Morning Star (21 page)

Jenny turned from hanging her frock and said, “Is that too unusual? After all, there's only Tamara in your family.”

In the silence Jenny turned and caught Sally twisting her hands together. She looked up and smiled. “I haven't told Andy yet, but there's to be another one. Not until next summer, though.”

“Oh, Sally, that's wonderful! Now we can share this together. Do you want another little girl or a boy for Andy?”

There was a white line around Sally's mouth as she smiled and said, “A boy, of course. But please don't mention it to Andy just yet.”

As they started down the stairs together, Sally impulsively hugged Jenny. “I'm glad you've come.”

“I am, too,” Jenny admitted. “For more than just the joy of being with you. After two days of Eliza I was starting to feel like a grubby child.”

“Why?” Sally asked in surprise.

“Well, she talks so much. About her poetry and how she's complimented on it. She says things like ‘the spirit told me,' and then she talks about how the spirit ministers to her. On and on.

“I think even Emma's annoyed by it all. Julie loves it. She hangs on to every word. But then Eliza's good with the boys, too. Seems to have time for cookies and things, even games with them.”

Chapter 20

In the days that followed, Jenny settled in with Sally. The bond between the two had always made their friendship easy. Even after long separations, and despite their differences, Jenny and Sally quickly moved into an intimate relationship. Sally called it a sisterhood.

Now Sally was having morning sickness and Jenny asked, “You still haven't told Andy? Why?” A shadow crossed Sally's eyes, and she shrugged.

As Jenny resolved to mend her meddling ways, Sally said, “I suppose I'm fearin' and not believin' it true. But I will. I just don't like Andy fussing.”

Jenny grinned, “But telling him means you don't have to sneak your sewing away when he comes.” Jenny looked at Tamara playing beside the fire. The child was six now. “She needs to know just as much as Andy.”

Sally's eyes were thoughtful as she frowned at Tamara. The child's angelic fairness had darkened until she now resembled her father. Smiling, Jenny watched her play with her dolls. To Sally she said, “At times I'm tempted to pinch myself just to make certain it's real. I can hardly wait.”

There was a cynical twist to Sally's smile. “Let's hope Mark will feel the same. Seems it's always the woman who wants it the most.”

“Mark isn't that way.” She paused. “Sally, what's wrong? I don't understand, but there's something. Our friendship has just about slipped away this past year, we've seen each other so seldom. I don't like it at all. If you've got troubles, say them.”

Sally looked surprised and then embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Jenny. It's just Andy. You know how jealous he's always been. I'm afraid with all the talk buzzing around that telling him I'm pregnant will just make matters worse.”

“Oh, Sally, how could it?”

Sally didn't answer, but she got up from her chair and went to the desk. Picking up the newspapers there, she came to sit beside Jenny. “I suppose you've read the pamphlet put out by Udney Hay Jacobs called
The Peace Maker
?”

Jenny shook her head, “I haven't heard of it. Don't forget, I've scarcely been into town except for Relief Society meeting.” Sally went back to the desk and opened a drawer. She carried the booklet to Jenny and dropped it in her lap. When Jenny picked it up, she noticed the front cover bore the name,
Joseph Smith, Printer
.

Jenny read quietly for a time, then she gasped and looked at Sally. “Have you read this? How terrible! It makes women sound like monsters.”

Sally nodded and said, “I see you don't like being told you've enslaved your husband.”

“Or that marriage has made him effeminate. I shall be afraid to ask a thing of him for fear—”

“He'll think he's in bondage to the law of the woman.” Sally snorted. The dark shadows came back into her eyes. “What I can't understand is the purpose behind the thing. Do you suppose we'll risk having our husbands leave just because we ask them to take out the trash?”

“Oh, that's silly,” Jenny protested and then studied the booklet. “Somehow I don't think that's the purpose,” Jenny said slowly. “It seems to me it's coming down hard on women for being even a mite snippy. What woman hasn't had a headache?”

Sally was shivering and Jenny looked at her in concern. “You're chilling. Could you be catching something? Come to the fireside.”

Settling in the rocker beside the fire, Sally said, “What did you get out of it—The meaning behind it all?”

Jenny picked up the paper and picked out sentences. “Says here that if a wife doesn't love her husband sufficiently and gets a young'un by him, the child's apt to be deficient. And that such a fact means the wife's committing fornication against her husband. He identifies fornication as lack of love and respect on the wife's part.”

“Do I understand there's something about people like that not making it?”

“Well, it says the children of such don't make it into the congregation of the Lord. I suppose that means heaven.” Jenny studied the paper again and then said slowly, “Sally, seems to me there's a lot of stuff in here just rolling around in circles, trying to hide the real message.”

“What's the real message?”

“That in order for the women to keep from sinning and for the children to make it into eternity, it's best for a man to have more'n one wife. Mostly, I guess, laying up against those times when his wife's got a headache.”

“Makes me so angry to hear them say a woman's a man's property, just like an old cow,” Sally muttered.

“Seems this is egging a man on to have more'n one wife; here it's saying, oblique-like, to not do so just proves he's under the law of his wife.”

“I'd like to get a hold on that Jacobs,” Sally continued. “Like to shake some sense into him.”

“And there you'd just be proving his point,” Jenny added. “According to him, you're wrong if you're anything but a sweet little wife.” Jenny returned to the pamphlet. She read more. He says that to outlaw polygamy shows the stupidity of modern Christianity. He's calling for us to restore the law of God, that's plural wives. I guess that's different from spiritual wives, isn't it?”

Sally began to have a coughing spell, and Jenny hurried to get water for her. “I believe you're coming down with the croup. Do go to bed for a rest.”

She watched Sally go up the stairs and went to put away the pamphlet. As she folded the paper, she noticed the final line and stopped. “I should be grieved to see you slain before him,” she read.
Strange
, she thought,
that phrase reminds me of what Joseph said. Could there be a connection between this and the spiritual wives doctrine?

As Jenny went to the desk with the pamphlet, she saw the newspaper lying there and picked it up to read. It was an old one. The pages had been turned back and the article on top was by Joseph Smith. Words caught her attention.

“In response to the protest over the Jacobs work, I must advise my innocence . . . Had I known, the paper would never have been printed. . . . It is nothing except a sensational piece of trash, designed to excite the minds of the uneducated.”

Jenny was thoughtful as she replaced the paper. When she went into the kitchen to prepare dinner she was still thinking about Joseph's article, and only momentarily did she pause to wonder why Sally had kept the old paper.

That evening, at dinner, Andy told Sally and Jenny of his plans to go to St. Louis on Joseph's steamboat,
The Maid of Iowa
. “There's material to be ordered for the temple. It will be to my advantage to see to it personally,” he added. With a smile he looked at Jenny and said, “You two can keep each other company. I'm glad to have you here, Jenny. Sally's been looking puny these last weeks.”

Jenny looked quickly at Sally and said, “I'm thinking she's trying to catch the croup. She keeps this up, I'll be going back to doctorin' yet.”

The first morning after Andy left, Sally came into the kitchen still wearing her nightgown and swathed in a shawl. Her voice was muffled as she said, “I don't care for breakfast. I've taken some medicine and will sleep. Why don't you take Tamara over to the Whitneys'? She's been wanting to play with Amy.”

It was nearly noon when Jenny left the Whitney home, with the promise to return for Tamara before evening. As she started the short distance to Sally's home, Jenny stopped at Joseph's store for more flannel.

Back on the street, she began thinking about Sally. With a sigh she shook her head. Sally's strange silence was beginning to trouble her. Now she began to wonder about the medicine Sally had taken.

As soon as Jenny stepped into the house, she heard the moans, the weak call. When she rushed into the bedroom, Sally was on her knees beside the bed. “Oh, Sally, the blood! Is it the baby?”

That day and night was a nightmare. Patty Sessions came, and then the doctor. At the week's end, Andy returned.

His face was nearly as pale as Sally's, and Jenny was filled with guilt. She felt a pin-prick of knowledge, and had ignored the responsibility.

After the first bad days were past, Jenny showed the empty bottle to Sally and asked the question. Sally wore a guilty expression, and Jenny had to ask her,
Why?
She couldn't forget Sally's failure to answer.

During Sally's time of recuperation, Tom returned and went back to the farm, while Jenny lingered on with Andy and Sally.

On the day that Sally could face the dishes and broom again, Jenny said, “I need to go home. Soon Mark will be here.” She hugged the joy to herself even as she felt the guilt Sally's pale face aroused.

Sally noticed and said, “Go. We can make it now. But today there's a storm a brewin'. If you go today, you'll travel in snow. Linger 'til tomorrow.”

“My Mark will travel in snow, too, if he doesn't hurry.” Jenny shook her head, packed her valise, and said, “First to the store for more—” she stopped.

Sally said, “You needn't fuss. I'm fine. You can't quit talking babies because of what happened.” She hugged Jenny and sent her on her way.

Jenny did her shopping and then went on to the Mansion House to deliver the packet of candies she had bought for the children.

Emma was touched, and Jenny forgot her shyness as Emma pulled her into the kitchen and poured tea, saying, “Joseph doesn't keep the word of wisdom with his wine; neither will I withhold the tea on a blustery day.”

She looked at Jenny. “So Sally Morgan has lost her baby. That's too bad. Is she well now?”

Jenny looked at Emma's drawn face and bulging figure and nodded. “Your time will be upon you soon. Will you need help?”

“Only my husband. I won't lack.” She sighed and in a low voice said, “I've been poorly, I just hope—” For a moment Jenny saw her tortured eyes before she bent to pour the tea.

“I—I hope you'll be delivered of a fine, strong baby,” she said.

The front door flew open and Joseph, Emma's eldest child, raced into the kitchen. “Snow!” he shouted. “By morning there'll be enough for a snowman.”

“Oh,” Jenny started up in dismay. “I must leave now.”

“No, you shall not start out in this. You've no need to be at home this evening. Pray stay.”

Emma went to look out the window. “Joseph came last night. He's been working at the office today, but he'll stay, too. Luckily the Missourians aren't prone to come this way in a snowstorm. We'll have a lovely dinner, all of us together. I'm guessing from the past, there'll be more guests before the evening is over.”

The dinner was lovely and the crowd grew, just as Emma said it would. It was late when the last lamp was snuffed at the Mansion House. Jenny knew, as she tumbled into bed, that she would oversleep. Thinking of all she needed to do at home, she yawned and snuggled into the quilts.

When she awakened, Jenny guessed by the pale wash of light at the window that it was early. As she lay still, reluctant to face the day, she heard a whisper of sound outside her door, then the creak of floor boards. Thinking it was Emma, Jenny slipped from bed and went to open the door.

There was no one at the door and Jenny poked her head into the hall. Light from the window at the end of the corridor outlined the two figures as they met and merged. Jenny recognized Joseph and Eliza Snow, but surprise held her motionless.

Now the door across the hall flew open. Jenny saw Emma's face turned toward that scene at the end of the hall.

Jenny was still standing dumbfounded as Emma quietly turned, and snatched up the broom leaning against the wall. Moving swiftly despite her bulky body, Emma charged down the hall with broom flying.

Joseph stepped back, and Jenny saw the astonishment on his face. But Joseph was not the object of her wrath. Onward she ran, flailing the broom at the fleeing woman.

With a gasp, Jenny ran through the hall just as Emma's broom drove Eliza down the stairs. Jenny moaned and clasped her hands over her mouth as she heard the thump on the stairs.

Behind Jenny another door banged. “Mother, Mother, don't hurt Auntie Eliza.” Pushing past her, young Joseph screamed and ran toward the stairs.

****

It was afternoon before Jenny collected her buggy and mare and headed for home. Still numb from the events, her mind held only the sights and sounds of horror.

The contorted faces were stamped on her mind—Emma's, Eliza's, and little Joseph's. The significance of all she had seen still eluded her, even though she had been there to hover in the hallway as the doctor came to attend Eliza.