Morning Star (26 page)

Thinking of the picture Tom had created with his accusation, Mark watched Jenny. Seeing the delicate curl on her neck, the soft curve of her chin, he felt as if his heart would explode.

She turned and met his eyes. “Mark, what is it?”

In the shadowy kitchen it was impossible to keep back the words. “Jenny, I can't get along without you.”

She rushed at him and crowded close. “Oh, Mark, it isn't that bad. Not very many women—Mark, it'll soon be over, and then we'll be happy again, won't we?”

The words were almost worse than the silence, he decided as he held her. She had brought up a fear he hadn't even considered. “Jenny, hadn't you ought to have someone here? It's so far to town. What if you need me in a hurry?”

Serenity swept across her face. “Mark, first babies take forever to get here. Besides, I'm trusting the Lord to take care of it all. See, I've been reading the Bible, the
Book of Mormon
and the
Doctrine and Covenants
. I am obeying the ordinances; what can happen?”

For a dismayed moment he considered the things he might say and said instead, “Shall I take you in to Sally?”

“For a whole month? Mark, it might be nice, but let's wait.”

That night when he awakened he saw her outlined against the moonlit window. “Jenny, come to bed; it's too cold for you to sit there.”

When she turned he saw the pale oval of her face. “Mark, what was your father's name?”

“John.”

“John Mark was a Bible name. Could we call him that?” The constant pain stabbed him afresh. He was silent as he considered it, wondering if having the baby here would diminish the hurt. “Maybe you'd better pick a girl's name as well.”

She was beside him in the bed and her hands were on his face. “Mark, what is it?” He could only shake his head as she curled against him.

When she was breathing gently, again he thought of the revelation Hyrum Smith had given them in priesthood meeting—the revelation on everlasting marriage. Several of the men had winced when Hyrum revealed the section dealing with the righteousness of having more than one wife.

He delivered his final statement to all the members of the High Council. Mark had dared not look into the faces of those men as Hyrum said,
Now you have been delivered the revelation concerning the celestial marriage. You who accept and obey will be saved; those who reject the teaching shall be damned
.

Chapter 25

“Oh, Mark!” Jenny called as Mark ran down the stairs. “Come look—there's a new lamb.”

She was standing at the kitchen window, the red robe not quite covering the bulge of her pregnancy. Mark looked at her pale face and shining eyes, “My dear, tomorrow you go to Sally. I've talked with her and she urged me to insist you come soon.”

Her eyes were still shining as she turned. Now he saw the shine was tears as she whispered, “Just last spring I was pounding on heaven's gates because the sheep were having babies, while I was barren. Oh, Mark, it is too good to be true, isn't it?”

“Yes.” His voice was flat, and he turned away.

The excitement was gone from her voice as she passed him, saying, “Your breakfast is ready. Are you staying for priesthood meeting tonight?”

“Yes, but Joseph's promised the important part will be brief, and then I will leave.” He carried the coffeepot to the table. “Will you get your things together today? I'd like to leave early in the morning. There's a meeting I can't afford to miss.”

“And the baby's.” Her voice was smug.

“What? Oh.” He stared at her. A baby would be coming back with them.

“Mark,” her voice was timid and he looked up, “I've been reading—I have so many questions. How do we know we'll go to heaven when we die?”

“I've told you, Jenny. By trusting in Jesus' atonement.”

“The books say so, too, but then there's more, and I get so confused. Seems everytime I turn around there's something else I must do.” She sighed and rubbed her hand across her face.

Mark was caught by that gesture. It said more than her words, more than ever before.

Mark's day was busy—full of paperwork and Joseph's talk. Until later, during the High Council meeting, there hadn't been time to think about Jenny again.

But at the meeting, as Mark watched the man standing before Hyrum Smith and listened to the accusation, he recalled Jenny's question and the way her trembling hands had pressed her face. When the realization struck him, he could scarcely wait for the session to be over.

Jenny's questions were not idle curiosity. A fervent prayer welled up in him; it was the first hopeful prayer in weeks.

But now Hyrum was speaking again. “Brother Hoyt, we have heard testimony. Please face the council for instruction.” The man moved, and Hyrum added, “You are ordered to cease using the divining rod. In addition, you will refrain from calling certain individuals witches or wizards, and in conjunction with this, no more are you to indulge in the burning of boards to heal or deliver those so-called witches from their bewitchment.”

Old man Walker sitting in front of Mark muttered, “Some teaching. It's different than from the beginning of the church. Back in those days Cowdery got mentioned in a revelation, telling him he had the gift of using the divining rod.”

When Mark left the meeting, Lewis Wilson, who had been sitting beside him, moved up to touch Walker on the elbow. Mark nearly collided with the two. Lewis was saying, “You ought not to talk against the Prophet. It isn't safe.”

“Walls have ears?”

He shrugged and his voice dropped. “Joseph called me in and told me every word I said to Kimball last week when we were talking—” He glanced at Mark and nodded, drawing him close. “Joseph said the spirit told him ever'thing I said. So both of you, be watching what you say.”

When Mark reached home, Jenny was back in the rocking chair. Her Bible and the
Book of Mormon
were in her lap, and folded on top was a newspaper.

He pulled a chair forward and sat down facing her. Today she seemed relaxed, her faint smile delivered as if from a great distance. “Jenny, you asked me what you were to believe. The Holy Bible says that Jesus is God, come to this earth for the purpose of redeeming us, reconciling us to God. He did it through dying on the cross as atonement for our sins. It is grace, Jenny. That's all.

“Jenny, believing, having faith in order to receive this glorious gift from God is simply taking God at His word. Just believe, just accept the gift, and you'll never again have to wonder what you must do to please God.”

She lifted her dreamy eyes to him and said, “Nothing, only believe? Mark, that doesn't seem right. Nothing? That's impossible. I must
do
something for God. I can't accept the
only believe
idea. Seems Joseph's more nearly right when he gives out the commandments, the rules and regulations.”

She was quiet for a moment and then she added, “I don't believe there's a person in town who wouldn't rather do something to work for his salvation. That's love.”

She picked up the paper. “Sometimes I do get a little confused, though.”

“How's that?”

The glance she slanted at him was quick, and just as quickly it slid away, but not until he saw the wise-owl expression. “There's this article in the
Millennial Star
. It's an old one.”

He leaned back. “Well, tell me about it.”

“The writer says there are tales circulating saying that we Mormons have the practice of polygamy. But the writer is in a fuss about it. He is stating emphatically that no such practice exists among the people, nor will it ever be so, since our books are very strict about talking against it. Mark, did you know the
Book of Mormon
forbids polygamy, calling it adultery?”

Slowly he asked his question, dreading the answer. “Does that bother you?”

“Yes,” she said slowly as she rolled the corner of the newspaper between her fingers. “It bothers me because there's something going on that makes the statement a lie.” Now her eyes were questioning, looking directly at him. “Mark, you've joined the priesthood. Is there talk?”

“A little.” He was considering the question and planning his answer when she spoke.

“I am fearful,” she said with a troubled sigh. Glancing up at him, she added, “More'n I can say, the church means so much to me. I can't ever leave it—I'm fearful to do so. But—” Mark found himself holding his breath. Jenny sighed again and finally said, “I believe there are hard times ahead for the church.”

Mark got to his feet, nearly stumbling in his haste. “I've got to milk the cows. Stay in the chair. I'll find something for us to eat when I bring the milk in.”

Grabbing the milk buckets, he headed for the barn. Mark flung hay and corn until the effort sent perspiration pouring down his back. When he finished the milking and gathered the eggs, he still lingered on.

Finally he sighed and lifted his face. “God, I hear you. I can't. Somehow forgiving her when we had such love—somehow it's impossible.”

He gave most of the milk to the pigs. Eyeing the remainder in the bottom of the pail, he was filled with heaviness as he considered the days ahead.

Jenny was asleep when Mark slipped out of bed the next morning. Moving quietly, he dressed and left to milk the cows and prepare breakfast.

He was still staring at the skillet and thinking of last night's conversation when Jenny came into the kitchen.

Dully, without looking up, he asked, “Got your things together?”

When there wasn't an answer he turned. Jenny was leaning against the doorjamb. Even her lips were colorless as she slowly bent against the pain.

Mark took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. “If you don't need breakfast, let's just get going.”

“Mark,” her breath ended in a gasp. “It's too late.”

“Jenny,” he implored, “we've got to go!” She was shaking her head. “Shall I go for Sarah, Mrs. Daniels?”

“Mark, don't leave. Hot water.” She straightened and tried to smile. “I've delivered babies before, I—oh!”

He lifted her in his arms, wondering how his shaking legs would get him up the stairs.

Mark boiled the water, found the baby clothes, and watched the circle of sunlight move from the patchwork quilt to the middle of the rag rug. And when it was over, Jenny was in command.

Mark held the squalling, squirming boy and Jenny sponged him clean, wrapped the blanket around the child, and held him to her breast. She took a deep breath and leaned back against the pillows.

“It's done, it's happened. Mark, this is your little boy. John Mark.” She looked at him and the smile disappeared from her face. “I think you'd better lie down, too.”

The sun hid behind the clouds, and in the afternoon, Mark managed a meal and brought the diapers. He pulled the cradle close to the bed, and when Jenny's arms released the bundle, he lifted the child, feeling him stir. He watched the little fists uncurl and the eyelids flutter, and he felt the lump growing in his throat.

When he escaped to the barn, the tears had him stumbling, groping until the hay was under him. It was much later, nearly dark, when Mark dragged himself out of the hay and went to feed the stock. He tried to whistle and the sobs came again. “Jesus, Lord. I don't deserve your forgiveness, even if I do forgive her. I don't care whose baby it is—I'll love him and raise him like my own. And I'll love Jenny more than ever before.”

Chapter 26

“How's the little tyke?” Tom asked as Mark came into the stable.

Mark grinned. “For only being a month old, fine. I don't think he'll be playing ball with you before summer, but he has a good appetite and doesn't complain about sleeping most nights. Can I expect more?” As he led the mare out he added, “Tom, Joseph wants you at his office as soon as possible.”

Tom watched Mark head down the street and slowly wiped his hands. “Seems fine now, even proud of the young'un. My brother-in-law just might have had the pre-baby grouch. Leastwise, he seems pretty happy.” Tom frowned as he reached for his hat and headed for Joseph's store. There were enough rumors running around Nauvoo to scare any husband.

The Prophet was in the barroom at the back of the store. When he saw Tom he shoved the glass back and walked to the door. “Upstairs, Tom.” He led the way.

They passed Clayton's office and the man lifted his head long enough to nod at Tom before he picked up his pen.

“Catching up,” Joseph murmured as he opened the door for Tom. “Wish all my men were as eager to do their work.”

Joseph dropped into the chair behind his desk and pointed to the chair opposite him. “John D. Lee's outta town. Will be for up to a month. Family problems. Something about his wife's sister; the whole family's headed to Vandalia.

“That's why I wanted to see you. You haven't been much involved in the Danites since Missouri, and I felt it best to start pulling up the reins tight. Never know when it's important to have trustworthy men close to you.”

“Problems?” Tom asked.

“Nothing new. The Missourians keep me a little edgy. I hear Bennett's over that way trying to stir up trouble. It's just wise to prevent trouble before it happens. Lee's been serving as bodyguard since '41, all the time except when he's on mission work. Right now I need you to hang out around the Mansion House evenings. When I go out I need someone with me; that's where you'll fit in.”

As Tom got up to leave, Joseph added, “By the way, Clayton had a conversation with Kimball. Seems he found out about a plot to trap members of the secret priesthood. Keep your ears open. Could be advisable to send the Whittling Deacons out that way. Don't know who's involved or what the motive. I've a hunch Bennett might be in back of the deal.”