The truth is that Joseph died before his time and it was his own fool fault.
Man shall be punished for his own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression, and Joseph was punished for Joseph’s sins. Joseph raised an army. Joseph couldn’t leave Missouri well enough alone. Joseph kept a harem.
I found out about one of his “wives” the day we buried him. I had stepped outside for a moment to escape the crush in the house. But even in the cool night air, I couldn’t catch my breath. I was standing there, trying to think happy thoughts about how comfortable little David should be and trying very hard not to think about how much old 39 is to bear another boy.
Sylvia stepped onto the porch and instead of having the good grace to ignore the grieving widow, she threw an arm around me, bringing me right up close to her latest baby, wrapped on her back like a little Missouria papoose. “You are not alone, sister Emma,” she said, ignoring my attempts to shrug her off. I started to tell her that I know this is a hard time for us all, but she went on, bold as brass and touched the purple calico of my dress. “My Josephine should not be the last child born of the prophet.”
“My child will be Joseph’s last,” I said numbly.
“And I agree it’s better that way,” said she, looking at my belly instead of my face, because she recoiled when she finally raised her eyes to mine.
“Joseph’s children are all my children,” I said. “And mine are all his.”
“Well then,” she said with a slight smile, “I’ll be giving you Josephine here. She is a fussy creature who hasn’t learned how to keep down her tonics, and after these last months without sleep, I’d be glad to be rid of her.” But she looked fondly at the little girl who had wrapped her tugging fingers in the long dark braid.
“Your child isn’t Joseph’s,” I said, repulsed.
“Then I suppose I’m the Virgin Mary, and Josephine the next Jesus,” she said, kissing the top of the little dark head while trying unsuccessfully to untangle her hair from the small damp hands. “Figures that Jesus has that clean baby smell.”
“Joseph had no bastards,” I hissed, gasping a little between each word, and trying not to feel the outward press of the walls as the whole city of Nauvoo gathered inside my mansion house.
Sylvia’s thick brows drew down into a dark scowl. “Never name her so. I was wife, same as you. Married and sealed by god’s power and the new and everlasting covenant.”
“Ask Windsor if you don’t believe me— he’s the one who married us. Or write to Brother Bennett who stood witness,” her scowl had softened into merely a dark look.
“I won’t trust the word of your own husband or that snake — he was cast out for a reason,” I said, trying to focus on my breathing, in 2-3 out 2-3, in 2-3. “Kindly take yourself off so I can focus on keeping your prophet’s last baby alive and inside.”
She looked longingly back into the party, but Josephine, deprived of the braid, had started to fuss in earnest. “Out of love for Joseph and his baby you carry, I’ll go. At least the long walk home should put her to sleep,” she said as she turned to go.
“But take care, for I won’t be following your orders another time,” she tossed back over her shoulder as she walked out into the night. I spent a long while listening to the low roar of the river and the cricket song before I was certain little David would stay inside me, then I walked straight past the crowds and the corpses in my parlor to take to my bed, and hoped that the anger on my face looked enough like grief that no one noticed.
$$ was Bennett still in Nauvoo when Sylvia marries JS?
jacobvanloon
vaporwave
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis
