The Wishing Star

by Marian Wells

  Clara went to the window. “I can’t believe winter’s gone and spring is here.” Abruptly she turned from the window and asked. “Are you certain you don’t care if I use a talisman on Mark?”

  Startled, Jenny raised her head to meet Clara’s worried eyes. She visualized Clara’s frizz of hair and pudgy figure in soiled calico alongside Mark in his dark suit and shiny boots. She kept her face averted as she said, “You were the one who told me everything was fair in love and war. Besides, there’s still Joe Smith; and didn’t you say that where there’s life, there’s hope?”

  When Clara’s eyes began to shine and she opened her mouth to speak, Jenny added hastily, “But tonight is mine; sometime I must tell him my intentions.”

  In the end it turned out to be easier than Jenny expected. Mr. Barton had carried in Tom’s letter just minutes before Mark arrived. Jenny, wearing the new dark challis print, was still holding the unopened letter when she heard Mark’s footsteps on the porch.

  When she went to greet him she waved the letter and asked, “Do you mind?”

  They sat together on the bench under the kitchen window and she pried open the envelope. “It’s the first I’ve heard from him since the army went to Missouri. They were to stay until Zion’s problems were solved, but—” She had the letter open and was scanning it. She sighed and frowned.

  “It doesn’t seem things worked out as they had expected,” she said slowly, puzzling over Tom’s fragmented letter that nearly ignored the Missouri trip. She slowly refolded the letter, saying, “Tom’s urging me to join him. He says Joseph Smith has promised to find a position for me.”

  “Do you want to go?” Mark’s voice was low, and Jenny was tensely aware of that distance between them. She studied his face half hidden by evening shadows, knowing again the misery she felt every time they were together. Since apple-picking time last autumn, the times they had been together could be counted on one hand; even then he had stayed away until nearly Christmastime.

  As she studied him, she was aware of his restraint. The old happy, easy days were gone. This new Mark was serious, cordial, persistent. And Jenny felt uneasily helpless in the face of his determination. Each time she had seen him, she had vowed it would be the last, yet the resolve wasn’t kept and the reason she had for not keeping it grew more troublingly vague each time.

  She sighed and got to her feet. “Isn’t it time to go?”

  He stood. “It is. I’ve taken the liberty of promising us to Auntie Mabel for a reception after the concert. You must have at least a shawl; it will be cool later.” When she handed him the new cape, she saw the approval in his eyes. “Is it new?” he inquired. At her nod, he said, “That’s a becoming dress, too.”

  It was late when they departed from Mabel Weber’s home, and Jenny left reluctantly. Walking out to the carriage with Mark, she admitted, “Those people made me forget I’m the Bartons’ hired girl.”

  He turned to her with a puzzled frown. “Jenny, what difference does it make? You’re well-read and intelligent; those are the qualities that endear you to others. I wish you would stop being sensitive about your position.” He helped her into the carriage and took the seat beside her.

  “Mark, I don’t fit in, and I’ll never forget my poor beginnings. I wish you would find company more suitable to—you are going to be an attorney!” She knew her voice was stilted; she gulped and added, “Besides—”

  “Jenny!” Mark interrupted. He was dragging on the horses’ reins, guiding them off the main road onto a bumpy trail. Under the trees, he pulled the team to a halt and wrapped the reins around the hand rail.

  He took her hand and turned her toward him. “Jenny,” he said again in a voice so firm, almost stern, that she moved away from him. “I’m trying patiently to get across to you that I love you for yourself. I want to marry you, and I’ll not take no for an answer.”

  She shook her head slowly, studying his determined face and shrinking further back into the shadows. Now his voice was gentle and low. “I’ve tried to talk myself out of feeling this way, but I’m convinced that you love me despite your attempts to push me away—which, by the way, seem rather feeble. If you mean no, I’d expect a little greater force behind the word.” He had clasped her shoulders in his two hands and was gently pulling her closer. The hands Jenny lifted were leaden, but she must plant them against his chest and push.

  “Why?” he asked gently. “Don’t I deserve knowing why?”

  She turned away and after a moment found that she could answer in an emotionless, even manner. “Mark, I count you the dearest friend I have. Never will I forget you, and never do I expect you to understand, but I can’t marry you. I’m leaving the Bartons very soon; I’ll be joining Tom in Ohio.”

  At last he stirred and spoke. “I think I’m beginning to understand. It’s the pull of Joseph’s new religion, isn’t it? It would be easier to let you go if you assure me that you don’t love me.”

  Jenny was silent for a long time; when at last she answered him, she knew her confusion echoed through every word. “Mark, I—I honestly wonder what love is.”

  ****

  On the trip to Kirtland, as the stagecoach bounced through rutty roads and the mud clutched at the wheels and flew from the hoofs of the team, Jenny had plenty of time to think about that last conversation with Mark. Only her fellow passengers were aware of her sighs, but she did finish the trip with a conviction. If she loved Mark, then she loved two men. If the intense desire she felt for Joseph was love, then denial was surely impossible.

  Partly out of curiosity and partly out of obligation, Jenny stayed over in Manchester a few days. Stepping into Lucy Harris’s open arms was almost like sitting on her own mother’s lap again. Nancy was thrilled to see her, and Nancy’s lanky husband, Alexander, just about crushed her hand with his long, bony fingers. Baby Andrew, named after President Jackson, added a life to their home which Jenny had forgotten was possible.

  Still, Jenny was glad to be back on the bumpy coach three days later. She was weary with Nancy’s religious prying. And Tom and Joseph waited at the end of her journey.

  Her previous visit with Tom had taught Jenny her way around Kirtland. She stepped from the stagecoach and headed for the livery stable. Tom was at the forge. Standing behind him, she said, “I’m here.”

  Tom turned, dropped the horseshoe back into the fire, and rubbed his arms across his sweaty face. “Jen!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were comin’.”

  “You invited me.” She moved restlessly. “I had a little trouble making up my mind, but when I did, it seemed best to come immediately.”

  He studied her face for a moment. “Mark?” She nodded and turned away. “Well,” he sighed, “Joseph has found you a place at Andy Morgan’s home. He’s married now and his wife needs help with the young’un she’s just given him.”

  Tom loaded Jenny’s trunk into a wagon and drove her across town to the Morgan home. As they rode, he announced, “That’s the temple,” and pointed his whip toward the quarried stone edifice on the hill. “There’s three stories. The top one’s to be the school for the prophets. The auditoriums aren’t finished yet, but they’ll be grand. Joseph’s fixin’ them up with pulpits for the apostles.”

  “What’s an apostle?”

  “Joe’s had a revelation about the structure of the church—the governing body, I mean. Right tonight there’s to be a council meeting with blessings on us all.”

  She studied his face. “Then you’ll be part of it?”

  “The governing body? Yes, many of the army will be members of the Seventy.”

  She nodded toward the building. “You’ll meet here?”

  “No, the temple isn’t finished. Dedication’s still a year off. ’Twill be a grand event.” Suddenly he turned to her with a happy grin. “Jen, I’m right glad you’re here. There’s big things in store for the church, and you’re gettin’ in on it just at the right time. Things are lookin’ up for us. The Lord’s supplied the money for the
temple, and soon as it’s finished and the elders get their endowments, we’ll be about buildin’ Zion in Missouri.”

  “A temple here and then Zion?” Jenny questioned slowly. “Sounds like there’ll be parts of Joe’s church scattered all across the United States.”

  “Eventually. He’s plannin’ to keep headquarters here for a time until we’re really settled in Missouri.”

  That evening Tom went to the assembly hall, knowing this was the final council meeting before the twelve apostles were to be sent on their missions around the country.

  When he walked in, Joseph and Rigdon were standing at the entrance. As Tom approached, Joseph hailed him. “Well, my brother, the grapevine has it that you’ve had a blessed surprise this afternoon.”

  Tom nodded. “Jen finally made the break and moved out. She’ll probably be comin’ to see you shortly.”

  “She’s settled at the Morgans’ ?” Tom nodded, and Joseph turned to follow Rigdon to the podium.

  After the twelve had been called forward for the laying on of hands, prayer was offered for power and blessing. Joseph returned to the podium to speak to the men.

  The rustle and rumbles in the room subsided and Joseph spread his papers before him. “You men have been chosen by the Lord to be the governing body of the restored church of Jesus Christ. Tonight I want to instruct you about the Lord’s revelation on the orders of the priesthood. In Old Testament times, this priesthood was passed down from father to son. But we lost knowledge; through sinning it passed from us.

  “There are two divisions in the priesthood, the Melchizedek and the Aaronic. The Melchizedek is the highest order and holds the right of presidency. In other words, the church president will be taken from this priesthood. No one will be able to hold the office of the Aaronic priesthood unless he is a direct descendant of Aaron.”

  There was an uneasy flutter of movement throughout the room, and Joseph lifted his hand. “Now, don’t you fret. The Lord has revealed to me just how many of you are in that lineage. Also, there is a provision through the power of the Lord, whereby those men becoming members of the church will literally have their blood replaced with new through the power of the Holy Ghost. Thus you will become the seed of Abraham.

  “Now, three years before the death of Adam, he gathered together all who were high priests from his posterity, taking them to the valley of Adam-ondi-Ahman for a final blessing.”

  Joseph paused a moment. “Most of you had the privilege of being with me when we discovered the valley of Adam-ondi-Ahman in the promised land of Zion.”

  An excited rustle rose and subsided, then Joseph continued. “At this time of blessing, the Lord appeared to them, and they rose up to bless Adam, calling him Michael, the prince, the archangel. The Lord comforted Adam, telling him at that time that a multitude was to come from him and that he was to be a prince over them forever. He told him that he would sit on a throne of fiery flame, just as the prophet Daniel predicted. All of these things are written in the book of Enoch, and they will be given to you in due time.”

  Later Tom, thinking over what the Prophet had said, joined the hushed group of men making their way toward the door. From the quietness of the men surrounding him, Tom guessed the others felt the weight of blessing and the burden of responsibility just as he did.

  When he stepped out into the starlit night, he lifted his face to the cool breeze and his heart responded with gladness. “Jen,” he whispered, “oh, Jen, how good that you’ve come now before the fullness of time!”

  Chapter 22

  The Morgan home was a pleasant one, built of log like many others in Kirtland. Situated on the far edge of town, it provided ample room for a vegetable garden and corrals for the livestock.

  Jenny gloried in the fresh, clear air and the view of the young town encircled by the forest of oak, hickory, ash, and maple. Trees towering beyond the town placed a hedge of solitude and separation around the Mormon community, separation which to Jenny seemed symbolic. The isolation of Kirtland made it hard for her to realize that Lake Erie, with its busy ports, lay just north.

  Living with the Morgans was a new experience for Jenny. A young couple not much older than she, they were obviously deeply in love. Jenny blamed her uneasiness in the situation on her role as the outsider. She was needed, certainly; the new mother had her hands full caring for her baby. In truth, Sally Morgan didn’t know her way around her own kitchen.

  During her first weeks, Jenny aired her uneasiness about being the extra person in the household. Sally, sitting in the rocking chair holding her infant daughter, looked up at Jenny with blue eyes as wide and innocent as the baby Tamara’s, and exclaimed, “Oh, Jenny, how can you possibly feel that? Haven’t you noticed how many of the homes in Kirtland have boarders in them? Most aren’t nearly as valuable as you. You know we need you terribly. We Mormons are getting accustomed to sharing our homes. Otherwise there just isn’t enough room for everyone.”

  “I’ve heard even the Smiths have a girl living with them,” Jenny said in a low voice.

  “Yes, Emma’s had her there quite some time. She calls her an adopted daughter, and right fond they are of each other. Poor soul, with the Prophet gone so much and the trouble she’s had with babies, Fannie is a great help.”

  Although Sally’s reassurance helped, Jenny could see there was scarcely enough work to occupy the two of them. She was glad to busy herself in the vegetable garden, but her free time increased as the summer wore on.

  As Jenny became acquainted with Kirtland and her neighbors, she readily observed the truth in Sally’s statement about the Prophet. He was gone much of the time. She heard he was busy with missionary journeys about the country.

  She also discovered that Kirtland had grown into a bustling town. Since Jenny’s last visit new buildings had been erected everywhere, and daily more structures were being planned. The early homes had been of log, garnered from the citizens’ front yards. The newer ones were of planed lumber, stone, and brick.

  When Tom was there to listen, she commented about the expansion. “Joseph’s much aware of the need to expand and build up the Lord’s country,” he answered. “While we’re here, Kirtland’s the Lord’s country and our responsibility.”

  It didn’t take Jenny long to discover that what she had heard about Kirtland was true. Joseph and his people had one object in mind: to prepare for the second coming of Christ. All life was bent in that direction.

  “See,” Sally said, “Joseph’s received it from the Lord that we’re to build up a city for the Lord to come back to. That’s why it’s so important we possess Zion in Missouri. Much depends on us. It helps to know the Lord is going before us; He will conquer His enemies through us in order that His purposes will prevail. Nothing must stand in the way of doing what He’s instructed through Joseph.”

  Jenny was silent as she thought about Sally’s speech. It sounded memorized, rehearsed.

  Sally’s voice broke through Jenny’s reverie. “First off, Joseph started excommunicating those who were insisting on dancing. He’s right determined to keep us serious and holy.” She slanted her blue eyes at Jenny. “There’s a few jolly parties, but you’d best be happiest with going to church. Joseph’s strict about keeping the church pure. It could be a bore, but we can take it since Christ is returning very soon. You know, Jenny,” she shivered fearfully, “it will be terrible for those not ready, for those who’ve rejected the Prophet’s teaching.”

  “Tom told me there was a school started for adults,” Jenny said. “I guess that’s to help prepare people. He called it a school for prophets.”

  “Oh, that’s just for the menfolk.” Sally lifted the baby to her shoulder. “Only the men can have the priesthood. Besides, they just study the revelations Joseph’s had from the Lord.”

  “Well, do the women do anything?”

  “Yes. Joseph’s urging them to busy themselves. He’s of the opinion that the best way to be content is to work. There’s quilting bees and such all the tim
e.”

  “After Tamara is older and you don’t need me so much, I’m of a mind to find a way to occupy myself.” Jenny said. “I understand there’s a newspaper here now. Do you suppose they’d let a woman work there?”

  “It’s Cowdery’s pet; I suppose the best he’d allow is for you to sweep the floor.”

  “Oh, Oliver—I know him!” Jenny exclaimed. “But he was in Missouri the last time I was here.”

  “The newspaper was destroyed there. Joseph promised Cowdery he could be editor here.”

  ****

  Kirtland was a town populated only by Mormons, and slowly Jenny came to see just what that meant. Everywhere she heard, Joseph says . . . The Prophet tells us . . . The revelations say this is the way we are to live. We must sacrifice for Zion.

  Just as Jenny began to chafe against the restricted life, discontented and frustrated by a prophet who was either away or writing scripture, summer burst upon Kirtland. Roses spilled over fences and crowded ditch banks; daisies and bluebells filled every nook; and Jenny discovered life in Kirtland was as unexpected as the bounty of nature.

  She had been busy with her own thoughts, feeling the weight of summer on her restless soul. She imagined the horror on Sally’s sweet, gentle face if she were to reveal her secret thoughts. While Sally trembled over being holy enough for Joseph’s church, Jenny was studying, planning, plotting—but not how to possess a spot in the kingdom; Jenny’s designs were for Joseph himself.

  Guilt surged through her as she compared her seething spirit with Sally’s sweet serenity.

  And then Joseph Smith was striding toward her. His large figure was clad in his customary black broadcloth. She had barely seen him when he gave a curt nod and continued down the street. She hesitated on the sidewalk, stunned. Turning, she dashed across the street to the livery stable.

  The tack-room was empty, but the blast of heat and the clang of metal led her on. “Tom!” she gasped, circling the anvil and facing him. “I’ve just seen Joseph Smith, and he’s had a terrible accident. His face is all battered and swollen until I hardly recognized him.”