The Wishing Star (32 page)

Both women were silent, busy with their thoughts until Jenny recalled her unfinished story. “Anyway, now I'm remembering how Ma would act about her nursing. She had an excitement we young'uns couldn't understand. All we knew was we were being left again. Now I see that the nursing made her feel important, as if she had found a place where she was terribly needed. That's sort of the way I feel. They need me and I feel good when I see people on the mend. I guess Ma and I aren't so different after all.”

After Sally walked down the stairs, Jenny amended her statement, but she didn't say the words aloud. They would have shocked gentle Sally.
One difference between Ma and me
, Jenny thought.
Ma was just being a good Christian lady; I'm working with the power. They call me a white witch. And Christian ladies don't like white witches because they can never get past the word
witch.
They haven't discovered there's no difference in the work we're all doing, but there is a difference in the power to do it. Poor Ma, she could have been a really successful nurse. See, Ma, it isn't the herbs, it's the words you say over them and the power that you bring down that does the healing
.

Two weeks later, Jenny was walking through the streets of Kirtland, headed for a meeting with Joseph Smith—in his office, alone. Tom had passed the information on, and there had been a speculative glint in his eyes. Jenny asked, “Why does he want to see me?”

“Joseph's been hearin' about your nursin' duties and wants to ask a few questions.”

While crossing Kirtland, Jenny resolved to question Joseph Smith about his book, the
Doctrine and Covenants
. With the press of nursing duties this autumn, she had been forced to abandon her attempt to confront Joseph. Now she rehearsed the questions she would ask. Surely he would find time to instruct a convert!

“Perhaps, Joseph,” she murmured, “we will have many of these meetings.” She pressed her hand against that sudden heavy pulse in her throat.

Jenny stopped in front of the print shop. Lingering on the stoop she wiped her sweaty palms with her handkerchief and tried to quiet her racing heart. The door stood open, and she could hear the clatter and thump of the press coming from behind closed doors inside. The aroma of printer's ink was heavy in the air. She sniffed and tried to recapture the excitement and curiosity print shops had inspired in her in the past. But today only one thought occupied her mind, and it had nothing to do with printing.

She bit her trembling lip and took a deep breath. “You silly baby!” she muttered. Over the rumble of the press, she heard the clatter of footsteps and raised her head. Joseph was lumbering down the stairs, two at a time. Abruptly that emotion-charged vision of Joseph and Jenny vanished and she was grinning up at her remembered friend.

Leading the way up the stairs, he opened the door of the room over the print shop, apologizing, “I'm sorry for the poor office, but I seem to be having a time settling down to one spot for more than a season. Next year, when the temple is completed, Rigdon and I will have offices there. Did they tell you the top floor is to be the School of the Prophets?”

She nodded and looked around the shabby room. The whole building was vibrating with the thump of the press at the foot of the stairs. Was it only fancy that the wooden floor moved beneath her feet as she walked? The plain room disappointed her. It was sparsely furnished with a row of narrow wooden chairs facing a table covered with books and papers. Across the room was a couch. And the single window was heavily curtained.

As she sat on one of the chairs, she murmured, “My, it's close in here. Can't we have that window open, Joseph? 'Tis only September; cherish the warm air later.”

He laughed. “To tell the truth, that window's been nailed shut. It kept falling out of its casing.”

She leaned forward to study the papers littering the table. “Is that part of your translation?” He nodded. “The New Testament? I heard the men talking at the store last week, they were wondering if you'll have to go back and rewrite the
Book of Mormon
now that you've done the translating on the Bible. They're saying the Bible parts in it are all the old—now how do you say it?” She paused, and when he didn't help, she struggled on, “Well, there's not been a Christian church on earth for 1400 years, so the King James Bible was not done by the power of God. This means the
Book of Mormon
needs to be changed where it's quoting the King James Bible, doesn't it?”

Joseph studied her for a long time before he answered. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “Jenny, I didn't bring you here to discuss my translating work. I'm afraid you'll have to leave those things to the presidency for their handling.—I understand that you've been passed around the town as a healer. Is that so?”

Jenny gasped. “Healer! That's the way they see my herbs and such?” She thought about it for a time. Slowly but with growing excitement, she said, “They really believe I can heal them. That's important. They don't think it's just chance. Maybe the power really is starting up!” She sighed a gusty sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair.

Joseph was pacing the room in slow, thoughtful steps. When he stopped he spoke again, “Jenny, you are a beautiful woman, but don't believe your beauty will win you favors.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, searching his face and eyes for the kind of gentle charm she had seen at church. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“You really don't?” He pulled one of the wooden chairs close and sat down facing her. His bright blue eyes seemed curiously light, and in an effort to steady herself, she forced her gaze down to the splintered wooden floor. “Jenny,” he commanded her attention again. “You haven't been listening to the right gossip. Haven't they told you about the power struggle? Haven't they talked about Hiram Page using the seer stone, about the others faking the gifts of the Lord? Haven't they told you how the Lord dealt with them severely 'til they admitted they were trying to steal power and gifts that weren't rightly theirs?”

Jenny stared at him. She had heard the stories, but never once did she dream Joseph would see
her
in this light. She chewed at the corner of her mouth, ashamed and contrite. He was saying she was no better than the others. Now she straightened in her chair, realizing the implication of his words. Joseph was angry and jealous because she had power! He was saying she was a threat.

She looked up into that cold, troubled face and an idea surfaced in her thoughts. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Tell me what I should do.”

A smile swept his face with relief, and she closed her eyes against the sight, not knowing why she must, but feeling for a moment as if everything were out of control. He had taken her hands and was tugging her closer. “Jenny, my dear, does that mean that you are ready to let the Lord instruct you? Does that mean you are determined to become one of His chosen?”

She fought a dizzy sensation, like a whirlpool sweeping over her.

Now she remembered why she was here. Pulling her hands free, she opened her eyes, saying, “Joseph, if you've had your say, then I'll have mine. I think you need all the help you can get with these people, and I intend to continue using the power I have to help them.”

He was still studying her warily. “Jenny, I've renounced the old ways.”

“You mean you've given up using the seer stone and hunting for treasure? Joseph, why?”

“The Lord is helping me see there is a better way. The taint of the seer stone and all the rest will harm the church. I intend to stamp out the credulous and teach these people to rely on the Lord.”

She looked at him curiously. “You're acting like you think the stone is bad.”

“It's fakery.”

The words burst from her before she could measure them. “All those other things, do you really believe them? That the Lord will fight your battles, give you Zion and the wealth of the land? Do you really believe that those who reject your new word from the Lord and the church you have started will be damned to hell?”

Again he captured her hands. “Does that last statement make any difference to you?” Unexpectedly she shivered. Leaning forward he forced her eyes to meet his, saying, “Jenny, I do believe it. All this is truth, and I will prevail as the Lord's chosen until His return to this earth.”

With a gasp, Jenny pulled her hands free and jumped to her feet. “Joseph, I—I just can't think anymore today.” She turned toward the door, and his hand was on her shoulder.

“Already I sense you are an unusual one. Little Jenny, who would have guessed you would grow into a beautiful—and powerful—woman.” His fingers slipped under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes again. “I have a strong feeling that you can help me in the Lord's work.” She closed her eyes against the intensity of that expression, but his hands drew her still closer.

For a moment the dizziness touched her again. “Joseph!” she gasped, stepping backward.

“Don't, sister,” he warned, holding her firmly. “Jenny, my dear sister in the Lord. You have no idea of the great things that are in store for this church. The Lord himself is just now beginning to tell me His will concerning us.”

“Us?” she echoed. “You mean me?” As he nodded and turned back to the table, her thoughts tumbled ahead. Was there a message behind his words? Power, a position close to Joseph, eventually Emma's place. The waxen figure loomed in her mind again—but he didn't know that part. She hesitated before turning back to the table.

Joseph was sitting quietly, barricaded by his books and papers. She rested her palms lightly in the litter and leaned forward. “You asked if I was ready to become one of the chosen—you call them the children of Israel, don't you? And the Indians—are they the lost tribes of Israel? Joseph, there is much I don't know about your church. You've already credited me with intelligence; I demand the satisfaction of knowing what I'm getting into before I join anything.”

His lips twisted with amusement. “That's an unusual conversion. Aren't you afraid to risk hellfire and damnation while you are doing your questioning? Methinks you've decided on a better way than faith.”

“I've never heard of being asked to believe something I know nothing about.”

“Then ask your questions. I prefer that to having you charge out of here saying Joseph Smith demands blind obedience.”

She stared at him for a moment, then leaned closer. “Joseph, you are a powerful man; I feel it. But you aren't so powerful that you can elicit cow-like devotion from me.”

“And you are so proud that you can't imagine being humbled! Jenny, my dear, that is a challenge.”

Now she sat down and smiled, confident that he didn't know how she trembled inside. Folding her hands in her lap, she met his gaze. “Joseph, I attended your church conference meetings. It was nothing more than a bunch of addlepated men who stood up, saying they believe the
Doctrine and Covenants
book is true and from God. I would like to read it for myself and decide whether or not I agree.”

“How do you, a credulous child, expect to decide this? I suggest you take their testimony and start believing.”

“And I don't get to read it? I haven't read the
Book of Mormon
either. Is that the way you treat all of your converts?”

“On your way out, stop in the print shop and Cowdery will sell you a copy.”

She studied his hard jaw and couldn't resist spilling the gossip. “They say you are soft over women, and that Emma only needs to shake her finger to keep you in line. I may cry in order to get my book for nothing.”

He bowed. “Go ahead, if you desire to be seen walking down the street with red eyes and the
Book of Mormon
. You may win more converts for me.”

Laughing, she jumped to her feet. “Oh, Joseph, I think I shall enjoy taking religious instruction from you! Please sign me up for your classes.”

His face froze. “You don't understand. There are no women in any classes I teach. If you need to learn, go to any of the godly women in the church, and they'll teach you.”

“Their teaching falls in the category of sewing a quilt or diapering an infant.”

His face admitted the truth. “You are right, Jenny. I'll give you books and you bring me your questions.”

She got to her feet and leaned across the table. “Thank you, sir; I value your proposal. Now, I'll take the
Book of Mormon
, the
Doctrine and Covenants
and—” She spied the tattered book just under his elbow. “What is that? It looks interesting.”

“You can't have that. It's called
Sacred Geography
.”

“They say you're still struggling with the Book of Abraham.” Instantly she saw the change in him and pressed, “Have you finished it?”

“No, but I've discovered many important things. How good the Lord was to use this method of bringing the books to us! He's given me understanding of the mathematics of heaven. I've learned more now about the star Kolob and how God measures time. He's revealed that the stars are inhabited by eternal spirits.

“—But back to more earthly things. The papyrus of Abraham reveals how the Negro came into being. When Noah cursed his son Canaan, his posterity was marked by black skin, signifying the continuing curse. Old Pharaoh of Egypt was the son of Ham's daughter. Through her line all the Egyptians inherit dark skin.”

Jenny interrupted, “And the Negro slaves are part of the cursed ones? What is that supposed to mean to us? At the meetings I heard they weren't to be given the gospel if their owners object.”

“That's right. Furthermore, because of their curse, no Negro will ever reach the exalted state. It is impossible to offer the priesthood to a man who wears the curse of Canaan.” He sighed heavily but as he stood up, his smile washed over Jenny, lifting the dismal mood of his words.