The Wishing Star (20 page)

During the following weeks Tom held his tongue while the members of the new church argued with Joseph. Through it all ran Joseph's quiet persuasion as he reminded the people of the Lord's instruction. “Kirtland is the eastern boundary of the promised land. We must claim our inheritance.”

When the next general conference of the church convened, winter was well upon New York State. Outside the crowded building snow was falling steadily. When Joe Smith arrived, the sixty members met him with worried gazes.

Moving purposefully, he turned the pages of the newest revelation he had received from the Lord. “My friends and fellow laborers together, I beg your attention while I instruct you with the Lord's wisdom.” Tom was sitting where he could see the faces as Joe read the words. There were smiles of satisfaction at the description of Zion. “ . . . a land flowing with milk and honey.” But Tom saw their despair at the words, “And they that have farms that cannot be sold, let them be left or rented as seemeth good.”

Later as the people pushed their way out of the hall, Tom listened to the comments. “Lucky for us he's appointed someone to take care of the poor; I'm feeling we're all going to fall in that category.” “At least we know the riches of the earth are the Lord's to give; maybe we'll get some of that by and by.” “Do we have to wait fer the Second Comin' to get 'em?”

One terse remark that reached Tom's ears troubled him for weeks. He had nearly reached the door when he heard, “I think Joe himself invented that revelation just so he can get a spot of cash from all these farms.”

During January and February, the first line of wagons and carts headed for Ohio. Joseph Smith and his pregnant wife left by sleigh. Some of the more fortunate had shipped down Lake Erie to Cleveland, but Tom bartered a ride in a sleigh traveling along behind Joseph.

Nearly as quickly as the first body of believers descended on Kirtland, the eager and the curious began to pour into town to see this new prophet.

The story of the golden Bible attracted them, but they stayed when they saw the miracles and heard Joe's sermons, which kept the listeners in gales of laughter, or suddenly reduced them to tears.

While the growing community of New Yorkers settled in the town of Thompson, Joe Smith took up residence in the Whitney home and began his translation of the New Testament. Tom had found a position working in the livery stable. From there he watched and marveled.

****

The weather had just begun to soften with a hint of spring when Emma's second pregnancy ended in the loss of twins. Tom had known nothing of the event on the day he rode out to visit the Prophet. He had nearly reached the Smith farm when he spotted the lonely figure trudging toward him.

“Hello, Joe, my friend!” he hailed. As Joe drew near, Tom slipped from his horse. “What's wrong, Joe?” The Prophet's face was white and drawn, and his eyes were troubled.

“Why is it,” he asked Tom, as if continuing a conversation, “I've the power to heal everyone except my wife? I can bless others with health, but I can't call down the power to deliver my wife of a live child.”

Tom shook his head, startled.

“Twins this time; they both died. I was powerless. It was only the gift from heaven that kept Emma from following them.”

“What do you mean?”

“God gave us twin girls. Their mother died in the birthing. Another man's loss, my gain.” Joe seemed to brighten, to toss aside the dark questions. As they rode toward his farm, and Joe talked about the translating and the newest revelation, Tom remembered his mission.

He interrupted, “Joe, my friend, I feel I should report the gossip.”

Joseph grinned wryly. “Let me guess. It's the revelation on the United Order, isn't it?”

“Well, every other religion's pullin' the same thing. Rigdon's fellow Campbellites had been practicin' communal living, sharin' everything. They said a body could expect to see his shirt goin' down the street on someone else's back. It's not settin' too good with people who've been right particular about their belongings. I'm reluctant, too, about sharing my money and horse.”

“Don't fault me,” Joe said defensively. “You know this isn't my idea; it's a revelation from the Lord. My only responsibility is to teach it.”

“Part of the bad feelings have to do with Rigdon's flock bein' caught up in this before we came.”

“Don't forget we got a church full of people along with Rigdon,” Joe cautioned. “Count it wisdom of the Lord to show us how to live together.”

Tom still hesitated, “Well, revelation about the Order was a mighty long one, and it just hit wrong.”

“What was hitting wrong? The part about murder and there being no forgiveness, or was it about loving your wife with all your heart and not cleaving to anyone, not committing adultery? The people of God ought to be able to live with that instruction.”

“No, 'twasn't that; it was the money thing. The part about writin' a deed, which can't be broken, givin' all a man's belongings to the church. That's pretty hard. What's a man to do if he decides he don't want to be a part of the church anymore?”

Impatiently Joe said, “Tom, are you suggesting that I change the revelation? Do you realize what you're saying? This is the Lord's command! Not a word is to be altered. Changing's saying God doesn't give perfect revelations.”

Tom stuck his hands in his pockets and muttered, “Sorry, Joe. That wasn't what I had in mind. If you could just find a way to make it a little easier to swallow.”

“Well, we've found it! You know the people from New York have all settled in Thompson. Thanks to their obeying the Lord, Leman Copley and Ezra Thayer have given generously of a big chunk of land to provide for the people.”

“You don't say!” Tom exclaimed, slapping the reins of his horse across his hand, “That's Jim Dandy. Just the verification that everybody's been lookin' for.”

“Verification?” Joseph stopped and turned a sorrowful look on Tom. “I'm surprised you even admitted it. Tom, that isn't faith!” He continued to study Tom with sad eyes.

In the silence Tom remembered another reason for his visit. “Joe, I wanted you to know I'm plannin' a trip to see my sister for a bit. She's hanging on me, since we're family, but I'll be back.” But Joe Smith was lost in thought and he merely nodded.

****

In May, Tom once again sat in the Bartons' kitchen. He watched Jenny moving about her work, marveling at the stroke of luck that had provided this work for her. He also measured her size and the changes in her body.

“Jen, this place agrees with ya. I left a little 'un; now you're taller and fillin' out like a young lady should.” Surprised to see her blush, he exclaimed, “Aw, Jen, I'm your brother.”

She detoured from dashing about the kitchen, and pressed a kiss against his beard. “I'm not faulting you. It's just unexpected, having family. Do I look better?”

He studied the coil of dark hair on her neck and admired the way the smooth sweep of her hair emphasized the heart shape of her face. “That widow's peak, I guess they call it, makes your gray eyes twice the size they oughta be. I 'spect next time I see you, the fellas will be a-sparkin' ya.” She threw him a startled glance, and he hooted, “So! They're startin' already.”

“No—” She drew out the reply slowly, then quickly looked at him. “It's just Mark. He don't count, though.”

Mrs. Barton swished through the door and said, “Jennifer, the word should be
doesn't
. Mark is coming to tea. I'm sure he'd like to see your brother.” With a quick nod in Tom's direction, she left the kitchen.

At tea, sitting stiffly in the Bartons' sitting room while Jenny served them, Tom juggled his new images of his sister.
Which picture is the true Jenny?
he wondered. And when he saw Mark's attention wholly devoted to her, he added another picture of her, one colored with respect.

Curiously he studied the young man in the well-tailored suit, admiring the silk string tie and the polished boots. As Mark talked, Tom became sharply aware of the contrast between Mark and the fellows Tom had been listening to lately.
You just automatically hang a “gentleman” tag on him
, Tom mused.

Returning his attention to Jenny, Tom noticed the new neatness, the polish that hadn't been there a year ago. Jenny was becoming a lady. Glancing quickly back to Mark, he decided that anything was possible.

During the days Tom spent with Jenny, he followed her about the Barton household, talking about all that had happened to him since he had last seen her. He held the basket of laundry while she fastened the sheets to the lines. “I'd no intention of going Bainbridge way,” he admitted, “but once there, it was like old times. There were new faces in the crowd, the Whitmers and an odd fellow named Thompson, but with Joe around, everybody was easy-like.”

Jenny frowned and jerked the clothespin from her mouth. “I suppose you were all off digging.”

Tom shook his head, “No, there wasn't time. The new church seems to keep him hoppin'. People are at him all the time. Seems he's preachin', or prayin', or doin' his paperwork constant like.”

“Paperwork, what's that?”

“Well, he's getting plenty of revelations, and he's makin' a translation of the New Testament—you know, the Bible. The Lord's let him know that the present translation's been corrupted. But there's more. The Lord's revealed much about the Second Coming. He's tellin' Joe to get ready to build the city of Zion—but then He told Joe that He won't give him any further information about all this until he gets the New Testament translated.”

“You don't say.” Jenny turned to study Tom with those curious gray eyes, and he was caught by the play of expression in them. The questioning frown between her eyes smoothed out, but she still chewed at her lip.

“What is it, Jen?” he asked. “I'm your brother, remember?”

“I'm thinking about it all. The things you said about Joe. Tom, he used to be a friend; now you act like you really do believe he's a prophet from God.”

Tom cleared his throat nervously. “Jen, I know this seems strange to you, that I could change and suddenly start believin'. But I'm findin' if you stick your neck out, lookin' for answers, you have to take them when they come.”

“Meaning?”

“He said I was obligated to myself to investigate, that my hereafter depended on it. He said to study out the truth and then ask God, and He'll make you have a burnin' in your bosom if it's right. Well, I asked about Joe and I had the burnin'. Even if it sometimes goes against my grain to say it, I gotta admit, I've had the witness.”

He saw dark questions of disbelief appear in Jenny's face. “Jen,” he went on slowly, “another revelation Joe had I think is for people like you. It says some are given by the Holy Ghost to know and have all these gifts from God, and others believe on their words. I think that means believe on their belief.” There was a faraway expression in her eyes. He asked, “What ya thinkin'?”

“I was remembering South Bainbridge. He was tryin' to teach me some of the things he knew. There's not that much difference in it all—his beliefs before and after the book.” After a moment she asked, “Did you join Joe's new church?”

“Well, not yet, but I figure I will.”

A strange expression veiled her eyes now. “So Emma's lost twins. A man sets a store by a family, so I guess Joe's pretty unhappy. Is she well now?”

Tom nodded. “Adopting the little girl twins took care of their wanting a family. Least, Joe hasn't said more.”

When it was time for Tom to return to Ohio, he sensed Jenny's restless spirit. “I've got to go,” he apologized. “I promised Joe.” Then he brightened, “Maybe you could come to Ohio for a visit, see it for yourself. From the sound of it all, it's goin' to be the new Zion. Joe's talkin' some about puttin' up a big meetin'house. I think he called it a temple, like in Jerusalem.”

After Tom left, Jenny surveyed her domain, filled with a new discontent. “This was nearly heaven itself,” she muttered gloomily as she surveyed the littered kitchen and piles of dirty dishes. “I'd thought everything in the past was gone, even that—” She sighed deeply, unable to speak of those past desires she had entertained for bright-haired Joseph.

During the following weeks, only half of Jenny's mind worked on the tasks in which she had once taken delight. One day while she slowly pushed a scrub brush across the floor, Mrs. Barton spoke from the doorway. “Jenny, what's wrong? I've been watching you drag about this house for weeks. Are you ill?”

Jenny rolled back on her heels and surveyed the messy puddle under her brush. “Ma'am, I don't know. The heart's gone from me. I miss Tom.” She lifted her eyes to give the lie.

“Oh, Jenny!” Mrs. Barton knelt and squeezed Jenny against her. “I'm thoughtless, taking for granted that everyone on this earth has had a life as pleasant as mine.—I came to bring you a letter. Here, go to your room and rest while I finish. It's senseless to work hard in this heat, anyway.”

Tucked in her room under the eaves, the fresh scent of growing things wafting through the window on the afternoon breeze, Jenny leaned against her pillows and studied the envelope. The return address indicated it was from Lucy Harris.

Slowly she pried open the envelope and pushed aside newspaper clippings to find the letter. There were two. Jenny sat up and stared in disbelief. The first was a letter from Nancy!

Dear Jenny
, she read,
I've just moved back to Manchester and Lucy Harris has guilted me terribly for not having written to you. We did make an attempt to write, but the letter was returned. I have married and now am expecting a child
. Jenny stopped to check the name on the paper: Alexander MacAdams. It was unfamiliar and Jenny returned to the letter.
Ma and Pa have moved on west. Of course you would expect that. Even I have lost track of them. Mostly I wanted to write and tell you that Ma and the rest never ceased grieving about leaving you behind. Mostly because of your tender age. Please, if you can, come visit me in Manchester and meet your new brother-in-law and the little niece or nephew you will soon have. I would like to contact Tom, too. Mostly, Jenny, I am heavy over the way we left you. We all suffered thinking that Satan had his iron grip on your life. Mrs. Harris seems to think all things have worked out well for you. I am your affectionate sister, Nancy
.