The Wishing Star (14 page)

Jenny shook her head numbly. “I don't know,” she whispered, not having the voice to admit more. She glanced quickly at Mr. Harris and saw that his face was white. The roll of flesh under his chin trembled. Jenny ducked her head and backed toward the door. “Excuse me. These must go in water.”

In the kitchen Jenny moved quickly about her tasks, but she was straining to hear. The voices in the parlor continued their uneasy, troubled rumbling. Jenny's fingers trembled in the biscuit dough as she thought about the evening before them. If it were only possible to send thoughts warning Lucy Harris to stay away!

But when the back door opened and Lucy came in, Jenny watched in astonishment. Flying about the kitchen, frying the fresh pork, poking at the boiling greens, Lucy held them all spellbound as her words kept pace with her busy hands. She was totally in command.

The men had moved to the kitchen at the sound of Lucy's voice. As the conversation continued, Joseph was reduced to being an awkward boy once again. He told of the birth and death of his baby son. With his heart in his eyes, with sorrowful words, he was weaving a picture of familial devotion that left Jenny awed and envious.

She crept closer to listen even as she wondered at the emotion that dug into her like tearing hands. But throughout the story of Emma's confinement and near death, Lucy Harris remained in command.

Her words soothed and then reduced him. He admitted, “I'll confess; I'm not a worthy husband or father.” His face brightened. “But I will be.”

“How?” Lucy's voice was suspicious.

“Well,” he paused and then lifted his face. “I'm reforming my ways. I'm seeing how all the little things add up in my wife's eyes. I'm aiming to please her.” He noticed Lucy's suspicious expression and added, “I really mean it. Knowing the importance, 'specially to her, I joined the Methodist church there in Harmony.”

“You did!” Even Lucy was surprised and a pleased look crossed her face. “Well, there's hopes for the likes of you yet. After gettin' acquainted with your wife while I was there, I'm guessin' she was terribly pleased.”

A shadow crossed his face. Heavily he said, “I gotta admit, it didn't take.”

“Your gettin' religion?”

He shook his head. “They brought up that old story about money digging and using the stone, and they rejected me. I couldn't join, even after they'd already accepted me.—But I tried,” he added ruefully. “I was a member for three days.”

During the meal, Jenny lost interest in the conversation. After they had finished eating, she cleared the dishes from the table, while the others went into the parlor. Having finished her kitchen duties, she returned to the parlor to listen.

Settling herself in the corner, she watched Joe as he talked to Martin. Something about him puzzled her. She felt as if she knew him, yet she didn't. The youth she had known in South Bainbridge had been fun, careless—even thoughtless. Now he spoke deliberately as if weighing his words. His eyes constantly sought the others in the room. This wasn't the student, the young lad who had stood trial in South Bainbridge two years ago. With a shock, she accepted the truth. Young Joe had become a man.

Jenny looked down at her stained hands and wondered if she had changed. If she had, Joe Smith didn't know it. She might have been a stick of furniture, for all the attention she was catching.

Her thoughts continued to drift, moving with unseen currents as the conversation moved about her unheeded. She felt a growing need to do something, to say something. She closed her eyes. Could she will herself to become a different Jenny?

As if thought made her free, her mind rose to wander the airy heights of imagination. Jenny, tall and poised, and Joe Smith really seeing her, bending his bright head to kiss her hand.

“Jenny!” The back door banged shut. The vision vanished. Tom was back from the fields, wanting his supper.

Jenny stared at her stained hands. But now there was a difference. She remembered the book, and a fresh desire was born.

Chapter 10

Jenny came into the kitchen just as Mrs. Harris said, “All he has to do is get a ‘word from the Lord' and he can get himself out of any problem he wants. Martin Harris, how can you fail to see through it all?”

Lucy Harris was swishing about the kitchen packing bread and meat into a pail. Jenny guessed that Harris was leaving. As she continued to listen, Mrs. Harris's talk made it clear he was headed for Harmony again.

Jenny shrugged slightly as she sat down. These days she found it hard to sympathize with either one. In the back of her mind she felt the fuss over Joe would soon quiet down and everyone would forget him, just as they had at South Bainbridge.

Martin was very quiet, but Jenny noticed the excitement burning in his eyes. “Thin as paper it is,” Lucy was declaring. “He can't come up with what he's already dictated, so he solves it with a ‘word from the Lord,' sayin' Satan will try to confuse the work by givin' out different words. Then what does he do? He gets the plates of Nephi with a little different version of the same stuff.” She shook her head. “Clever man; Martin, is there nothin' I can say to keep you from bein' his slave and dupe? I'm at my wits' end.” Jenny was absolutely amazed at the woman's presence in the face of what she had done. She seemed to give not a snap of the finger to the fact that Jenny had seen her burn the manuscript.

Martin got to his feet and Jenny watched him pace the floor. His quick, hard strides across the room and back caught Jenny's attention and she began to feel his excitement. Lucy Harris continued to chide him, but neither he nor Jenny was listening to her.

When he passed Jenny again and saw she was watching, he stopped and said in a low voice, “She's makin' it all sound crazy, but don't you heed it. The fella's humble spirit testifies to the holiness of the callin'.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked, moving closer to Martin. Lucy stopped her muttering to listen.

With his palms flat on the table, Martin leaned toward them and whispered, “This book is the Lord talkin'. Joe's been mighty reluctant to divulge it all at once, but bit by bit it's all comin' out. This last visit I had with him kinda loosened him up when he come to see that I believe in him and have confidence in what he has to say. Now he knows I'll not be blabbin' it all over the country.”

Lucy retorted, “Like this?”

Ignoring her, he continued, “It's all comin' out. This book Joe has is holy. There's the divine behind the translatin' and the writin' of it.”

Lucy demanded, “How do you expect to prove that?”

“It's been proven. But even more than that, the Lord is beginnin' to reveal himself to Joseph in a much deeper way. He's communicatin' through what Joe calls revelations.”

“What does He have to say?” Lucy's voice was suspicious.

Martin pulled a crumpled letter out of his pocket and spread it on the table. “He's given me a copy of the revelation.” Jenny watched his hands reverently pressing the creases out before he held it up. “Mind you now, this is the Lord talkin'. Otherwise, I'd not pass along the words. First off, the Lord's tellin' Joe that His plans can't be frustrated.” He paused to slant a sharp glance at his wife.

“I'd have read you this before, but you were so busy fussin' over the little bit I did tell you, I decided to wait. Now listen. He also tells Joe that he's been called to do the work of the Lord. He's sayin' there's just no way to shy away from the callin'. He must be faithful or he'll end up bein' just like other men, without gifts or calling. He made it pretty clear to Joe that He has appointed him to get the message of the gold Bible out to the Lamanites.”

“The Indians.” Lucy's words broke the spell surrounding Jenny, bumping her back to earth. Now
gold Bible
,
Lamanites
, and
revelations
were just words, not corridors of mystery.

Jenny turned to look out the window. The nighttime wind had blown the last of the leaves off the trees, and dark clouds made it look near to snowing. She shivered as she realized,
It's almost Halloween
.

When Lucy spoke now the strident note was gone from her voice and Jenny thought she sounded worried. “It'll be a hard trip to Harmony. Don't you want to take Tom with you? Amos can handle the livestock by himself.”

Martin shook his head. “No, I need Tom here. I've no way of knowin' how long I'll be gone. There's much translatin' to be done.”

“Well, be holdin' your tongue.” Lucy added wifely advice. “Your boastin' about it all before the fact isn't winnin' you friends around Manchester. Pretty soon you'll have a reputation for braggin' that rivals the Smiths'.”

“Now, just what are you referrin' to?” Martin asked, turning reddened cheeks toward his wife. “I'm not braggin', and you know it.”

Lucy Harris stepped in front of her husband. With fists planted on her hips, she looked him in the eyes. “It's around town and well nigh the gossip of the church folks how you're sayin' you've had revelations given out by the Lord.”

“I've said they're from the Lord, and they are.” His defensive tone belied the statement.

“That you saw Jesus Christ in the form of a deer and that the devil appeared a jackass with hair like a mouse?” She shook her head. “My, what details! And they're saying you've prophesied that Palmyra would be destroyed in 1836, and by the year l838, Joe Smith's church would be so large there wouldn't be any need for a president of the United States. You might as well have gone the whole way and said you'd be second in command over all these United States!”

Martin Harris rubbed at his jaw and scratched his ear. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door slammed.

Jenny forced her fascinated gaze from Mr. Harris to Tom entering. He said, “I hear tell the new schoolmaster is boarding with the Smiths.” Washing his hands at the basin beside the door, he continued. “I also hear he's from back Vermont way and that his folks are known by the Smiths. I'll need to be getting acquainted with the fella.”

His voice revealed so much satisfaction that Jenny couldn't help saying, “I don't think you'll like him. He's like a towel that's been overwashed.”

“You're talkin' about your schoolteacher!” Mrs. Harris's eyebrows rose halfway up her forehead as she turned to Jenny.

“They say he's good with the rod,” Jenny said quickly. No need to explain she meant “divining rod,” not the rod of correction. Lucy Harris would not approve of the first, and she
would
approve of the second, especially the fact that Jenny was pointing it out. “He's tryin' to help out the Smiths. They sure do need the money.” Tom gave her a quick nod of agreement.

They sat down around the table and Mrs. Harris began ladling the stew onto plates. Martin Harris reached for the bread. “Tom, too bad I can't spare you around here. You'd enjoy the going's on in Harmony. But then I 'spect in another year we'll be seein' that young rascal Joe Smith paradin' around the streets of Manchester, a-wearin' his gold breastplate and carryin' a sword, with the gold Bible tucked under his arm.”

“Mrs. Smith says,” Jenny volunteered, gulping and wiping her hands on her apron, “that they are going to be makin' a heap of money off the gold plates. Joe's pa is tellin' people they're gonna use the money to pay for their money-digging business.”

After supper was over, while Jenny cleared the dishes from the table, Martin Harris came into the room buttoning a clean shirt. Pulling on his coat and taking up his hat, he muttered, “I'll be out most of the evenin'. Don't wait up for me.”

Jenny saw the troubled expression on Mrs. Harris's face as she turned to pick up her knitting. But as Jenny poured hot water into the dishpan, she was thinking not of Lucy Harris's expression but of Martin Harris's prophecies.

Swishing the dishcloth through the suds, watching the bubbles burst, Jenny began to sense the bubbles bursting in her heart. The sadness surprised her. Why had it suddenly become important to believe like Martin did?

Speaking through the silence from her rocking chair beside the fire, Lucy said, as if reading Jenny's thoughts, “It's no good placin' confidence in the religion Martin Harris promotes.”

Tom got to his feet. “I'd not worry much. I hear Pa Smith is callin' the whole thing about the gold Bible a ‘speculation.' That don't sound too serious to me. At least, it don't seem like it'll be a hellfire and damnation kind of religion.” Chuckling, he left the house.

Martin Harris left for Harmony, Pennsylvania, without a promise of his return. As he packed his saddlebags, he said, “I'm just lucky the Lord will allow me to translate for Joseph again. This time I don't intend to let any trick of the evil one keep me from gettin' the task done.” He threw a scowl at his wife and shouldered the bag. “I'll be back when the work's finished. The fellas here can tend to the plantin' if'n I'm not back before then.”

Not withstanding the dismay Lucy Harris felt over her husband's departure, life without Martin Harris quickly slipped into an easy routine. Amos and Tom continued to handle the chores about the farm, leaving Mrs. Harris free to visit her friends or nod beside the fire with her knitting in her hands.

Jenny moved between farm and school in a bemused state, happy with the crisp autumn and her circumstances. She was keenly aware of bare fields and wind-lashed elm and birch shedding leaves in preparation for their ritual of rest. The backdrop of the dark fir forest seemed to cover the rolling hills of Manchester with mystery and solitude.

Each day Jenny followed a path to school which skirted the hills and the woods bordering the farm. Her walk was long, but Jenny didn't mind. Other students often slipped onto the path with her. First the Anderson twins joined her—Timothy and Angela were ten. At times, when Mr. Cowdery was busy with the little ones, Jenny had been called upon to help the twins with their sums and reading lesson.