The Wishing Star by Marian Wells Page A

important thing of all—there was a library. The town also had a woolen mill, a flour mill, and a paper mill, as well as the blast furnace where Pa worked.
    On Sundays, the people donned their best clothes and paraded through the village on their way to the Presbyterian church. That is, most did. Tom didn’t, and Pa didn’t. And Jenny rebelled. “Jenny,” Tom asked, “what’s got into you?”
    She felt the same kind of discontent that Mrs. Barfield had talked about, but Jenny saw it differently than Ma did. “It’s not fair,” she protested, “the one day I have to read, Ma makes me go to church.”
    She could have said it was boring, but she kept her silence while Ma talked about reading the Bible and Pa nodded his head in agreement. Jenny was separated, standing apart in her mind, knowing they would never understand. Even Nancy and Dorcas were lined up with serious faces and puckered frowns. To Jenny, the glance Ma threw at them seemed like a pat of approval.
    Later, Tom repeated his question with a furrowed brow. He was milking the cow, and Jenny was pitching straw down to the pigpen. “Jen, what’s got into you?” Jenny turned to look at him. The thoughts from Pa’s green book stirred in her, and his question made the words burst from her. “Tom, aren’t you hankerin’ for more than this?”
    He lifted his head from the cow’s flank, and Jenny met his startled expression with a bravely lifted chin. She watched his eyes change, admitting the secrets they shared, and she went on in a whisper, “It’s like you get a taste and then this isn’t enough.”
    â€œThen I’m not the only one,” he said slowly. After a moment he continued reluctantly, “Jen, you’re such a young’un. How do you come to have such thoughts?” She could only shake her head, not quite daring to put it into words. The feelings the book aroused in her were frightening, but she was fascinated and attracted nevertheless.
    â€œAre you thinkin’ of what we were doin’ last year?” He studied her intently. “With Joe, diggin’ for money?” She nodded.
    â€œYou got a likin’ for that in a hurry.” Tom spoke thoughtfully. “It ain’t usual for the womenfolk to be that interested. Leastwise, the only one I know of is Lucy Smith.”
    â€œThe only Lucy Smith I know is that little old lady at church.”
    He nodded. “Joe’s ma.”
    â€œJoe Smith’s? You mean she goes diggin’?”
    He shrugged, “Naw, just interested.”
    â€œI didn’t know Joe came from around here,” she said slowly as she plucked the straw from her hair. “Smith is a pretty common name.”
    Tom nodded. “He’s from here. You probably go to school with most of the young’uns in the family. Best get acquainted.”
    The next afternoon, walking home from school by herself, Jenny mulled over the restlessness she recognized in Tom. Her feelings were colored by a special kinship to him. She knew he was feeling the tug, too. She yearned to talk to him about Pa’s book, but there was always the chance he would let it slip to Pa.
    Jenny trembled, recalling the last time she had dared sneak the book from the rafters. Pa had nearly caught her. Seems a body’d share it , she reflected, even as she puzzled over the strange excitement that ran through her when she read the book. The feelings were akin to the ones she felt when she and Tom had gone to the diggings.
    Abruptly Jenny realized she was already in front of the dry-goods store. Even as she stood there, she knew where her half-formed thoughts were going to take her. Quickly she turned away from her home and ran down the country lane. Earlier, Tom had pointed the way to the Smiths’ cottage.
    Though it was late and nearly time for chores, Jenny cut across the plowed field and headed into the trees beyond.