The Wishing Star

by Marian Wells

  Andy shook his head slowly. “I’d heard that too,” Andy agreed. “I can’t understand. But then, who knows the mind of the Lord except the Prophet?” He sighed and continued. “There was another one that was truly amazing. Joseph’s father gave this blessing. He told a youth that before he reaches the age of twenty-one, he will preach the gospel to the inhabitants of the islands of the sea and even to the inhabitants of the moon.”

  Finally, hands on hips, Jenny demanded, “You’re telling of the most wonderful things. Yet at the same time I see you frowning over it all. Why?”

  He stared at her in astonishment. Slowly he said, “I can’t forget the beginning days of the Mormons in Kirtland. You see, Jenny, I was one of Rigdon’s original followers. At the time it rubbed us wrong to have this young man, Joseph Smith, claiming to be a prophet from the Lord, spouting the language of an uncouth farm boy while he was telling our silver-tongued Rigdon what to do. One of the first things he undertook was to call all the spirit outpouring the devil’s work and demand that we forget it all.” He stopped suddenly and flushed.

  Jenny nodded, “And now the same thing is going on in the temple. The town’s rocking with it. No wonder you frown.”

  His face cleared, and with a relieved smile he said, “I don’t mean to complain; it’s just a hard thing to swallow. Jenny, I do believe he’s a prophet from the Lord; don’t doubt my loyalty. Any common plowboy who can convince this lawyer he’s from God, well—it’s truth.”

  Sally had been nodding her head at every word her husband spoke. But Jenny was surprised at the wistful note in her voice as she added, “It is true, he is a prophet from God, and we must believe everything he says or we’ll be damned for all eternity. It is impossible to reject truth and still make it to heaven.”

  ****

  The dedication took place on March 27, 1836. As Jenny walked through the streets of Kirtland to the temple, she was still mulling over Sally Morgan’s statement. There had been something strange about her declaration, something that had tugged at Jenny and left her feeling uneasy. How deeply Sally feared for her soul’s salvation!

  Although Jenny had purposely left the Morgan home early in order to have a choice seat, the streets were already filled with people heading toward the temple. As she quickened her steps, the air of excitement engulfing the people grabbed her, too.

  A reverent hush touched all who entered the auditorium. She recognized it as she took her seat beside her fellow worshipers.

  Later, Joseph Smith, with the presidency and the twelve, filed into the building. How solemn their faces were! Their expressions reflected the awe she was feeling. The songs they sang, the music they heard seemed to echo about as if wafted on angels’ wings. Later in the muted silence, even the smallest infant was quiet.

  When the Prophet stood to speak, Jenny studied his broad, tall figure suitably clothed in black. The black heightened the pallor of his face as he shook back his bright hair and lifted his face heavenward. The words of his prayer fell like jewels on his eager followers.

  Jenny forgot to bow her head. Caught by the mysterious air that filled the temple, she was momentarily transfixed. But suddenly her mood was shattered by a clear memory of the last time she had been with Joseph. He had been in shirtsleeves, with his collar loosened, kissing her freely, even passionately.

  Jenny’s eyes drifted toward the corner where she knew Emma was sitting with her children. The dark head was modestly bent. Jenny wondered at the astonishment and uneasiness that suddenly possessed her. Restlessly she moved, gripped by emotion. Was it because she was in the temple and under the mysterious influence called God? She studied the solemn face of the prophet and suddenly laughter formed deep within her. If I am uneasy, she thought, what must HE feel?

  When Jenny walked home, the conversation around her reflected the grandeur and awe. A thousand believers had crowded the temple auditorium, and another thousand had lingered outside. But there was one note of disappointment. As old Mrs. Bolton said, “We didn’t hear none of those grand things like those who got their patriarchal blessings saw and heard. I’m right disappointed about that. And seems on this day they’d let the womenfolk worship in there with the men come evening.”

  She paused for a moment and then added. “Those that got their blessings said that in the midst of the Prophet’s praying, he stopped death-still and the men saw a white dove fly through the window and light on the Prophet’s shoulder. He told them later it was the Holy Spirit.”

  That dedication evening the men began two days and two nights of worshiping and fasting in the temple. The women grumbled, but their curiosity remained unsatisfied except for occasional reports drifting out to them. The first report told of the Savior appearing to some, while others said angels ministered to them.

  According to Tom, the Prophet had urged the men to prophesy, saying that the first to open his mouth would receive the gift of prophecy, and that whatsoever he prophesied would come to pass. At one point a sound like a rushing mighty wind filled the temple, and men jumped to their feet, speaking in tongues and seeing visions. As the stories spread, townspeople rushed to the temple to stand outside and stare in awe at the bright light coming from within. Angels had filled the temple, Joseph reported.

  The final hours were recounted by Andy Morgan. Joseph and Oliver Cowdery climbed into their pulpits and lowered the canvas veils around them. He and his friends, Morgan said, had sat in the audience, hardly daring to breathe in the silence.

  When the curtains were rolled back, the watching men gasped. Deathly pale, Oliver sat looking heavenward. Joseph stood to his feet and, lifting his arm heavenward, declared softly, “We have seen the Lord. He stood on the breastwork of the pulpit before us. Underneath His feet lay a path of pure gold, and His entire countenance gleamed. His message was that our sins are forgiven us. We are to lift up our heads and rejoice because the Lord has accepted this house and His name shall be here. Then Moses appeared and he committed to us the keys for the gathering up of the children of Israel from the farthest parts of the earth, beginning with the tribes in the northernmost regions of the world, the Eskimos.

  “Then Elias and Elijah told us that we have the keys for this dispensation committed to us. By this we are to know that the Great Day of the Lord is close at hand.”

  “Oh my!” Sally gasped on hearing the report. Relief flooded her face with color and brightness, and she touched a finger to the corner of her eye. Reports continued to circulate and magnify. Jenny was aware that she was not untouched by it all, but Sally’s later question made her face the issue squarely.

  Jenny and Sally were working in the spring-warmed garden, and Jenny was particularly aware of the texture and odor of the soil. Sally broke the calm, “Jen, not once have you commented on the dedication of the temple. I know you have a seeking mind. What did you think of it all? Do you believe it was a manifestation of God?”

  In the moment of waiting, Jenny realized that this was the question that had burdened her since the event. Examining the evidence, she realized there was only one answer. Rocking back on her heels, she looked up at Sally. “Of course. How could I possibly think otherwise?” But the answer left her feeling empty.

  During the following two months, Jenny was surprised to find that no one in Kirtland needed her services as a nurse. Sally advised her to not fret about it; possibly the Lord realized she needed a rest and was keeping the Saints well. Then with a stern eye lifted from her sewing she said, “I’d spend the time reading up in those books you told the Prophet you must read before joining the church. Jenny, I must warn you; the Lord won’t be patient forever—especially since you have the witness.”

  Thus on a bright day in May, Jenny tucked the Book of Mormon and the Book of Commandments under her arm and set out for the woods. She carried several small muslin bags in the pocket of her apron, knowing she would spend most of the time enjoying the sunshine and searching for those special plants to dry and grind into powder for potions.

&nbs
p; With her nose bent earthward, muttering the names of the plants she should seek, Jenny was mostly oblivious to the day and the beauty that surrounded her.

  Her restless feet roamed back and forth across the trail which cut through the woods. The various paths joined the settled areas around Kirtland.

  “Salsify, cinquefoil, bluebonnet, vitch,” she was murmuring when a voice broke in upon her reverie.

  “It’s Jenny. I do declare.” Jenny heard the melodious voice and raised her head to blink into the shadows, searching for the speaker. “From the looks of things I do believe you are searching for the secret ingredients. That means only one thing.”

  Jenny gasped. “Adela! It has been years since I’ve seen you, but I’d know you anywhere. You haven’t changed.”

  “You’ve grown,” the silky voice continued. Jenny sat down on the log beside the woman and studied her carefully. From the glossy hair streaming down her back to the smooth ivory of her skin, she was indeed, the same. But there was one difference: Adela was now wearing the modest dress and apron of a common housewife.

  “You aren’t wearing your beautiful red chiffon!” Jenny exclaimed. “What a disappointment!”

  “You nearly surprised me once in my red chiffon.”

  Jenny studied the woman, “So that was you. I dared not hope. I tried to hail you.” Jenny was silent a moment thinking of the cloaked woman coming out of Joseph’s office.

  Adela folded her arms. “So you weren’t ready for the sabbat. You ran like a silly baby, leaving us all to think you a waste. You nearly ruined the whole evening. Only after a great deal of effort were we able to salvage the ceremony. We had to coax before the spirits would come back.”

  Speaking as if in a dream, Jenny murmured, “The townsmen were angry the next day when they found what you had done to the church.”

  “But you didn’t tell.” Adela was whispering, leaning close to scrutinize Jenny’s face. Jenny was certain she read her inmost secrets, but perhaps Adela had known them all along.

  “For a while I was afraid we had lost you to Mark. Jenny, you will be successful, and you can have anything or anyone except Mark. If you are determined to follow through now, determined to work for the power, I will help you. This time you must not fail. They will not take lightly any more of your broken promises. Do you have any idea what angry spirits do to faithless followers?”

  She settled back on her log and waited for Jenny to speak. The horror of the sabbat was still vivid in Jenny’s mind. Now her thoughts were flitting back and forth between the memory of that night and Adela’s words. Despair filled Jenny, and only then did she realize she was still fighting that final step.

  As if guessing, Adela spoke again. “We have been very patient. You know we have the right to demand your cooperation. You used us to your purposes, tampered with our power. Now you think you can claim power with Joseph’s talisman as well as your own. Jenny, have all of your lessons been for nothing? You know the spirits respond only as you approach them in the proper way. You cannot demand power; you are a weakling.

  “Only those who have worked hard will be granted the powers of the universe to command as they wish. Jenny, even I have not earned that right yet. You are only a poor little sorcerer, not even a real witch. We have been patient with your silly charms and pallid potions. Jenny, it’s the sabbat or nothing.”

  Adela stood and paced with impatient quick steps before saying, “You began all this when you chose to read your father’s book. Jenny, the next step is a pact with his Highness. When the new moon comes, I will see you right here.”

  Jenny covered her face with her hands. Only two weeks are left before the new moon, she thought. Jenny was flooded with the memories—wishing for another chance with Adela. Then she saw a picture of the silver chalice, surrounded by the heavy scent of fresh blood. Jenny slipped from the log. Only when her face felt the freshness of forest fern did she realize she had fainted.

  The afternoon was far spent now, but Jenny continued to sit numbly until the cool breeze and the musty dampness forced her to her feet. With a sigh she stooped to pick up the Mormon books she had brought to read. Then suddenly caught by a new thought, she stared at them.

  Both Tom and Andy had been filling her with glorious reports of power and mystery. Even before the dedication, there had been stories of visions and prophecies. Maybe the church was the way to gain the power she needed without going through the sabbat! Maybe Joseph knew the secrets, after all!

  Carefully she knelt beside the log and tipped open the first book. Before she began to read, she recalled her past amusement and disbelief. But that was in the past. Trembling, eager now, her eyes skimmed the pages, searching for the secret of power, the kind of power Joseph had. And Adela. Surely that had been Adela in the office. She must be searching for power in the church, too.

  When it was dark and she could no longer see the page before her, she sighed, stood up, and gathered her books.

  Sally met her at the Morgans’ back door. “Where have you been?” she cried. “We’ve been frantic.”

  Strangely detached, as if she no longer lived in her own body, Jenny eyed Sally’s perturbed face. “Why do you carry on so? You act as fearful as if ghosts and goblins inhabited the woods.” Sally’s concern faded and questions grew in her eyes.

  Feeling as dry and lifeless as Joseph’s mummies, she prepared for bed. Only briefly did she wonder how Adela knew about everything, including Mark.

  A week passed and a second was rapidly drawing to a close. One night Jenny stood at her window, looking down over the pale gleam of Kirtland, deeply conscious of the energy forces moving toward that time of the new moon. All nature seemed astir with the power. Night creatures rustled in the grasses. Far in the distance a wolf lifted his voice in a howl of desperation.

  A brooding melancholy wrapped about Jenny. In one clear moment of illumination she saw her world’s true state—without hope or comfort. “Powerless,” she murmured into the night.

  The moon was rising, and its heavy form seemed liquid and full of energy. Her eyes widened as she watched it; pulsing energy seemed to emanate from it. With a shiver she moved restlessly, but found herself unable to leave the window. Was moon energy surrounding her, holding her fast, striking off the minutes that remained? Had it staked a claim on her that she couldn’t deny?

  “Luna,” she whispered, “every woman’s friend—” Suddenly Adela’s dark face and penetrating eyes seemed to sweep between Jenny and the moon.

  The horror of the sabbat rose to overwhelm her. She pressed her hands over her eyes. “I can’t, I just can’t face that again.” Even as she murmured the words, she shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, pressing Joseph’s talisman between her breasts.

  Slowly she dropped her arms and stared out into the night, now silent, cold, and powerless, as clouds slid over the moon. “It’s an omen,” she whispered. Her fingers reached to touch the metal disk, warm with the heat of her body. “It is an omen. God is telling me to escape Adela’s terrible plan to force me to sell myself to Satan. Only with Joseph is there hope. Just like those men in the temple, I will have power. But there’s another confirmation—Adela’s secret. She’s searching for more power, too, and she’s doing it through joining Joseph’s church.”

  Chapter 27

  The door to Joseph’s office stood open. Jenny, standing at the foot of the stairs, cocked her head and listened. The press was still and Oliver didn’t seem to be around. Quickly and lightly she ran up the stairs.

  Joseph’s chair was tipped against the wall, his feet cushioned on the books and papers spread across his desk. His eyes were closed, and a wide grin covered his face. For a moment Jenny froze, unable to move. Unexpectedly her heart was pounding painfully hard, and it wasn’t from the run up the stairs.

  Dismayed, she recognized herself a captive of her own emotions. She trembled with the need to rush into his arms, to press her lips against that silly grin and bright hair.

  Chewing h
er lip, she waited for her heart to slow. Once again she must face the questions that had been tearing her apart. Was there power to be had in the church, or was the idea a trick to force her to surrender that dearest dream?

  She studied the face that was becoming as familiar as her own. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the desire she possessed in reality possessed her. But she shrugged off the idea and clenched her fists. Power—it must be hers! Still she hesitated, poised to fly away from the resolution which had brought her here.

  Could she trust this new promise of power through the church? The echo of Tom’s entreaty to join the church thrust her into the room. She took one step, determining that if he did not hear her, it was to be an omen against joining the church.

  Joseph’s eyes popped open while chair and feet struck the floor. He recovered his composure, but papers and books slid to the floor at Jenny’s feet.

  She dropped to her knees to pick them up and he was beside her, his face nearly touching hers. His blue eyes were teasing, tempting. She rocked back on her heels and picked up a black leather book. “Holy Bible,” she read, and looking up said, “My mother had one of these.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “No. I was too busy sneaking my father’s grimoire.” She saw instantly that she needn’t explain that a grimoire was a book of magic. He was grinning and shaking his head.

  “And now you have so much power you are bringing my talisman back?”

  “No, I’ve come to join the church.” She watched the grin disappear. “You don’t act too eager to have me.”

  He stood and walked back to his chair. “Tell me, Jenny, why do you wish to join?”

  “Does it matter?” His eyes seemed to bore into hers, measuring, weighing. She knew hers were answering, but she didn’t know what their promise was. Now his expression brightened, and she guessed he was pleased about something.

  He chuckled. “So Jenny wants to be part of Zion’s children. Tell me, was it the promises and the glory of the temple, or is it the enticement of some young man?”