The bishop grinned. “I know, friend. I’m using you for an excuse to get to bed, myself. It’s been a long day.”
* * *
The next day, after speaking to his stake president, Bishop Shepherd faxed him a copy of the letter. Later that morning, President Walker called him back.
“You know, Bishop, I don’t believe we need to be unduly concerned about this,” President Walker advised. “It doesn’t state any exact wheres or whens, and besides, as I’m sure you realize, the general policy of the Church is to allow all folks their constitutional freedom of speech in such matters, and just go on our own way, preaching and teaching what we know to be true without mounting any counterattacks. However, I would suggest that if you learn more specifics about this proposed tour—or rally—that you might advise your ward members to stay away, and not to engage with these people. Some of them might just be looking for a fight, and we’d surely like to disappoint them in that desire.”
The bishop thanked him and realized the wisdom of his advice. A “turn-the-other-cheek” attitude would seem to be the Savior’s way—and therefore it should be theirs. Still, he wanted to monitor the situation, and he knew he could depend on Ralph Jernigan and Peter MacDonald to help him do that. He decided not to share the information with his family just yet, particularly wanting to avoid burdening Trish with any unnecessary worry during her pregnancy.
* * *
“Bishop?” inquired Buddy’s voice behind him in the canned fruit and juice aisle. He turned to see the boy nod toward the front of the store, where Elders Moynihan and Rivenbark proudly ushered in Jim’s old classmate Charles Stagley.
“Well, for heck’s sake! How in the world are you, Chuck?” he greeted, going forward and thrusting out his hand.
The man smiled widely and nodded. “I’m tolerable, Jim. It’s good to see you. Took over your dad’s business, did you?”
“Sure did. My goodness, it’s been years, man! Come on, gentlemen, let’s go visit in my office, where we can all sit down and relax.”
He led the way to his office in the front corner of the building, gave Mary Lynn an early lunch break, and pulled over a stool to sit on as he offered his own chair to Chuck Stagley and Mary Lynn’s to Elder Moynihan. Elder Rivenbark, being in his wheelchair, was provided for.
“Care for a cold drink?” the bishop asked. “On the house, of course.”
He raided a cooler for four bottled lemonades.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he stated, uncertain as to just what the missionaries expected of him.
“We were telling Brother Stagley that you remembered him, but he wasn’t sure you really did, so we thought we’d pop in for a visit. He doesn’t live far from here,” Elder Moynihan explained.
“Are you kidding me? After all our baseball games and Saturday mornings out at the racetrack? Of course I remember him! I haven’t seen you around for a long time, though, Chuck—are you recently back in town from somewhere else?”
Chuck nodded. “Been living down in Dothan,” he explained. “Had my mom down there in a care facility close by. But after she passed on, I decided I’d better come back up and see what could be done about her house. It’s been vacant the last couple of years and needs a lot of repair. Most of the work I reckon I can handle, but it’ll take time and money. Her insurance was just enough to cover her needs, so there’s nothing of that left over. I’m just exploring options, I reckon you could say.”
“I see. And how’d these two young ruffians get hold of you?”
Chuck grinned. “Well, a guy gets desperate for company, Jim. He takes what he can get.”
“Aw, come on, now,” Elder Moynihan objected, grinning broadly.
“You know you love us,” added Elder Rivenbark. “We’re your best friends.”
“You may be, at that,” the man admitted. “The truth is, these guys found me when I was feelin’ pretty low, thinking about my mom, wondering about the hereafter and all, and they ferreted that outa me, and then set about tellin’ me their ideas on the subject.”
“How’d their ideas sound to you?”
“They made sense, you know? Reckon I’d like it to be the way they say. Don’t know if it is, but they paint a pretty picture.”
“They’re telling you the truth, my friend, I can vouch for that. The more I learn and the longer I live, the more I know this church teaches the true, restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and that’s something I never fail to find both comforting and exciting.”
“I can see it would be. Well, these dudes have got me convinced to come to your church this Sunday, so reckon I’ll give it a try. Been a while since I been to any church. I’ve tried a few different ones, but they don’t seem to fit me somehow.”
The bishop reached over and patted his old friend’s knee. “Maybe this one’ll be tailor-made. I sure hope so.”
The man ran a hand over his balding head. “Gotta say I hope so, too. Say, you don’t happen to know of any jobs open around here, do you, Jim? I’m lookin’ for work.”
“Not off-hand, but I’ll keep my eyes open. What’s your phone number?”
“I don’t have a phone hooked up, yet. I’ll write down my address for you, though.”
The bishop pushed a small notepad toward him and then folded the address into his shirt pocket.
“What kind of work do you want?” he asked.
“Anything I can get—handyman, house painter, truck driver, car parts salesman—whatever’s needed, I’ll give it a try. I don’t really have me a skilled trade, nor no college, but I’m a hard worker, and honest.”
“Well, those are the best qualities I know for any job. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything. Ya’ll have a good day, now,” he added as they prepared to depart.
Mary Lynn was leaning against the end of the dairy cooler, eating a container of salad from their new deli.
“Sorry to put you out, Mary Lynn,” her employer apologized.
“No problem,” she replied. “Reckon I was ready for an early lunch.”
“Ma’am,” Chuck acknowledged with a nod as he stepped past her, then stood aside to allow Elder Rivenbark to maneuver his chair into the aisle. “Salad looks good,” he remarked to her with a smile. “I’ll have to try that sometime.”
“You should,” Mary Lynn replied, then ducked her head so that her long brown hair obscured most of her face. Then she quickly retreated into the office she shared with her employer and closed the door behind her.
“Thanks,” Elder Moynihan mouthed in the bishop’s direction, as he and his companion waved to Buddy, then turned to follow Chuck out of the store.
The bishop patted his arm. “Anytime,” he whispered.
* * *
By the time he left work, the slight promise of change carried on the breeze of the previous evening was fulfilled in a rainstorm that turned the afternoon to early evening with the blackness of its clouds and the lightning that knocked out power just as he turned into his drive. Trish was lighting an oil lamp as he entered the kitchen, brushing off rain. He greeted her with a kiss.
“Hey, no fair!” Jamie complained from the computer corner. “I was doing real good, and then bam! No power.”
“Too bad, champ,” his dad said. “Maybe it’ll be on, soon. Where are the girls?”
“I’m over here,” Tiffani called from the sofa in the gray gloom of the family room. “I was reading, but like Jamie said—bam!”
“And Mallory’s doing something secret in her room for family home evening,” Trish explained.
“I’d better go up and make sure she’s not scared,” the bishop said. “Some storm, huh?”
“I heard on the news it’s a band of thundershowers that was flung up our way from that tropical storm in the Gulf,” Trish replied. “There are apparently several other bands following it, so we may be in for a rainy week.”
“Oh, great.” Jamie moaned. “I’ve got soccer practice, and me and Mal are s’posed to start our swim lessons this week
!”
“Well, maybe you can just swim at soccer practice,” teased his mother, listening to the enthusiastic gurgle of the water pouring out of the drain spout onto the grass by the patio. “At least we didn’t have to deal with this kind of weather last week, on our trip.”
Tiffani yawned and wandered into the kitchen. “And at least we have a gas range, so we still get dinner. Can I help, Mom?”
“Well, since you can’t read right this minute, how about breaking up some lettuce for taco salad? It’s in the left crisper drawer, and please grab the cheese while you’re in the fridge, and do it fast, so things will stay cold. There’s no telling how long the power will be off.”
It was off for the rest of the evening and into the night, so the family went to bed with their windows opened just a little to catch any coolness the rain had brought without too much danger of its blowing in and soaking the carpet. The evening had been a refreshingly quiet one. They had played games by lamplight and talked about how oil lamps and candles had been the only means of lighting people’s homes during the lifetimes of many of the people whose records they had found on their trip. Jamie and Mallory found it difficult to imagine daily life without television and computers, let alone phones, cell phones, electricity, running water, indoor bathrooms, airplanes, and cars.
“Lots of things have been invented or improved in just the last few years,” Trish explained. “When I was young, computers were just huge mainframe machines that some colleges and businesses had. People certainly didn’t have them in their homes, or play games on them.”
“I can outdo that,” the bishop challenged. “When I was a little boy, we had party lines on our phones here in Fairhaven. Anybody know what that is?”
Tiffani giggled. “Only party lines I’ve ever heard of are the ones we talk about in American Government class. It’s what the Democrats and Republicans give out as their opinion on things.”
“Right on, Tiff. But the kind I remember meant that your phone line wasn’t yours alone. We had three parties on our line, and we heard the phone ring for the other two families as well as our own. Our ring was two short rings, another family had one long ring, and the other had one short followed by a long. And if we picked up the phone while someone in one of those homes was using the line, we could hear their conversation. Your Aunt Paula was really naughty, and if Grandma wasn’t noticing, she would lift up the receiver a few seconds after hearing the one long ring, especially, and listen in to what was being said.”
Jamie grinned at the idea of his staid, grown-up Aunt Paula being young and naughty. “Why’d she listen to that ring, instead of the other one?” he asked.
“Because she knew it belonged to a sweet little old lady who hadn’t had much education and said funny things. I remember one time Paula just doubled over laughing so hard she had to hang up. The lady was telling her friend that she’d been having the sniffles, and she’d gone to the doctor to see why she kept catching colds. But he told her she didn’t have a cold, she just had the algebras.”
“What?” demanded Mallory, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t get it.”
“She meant allergies,” Tiffani explained. “She just got the word wrong, and said ‘algebras’ instead. Right, Dad?”
“Exactly. And I guess she was always saying things like that. Grandma finally caught Paula at it, though, and she was grounded from using the phone for a long time.”
“That’d be kind of fun,” Tiffani said. “Not being grounded, but listening in. You could learn a lot of interesting things about people that way.”
“Yeah, what if we had a party line with the Lowells!” Jamie said. “We could hear all the stuff they say about us.”
“I don’t think I’d want to know,” Trish said wryly. “I haven’t seen any of them since we got back—but I can’t believe that woman climbed up a ladder to spy on poor little Buddy out on the patio!”
“I wish she’d of fell off,” Jamie said. “Ka-boom! Would’ve served her right.”
“Well, now, James,” the bishop began, “I think that was sort of a strange thing for her to do, too, but maybe—just maybe—she knew we were gone and she was making sure Buddy wasn’t a burglar.”
“Dad, you always cut people so much slack,” Tiffani complained. “It’s like you can’t believe anybody’s just plain mean.”
The bishop thought about the letter tucked away in his desk. He knew full well there was real hostility in the world and that some of it was directed against him and his loved ones merely because of who they were and what they believed to be true. He just hated to acknowledge that it had moved in next door to him. He smiled in Tiffani’s direction but said nothing.
“I think she was looking to see if Samantha was out, so’s she could take her again,” stated Mallory. “Where is Samantha, anyway? Mommy, she’s not out in the dark, is she?”
“She’s right down here, wrapped around my ankle,” her dad told her. “She’s waiting for me to move my foot so she can grab it and bite.”
Mallory giggled. “Those are just love bites,” she advised her father.
* * *
Later, snuggled close to Trish, listening to the drumming of the rain on the roof of their home and waiting for sleep to come, Bishop Jim Shepherd hoped that all his ward members were as safe and sheltered as he. He hoped Twyla Osborne, Buddy’s mother, had come home on time and welcomed him in—and if not, that her ex-husband, Gerald, had rid himself of his “company” and allowed his son to sleep at his house. He hoped that Hilda Bainbridge was doing better in the hospital. He didn’t like that yellowish cast to her skin. He hoped the rivers and creeks in the area wouldn’t be so swollen by the rain that they would overflow their banks and flood homes or destroy crops. He hoped the uneasy feeling that kept him from relaxing and drifting into slumber was just that—a feeling and nothing more.
Trish stirred and yawned. “Jimmy? Are you awake?” she murmured.
“M-hmm.”
“Are you worried about something?”
“You know me too well.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
He smiled in the dark, and leaned up and kissed her hair. “Nope.”
“What’s bothering you?”
“I dunno. Can’t tell. One of those—what d’you call ’em—free-floating anxieties, or something.”
“Have you prayed?”
“M-hmm.”
“Well, then—if there’s something to be worried about, likely it’ll turn up soon enough. Try to rest so you’ll be ready for whatever.”
“I’ll try. Sorry if I disturbed you, babe.”
“You didn’t. The rain keeps waking me up, and the baby’s really active, too. Would you just put your arms around me and hold me? Maybe that’ll comfort both of us.”
It did.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
“ . . . Earth has no sorrow that Heav’n cannot heal”
With morning light, the storm had blown over, power had been restored and so had Bishop Shepherd’s normal good cheer and optimism. He ate breakfast with his family and headed off to the store. When his cell phone rang, he pulled over to the side of the street to fish it out of his pants pocket and answer.
“Bishop? Is that you?” came Ida Lou Reams’s voice, shaky with emotion.
“It’s me, Ida Lou,” he acknowledged. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I’ve lost me one of the finest friends I ever had, is all! I’ll miss her like a sister, and in fact she is my sister. We’ve lost our Hildy, Bishop.”
“Have we! I was worried about her, and I knew her color wasn’t good, but I sure had hoped she’d pull through. When did this happen?”
“Just this mornin’ as it was gettin’ light, I reckon. I got the call a little bit ago, and I flew over here to the hospital hopin’ it wadn’t so, but it was.”
“I’m so sorry, Ida Lou. I know you’ll truly miss her. I’ve seen how close you two ladies have become, since Roscoe died. Hilda�
�s really depended on you, and you never let her down. You’ve been the truest kind of friend, and you can take some comfort in that.”
“I don’t know about that, Bishop. I feel like I shoulda been here. Shoulda been with her, you know? So’s she didn’t have to die alone.” Ida Lou began to cry, and he turned the wheel of his truck to head toward the hospital.
“I’m coming right over, Ida Lou. You’ll be there a little longer, won’t you?”
“Yessir. Hildy made me her—um—personal representative, I reckon you call it. I got to sign some papers. I’m in the office on the second floor.” She gave a little hiccup of a sob. “I hate to disturb your mornin’, but I’d be real grateful to see you.”
“I’m on the way. I’ll just be a minute.”
He called Trish to tell her the news, then notified Mary Lynn that he would be a little late to work. He found Ida Lou in the second floor office and let her cry against his shoulder for a bit.
“I tell you what, Bishop, I never knowed when I took this president job that I’d get so attached to all the sisters—’specially this one.”
“Well, Hilda’s a wonderful woman. I’ll never forget how calm and faithful she was when Roscoe passed. She grieved, of course, but she felt joy, too—you remember that?”
Ida Lou sniffed. “Yessir, I sure do. I thought she was the strongest little thing I ever seen.”
“Mrs. Reams?” asked a young nurse with rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could you please sign this? It’s the release form, to allow the mortuary folks take Mrs. Bainbridge’s body.”
“All right,” Ida Lou said, and signed the form. “You helped take care of her, didn’t you, hon? Wadn’t she the sweetest thing?”
“She sure was,” the nurse agreed, patting Ida Lou’s arm. “It really surprised me when she died this morning. I thought she’d have a long fight with liver and kidney failure ahead of her.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m sorry to see her go, but I’m glad she didn’t have to go through all that. I should’ve known, too, the way she was acting during the night, but I just brushed it off.”
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