The Final Farewell

by Patricia Wiles

  Lily B snatched the napkin and ran to my room. I watched her through the open door. She crawled onto my bed, opened the napkin, and put the carrots next to Lima Bean.

  “I lub you, Lima Bean,” Lily B said. “I will gib you my carrots because I lub you so much.”

  Two weeks later, the Armadillo Courier ran a press release announcing the groundbreaking for our new branch building.

  A few days after that, an angry letter to the editor appeared on the opinion page:

  Dear Editor,

  This is a call to all Bible-believing Christians in Armadillo and throughout Sherman County to take a stand against the evil influences that are invading our community. The Mormons are planning to build a church here, and it is up to us as Christians to stop them. Mormons claim to be Christians, but their claims can’t be farther from the truth. The Bible specifically says that there shall be no more books added to it. Look at the last few verses of the book of Revelation and see for yourself. Mormons will try to brainwash you into believing that their Book of Mormon adds to the Bible. However if you are truly a Christian and have read your Bible, you know that’s not true. Mormons are a cult and they will tell lies in order to convert you. We must not allow them to build a church in our community. Bring a sign and join me and many other Christians as we hold a protest at their groundbreaking. Stand up for Jesus and stand up for Armadillo!

  Sincerely,

  Rhanda Mudd

  At seminary the next morning Dani had the nerve to ask me if I’d seen the letter.

  “Yeah.”

  “So are you still going to go to the groundbreaking?”

  “Of course. Aren’t you?”

  Dani looked down at her seminary student manual. “Rhanda Mudd is Hunter’s cousin.”

  My blood began to boil. “Why should that matter?”

  “Hunter’s family doesn’t like Mormons.”

  “Then why are you going out with him?”

  Dani shifted in her seat. “I’m hoping to convert him.”

  I found her reasoning hard to believe. I gripped my LDS scripture marker with both hands. “What makes you think you can convert him?”

  “I want to set a good example for him.”

  The pencil snapped. “By throwing yourself on him? That’s some example.”

  Sister Hooper entered the room and gave us a pop quiz, so I had to stop talking. I filled mine out, turned the papers over, and tried to memorize a scripture mastery while we waited for Dani to finish. She took the whole class period, and even then she was only halfway through the test. When class was over she followed me out to my truck.

  “Do you want a ride to school?”

  Dani’s eyes were red and glossy. “No.”

  “Why don’t you go to the groundbreaking?” I asked. “If you really want to set an example for Hunter, stand up for the gospel. I’ll be there with you. We’ll stand together.”

  “I don’t want his family to know I’m Mormon.”

  I tossed my backpack onto the seat. “I’m going to the groundbreaking. I don’t care what other people think of me.”

  Dani hugged her books to her chest. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  “What’s there to understand? Hunter Rockwell’s not interested in you. He doesn’t care what you think or how you feel. You act so desperate around him—he lets you hang around because he sees that you’ll do anything to be his girlfriend.”

  Dani’s cheeks turned bright red. “Listen to Mister High and Mighty. If you’re so Christlike, then why are you throwing stones instead of helping me convert Hunter? You’re worse than Rhanda Mudd. Sure, Rhanda doesn’t like Mormons. But you don’t like me unless I’m acting like a Mormon.”

  “That’s not true! I care about you.”

  Dani’s mother pulled up.

  A dark shadow fell across Dani’s face. “You’re a hypocrite.” She threw her books in the van, got in, and slammed the door.

  I slammed my truck door in response. As Dani left, her cold words lingered in my heart. I zipped my jacket all the way up to my neck and turned the heater on full blast.

  I still couldn’t get warm.

  Chapter Six

  The groundbreaking for the Armadillo chapel took place on a cold, gray November afternoon. The anti-Mormon crowd ended up being nothing more than a handful of protesters; they were quiet and didn’t cause a scene. They stood on the sidewalk opposite the property and held up signs that said stuff like “Christians Beware” and “Don’t Let the Mormons Fool You,” with the second m crossed out to make the word look like Morons. I spotted Rhanda Mudd right away. She was the only one in the crowd who resembled Hunter Rockwell.

  Church members outnumbered the protesters, and their spirits were higher, too. The mayor and city council were there, and they applauded when President Carter turned the first shovel of dirt. Dylan and Derek behaved themselves for a change and didn’t punch, kick, hit, or bite each other through the entire ceremony from what I could tell. Sister Carter took a picture of her husband holding the golden shovel.

  The Courier photographer was there too, and the next day President Carter’s photograph was on the front page. Dani had avoided the groundbreaking because she didn’t want Hunter’s family to know she was Mormon. Well, there was her dad’s smiling face all over the front page. Hunter’s family had to know her secret by now.

  Underneath President Carter’s photo there was a smaller photo of the missionaries serving in our branch, accompanied by a nice article. Elders Boaz and Tolino talked about their homes and their families and what they were sacrificing to serve their two-year missions. They talked about how much they liked the Armadillo area and how they’d grown to love the people in the community. And each one bore his testimony of Christ.

  The Sunday following the groundbreaking, Mom had to speak in sacrament meeting. She sat up on the stand next to Dad. I didn’t want to sit by myself, and I sure couldn’t sit with Dani. So I sat with the missionaries.

  “So, how’s the teaching going? Are you guys having any luck?”

  Elder Tolino’s brow furrowed. “Luck?”

  “Yeah. Like, are you having any luck teaching people?”

  “Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Elder Boaz sighed. “We’re doing our best.”

  Elder Tolino nodded. “No investigators yet, but we’re talking to people.”

  “Maybe the newspaper article will help.”

  “What newspaper article?” Elder Boaz asked.

  “The article about you and Elder Tolino in the Courier.”

  “You mean they printed it?” Elder Tolino looked excited. “Was it good?”

  “It was interesting. I didn’t know you played college football.”

  Boaz gave his companion a good-natured punch in the arm. “Tolino s coach begged him not to leave. But he told them he was going no matter what, and they held his scholarship anyway.”

  “Cool.”

  And that was the end of that conversation. Or at least I thought so.

  That afternoon, Lima Bean and I were enjoying a nap when Mom knocked on the door and woke me up. She cracked the door open and held out the phone. “For you.”

  Lima Bean yawned, bearing his sharp, white teeth. As he stretched, a funny squeak came from his throat. I rolled off the bed and took the phone.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, Kevin. This is Elder Boaz. We could use some help.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Someone who read the newspaper article about us wants us to tell her more about the Church. We could use a third person.”

  It was cold outside. The sun was setting. I was groggy. Still. . .

  I sighed. “Okay. I’ll go.”

  Thirty minutes later, the missionaries arrived. I got in the backseat and buckled up.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as I checked my tie in the rearview mirror.

  “539 Palmer Ridge Road,” Elder Boaz said. “Let’s hope this is a good contact.”
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br />   The identical cottage-style houses on Palmer Ridge Road were planted in tidy lines along each side of the street. The only way you could tell them apart was by the house numbers and the cars in the driveways. Elder Boaz parked the car along the curb. Elder Tolino said a prayer. Then we went to the front door and knocked.

  Rhanda Mudd opened the door and smiled like a cat about to sink her teeth into a mouse. “Come in, gentlemen. I’m so glad you could stop—”

  I tapped Elder Tolino on the arm.

  “Later,” he whispered.

  “But you don’t know. . .”

  It was too late. Boaz had stepped into Rhanda’s lair. She motioned for me and Elder Tolino to come in too.

  Now I know how a fly feels when it’s trapped by a spider, I thought as Rhanda the scheme-weaver welcomed us into her web. We sat down on the couch. It felt sticky.

  Rhanda sat across from us. “I read about you boys in the paper. But I didn’t read about your friend.”

  “This is Kevin Kirk,” Elder Boaz said. “Sometimes we invite members to help us teach people. We invited him to come with us today.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I tried to sound convincing.

  Rhanda sipped her iced tea. “Would you like a drink? Some tea? Or how about a cup of coffee?”

  We shook our heads.

  “How long have you lived in Armadillo?” Elder Tolino asked.

  “I moved here three years ago to take care of my great-aunt. She’s ninety-six and isn’t able to get out of bed.”

  Elder Tolino looked at her with genuine admiration. “That’s an honorable thing to do.”

  “It’s the Christian thing to do,” Rhanda replied.

  The elders nodded.

  “But you wouldn’t know what it means to be Christian. That’s because Mormons aren’t Christians.”

  I hung my head. Here we go, I thought.

  “When Christ was dying on the cross. He wanted to make sure someone would take care of His mother after He died,” Elder Boaz began, opening his scriptures. “It says in John, chapter nineteen, ‘When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.’”

  “So you can read the Bible. That doesn’t impress me. You do that to lure people in. You convince them you’re just like everyone else, that you believe in Jesus, but you don’t tell them the truth about your church.” Rhanda pointed her finger in Elder Boaz’s face. “Then when they’re baptized, it’s too late.”

  “We’re called to deliver a message to anyone who wants to hear it. We’re called to testify that Jesus Christ is the Savior and Redeemer of all people. And we’re called to witness that all the scriptures—including the Book of Mormon—are true,” Elder Tolino said calmly.

  “There you go again, telling me what you think I want to hear—when I know for a fact that your church says the Bible isn’t translated correctly.” Rhanda picked up her Bible and waved it in the air for emphasis. “The Bible is the one and only word of God. It is the only perfect book in the whole world. Everything, down to the last comma, is perfect. It says at the end of Revelation that there shall be no other books added to the Bible.”

  Elders Boaz and Tolino stood up. I stood too. It was a relief to be freed from the sticky couch.

  Elder Boaz zipped up his scripture case. “We aren’t called to argue the message. We’re only called to deliver it.”

  Elder Tolino buttoned his jacket. “We hope we haven’t taken too much of your afternoon.”

  Rhanda laughed. “You can’t even defend your own religion. How pathetic. What are you doing out here, anyway? Why don’t you go back to Utah?”

  “I’m from California,” Elder Tolino said. He pointed to Elder Boaz. “He’s from Arizona.”

  Rhanda turned to me. She had bags under her eyes, and I could see that the roots of her hair were darker than the ends. I sensed she was lonely and tired—still, her anger made me uneasy. “You’d better stop hanging around these Mormons. It’s not too late for you to get away from their influence. I can help you.” She thrust two pamphlets in my hand—“Fifteen Reasons Mormons Aren’t Christians” and “How to Leave the Mormons and Find Jesus.”

  I followed the elders to the door. A weak voice called out from the other room. “Rhanda, I want to meet your visitors.”

  Annoyed, Rhanda yelled back, “They’re leaving, Auntie Belle.”

  “Let me see them first,” Auntie Belle pleaded.

  Elder Tolino’s hand was on the doorknob. He paused.

  Rhanda huffed. “This way.” She stomped to the adjoining room where Auntie Belle lay in her hospital bed. The room smelled funny—and I realized why when I saw the adult-size potty chair in the corner.

  “They’re from some church in town,” Rhanda said flatly.

  “You look like a nice boy.” Auntie Belle reached for my hand. I let her take it. Hers was bony and the veins were pronounced. But she had a strong grip.

  Her eyes locked with mine, and I felt a twinge in my chest. Grandma, my thoughts whispered. Her hand feels like Grandma.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  Be honest. My thoughts raced. Be honest.

  “My grandma died a few years ago. You remind me of her.”

  Auntie Belle’s smile was sincere. “You have a pleasant face.”

  I gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks.”

  Elder Boaz spoke up. “We didn’t realize there was anyone else home. Thanks for inviting us back here. It’s nice to meet you, Auntie Belle.”

  Auntie Belle let go of my hand. “You boys come back anytime. Rhanda will fix us some supper and we’ll have a fun visit. You will come back, won’t you?”

  “If you want us to, and if it won’t trouble your niece,” Elder Tolino said.

  “I do,” Auntie Belle replied. “I don’t get a lot of company.”

  With Rhanda standing beside us, groaning her displeasure, I could see why she didn’t have visitors.

  Auntie Belle looked hopefully at Rhanda. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  “Mind what?”

  “If these boys come back to see me?”

  Rhanda crossed her arms. “If that’s what you want.”

  Auntie Belle clapped. “Then I’ll see you soon, won’t I? You won’t wait too long to come back?”

  “We’ll be back soon. We promise,” Elder Tolino said.

  Elder Boaz nodded in agreement.

  Auntie Belle looked at me. “You too?”

  I grinned. “Me too.”

  Rhanda was waiting for us at the front door. “In five minutes Auntie Belle won’t remember you were here, so don’t get your hopes up about coming back. I won’t have you comin’ over here, preachin’ and tryin’ to baptize her. Got it?”

  The elders acknowledged Rhanda as they walked out the door. I didn’t even look at her. But the feel of Auntie Belle’s grip lingered on my hand.

  As Elder Boaz backed out of the driveway, he smiled at me in the rear mirror. “We’ll be back.”

  Elder Tolino nodded.

  “Rhanda just told you not to come back,” I said. “She’ll have a pit bull waiting for you if you do.”

  Elder Boaz put the car in drive and took off. “Did you feel it?”

  “Sure did,” his companion replied.

  “The death rays shooting from Rhanda’s eyes? Yeah, I felt ’em,” I said.

  The elders ignored my sarcastic remark.

  “The Spirit,” Elder Tolino said quietly.

  Elder Boaz nodded in agreement.

  Chapter Seven

  On Thanksgiving Day, Mom, Dad, Granddad, and I cooked the meal at our house and carried it across the street to Marcy’s. When we arrived, Marshall took the turkey from Dad.

  “Marcy was up and down all night. She’s not feeling much better today.”

  Concern clouded Dad’s face. “Maybe we should wait a
nd have Thanksgiving dinner when she’s rested.”

  “No,” Marshall insisted. “She wants everyone to be here. She’ll be down in a minute. She’s been looking forward to dinner. She loves Granddad’s turkey dressing.”

  Lily B wrapped her arms around my leg. “Unka Kebin! Did you bring Lima Bean?”

  “No. He has to stay at home.”

  “Dat’s not fair,” Lily B pouted. “Cats want to have Fanksgibings too.”

  “Trust me, Lima Bean doesn’t even know it’s Thanksgiving.”

  “He does too, and you left him all alone.” Lily B punched me in the thigh. “Go home and get him.”

  Mom scooped Lily B up. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “Can Lima Bean have Fanksgibings wif us, Nana?”

  “Of course he can. Kevin, go get the cat.”

  “But Mom—”

  “No buts. Get the cat.”

  “No buts,” Lily B echoed. Then she stuck out her tongue. I tried to snatch it. She pulled it back in.

  I went back to get Lima Bean. He was sitting in the kitchen window.

  “Come on, buddy.” I put him in the pet carrier and took him to Marcy’s. When I let him out, he ran to the kitchen window.

  Lily B clapped her hands when he successfully landed on the sill. “See, he’s happy now. He’s wif his fam-ly.”

  Lima Bean held up his hind leg and licked it all the way up to his paw.

  I put Lily B in her booster seat and then sat down in the chair beside her. “Want a drumstick?” I reached across the table and picked up the turkey leg.

  Lily B’s eyes widened.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Marcy pushed my hand down until the drumstick was back on the platter. “Lily doesn’t need that big ol’ hunk of turkey. She won’t even eat half of what you’ve put on her plate.”

  When everyone was seated around the table, Marshall tapped his glass with a spoon. “Let’s give thanks. It is Thanksgiving, after all.”

  I put the spoon back in the bowl of mashed potatoes and folded my hands in my lap.

  “Would you bless the food?” Marshall asked Dad.