Morning Star (20 page)

With a shiver, Jenny went to the stove and pushed the simmering pot to one side. “I keep worrying about Mark. Since that one letter I've heard no more, and I can't help wondering if it is well with him. It bothers me that there are letters I didn't receive.”

“Mail service isn't the best out here,” Tom reminded mildly. But Jenny was brooding over the note of alarm in Mark's letter. Was he doubting her love because he didn't receive a letter from her? She moved her shoulders irritably and saw Tom's glance.

“It's terrible to not know where to send a letter,” she explained. “And he doesn't even know about this,” she patted her stomach. “Tom, just think, his baby is poking at my ribs, and Mark doesn't even know about him.”

Tom sat down at the table and grinned at Jenny as she pressed her hands across her thickening waist. “Might be it'll be a girl. Think he'll trade it off?”

“I doubt. After waiting this long, we'll take anything we get. Just, please God, let it be healthy.”

She felt his quick look and knew he wondered about the prayer. Strange how it seemed the words came without thinking.

Jenny went to strain the milk and slice the bread. “You want milk with your stew?”

He nodded. “I 'spect I'd better. I'd rather have hot tea, but tonight's priesthood meeting. There's a little talk that Joseph'll be there. I'm not thinkin' it'll be likely though, since they're still lookin' for him.”

“How do you know?”

He hesitated and looked sharply at her. “Remember those fellows we saw last time we went to shop?”

She frowned, “You're meaning the bunch sitting around in front of the store whittling with those terrible knives?”

Nodding, he added, “Those are Joseph's men. They make it a point to know what's going on. You needn't worry. There ain't no surprises around here.”

Silently Jenny ladled the stew into a bowl and carried it to the table. When Tom reached for his third slice of bread, he added, “Bennett started all this with his running to Missouri. Seems all's fair—”

“How Joseph could have taken that fellow in, befriending him and making him the mayor of Nauvoo as well as being in charge of the Legion, well, it seems strange.” Jenny slowly picked up her fork, thinking of the man she had met at Sarah Pratt's home. Thoughtfully she added, “Bennett seems nice enough. Mark hesitated over him though. Well, he's gone. Beyond making so much trouble for the Prophet now, I suppose we'll never know what's in the heart of the man. But no matter; I'm against the letters he's written to the press.”

Jenny had just hung her dish towel to dry when they heard the tap at the door. Tom opened it and exclaimed, “Brother Joseph! Is there trouble?”

Joseph Smith came into the room, nodded briefly at Jenny and turned to Tom, saying, “Only that I need to get a message to Mark. He's to be in Springfield this week, but I don't trust a letter to reach him.”

“Problems?” Tom took the packet of papers the Prophet offered and studied Joseph's face.

“I'm just covering every detail I can. Thomas Ford will be inaugurated as governor of the state come the first week in December. That's not much more'n a month away. I need to remind him of his promise to test the Missouri writ in court. Mark can fill him in on the details. He's got papers with him. But he mustn't come back here without seeing Ford and wringing a promise out of him. I can't spend the rest of the winter dodging the sheriff and posse from Missouri.”

He paced the floor and added. “Tom, tonight is as good a time to start as tomorrow. So pack a grip and be off.”

Tom threw a quick glance at Jenny. “Brother Joseph, think about my sister. I'm not of a mind to walk out on her right now.”

“I'll have John Lee take her back to the Mansion House. Just be about your business; she'll be okay.” Going to the door he said, “Lee's minding the horses. I'll speak to him and then be here to get you off.”

Tom looked at Jenny. She swallowed hard and said, “Best do it, Tom. I'll be better in town than by myself. Could you stop past the Daniels' and have Alson do the milking? Tom, please tell Mark how miserably lonesome I am for him, tell him—please hurry home.”

Jenny carried her valise downstairs just as she heard Tom close the door behind himself. Joseph was sprawled comfortably in Mark's chair. “The fire feels good tonight,” he said, gesturing toward the fireplace. “Now come sit; I've a few things to say to you.”

“Joseph,” she warned; “this is my home.”

“And you are my wife.”

“I can't believe you are still talking in this manner,” her voice was low, but she challenged him with her eyes. “When this took place, you indicated it was a marriage for eternity.”

“And you thought that was all I meant? Jennifer, I didn't see that in your response. I see you are laboring under a lack of understanding. Seems Patty Sessions didn't do a thorough job of teaching.”

He pointed to the chair. “I've some things to say to you. First, I must remind you of the very idea brought forth in the Bible. This is the idea that things change. Some things are wrong under one circumstance—and I remind you of the instances involving murder. The Bible says ‘Thou shalt not murder' in one place, and in another advocates killing off the enemy. The same applies here.”

“Are you referring to adultery?”

He continued, “You call it adultery? When I came for my rights, you named it thus. God doesn't. What might very well be adultery in one circumstance is commanded of God in another. Jenny, when God instructed me to take you as wife, the angel told me, with a sword in his hand, that I was to fulfill the command or die. I dare not disobey.”

Jenny's heart sank. Feeling as if the weight of the universe rested upon her, she slowly got to her feet. She faced him and groped for words, murmuring the only word that was there, “Jesus.”

He raised his head, “What did you say?”

She stepped forward and clasped her hands across the precious swelling. “Joseph, I regret that ceremony more than I can say. I sense there's no backing out of it unless I forfeit my eternal salvation. But this is earthly life. I can't understand mixing the two. Besides, I'm carrying Mark's child. To let you—”

She paused and took a shaky breath, weaving now through the maze of contradictory thoughts. “I don't have anything to go on. I don't know enough about God or even His Holy Bible—but I'm reading and trying very hard to learn. It's just—Joseph, it
feels
so wrong. There's Mark. I love him and I've always been taught you don't let another man touch you.”

He looked up at Jenny, slowly shaking his head. “My dear, how twisted this has all become in your mind! I will pray for you.

“For now I'll just have to trust the Lord to protect you from the evil attack and spare your life until you have your eyes open to truth. But, Jenny, my dear, you must devote yourself to praying about this matter. God will give you a sure knowledge of the rightness of the message. Just as I have seen Him, you'll see Him filling your room with such a brightness of His presence you'll never doubt again. Meanwhile, I must urge you to not speak of this to anyone. Keep it to yourself and pray lest you be tempted and lose the blessing to another.”

With a sigh, Joseph got to his feet and went to the door. “Lee,” he called and then turned back. “I'm running for my life. John will take you to the Mansion House. It's crowded, but Emma will make room for you. I'll try to get back into town soon.”

It was very late when John D. Lee aroused Emma Smith and delivered the Prophet's message. He carried in Jenny's bag and took the buggy to the livery stable.

Jenny faced the woman swathed in a robe which didn't conceal her pregnancy. She studied Emma's weary, lined face and said, “I'm so sorry to disturb you. I wanted to wait until morning, but they said no.”

With a terse nod, Emma led the way up the stairs and opened the door. “We're packed to the rafters. You'll have to push Julie over. Could be tomorrow I'll be able to settle you in a room.”

It was late that next morning before Jenny went downstairs. She had been aroused early when the adopted daughter of Joseph and Emma slipped out of the room. Lying in bed, Jenny considered the twist of circumstances in her life—first, Joseph's visit the previous evening. Now, she considered with dismay the necessity of facing Emma as well as Joseph's children.

As she left the bedroom, Jenny looked about the house curiously. There was still that raw, unsettled air about the house, but the rooms seemed large and bright. In the upstairs hall she noticed the rooms opening off the hall had doors bearing numbered brass plaques.

When she reached the foot of the stairs, Jenny paused, confused. She peered through the first open door and saw the large room. It looked more like a lobby than a parlor. At one end there was an attractive fireplace and comfortable chairs.

Then she looked to the other end and frowned. It looked as if cabinets were being removed. As she considered the long bar, she nodded with understanding, remembering the stories she had heard. That was the bar Joseph had installed while Emma was away from home.

Jenny felt a spark of admiration for the woman as she chuckled over the story. Joseph had installed his bar and set up Porter Rockwell, pigtail and all, as bartender. Emma, so the story went, had taken one look and condemned the addition. Joseph, Porter, and all the liquor had speedily departed when Emma threatened to take the children and move back to the old cabin.

The next door Jenny tried led back to the kitchen. Hearing voices, she went in. Emma and her children, as well as several women, sat at the table.

As she sat down, Emma pointed out the children. “This is Julie, our daughter; she's twelve now and a big help. There's Joseph our firstborn, Frederick, and Alexander. This is Eliza Snow. Miss Snow is a schoolteacher by profession. And Emily Partridge. Emily is living with us and earning her keep.”

Jenny looked at the comely girl as she bobbed her head and went to the stove. “Mrs. Smith says you'll be staying for a time. There's little room right now. But two gentlemen just passin' through will doubtless be leaving in a day or so.”

Jenny glanced at the shy Julie, and with a smile said, “I do appreciate the hospitality, but I'm imposing. I don't know why I didn't just stay at the farm. Surely Tom will be back soon.” There were questions in the eyes of the women, but Jenny dismissed them as she accepted the bowl of porridge from Emily.

Emma was looking out the window, watching the procession of wagons and buggies on the street. Slowly she said, “I'll be happy just to have life back to normal again. Joseph's promised to be back for the birthin' in December. But it will take more'n that. There's this coming and going of all the strangers. There's the fear and unrest. These men they're calling the Whittling Deacons bother me. Seems holiness shouldn't have to worry people on either side of the fence.”

Eliza Snow had pushed aside her breakfast dishes. With her arms propped on the table she folded her hands under her chin and dreamily addressed the ceiling. “There's little of holiness going on right now. It isn't the Prophet's fault. 'Tis the responsibility of the people to be holy in order to free the powers of God.”

She paused to smile slowly at Emma. “You remember yourself all the promises. All the miracles expected at Kirtland had to be postponed until we had a temple in Missouri. That blessed event still hasn't happened. Therefore we wait until the people purify themselves and accept all the commandments of the Lord; then He will make our enemies live at peace with us.”

Emma moved impatiently and said, “I suppose I'm too practical for Zion talk. I worry about the present, about the children and their future. They need their father at home. We all need to know we can depend on a surety.”

Eliza was shaking her head. “Emma, dear woman, of all of us, I expected you to have settled in. From the beginning, Joseph has taught us all that we know by the spirit, not by sight. You know that Joseph knows all things that will come to pass right up to the end of the world. Granted, he isn't allowed to reveal them yet.”

Emma got to her feet and shooed the children out the door. “Now get your books and be off,” she admonished them, then turned impatiently to Eliza.

With a quick cry she said, “I don't like the uncertain; I want to touch and see.”

Jenny watched Eliza, the dreamy expression on her face and the slight smile as she raised her head. “I know, 'tis womanlike to want it so, but Emma, my dear friend, I must admit there's such a mysterious power when he speaks. It makes me willing to forego the material and draws me on to the spiritual.”

For a moment Emma was caught. Jenny saw the wistful expression on her face and then she turned impatiently, “'Tis not the spiritual that'll feed me and the young'uns.”

When Emma had left the room, Eliza turned to Jenny with a gentle smile. “Emma needs to have the experience of being carried away by the spirit. She's too earthly-minded. 'Twill get us into trouble, I fear.”

Jenny spent another uncomfortable night on the narrow cot with Julie, and then Sally came.

Eliza and Jenny were beside the fire, poking at needlework for Emma and probing, just as tentatively, each other's thoughts when Sally sailed into the room, crying, “Jenny, why didn't you come to me? I shall be angry if you don't pack and come now.”

Jenny packed and came, but she did so wondering why, after months of neglect, Sally had appeared in such a rush of compassion.

The answer came out as Sally settled Jenny in the spare bedroom and confided, “Andy saw Tom just last week. We've learned of your good fortune. A baby.” For a fleeting moment Jenny saw the question in her eyes before she added, “My, Mark will be surprised. Tom said he didn't know yet. All these years . . .” her voice trailed away.