“We’ll get married tomorrow.”
I take her hand and pull her to her feet. “If I’m right—getting married?” I start to lose it and have to turn away from her. “You might not want to anymore.”
She hugs me from behind. “Nothing can ever make me not want to marry you.”
I turn around and clutch her hands in both of mine. “We both know that’s not true.”
“You’re going to risk us”—light plays on my diamond on her finger, mesmerizing us both—“for a stupid feeling in your gut?”
“Here’s the bet.” I kiss her one more time. “If I’m right tonight, babe. You gotta call your parents.”
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 92, CONFESSION
“Look at that! There it is.”
Michael turns his rental RAV
in the parking lot next to
the Grand Cayman Branch
of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
He parks, turns off the ignition.
“Weird we never saw this.”
I stare at the building—not a big chapel
but way nicer than where we meet back home.
“I guess we weren’t looking.”
He squeezes my shoulder.
“We’ve found it now.”
We find our way in, find
President Bodden waiting in his office.
He stands—taller than Michael—
gray touching the close cut
fuzzy black hair at his temples.
“Sister Hunt?” His voice echoes
the Cayman richness of my doctor’s
accent.
I nod.
My hand disappears into the warmth
of his huge black hand. He releases
me and turns to Michael. “I didn’t
catch your name. Brother—?”
“Michael.” He shakes President Bodden’s hand.
“I spoke with your wife.”
“Well. Come in. Come in.” President Bodden
stands aside, holding open the door.
I hold Michael back. “He’s not a member.”
President Bodden’s shoulders rise and his hands
motion welcome. “I can talk to you both.”
“Not tonight.” I’m worried Michael will say too much
or I will. I’ve promised to talk, but if I start,
will I ever stop? There is too much Michael
shouldn’t hear—can’t hear—ever. “Wait, okay?”
He smiles courage at me and backs off.
I close the door, turn to the office.
President Bodden sits and folds his large hands,
that seem made for putting on heads
to channel God’s power into the afflicted,
on top of his desk.
I take the chair he offers.
“How long have you been on Cayman?”
I count back—takes a moment to assess
the time. “Almost eight weeks, I guess.”
His silvery eye brows rise and fall.
“I’m sorry we haven’t see you on Sundays.”
I stare at my toes sticking out of white sandals
resting on the standard blue Mormon church carpet.
He continues. “When is the last time
you took the sacrament?”
“The Sunday before I left BYU.”
His hands come off the desk, he sits straighter, his brow
creases. “You’re a BYU student?”
“Was,” I whisper as the twin marks on my neck
pulse redder and redder. “I was.”
“The Lord gave you that great privilege,”
he tries not to let his disgust linger in his voice,
but fails, “and this is how you show your gratitude?”
He thinks I’m a slut breaking the honor code.
Fine that’s just what I’ll be. I stand up.
“That’s why I’m not going back.”
He stands, too. “Do you know how many
righteous youth want to go to BYU and can’t?”
I nod, hand on the doorknob. “I get the message.”
“No you don’t. Sit down, Sister Hunt.”
No one could resist his tone. I obey.
He sits, too, and glances at the ring glittering
on my finger. “Are you living with that young man?”
I pick tissues from a box on his desk. “Michael. Yes.”
“Sleeping with him?”
“No.”
“Let me be clearer. Have you had sexual
intercourse with him?”
“No.” But I want—I really, really want to.
I don’t say it aloud, but he hears.
I concentrate on mangling the tissue.
“Are you humping?”
“No.”
“Petting?”
“He touched my breasts for half a second
this morning. Freaked out. That’s why I’m here.”
“You didn’t freak out?”
“No.”
“You don’t sound very repentant, sister.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes squint into concentration
on the shredded tissue I’m littering
his desk with. “But you said he’s not a member.”
I push the mess towards him and sit back.
“He knows the rules.”
“God’s commandments.”
“He doesn’t believe in God, so I called them rules for him.”
His eyes move from one bright red Michael bite
on my neck to the other. “You’re living together
but not intimate at all?”
I look him square in the eye. “It’s an apartment.
Nine of us. Six guys. Three girls.
I share a room with a girl.”
“And your parents approve?”
I have to look away.
“My parents don’t know.”
He closes his eyes a moment,
and a familiar feeling comes into the room.
His eyes open as he says, “You’ll have to move out.”
I push away the enticings of salvation that float
above my head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
President Bodden’s eyes graze me
with infinite sadness.
“I can’t help you then.”
I rise, get the door open this time.
“Wait—Sister Hunt.”
“I don’t have anything more
to say.”
President Bodden follows me to the hall.
“I want you to know, Sister Hunt.
The Lord loves you.”
Michael sees, hears—
more than I want.
I rush to him. “I was right.”
He takes both my hands.
I squeeze his hard and whisper,
“You owe me now.”
Surprise, disappointment,
or surrender? I can’t read him.
“Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The power in President Bodden’s voice
forces Michael’s eyes away from me
to my judge in Israel.
“Did she tell you”—Michael’s arm
surrounds me, and his voice drops
to holy levels—“about
the accident? Her brother?”
Chapter 22
GUILTY
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10
Dive Buddy: Leesie and President Bodden
Date: 06/17
Dive #: first one here
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: Cayman Branch of the Mormon Church
Weather Condition: nice
Water Condition: fine
Depth: hard to tell
Visibility: clearer
Water Temp: warm
Bottom Time: 45 minutes
Commen
ts:
Leesie’s back in President Bodden’s office. I’m in there this time. Leesie glares at me like I’m the biggest snitch in history. The guy sits back in his chair and looks from her to me.
A picture of Jesus wearing a red robe standing in front of a door, knocking, hangs on the wall above President Bodden’s head. I don’t know anything about this Jesus stuff, but I do know I need help. I hate when she’s deceptive. Freak. She flat-out lied to me out there. This isn’t the girl I fell in love with. Maybe this guy and his Jesus picture can help me find her again.
Who knows what she told the guy. Nothing good. For all I know she told him we’re doing it ten times a day. The look on his face got to me. It wasn’t disgust or loathing, though. It was pain. Sorrow. Like he’d lost a child. His voice was full of love—calling her back. He says it again, “The Lord loves you, Sis. Hunt.”
She pulls her scarf off her head. The long scar shows through her inch-long hair-do and creeps down her forehead. “I drove my brother off a cliff and killed him.”
I reach out and put my hand on her arm. “There was ice on the road. She was hurt really bad.”
“We were having a huge fight.” She closes her eyes. “I was mad enough to shoot him. And driving way too fast. I killed him. Manslaughter, at least.”
“He didn’t have a seatbelt on. It was an accident.”
She shoves my hand off her arm. “Don’t tell me it was just an accident. Don’t tell me I’m not guilty.” She clasps her hands together and leans toward President Bodden. “He doesn’t understand. I’m lost. Murder.” Hysteria grows in her voice. “No forgiveness in this life. Read him that scripture!” She hides her face in her hands.
I lean over and grasp her shoulders, try to calm her. “In the hospital, she went on and on about stoning. You guys don’t do that do you?”
“No. That’s biblical.” President Bodden rises and comes around the desk, stands next to Leesie but doesn’t touch her. “Sister Hunt?”
“She told me—”
She drops her hands. “That’s enough, Michael.”
I put my hand over hers. “She told me the rules don’t matter any more. That she was lost forever, so it would be okay—”
“And you—?”
“Didn’t believe her.”
“You protected her?”
“From me.” I feel like scum.
Leesie’s glittering eyes attack me then President Bodden. “I did everything I could to get him to sleep with me. And I’m not giving up.”
“Sister Hunt!” President Bodden’s eyebrows jut out. “Why are you tormenting this young man who obviously loves you? That is cruel.”
Leesie starts, shakes her head wildly. “I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s all I can think about. Every day. Every night.” Her eyes swim with tears. “I’ve made it so hard for him. I am cruel. It’s evil I know. That’s who I am now. It’s hopeless, President. I am lost.” Tears stream down her face. “You can’t find me.”
President Bodden sits down behind his desk, reaches the box of tissues and hands it to Leesie. He doesn’t say anything—lets her cry.
I try to comfort her, but she pushes me away. She finally blows her nose and says, “It’s eating me up, President. What do I do? I can’t live like this. We need to sin and get it over with.”
“The guilt you are feeling is real. I’m not going to tell you, you did nothing wrong. We both know that isn’t true.”
I glare at the guy. “But it was an accident.” What’s with him?
“Guilt is a warning flag that leads us to repent. It is a gift from God. It will wrack your soul until you turn back to Him. But if you don’t turn back to Him, it will eat you up from the inside out.” The expression on his face reminds me of Leesie’s dad. “And then you’ll become hardened. Past feeling. All you’ll want is sin. What you’ve told me tonight, Sister Hunt, concerns me greatly. You’ve given your guilt to the adversary.”
The adversary? “What’s that?”
“Satan. She’s under his influence now.”
I stare at Leesie wondering if she’ll go all Carrie on me. “What is she guilty of?”
He watches emotions play across Leesie’s face. “She can tell you.”
Leesie sits up, lets me take her hand, squeezes her eyes shut, and whispers, “Anger. Blinding anger and hatred toward my brother. That cost him his life.”
President Bodden nods. “Go on.”
Her eyes open. “Hurting my family. Recklessness.” She fights down a sob. “I am responsible for that accident.”
President Bodden studies her face. His voice is hushed, holy. “But you didn’t murder your brother, did you?” His words open Leesie’s heart. There’s a power under them that even I feel.
Leesie looks at me and dissolves in a pool of sobs. “No.” She falls into my arms. “No, I didn’t.”
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #93, SHE COMES TO ME 2
Crying on Michael’s chest
the wall I built to keep out the light,
cracks, splinters
and in cleansing white glory
She comes to me,
a pure and shining presence,
knocking on my soul.
“Sister Hunt?”
My grandmother smiles on my heart.
President Bodden’s voice filters through
the rapture I’m encased in.
“Do you know your
very worst sin?”
defogged, unfuddled
reveling in perfection
I sit back from Michael,
wrap my arms around my chest
so I don’t fracture into millions
of pieces at the exquisite force
so intense, so unearned, so blessed.
Along with my grandmother
blooming in my heart,
there’s whisperings of something
that can only be Phil.
I’m sorry Leesie. I love you.
I bow my head and whisper,
“Me, too.”
Michael rubs my back.
“Are you all right, babe?”
spilling joy that
embraces my sorrow
they smile
and wave
farewell.
Tears flow like water pounding
from a spout, splashing, gurgling
filling a baptismal font like the one
I stood in at eight with my father’s
hands full of power to cleanse me.
President Bodden’s voice extends an iron rod
to rescue me from endless wanderings
in a faceless field full of the lost.
“Your worst sin, Sister Hunt, was to believe
your Savior has power to save everyone—
but you.”
I grasp Michael’s hand and meet the man’s gaze.
“I testify to you,”—his words soft but strong,
pierce my stubborn, stone heart—
“He loves every vile murderer in every
penitentiary and somehow, someday
in the great Eternal realm, they will all
find their own salvation through Him.”
I rest my head against Michael’s cheek.
He strokes my face and whispers, “Listen
to him, Leesie. Listen. You need this.”
I study every word President Bodden’s mouth
creates. “He waits with open arms,
spread wide to welcome you home
with love and forgiveness if you will
repent.”
Emotion overtakes me once more.
I sob with my head down on the desk—
tears—the only offering I have left to give.
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10
Dive Buddy: Leesie
Date: 06/17
Dive #: --
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: highway to East End
Weather Condition: cle
ar skies
Water Condition: salty
Depth: heart to heart
Visibility: full of stars
Water Temp: hot
Bottom Time: 53 minutes
Comments:
Leesie’s calm as we drive home. Before we left the church, President Bodden rattled off a list of what she needs to do. Assignments. In real life he’s a teacher. Grade school principal. He does the church stuff as a volunteer. Their whole church runs like that.
First on the list. Leesie’s supposed to “pray until her knees wear out.” And I’m supposed to pray with her.
Second, read her scriptures. I saved them for her. She hasn’t unpacked them. Don’t know if she even saw them. I know she found the sheets of poetry I scavenged off the side of that mountain. She’s got them hidden in a drawer. Maybe she’s ready for those now, too.
Third, go to church this Sunday. He said she could take the bread and water thing they do. That shocked her. She figured she wasn’t “worthy.”
Fourth, move out of the apartment. That’s the big one. He’s going to try to find her a place tomorrow. We’re meeting him at the church with Leesie’s packed bags. I wanted to protest—but with everything going on at that apartment with Seth and Dani and Gabriel and Alex, I have to agree. She needs to get out of there.
The last assignment? Apologize to everyone she’s hurt.
She starts with me. “I’m sorry.” That brings tears close to the surface again. “If I really loved you”—her lip trembles—“I wouldn’t have made it so hard for you.”
I tilt my head until it touches hers. “You don’t have to go there.”
Her hands cling on my driving arm. “I do. I was awful. But I do love you—even if I didn’t act like it. I’m sorry.”
“You are ten times forgiven.” My eye moves from the road to her eyes and flicks back. “Am I doing it right?”
She kisses my arm.
She hangs on me the rest of the way home.
When we get back to the apartment, she takes her phone out on the balcony where the signal is best and keys in a phone number she knows by heart. “Hi, Mom. It’s Leesie.”
CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) Page 15
