The Wishing Star

by Marian Wells

  She felt the same kind of discontent that Mrs. Barfield had talked about, but Jenny saw it differently than Ma did. “It’s not fair,” she protested, “the one day I have to read, Ma makes me go to church.”

  She could have said it was boring, but she kept her silence while Ma talked about reading the Bible and Pa nodded his head in agreement. Jenny was separated, standing apart in her mind, knowing they would never understand. Even Nancy and Dorcas were lined up with serious faces and puckered frowns. To Jenny, the glance Ma threw at them seemed like a pat of approval.

  Later, Tom repeated his question with a furrowed brow. He was milking the cow, and Jenny was pitching straw down to the pigpen. “Jen, what’s got into you?” Jenny turned to look at him. The thoughts from Pa’s green book stirred in her, and his question made the words burst from her. “Tom, aren’t you hankerin’ for more than this?”

  He lifted his head from the cow’s flank, and Jenny met his startled expression with a bravely lifted chin. She watched his eyes change, admitting the secrets they shared, and she went on in a whisper, “It’s like you get a taste and then this isn’t enough.”

  “Then I’m not the only one,” he said slowly. After a moment he continued reluctantly, “Jen, you’re such a young’un. How do you come to have such thoughts?” She could only shake her head, not quite daring to put it into words. The feelings the book aroused in her were frightening, but she was fascinated and attracted nevertheless.

  “Are you thinkin’ of what we were doin’ last year?” He studied her intently. “With Joe, diggin’ for money?” She nodded.

  “You got a likin’ for that in a hurry.” Tom spoke thoughtfully. “It ain’t usual for the womenfolk to be that interested. Leastwise, the only one I know of is Lucy Smith.”

  “The only Lucy Smith I know is that little old lady at church.”

  He nodded. “Joe’s ma.”

  “Joe Smith’s? You mean she goes diggin’?”

  He shrugged, “Naw, just interested.”

  “I didn’t know Joe came from around here,” she said slowly as she plucked the straw from her hair. “Smith is a pretty common name.”

  Tom nodded. “He’s from here. You probably go to school with most of the young’uns in the family. Best get acquainted.”

  The next afternoon, walking home from school by herself, Jenny mulled over the restlessness she recognized in Tom. Her feelings were colored by a special kinship to him. She knew he was feeling the tug, too. She yearned to talk to him about Pa’s book, but there was always the chance he would let it slip to Pa.

  Jenny trembled, recalling the last time she had dared sneak the book from the rafters. Pa had nearly caught her. Seems a body’d share it, she reflected, even as she puzzled over the strange excitement that ran through her when she read the book. The feelings were akin to the ones she felt when she and Tom had gone to the diggings.

  Abruptly Jenny realized she was already in front of the dry-goods store. Even as she stood there, she knew where her half-formed thoughts were going to take her. Quickly she turned away from her home and ran down the country lane. Earlier, Tom had pointed the way to the Smiths’ cottage.

  Though it was late and nearly time for chores, Jenny cut across the plowed field and headed into the trees beyond. She ran as fast as she could. Every minute saved meant more time with the woman named Lucy Smith.

  Rounding a curve in the dim corridor of trees, Jenny caught her toe on a root and plunged headlong into the bushes. As she struck the ground, the bushes erupted with a flurry of movement. Gasping for breath, she stared upward at the unexpected flash of light. Heavy boots landed in front of her face. Shoving at the earth, she managed to push herself upright. She stopped, terror-stricken: a sheath of metal gleamed just inches from her nose.

  “You’re Tom Timmons’ sister, ain’t you?” the man barked. Then settling back on his heels and putting the sword on the ground, he continued. “Why you nosin’ around?”

  Gasping for breath, she shook her head. The hard expression on his face softened. “Scared the livin’ daylights out o’ you, didn’t I?” Jenny examined her torn stocking and bleeding knee and didn’t dare answer. “I’m Hyrum Smith. Come on, I’ll have Ma fix up that knee. What you doin’ out in the middle of the woods, anyhow?” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  Jenny tried moving her leg as she looked around. Just beyond Hyrum’s shoulder she saw freshly turned earth. Glancing at the sword he held, she asked, “Been diggin’?”

  He shook his head. “Them’s old diggin’s. Come along to the house.” He added, “There’s lots more diggin’s around here.”

  “Did you find any treasure in them?” He shook his head. Shoving the sword into the sheath strapped to his waist, he explained, “Since we first moved here, we’ve been diggin’ in the vicinity. The whole place is covered with holes.”

  When they reached the cabin and she was settled beside the table, she looked at the ring of curious eyes that surrounded her, and Jenny realized her problem was solved. Running through the woods, she had been wondering how she would explain her visit. It wasn’t necessary now.

  Lucy Smith talked constantly as she swabbed the blood from Jenny’s leg. By the time the soothing ointment was applied, Jenny felt she knew everything there was to know about the Smiths.

  The room was full of Joe Smith’s relations, his sisters and brothers. Beside the fire stood a tall, gaunt man watching her. Their eyes met, and Jenny realized she had seen him in South Bainbridge.

  The man with the sword was Joseph’s older brother. She eyed the sword, trying to hide her intrigue. Hyrum must have guessed her curiosity. He pulled up a chair and held out the sword for her to see. Jenny hugged herself with excitement as he began to explain the markings. It was just as the book had described. Soon Lucy Smith was adding her comments, telling Jenny about the markings on the sheath.

  “See this?” she pointed. “It’s all to do with breakin’ the charms the spirits have placed. You really need the sword to drive away the demon spirits. There’s lots out there to be learned before a body can hope to be successful.”

  “Successful,” Jenny repeated slowly. “You mean gettin’ power?”

  Lucy turned to peer at Jenny. “Lands, child, you set me back! I didn’t expect such a young one with the knowledge. Yes, power. There’s lots of hard work involved in gettin’ it. Right now we’re feelin’ the lack and wonderin’ if it’s worth our time to study out Masonry to get the faculty of Abrac.”

  Lucy Smith leaned close to Jenny. “We’re not wantin’ anyone to think we spend all our time at this. But ’tis hard work to get everything to come out right. I keep tellin’ them they gotta concentrate on the faculty of Abrac.”

  Jenny leaned forward and whispered, “What’s that?”

  “Abrac is a magic word. Some folks call it a formula, a way to release power. Better and more powerful than a charm. You put it on an amulet in order to work magic. See, you must learn what’s necessary to make the word work for you. I’m guessin’ that’s why it’s so hard to come by. I been hearin’ that the Masons know how to conceal the way to get the power, so we’re goin’ to have to get on the good side of them if we want the power. When we get it, there’s no stoppin’ us. Too bad the Masons won’t let womenfolk into their secret society. Guess we’ll just have to let the men handle the problem.”

  “Abrac, is that—” Jenny gulped, but she must ask the question. “Is that why Joe couldn’t get the money the Spaniards hid up?”

  Lucy was nodding and murmuring, “Very likely. See, the word is from others, from Abracadabra and Abraxis. There’s a lot more we need to know if we’re to have success.”

  As Jenny got to her feet to leave, Joe’s father addressed her. “So you’re from South Bainbridge, huh?” She nodded. “Did ya go to the trial?” Again she nodded. He studied her for a moment, then continued, “Then you heard him tell everybody about how he got his seer stone. When he told me, I wasn’t right thrilled about it all
. The whole thing left a bad taste in people’s mouths. They got the wrong idea. See, it mortifies us that people don’t get the right picture. What he has is a mighty gift from God. It’s terrible to think that the only outlet for it right now is in the findin’ of filthy lucre, or earthly treasures. I’m prayin’ constantly that the heavenly Father’ll show His will concerning the use of this gift. He needs to illuminate Joe’s heart, make the boy see what He has in store for him.”

  He stopped and turned his piercing gaze on Jenny again. “Now, I don’t know why I’m a-wastin’ my time tellin’ a slip of a girl like you all these things big people needs to be worryin’ about. But there it is, and you be a-doin’ as you see fit.—Kinda like the fella, huh?”

  One of Joe’s sisters snickered, “Aw, Pa. She’s just a babe, and you’ll be a-tellin’ her that all the gals like Joe.”

  “’Tis true.” Mrs. Smith got to her feet. “Even if he’s my son, I admit he’s a good-lookin’ boy and all the girls know it. Now, Jen, please come back to visit.”

  ****

  At the end of January, Tom came home from the livery stable with his news. “Jen, you’ll never guess what.” He slid into his place at the table. “Joe Smith’s back in town, goin’ to be workin’ with his pa.”

  Tom paused to take a bite of bread and Jenny’s heart leaped. He added, “He’s come with a wife. Married Isaac Hale’s daughter, Emma. You remember Hale from the trial? He’s the one from Harmony that’s known for his huntin’.”

  “I remember,” Jenny answered slowly, stunned by the news. “Only, I didn’t think he liked Joe very much.”

  “Married!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “Aw, come on,” Tom retorted, “don’t be tellin’ me you’re soft on him too!” He turned to his father, “I’ve never seen the like. Every girl in the place fancies herself in love with Joe Smith. You’d think he was the only good-lookin’ fella in town.”

  “What’s he goin’ to be doin’ with his pa?” Ma asked.

  “I have an idea they’ll be gettin’ back into the money-diggin’ business,” Tom answered, “’Tis the only business I’ve heard tell them doin’.”

  “He been doin’ good at it?” Pa asked, leaning across the table to look at Tom.

  Tom shrugged, “I don’t know. Old man Smith says he’s been doin’ it for thirty years.”

  “Is that so,” Pa said, chewing. “‘Spect he’s knowledgeable. The readin’ I’ve been doin’ of late leads me to believe there’s profit to be had along that line. Might be a good idea for me to get acquainted with the old man.”

  Ma’s spoon clattered to the table. “Now, you know better than that.” She was chiding again. “Have you ever in your life heard of a body gettin’ anything except trouble from that kind of business?”

  The following Sunday Jenny went to church, but she spent most of the service trying to see whether Joe and his new bride were sitting in the pew beside Mrs. Smith, Hyrum and Samuel. Nancy noticed her peeking and whispered, “If you’re looking for the newlyweds, well, they’re not here.” She poked Jenny and leaned closer, “Little ones like you don’t get soft on big strapping fellas like Joe.”

  “‘Soft’ like you and Prudence and the rest at school in South Bainbridge? I’ve never seen a bunch of girls as silly as you were last year,” Jenny whispered back scornfully.

  “You’re just jealous you weren’t big enough for a fella to notice you.”

  “I’m just too smart to line up behind the barn and play silly kissin’ games with those slobby boys just to get kissed by Joe,” Jenny hissed back, and was mollified when Nancy blushed.

  Chapter 7

  With the coming of January 9, 1827, her thirteenth birthday, Jenny experienced a growing consciousness of newness in her life. Trying hard to understand the feeling, she labeled it happiness and hugged it to herself.

  The feeling was especially intense one day as she walked home from school. Winter was still hard upon the country, bringing bone-chilling dampness and vicious ice storms. But this day, the weather couldn’t diminish the bliss that enfolded her.

  She lifted her head high and allowed her mother’s old shawl to slip back on her shoulders. Looking around as she walked homeward, seeing the stores, the library, even the blast furnace where Pa worked, Jenny felt for a moment what it was like to have everything she wanted. She gloried in the feeling. The best part of her life was school and the library. But there was another element. Her family was happy. She knew it by looking into their faces, listening to Tom whistle. Even Pa seemed at peace with himself.

  During the remainder of the winter, the birthday feeling stayed with Jenny. She was content with her world of school, library, and home.

  About springtime, when Jenny put down the latest library book long enough to notice, she saw changes in her family. Nancy was as tall as Ma. She walked and talked like a lady. When Jenny compared her own grubbiness with Nancy’s new appearance, she was conscious only that she no longer knew this Nancy.

  Ma and Nancy were often seen with their heads together. The new scholars, Dorcas and Matty, were becoming happy companions. And the picture of Jenny rocking James’s cradle with one hand while the other held a book was also very familiar.

  Just before winter gave way to spring, Jenny saw, for the first time, the maple trees in the valley being tapped for their precious sap. Soon the aromatic woodsmoke flavored with maple wrapped like a scarf of sweetness around the town.

  When the snow slipped back to reveal the meadows carpeted in gentle greens, Pa began to show his yearly urge to move on. As usual, his unrest riled the family. But this year, Jenny, still wrapped in winter’s peace, apart and separated, did not respond to the unrest. She held her silence as she watched her mother’s uneasy frown and Tom’s eternal pacing. Even James, who had grown into a plump, placid baby, responded fretfully.

  “Teethin’,” Ma declared. Matty and Dorcas just stayed in their corner and Nancy kept herself busy with stitching.

  When it was time for plowing, all Pa could talk about was the West with its promise of virgin soil. Over and over they heard the arguments, and knew they were true. “Look at old man Smith,” he said. “He told me hisself that when he came here in 1816 he paid near ’bout six dollars for an acre. If he’d gone to Ohio he could have had land just as good for a dollar and a quarter an acre. ’Sides, you know yourselves, the whole East is in depression.” Desire for those fertile fields lay heavy upon him, so heavy that this year there would be no turning him back.

  From her sanctuary behind the dishpan, Jenny listened, and finally she awakened again to reality, and her heart began to ache. It was impossible to believe there would be another town like Manchester. Just closing her eyes made her see the long line of library books she had not yet read.

  At night she would kneel beside the loft window and whisper, “Star light, star bright—” Then she would pause, unable to put that nameless wish into words.

  Then one cool, breezy evening, Tom spoke, his voice wavering only slightly. “I’m not goin’. I’m growed, and it’s time I found my own way. I’d rather work at the livery for a year or so, then I’ll . . .”

  Studying his face, Jenny could only guess at the things he dared not say. But secretly she was applauding him. For the first time, Tom had stood up to Pa. As she stared at him, he straightened his shoulders, and a hint of a smile gleamed in his eye. Jenny didn’t need to grin at him; he knew how she felt. She turned away, sad for herself but glad for him.

  Pa watched them all for a moment. Jenny felt his eyes upon her. He broke the silence. “So be it. I can’t be a-hangin’ on to you if you’ve made up your mind. The rest of us will be goin’.” Thoughtfully he studied Tom and then added, “It’ll be lonesome for you. You’ll be needin’ to find a place to board, and that’ll cut into your wages.” But Tom’s jaw was set, and Pa said no more.

  ****

  On the warmest day of the spring, with the door open wide to catch any passing breeze, Jenny worked in the stifling cabin.
She was fretfully begrudging the errand which had taken Nancy to the store. As she wiped perspiration from her face, she was even begrudging her mother’s tasks outdoors as she washed and hung laundry on the bushes.

  But while Jenny was lifting pans from the high shelf, she found the book.

  “Oh, there it is!” she exclaimed with satisfaction. Hugging the book like an old, dear friend, she settled down on a bench and stroked the dusty cover. “For sure I thought he’d chucked you for good.”

  She studied the cover. It wasn’t like the dark, somber book that belonged to her mother; this one was bright green with the figure of a woman on it, outlined in gold. Jenny traced her finger over the shiny illustration, again wondering about it. She ached with longing to open it, to read those enticing passages. Jenny ran her fingers over the gold letters of the title, The Greater Key of Solomon.

  She peeked once, then was immediately lost to her surroundings. “Raphael,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder who he is?” Her finger followed the words down the page, fumbled and turned the next page, and the next. The title of one chapter caught her attention, and excitement coursed through her as she continued, “This chapter is about how to render yourself master of a treasure possessed by a spirit. That’s what Joe was tryin’ to do. I wonder if he’s read this book.”

  As she continued to stare at the page before her, she recalled her father talking about reading the book. For a moment her heart contracted as a picture arose in her mind: Jenny and her father, miraculously changed, working together as friends with the book between them. Jenny and her father, together with Joe Smith, digging up treasure—gold, silver, more than her mind could conceive. Her eager eyes again sought the words.

  When the page before her dimmed, she realized the afternoon was gone. Then to her horror she discovered that the darker shadow was Pa! By his silence she knew he had been watching for some time.