by Marian Wells
Suddenly she burst into tears, and Jenny’s indulgent chuckle died away. “Oh, Sally! I’m sorry to take your problem so lightly. I didn’t realize you felt this way about Andy being gone so much.”
Sally blew her nose and wiped at her eyes. “It’s all right,” she muttered, shamefaced. “I’m angry because he carried off Mark right after dinner again.”
Try as she might to forget the problem, Sally’s words had an effect. As the days passed, Jenny’s irritation over Mark’s neglect developed into full-blown hurt. Jenny knew of no way around the problem, and the matter might have hung there in limbo if it hadn’t been for another meeting with Joseph.
The day Tom was to leave for Missouri, Jenny had gone to the stables to bid him good-bye. Watching his gloomy face as he tightened the last pack on his horse, she said, “You know, you don’t have to go. You are free to do as you wish about this whole affair, including marrying an Indian woman.”
He looked at her, and she noticed the thinness of his features. “You are mistaken,” he said shortly. “Joseph holds the keys of the kingdom. He is to be as God to us. Not one of us will reach heaven in the hereafter without his approval.”
“Maybe heaven isn’t that important,” Jenny said slowly.
His hands stilled on the straps, and he looked at her in surprise. “Jenny, I don’t think you have any understanding of hell. It’s—”
With a half-laugh, she interrupted him, “I only fear things that go bump in the night. Besides, a good God wouldn’t send people to hell.”
Soberly he said, “I heard someone say God doesn’t send us to hell; we send ourselves.”
Later Jenny walked down the street, thinking about Tom’s statement. Old Mr. Lewis was sitting in front of Whitney’s store, whittling, and she stopped to watch. After more strokes with the knife, a whistle emerged from the wood. He brushed the last shaving of wood from it, put it to his lips and blew. The sound was surprisingly shrill. She watched him hand the toy to the little boy at his elbow.
Jenny thought, It would be nice to whittle like that on my mind. I’ve a feeling that after stripping away the wood there’d be something completely different than I guessed.
She continued on her way, her thoughts drifting to Mark and how she had responded to his presence in Kirtland. How strange, after months of being aware only of Joseph, she felt pulled asunder by Mark’s neglect!
Suddenly Joseph was in front of her and he took her arm. “Miss Jenny Timmons, still, I presume. I will have a word with you in my office.” She followed him meekly and stood beside his desk as he took his place.
“I understand that you knew Mark Cartwright before he came to Kirtland. Is that true?” She nodded. “I like the man; he’s honest and I think he’ll make a good Mormon.”
“Mark has a mind of his own; he will be hard to win to your church. You’ve forgotten that he was in South Bainbridge.”
He ignored her statement and promptly continued. “Jenny, since you seem unable to settle on any of the lads in Kirtland, I suggest you marry young Cartwright and bring him into the church. It will be a good union, and we’ll be pleased to have him as a member.”
“Just like that,” she snapped bitterly. “Joseph Smith, you can’t order people around in this fashion!”
He was still smiling pleasantly. “Oh yes, I can. You are forgetting who you are talking to.” He paused and then, holding her eyes with his own, he added slowly and deliberately, “Jenny, I am the greatest prophet ever arisen. I am as good as Jesus Christ. Don’t ever forget that again. When I speak, I speak by the power of the Holy Ghost. Your place is to obey.” He got to his feet.
“Remember, Jenny, joining the church was your idea, not mine. Now you are expected to obey—unless you have apostasy in mind.” He remained silent for a moment, waiting for her response.
Apostasy. The ultimate sin. She looked up at him, stunned by his statement. Images and word fragments piled up in her mind: the sun throwing blinding purple spears against the silver chalice filled with wine. Jesus, the light of the world. He who has the Son has life. Baptized in death, raised to life. But those words out of the past didn’t spark her to life, not the way Joseph did. Now caught, looking deep into his eyes, she was conscious that she must please this man if she were to have faith. Faith, not power? Faith was the route to power that Lucy Harris offered her so long ago. Now Joseph, too, was speaking of faith, but the word seemed dry and dusty. Must power always give way to faith?
Now his voice was gentle. “I don’t think Mark will refuse you. How could any man?” She started to leave. “Remember, urge him to join the church.”
That word apostasy still vibrated through Jenny, and she found herself wondering why suddenly she was filled with the same dread she had seen in others at the mention of the word.
Within twenty-four hours, Mark appeared for dinner again. This time Sally waved the butcher knife at her husband, and with a laugh he tucked her hand under his arm, saying, “I shall lose my scalp if I fail to walk Sally and Tamara to the river.”
When the door closed, Mark was silent. Jenny stood watching him, aware of the gulf that separated them. Now he was only a quiet, distant friend. How could she admit to him the strange yearnings she was having? How could she have taken the sweet things that had budded between them, stifle the life out of them, and then hope for a word to change it all?
Jenny moved, putting the kitchen back into order while she searched for words. Each time she passed Mark, she dropped pleasant words and received back his monosyllables.
Suddenly she circled the table and sat across from Mark. Smiling at him, she said, “Do you remember what it was like when we were snowed in?” He looked squarely at her and for just a moment, she saw the pain in his eyes before he readied the smile and opened his mouth to give a teasing reply.
Shaking her head she put out her hand to stop him. “Don’t, Mark.” He waited and she sighed, hunting for words. Her impatience broke through and she leaned toward him. “Mark, will you marry me?” The slender wooden spoon he held snapped and he looked at it in amazement.
She couldn’t leave false impressions. “I’ve become a member of the church and Joseph Smith says I must marry. He says the new dispensation requires marriage to be an important part of the church.”
“And you can find no other to marry you?”
She shook her head vigorously. “I want no other.”
“What must I do?”
Of course Mark would ask that. His attorney’s mind was always searching for facts. “Join the church.”
“Joseph must want my services badly if he’s reduced to bribing me. But I find it nearly impossible to resist the bribe.”
“Nearly?” Jenny’s hands were trembling and she didn’t know whether she felt anger or some other emotion. She got to her feet and turned away from the table. “Sally won’t be happy about the broken spoon. It was her favorite.”
“Jenny, come here.” When she turned he was standing and all that teasing laughter had disappeared from his eyes. She came, shyly. His strong warm hand lifted her chin and caressed it as he looked into her eyes. Gently his lips touched hers, he waited for her response before wrapping his arms about her.
When he raised his head, he clasped her face between his two warm hands. “I knew it; I was so sure,” he murmured, kissing her again. She was reaching too, straining toward his lips, his arms.
Finally she remembered to ask. Loathe to leave his arms, she leaned back to see his face. “What did you know?”
“That you love me.” His fingers explored the contour of her face. Just before he kissed her eyelids, she saw the expression in his eyes.
She was trembling as she pressed her face against his shoulder. This was Mark revealed, not minding that she saw the tears. This was her Mark, that splendid gentleman acting as if she had just crowned him king.
His voice was husky. “I’d join every church in America if it would bring me you.”
He held her close. In the momen
t of silence Jenny began to feel the impact of her hasty proposal. He raised his face and said, “There’s one thing. My mother lives only a day’s journey from here, but she is unable to travel. I want her to meet you now and witness our marriage. Will you come home with me to the family farm to be married? And soon?”
Startled, Jenny leaned back to study his face. Was he fearful even now? There was a shadow in his eyes, dark but quickly fleeing. Was he remembering her long-ago statement, the time just before she left Cobleskill when she had told Mark she didn’t know what love was?
He stirred uncomfortably and quickly Jenny replied, “Yes, of course I’ll come.” The dark shadow was gone as tenderness and joy lighted his face. Hot tears burned Jenny’s eyes. Even as his hand touched hers again and she was filled with the desire to run into his arms, she began to tremble over the irrevocable step she had taken.
Jenny was painfully conscious that the old dream still existed, the one that had sent her fleeing from Mark. “Mark,” she whispered, “what am I doing to you? You are the best friend I’ve ever had. You deserve so much more than—than Jenny, the kit—”
His hand covered her mouth. “You’ll not say that again.” She could see his command was delivered with love, and fresh guilt swept over her. She sighed, recalling the conclusion she had reached as the stagecoach had sped down the road toward Kirtland, Ohio: If she loved Mark, then she loved two men.
Briefly she closed her eyes against the pain, and then she remembered Joseph’s statement. She was marrying Mark because Joseph commanded it. The cold facts surrounding that final scene in the cabin with Joseph had stripped away any possibility of that old dream coming true. That dream was in ashes. Once again she was filled with the sure knowledge that she must do as Joseph commanded.
Jenny felt Mark’s hand against her face, and once again she opened her eyes to see the love in his eyes. She reminded herself of how much this was meaning to Mark. She was his dream come true.
She brushed away the guilty knowledge that she was cheating him, offering only a fragmented love. As she hesitated before lifting her face for his kisses, once again she wondered why his touch left her trembling and yearning.
In the short week before Jenny and Mark left for Cleveland to be married, they searched for a house for the two of them and made arrangements to have furniture delivered.
Jenny was there on the day the wagons arrived with the load of new furniture. While she was watching the little house become a home, Jenny suddenly realized their whispered plans were taking on the shape of reality. This was the house in which she would be mistress.
She washed the new flower-sprigged china and smoothed the linens on their shelves. As she shifted Mark’s new chair nearer the kitchen stove, she was reminding herself that soon she would be this man’s wife.
Slowly she sat down in the chair to think about it. A marriage means a husband, children. Caught up in the issue of obeying the Prophet, she hadn’t really considered what all was involved in this marriage.
Now she was seeing Mark’s clear, steady eyes and feeling the weight of responsibility. Didn’t she now owe more to Mark than she did the Prophet? God. Where did God count in all of this? Jenny’s thoughts drifted back to her mother, seeing her with that black Book she had dutifully carried to meetings in Manchester. Grace. Jenny smiled.
Mark came into the kitchen. “Why are you smiling?”
“I was thinking about home. Ma took me to camp meetings services when we first moved to Manchester. The preacher was talking about grace, and I said I’d like Ma to name the baby Grace. She had another boy.”
Mark said, as he looked approvingly around the room, “Grace, that’s the religion the other churches preach. You’re saved by grace, not works. I guess I’m glad you’re Mormon.”
“Why?”
“You have a reason for marrying me.”
“Mark!” She stopped abruptly and then added, “Will that ruin everything?”
“No. I’ll take any excuse for marriage, but I intend for us to have a good marriage.”
Mark paid the lorry driver and watched him leave before picking up the conversation again. Jenny watched Mark walk around the house, looking at it all. His eyes reflected the thoughts she was having. Jenny was considering all those things marriage meant as Mark pressed her hand against his face and kissed the palm.
Jenny felt something nearly like a prayer of gratitude. Those dark, shadowy dreams of Joseph had not become reality, and suddenly that was very important.
In a moment she spoke hesitantly, “I’m beginning to get the shivers. Mark, we’re going to be a family. That’s important to me.” She studied his face, wondering about the real feelings buried in the usually light-hearted Mark.
She took a deep breath, saying, “You’ve talked about your family, and I find that scary. How will I ever live up to it all? The expectations of your mother . . .”
Mark was very sober as he took her hand and led her to the bench beside the kitchen window. “I guess I haven’t been thinking that far in advance either. Just the now.” Slowly he added, “Perhaps its best for us to forget our families and concentrate on building our own life together.”
She had to say it: “You know how important this new church is to me.” Jenny looked out the window as she added, “Will it mean that much to you?”
Mark hesitated before answering, “I’ve never given church much thought. But I’ve always assumed it would have its place. Right now I’m thinking any church is as good as the next.” Back in character, he gave a quick grin.
Jenny was bringing back fragments of thought, needing to put words to them for the first time as she brooded over the troubling thoughts of God. Almost, she could hear and see that camp meeting: the wages of sin, the gift of God. “Always it seems there’s been this big hole in my life,” she said in a low voice. Mark sobered again as he saw how serious she was. “For a time I thought it was because we were poor and Pa didn’t have much time for us young ’uns. But lately, since I’ve been grown, I wonder if it isn’t a deep-down need to line myself up with religion just so I can know about God.”
Mark’s face was thoughtful as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You make me ashamed of taking this too lightly. I wasn’t raised that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“The search for God. Without a doubt man knows there’s a quest. Jenny, I promise you, I’ll join you.” He pulled her to her feet, saying, “Right now I’m just grateful we’ll have the rest of our lives—together.”
Both hope and unrest stirred deep within her as she stared into Mark’s eyes. Can anyone really know God? she wondered. Can I? She leaned her head briefly on Mark’s shoulder. Where would her search take her? Take them?
Mark hugged Jenny. “We’ll find God—I’m sure we will.”
****
Book Two in THE STARLIGHT TRILOGY, Star Light, Star Bright, continues Jenny’s search for the truth. Will Mark be able to help her, or is she involving him in a quest that has no end?
Bibliographic Note
For the serious student of history, several books merits consideration for their value in providing a more complete historical picture of Joseph Smith’s life. Fawn M. Brodie’s book, No Man Knows My History, an Alfred A. Knopf publication, is an important biography. Jerald and Sandra Tanner of the Utah Lighthouse Ministry, P.O. Box 1884, Salt Lake City, Utah, 84110 have a large number of publications which are photocopies of original Mormon books, ranging from those written by Joseph Smith and his family to books written by his contemporaries. The Tanner’s book, The Changing World of Mormonism, Moody Press, gives a broad overview of Mormonism. Early Mormon sermons can be found in The Journal of Discourses, a twenty-six volume work found in large university and college libraries. A two-volume set, Joseph Smith Begins His Work, is available through the Deseret Book Stores. These books contain the 1830 editions of the Book of Mormon, the Book of Commandments, Doctrine and Covenants, as well as other writings by Joseph Smith. These origina
l works are particularly valuable because of changes made in later editions.
MARIAN WELLS and her husband live in Boulder, Colorado. A well-known author, her research and background on Mormonism provided the thrust for her bestselling STARLIGHT TRILOGY, the Wedding Dress and With This Ring.
Books by Marian Wells
The Wedding Dress
With This Ring
Karen
THE STARLIGHT TRILOGY SERIES
The Wishing Star
Star Light, Star Bright
Morning Star
THE TREASURE QUEST SERIES
The Silver Highway
Colorado Gold
Out of the Crucible
Jewel of Promise
