, on a piece of canvas.

“What is that?” she asked curiously.

“We’re asking the sisters to give pieces of china that they can spare. It will be made into a fine dust and added to the final outer coating of plaster. I saw it done once. Made the building glisten as if it were set with jewels when the sun hit it.”

“How very interesting,” said Ruth. “Vic told me that you knew many things about building. Well, I must be going now. I’ll see what I can do and talk to you again in a few days.”

Trying to find an available wagon and team and a man who had time to move her belongings was more of a task than Ruth had counted on. The expedition had taken at least twenty teams, besides many other horses. Other than those busy hauling materials for the temple, there did not seem to be any other horses in all of Kirtland.

Mary was busy in preparations for her wedding planned for August. The two girls spent many afternoons together, sewing either on something for Mary or clothes for the temple workers. Her days passed pleasantly enough, but many times in the night Ruth awoke, trembling with fear at nightmarish dreams, with Vic himself in the hands of the mob.

Sometimes, Ruth found herself unable to sleep, lighting the lamp and reading the book far into the morning hours. If she only read long enough, she told herself, she would invariably doze off. Ruth knew the Bible fairly well, and as she read of Christ’s visit and teachings to the Nephites her soul thrilled with the similarity and beauty of his words.

By July, she began to look daily for Vic’s return. One rainy afternoon, which Mary as usual spent with her, realizing the nearness of Ruth’s time, Ruth insisted on beginning to pack in preparation for moving into her new home.

“But, Ruth, you mustn’t,” protested Mary.

“But I must,” answered Ruth. “If Vic gets back and hears what I have done, he likely will refuse to move at all. If the weather stays bad, I’m sure I can get someone to come and help for a day.”

Ruth knew she felt unusually tired, as Mary prepared to leave for the night.

“I hate leaving you alone tonight. Perhaps I should stay.”

“I really don’t feel like myself, Mary. I …”

A bright flash of lightning cut through the room, followed by an earth-shaking clap of thunder, drowning out Ruth’s words.

In the brightness of the flash, Ruth’s face was contorted with pain.

“This is it, Mary!” she cried. “Run for Mrs. Hunter! Hurry!”

But this was not it, at least not until after many pain-filled, weary hours had passed. During an interval between pains, Ruth asked Mary to read something to her from the book. The words came to her vividly and clearly.

“And now, as I said unto you, that because ye were compelled to be humble ye were blessed, do ye not suppose that they are more blessed who truly humble themselves because of the word? …

“Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble; or rather, in other words, blessed is he that believeth in the word of God, and is baptized without stubbornness of heart …”

Ruth felt the force of the message more strongly than even the pain that encompassed her. It was enough. At last she knew the truth.

When Ruth awoke, the sun was high and Mrs. Hunter was leaning over her bed.

“Sister Hall! Sister Hall! You’re going to be all right! You have a wonderful, beautiful son.”

Vic’s baby. And it was a boy. It meant something that her first thought had been for his happiness rather than just her own. This was what Vic himself would have done. All the time she had been fighting the very part of him that had first made him so dear, his ability to set his own affairs aside in the interest of others, his kindness, his thoughtful consideration.

Through the open door, Ruth could hear the low voices of several women. Word had been passed along and she knew that they had come from their sleep, willing and eager to be of help. She could smell something cooking and realized how good a bowl of broth would taste.

Then Mrs. Hunter returned to the room and placed the baby by Ruth on the bed. Looking for the first time at her son, it seemed that all the events of her life had been aimed at this moment of fulfillment.

During the time she was regaining her strength, Ruth wondered often how she could ever have thought of the women of Kirtland as strangers. They took complete charge of her, the baby, and the house, and the feeling among them made Ruth realize that when they called each other “sister,” they meant it, indeed.

It seemed that nearly everyone in the village called. Ruth was not surprised when even Mr. Smathers arrived to get a glimpse of the new baby.

“I wanted to see you, Mr. Smathers,” she said, taking the gnarled, old hand.

“I suppose you will be more anxious than ever to get into the house,” he said. “Mighty fine baby, Mrs. Hall.”

“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about. Mr. Smathers, I know you dislike the thoughts of leaving your house. I have decided not to buy it.”

“But I do want to make a contribution, and I have no cash nor can I see any way to raise some right now,” protested the old man.

“The contribution will be made,” said Ruth, “and partly in your name. No, don’t try to stop me. Seeing your faith has given me something more precious than all the houses in the world. Vic was right when he said yours was truly a faith like that of the ancients.”

Ruth prevailed upon Mr. Smathers to take care of the transaction and noticed how proud he looked as he limped away from the little house. She knew that Vic’s satisfaction in what she had done would be not a shade less than her own happiness.

Still, the past weighed heavily upon Ruth. She felt so unworthy of this peace and well-being that filled her soul, even in her desperate loneliness for Vic. She had entrusted him to the care of her Father in heaven and had relaxed her worry for his safety.

Vic had given all that he could, his time, his efforts, and had borne her taunts and reproaches without complaint, doing what he knew he must. The desire to make further compensation grew strong within her, yet what more had she to offer? Then an idea came to her.

It was on the first afternoon that the sisters who had become so dear to her, finally agreed to leave her alone, that Ruth had a chance to put her plan into action. She found an old piece of wagon cover which she spread out on the table. Then she walked out in the yard and picked up a rock. No use looking for a hammer. Vic had long since taken every tool they had to the temple lot. Inside again, she reached the dishes down from the top shelf. Working quickly, she pounded one piece of the china and then another into fragments, feeling a severing of her former intense desires with each blow.

So engrossed was she in the task that she failed to hear Vic’s footsteps until he spoke.

“Ruth!” he cried, clasping her hard by the shoulders. “Ruth! Whatever are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“Lost it, Vic? No, I haven’t lost it. I’ve found it! I have found, at last, the testimony you have been praying for.”

Vic turned her slowly toward him and she heard him catch his breath.

“Ruth! The baby …”

“Asleep in the bedroom,” she said, smiling up at him. “He’s a little copy of his father.”

“A son! We have a son!” Ruth saw the wonder and the love in his eyes. “Ruth, Ruth, and I left you to bear it all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone, Vic. Not by any means. I never knew how kind people could be. You must never blame yourself for going, Vic. I have only now begun to realize what it cost you to go. But, come. See your son.”

Together they looked down at the sleeping babe. Vic reached out his hand and touched the tiny fist. The fingers closed around one of his. Ruth watched Vic, his face glowing with happiness. At last she said, “Come on. Get a rock and help me pound up the rest of the dishes. You must take them to Brother Smathers up at the temple to use for the walls. If we hurry there may still be time for me to be baptized before it gets dark.”

(The End)