Falling for Grace

by Robert Farrell Smith

  “And?” I questioned.

  “Clean as a whistle,” Leonard puckered. “Everybody that ever knew him loves him.”

  “I just don’t get it,” I mused.

  “If it’s any consolation, neither do I.”

  It wasn’t.

  “Well, I just want you to know that I’m on the job,” Leonard said, patting my shoulder. “How’s the women frontier?”

  “Grace and I are doing okay.”

  “Good.”

  “How’s the Bio-Doom?”

  “It’s not easy living in a fishbowl.” Leonard tisked. “It can be awful restricting being cooped up 24 hours a day.”

  “You’re not there now,” I pointed out.

  “I burned some dehydrated broccoli and had to get out for a while.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to priesthood. Do you want to come?” I asked.

  “I’d love to,” Leonard said. “But I’m a victim to commitment.”

  “We’ve all got our crosses to bear.” I smiled.

  Leonard was gone.

  I stepped back inside, hoping to salvage some bit of Sunday. But as I was walking down the hall Doran stepped out from the nook that the nursery door created and stopped me.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Listen,” he said kindly. “I really think we should work this Grace thing out. It’s not doing either one of us any good to go on like this.”

  “I agree.”

  “So I’ve come up with a plan,” he said quickly, as if hoping to get his idea in before I could stop him. “I’ll date her on the T-days, that would be Thursday and Tuesday. Then I get to bring her to church every other Sunday. I get one Monday a month, or two, if it’s a month with five Mondays. I’d like an occasional Saturday evening, but I’ve talked with the full-time missionaries and they have her scheduled for the next three.”

  “Doran,” I began to protest.

  “Hear me out,” he begged. “She’ll still technically be your girlfriend, I’m giving you that. I’ll refer to her simply as a friend until such time as she is willing to upgrade me to steady, or even fiancée.”

  I like Doran Jorgensen, I always had. I loved the way he tackled everything in his life with such openmouthed, wide-eyed enthusiasm—like a dog with his head sticking out of a speeding car. It bothered me that he simply couldn’t understand the fact that Grace and I were an exclusive item, but a tiny bit of me was flattered by how absolutely taken he was with her. How could I be mad at someone who saw as much great in Grace as I had?

  “Listen, Trust,” Doran continued. “I was about ready to give up on Grace altogether. Believe it or not, I get discouraged as much as the next guy. And I haven’t exactly been getting positive signals from her. But last night I had a dream, or a vision . . . actually it was a dream. But in it I saw Grace in white. She was beautiful, Trust.”

  “I’m sure she was,” I agreed.

  “Not just worldly beautiful, but forever pretty,” Doran insisted. “I can’t just ignore that.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Let’s forget your T-day plan. But I’m fine with you seeing Grace as often as she will let you.”

  “You mean it?” he wagged.

  “Sure. It’s up to her.”

  “I knew talking would help,” Doran grinned. “I just knew it. Thanks, Trust.”

  Doran and I both walked down the hall and entered priesthood late. I took a seat next to Brother Scott McLaughlin, the ward hermit. Brother McLaughlin was a fifty-year-old single man with a huge head. He still came to elders quorum because he didn’t like the slow-paced lessons in his high priest group. He was a loner who was best known for the fact that he used White Out to highlight his scriptures. He found it much easier to simply cover up the verses that he didn’t understand, or was offended by. I saw him eliminate two before the lesson ended.

  I left my meetings that day uplifted.

  29

  Smear

  December 6th

  Doran had really fouled things up for me by taking my job with Brother Barns away. I strongly disliked looking for work. I had thought about just not working until school started in a month, but I needed something to do. I had volunteered to help my mother out around the house, but she wasn’t as enthused about that idea as I was. Brother Victor had come over the night before and informed me of all the possible positions that he was aware of. There weren’t many glamorous options at the moment. Two of the better ones were taking part in a three week diabetes test, or cleaning out kennels at the Southdale econo-pound.

  Brother Victor had left my house more depressed than I was.

  Now it was Monday morning and I had an entire day of job hunting ahead of me. I put on an outfit that didn’t look like I was trying too hard while still looking like I’d tried enough. My first stop was the large bookstore that had just gone in about a mile from my house. The store was called Ink Tonic. There was a huge banner hanging outside that said “Four-Day Sale.” I wondered which four days, seeing how it had been hanging for months. I walked inside trying to appear assertive. After asking a clerk named Timmy where to apply, I was directed to a woman named Opal. Opal, the manager, led me upstairs and asked me a few questions about myself while I sat on a couch that was so puffy I seemed to get lost in it. Opal sat behind a thin desk that had a fish tank on it.

  “Have you worked in the last six months?” she asked without looking at me.

  “I’ve done some work for my father,” I answered, sounding a tad more pathetic than I would have preferred.

  “And before that?”

  “I was serving a mission for my church.”

  “Oh,” she said unenthusiastically. “What are you, some sort of Christian?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, as long as you aren’t a Mormon.”

  “Actually that’s what I am,” I said awkwardly.

  “Well what is it? Christian or Mormon?”

  “You can be both,” I pointed out.

  “Not me,” she snubbed. “I couldn’t stand being just another cookie-cutter sheep.”

  Opal had the same hairstyle as every other girl downstairs, was wearing exactly the same boots that Timmy the clerk had been wearing, and had so many name brand logos visible on her outfit that it would have taken me a full ten minutes to read them all. She was quite the picture of individualism.

  “Express yourself,” I joked, hoping she might lighten up just a bit.

  “Ha-ha,” she said coldly.

  “I’m a pretty good worker,” I tried.

  “Well, we are short-staffed, and my sister said Mormons were reliable despite their restrictive beliefs. Plus, you aren’t too hard on the eyes.”

  This was such a proud moment.

  “I can only guarantee the job for the next month. And it will only be about three days a week,” she sighed. “After the holidays, things will die down considerably.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  Opal looked me up and down.

  “Can you be here tomorrow?”

  I left Ink Tonic feeling pretty good about myself. I figured that I had to be doing something right to procure a job on the first try. I decided to get something to eat at the small bagel shop next door. While I was eating, Noah Taylor came in and ordered lunch. Once he noticed me, he smiled and asked if he could sit down. With my mouth full I couldn’t properly decline.

  “So, Trust,” Noah said after he had been seated. “What are you up to?”

  “I was wondering the same thing about you,” I answered back.

  “Sorry about nobody believing you.” Noah smiled. “It must really hurt to have Grace take my side.”

  “What’s your deal, anyway?” I asked.

  “I’d tell you more, but our last conversation left me looking less than perfect.”

  “I can see that,” I said, knowing full well that the effects of my fist were no longer visible.

  Noah smirked.

 
; “So are you getting the town all prepared?” I attempted to be civil.

  “It’s a daunting task,” Noah said while smiling at one of the female employees.

  “You know, I can’t understand how Grace has not discovered what a phony you are. She’s usually so perceptive.”

  “Love can be blinding.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, taking a bite of my bagel sandwich.

  “Why should I when I have Grace around to do it for me?”

  “You’re nuts,” I shook my head.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  The couple sitting one table over looked at us as if we were a couple of silly grade school kids.

  “Oh, Trust,” Noah said. “If I wanted to, I could make this so much harder for you than I have. You do know what I mean, don’t you?”

  “I know what you mean,” I said defensively.

  I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

  “What do you mean?” I backpedaled.

  “I’m certain Grace would jump at the chance to go off with me when all this is over. Maybe I’ll just extend the invitation and see what happens.”

  “Like I said, you’re nuts.” I stood and picked up my trash.

  “If believing that makes it easier,” Noah said, “then you just keep on believing.”

  I was tempted to hit him again, but I restrained myself, walking out of the restaurant without further altercation.

  I had gotten only a few steps out of the bagel shop when all of a sudden a ragged homeless person approached me. I thought it rather odd, seeing how this was the east suburbs, and I had never seen a vagrant or a wino in this area before. I had just begun to think of King Benjamin and his beggar speech when this particular bum addressed me by name.

  “Trust,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Leonard?”

  “Not bad, huh?” he said, referring to his getup. Then he did a little spin so that I could take in the complete ensemble.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I was tailing Noah. I wrote down the entire conversation you two had in there.”

  “You could hear us?”

  “No, but I’m not half-bad at reading lips,” he said proudly.

  “My back was facing the window.” I laughed.

  “I had to just guess at your dialogue.”

  “So what were we talking about?” I asked, amused.

  Leonard pulled out a pad of yellow legal paper and began to read back my and Noah’s conversation.

  “You said, ‘Have you been to see Leonard Vastly’s Bio-Doom?’ And he said something about being jealous. You said, ‘I can’t believe how prepared that Leonard is.’ And he said, ‘Southdale sure had a long growing season.’ I’m not sure why he said that, but I guess it’s in reference to planting grain. How’d I do?” Leonard asked.

  “Well,” I began to say.

  Leonard pulled out a glass bottle from his long wrinkled coat and took a big swig. It was obvious the drink was part of his undercover disguise. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and ahhhed.

  “What are you drinking?” I questioned.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Leonard brightened. “This is Fiji prana juice. It’s from Fiji.”

  “That would explain the name.” I smiled. “Where’d you get it?”

  “I’m selling it now. I ditched the magnet deal. Too many complications.”

  “Complications?”

  “Well, yesterday after I talked to you, I was walking downtown through the swap meet and I unknowingly attracted a few pieces of jewelry to me. Long story short, did you know you can post bail with a credit card?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Technology is really changing things,” Leonard reflected. “Anyhow, I’ve decided to try selling this juice. You need some of this, Trust. It’s from a rare fruit, and it stabilizes your entire body. Only fifty bucks a bottle.”

  “I can’t afford it.” I smiled.

  “You can’t not afford it.” Leonard smiled back.

  “I’m not buying any of your juice, Leonard.”

  “Just hear me out,” he said, handing me his bottle to look at. “This is the only company that takes the juice in its freshest form, seals it up, and sells it to you. You might have seen Fiji prana pills, but those things are ineffective, processed until all the good is taken out of them. This juice goes straight from the tree to the bottle.”

  “But it says it’s bottled in Provo.” I pointed to the bottle.

  “Listen, Trust, if you’re not interested, just say so.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “See, wasn’t that easy? I don’t believe in high-pressure sales. If the product is good, people will come to me.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “Before I go, however, I just want you to take this tape.”

  “Leonard.”

  “Listen to it in your spare time. It tells all about the Fiji prana fruit. Fascinating really. If you have any questions just call the 800 number on the cover. If they ask who gave you the tape give them my membership number there on the back.”

  “753CON?”

  “Those letters are assigned randomly,” Leonard lamented. “I’m trying to get mine changed.”

  “Thanks,” I said, slipping the tape into my pocket. “I’d better head home.”

  “You go ahead,” he said, giving me permission. “I’ll keep an eye on Noah.”

  “That’s not really necessary, Leonard.”

  “Oh, Trust,” he said, shaking his head as if I were a little child and there were still so many things that I didn’t understand. “I’m doing this . . . there he goes!” Leonard whispered fiercely, having just spotted Noah coming out of the bagel shop and heading the opposite way.

  And with that Leonard was gone.

  I went home and told my mother all about my new job. She said, “That’s nice” at least twelve times.

  It was time for my father to come home.

  30

  Love Vigilante

  Roger Williams was not in good shape. The motorcycle had pulled him down the Girth River until he got snagged on a rotting tree that was reaching into the water. He was lucky. A few hundred more feet and he would have been thrown over the falls. By the time he was rescued, however, he had been knocked around enough to do his body some harm. The town had carried him back and put him up at Sister Watson’s house so that she could be on constant watch. Toby was called for. He brought his Ace bandage and wrapped the worst-looking bump on Roger’s head. Then he prescribed lots of rest and maybe some fresh air when he was feeling better. The prescription fell on deaf ears. Roger was out cold. Toby gathered his things and quietly came out of the room.

  “Can I see him now?” President Heck asked Toby as he emerged.

  “Sure,” Toby replied, wondering why he was asking him. “He’s just in there.”

  President Heck walked into Sister Watson’s spare bedroom and looked at Roger as he lay there. Sister Watson followed him.

  “Does he look a little purple to you?” Ricky Heck asked her.

  “That’ll pass,” she hushed.

  “He could have died.” President Heck tisked.

  “He’s lucky to be alive,” Sister Watson agreed.

  “Should we call someone or something? I mean he might have family that could worry over him.” President Heck fretted with concern.

  “No one knows who to call.” Sister Watson sighed. “He had his bags all packed as if he were planning to leave, but there were no papers with his things. And I think his wallet must have washed downriver.”

  “You think it’s okay if we just leave him here?”

  “Sure,” Sister Watson said. “The body’s an amazing thing. He’ll heal, and then he’ll tell us what to do.”

  “I’m glad you’re around to know that,” President Heck said.

  “Why Ricky Heck, did you just pay me a co
mpliment?”

  “Sorry,” he said softly.

  Sister Watson fussed with the blanket lying across Roger.

  “You know what would be real nice?” she asked reflectively.

  “A big dish of hot pie,” President Heck answered without thinking.

  “Wouldn’t it be though,” Sister Watson said distractedly. “But I was also thinking that Roger here might enjoy a nice haircut. Wad’s always complaining about how people never sit still. I bet he’d sort of enjoy cutting on a knocked-out person. Plus, when Roger wakes up he’ll look better.”

  “Mavis Watson, you are a genius.”

  “You’re a married man, Ricky Heck.” Sister Watson blushed. “Don’t go flinging honey in places you can’t reach.”

  Ricky Heck laughed, pretending that he knew what she was hinting at.

  “You know, I think he’s lost a little weight,” Sister Watson observed.

  “I think I found it,” President Heck joked, patting his round belly.

  “With his face a little thinner, he sort of resembles our Elder Williams,” Sister Watson pointed out.

  “You know, you’re right.”

  “I tell you, the first thing this man is doing when he comes to is his genealogy,” Sister Watson snipped. “Who knows, Elder Williams could be his long lost cousin or nephew.”

  “Or relative,” President Heck said sincerely.

  “You just never know, do you?” Sister Watson mused.

  “Nope, I really don’t.”

  31

  Dating Myself

  December 9th

  The idea behind this date auction was this: if a cake auction can bring in a couple hundred dollars, then a people auction should really clean up. It was skewed logic.

  The auction was to begin at six. The actual auction being done by seven, everyone besides those who had bid would depart, leaving the participants and bidders to dine in the cultural hall for a very informal group date. It was sort of an exclusive ward activity that only those who contributed could attend.

  “You’d better get me.” Grace smiled as we got ready to head out. “I don’t want to get stuck with anyone else.”

  “We’ll see how the other girls look,” I joked.