by Dean Hughes
So Bobbi hardly opened her mouth, and her mind
wandered. She tried not to think about Professor Stinson and what he had said about Mormons and curiosity, but all Sister Holmes’ simple answers—with no challenges from the class—kept bringing the thought back. Toward the end, however, Bobbi’s friend Lorene Paulson told a little story. She had needed special help in a speech class. She had always been terrified to get up in front of groups, but she had prayed just before standing up, and a calm had come over her. She had given the best talk of her life.
And Bobbi believed that—believed in Lorene’s faith, and in God’s willingness to help. And then, as always, Bobbi felt guilty. She had sat through this whole lesson questioning and doubting, offering nothing in the way of support or testimony. She knew she ought to do that now, but she couldn’t muster the spirit. And that made her feel even worse.
When class ended, Bobbi tried to slip away. She really did need to get home so she could type up the final version of her paper. But as Bobbi stepped toward the door, Sister Holmes said, “Bobbi, just a second.” All the other girls filed out, and each said good-bye to Bobbi as though they recognized they owed her some special respect—because of her age, and probably because of her family.
“How are you doing?” Sister Holmes asked. She was folding up a lace tablecloth. The room was nothing more than a cubicle in the basement of the ward house, but Sister Holmes had hung a picture of Christ on the wall and decorated the table with an arrangement of tulips, red and yellow. At one point in her lesson, she had suddenly pulled out one of the tulips, cast it onto the floor, and stamped on it. Sister Holmes was a delicate woman who dressed in gabardine suits and always wore a hat and gloves. Her sudden movement, the severity of it, had shocked the girls. Doris Christiansen, one of the younger girls, had gasped out loud and then giggled at her own response.
“When you forget your prayers,” Sister Holmes had said dramatically, “that is what you do to God. You take his gift—the sweet, wonderful opportunity to communicate with him—and you crush it. If a young man brought you a flower, would you step on it? I don’t think so. You would cherish it. But your Father in Heaven offers you, daily, something far more precious, and all too often young women throw his gift away. Don’t ever do it again. Say your prayers every single day.”
Bobbi did pray every day—and often with more than a sense of duty. But something in the little demonstration seemed unnecessarily hard on the girls who forgot at times.
“I’m fine,” Bobbi was saying now. “Just busy. I’ve got a paper due tomorrow.”
“I suppose this time of year, you start looking forward to summer.”
“I do. But I like college. After I work a few weeks in the summer, I’m usually ready to go back to school.” Bobbi laughed. She wanted to be congenial, but she also wanted to leave.
“Where do you work?”
“At a candy shop. All I do is box chocolates all day. It’s kind of boring.”
Sister Holmes nodded, rather stiffly. “Is your wedding this summer?”
Bobbi picked up something in Sister Holmes’ voice, a hint of nervousness. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that President Thomas—or even Sister Thomas—had asked Sister Holmes to explain the advantages of a short engagement.
“We haven’t set a date,” Bobbi said, and she tried to leave it at that. “But Phil still has two years of law school to go, and I have two years of college.”
“There are great temptations during an engagement, Bobbi. Aren’t you worried about that?” Sister Holmes set the tablecloth next to the vase of tulips. She stood with her hands at her sides and her neck very straight.
“Sister Holmes, don’t worry about that. Phil is very respectful. We’ve never done anything . . . you know . . . even slightly wrong.”
“Sometimes, when they least expect it, young people think it’s all right to do a little necking, since they’re engaged and all, and then . . . mistakes can happen.”
“I know. We’re careful about that.” Bobbi wanted to tell her that her real worry was that she couldn’t work up any excitement about sharing her bed with this man—that the thought of it made her more nervous than aroused.
“Still, familiarity advances easily—and almost without notice. I think a wise course is to marry reasonably soon, once a couple has settled on marriage.” She patted her hair, but it needed no fixing; it was piled in stiff black rolls on the top of her head.
“Well, thank you, Sister Holmes. That’s something we need to think about.”
“Bobbi, I don’t mean to pry. I just know how difficult it is to avoid temptation.”
And suddenly Bobbi couldn’t resist. “Did you and Brother Holmes find that a tempting time, Sister Holmes?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. We never . . . not at all.” The woman’s face had turned white, not red.
“But you were terribly in love, weren’t you?” Bobbi thought of Brother Holmes, who tied his ties much too short and always looked a little dismayed, as though he had wandered into reality accidentally.
“Oh, yes. We were very much in love.”
“How did you know—when you first fell in love?” Bobbi was a little more serious about this question.
“Well . . .” Sister Holmes relaxed a little. She touched the table with her fingertips. “When I met Brother Holmes, I felt very safe with him. Gerald wasn’t the best looking boy I’d dated, and he’s not dashing and romantic, but I knew I could rely on him. He would take me to the temple, and he would be responsible to me and our children.”
“Did you feel excited about him?”
“Well, yes. I did.” She thought for a moment. “But not the way a young girl gets all moony-eyed about a movie star. I knew Gerald wouldn’t be impulsive or cross or cruel, and I knew he would hold down a good job. That may not sound romantic, but I have girlfriends who married cute boys who turned out to be just that—boys. One of my friends is divorced now, and it just breaks my heart when I see her.”
Bobbi nodded. She was sorry she had goaded Sister Holmes. She really was a good woman.
“Bobbi, the novels young people read—and the movies—can give a girl the wrong idea. Marriage is not all hearts and flowers. It’s mostly learning to work together as a team.”
Bobbi nodded again. But the description sounded too much like two workhorses pulling a heavy wagon. “Well,” she said, “I need to get home.” She reached down and pulled one of the red tulips from the vase. “May I have this?” she said.
“Of course.”
Bobbi was almost to the door when Sister Holmes said, “Bobbi, it is hearts and flowers, too. I sometimes wish Gerald were one to give me flowers, or to be a little more romantic. I’m just saying that it isn’t all about that.”
“I know. I understand.”
Bobbi left. But out on the street, with the sun down and the fertile smells of spring in the air, she felt an uncomfortable absence of life within her. For a moment, she allowed herself to think of Professor Stinson. She ran his words through her head: “Bobbi, you are absolutely wonderful.” But she couldn’t dwell on that. She sniffed the tulip in her hand, and then she breathed in the night air. Curiosity was fine—and so were powerful feelings—but Professor Stinson made too much of all that. There were more important things. Still, she sniffed the flower again, and she thought of Brother Holmes. And suddenly she shuddered.
Chapter 10
Elder Thomas, dressed in white, was standing near the swimming pool. The little congregation was sitting on wooden chairs, and there on the front row was Elder Sawyer, next to Peter, both of them in white shirts and pants, and then Anna and her mother, in white dresses.
Brother Stoltz was next to his wife, but he was wearing a dark suit. He looked thoughtful. Elder Thomas hoped that Brother Stoltz felt a little left out. Maybe that would work as an incentive for him to take the same step soon.
The smell of the old bathhouse, pungent with soap and the minty oils from the sauna, was not e
xactly what Elder Thomas would have preferred, but the place was clean, and after the business day had ended, it was the best facility in town for a baptism. Brother Meis was there with his wife and two young children and a few of the other members from the Frankfurt Branch: Sister Dittmar and Sister Holzmeier, widows and friends; young brother Fetterman, the only returned missionary in the branch; Brother and Sister Müller, who had moved to Frankfurt from eastern Germany, where the largest Church branches were; and Brother Richter, an older man who was counselor in the branch presidency along with Brother Müller. Elder Thomas had the only hymn book in the room, so he had chosen an opening hymn that everyone knew: “I Need Thee Every Hour.”
In the confines of the bathhouse, the music swelled, even without accompaniment, like a grand choir. “Ich brauch Dich, O Ich brauch Dich, Jesus, ja Ich brauch Dich.” Elder Thomas swung his arm mechanically. He had some music training, but he was never quite confident that he knew what he was doing when he led the singing. He continued to watch Brother Stoltz, who wasn’t singing with the others but was looking at the concrete floor.
Brother Meis gave what was supposed to be a short talk on the ordinance of baptism—but which turned out to be a long dissertation. As usual, he had something to say about the millennial reign that would be ushered in soon. Elder Thomas was sitting in a chair near the edge of the pool, in front of the others, and he tried not to squirm, but this was the sort of thing that bothered Brother Stoltz. He could almost believe in the Church until someone got off on subjects that seemed a little too mystical for his practical mind.
The sermon ended, eventually, and then Elder Thomas added a few words about the gift of the Holy Ghost. He told the Stoltzes, “I know that you have felt the power of the Holy Ghost. Anna, on the day you were healed of your illness, the Spirit told you that the power of the Priesthood was real. All of you saw the miracle and felt the Lord’s power.”
Sister Stoltz nodded her confirmation, and so did Peter. Anna’s eyes had been down, but now they came up, and she smiled, ever so slightly. Her eyes were suddenly the brightest color in the drab room. The thought occurred to Elder Thomas that he had never in his life seen anything so beautiful as this scene—these people he loved, dressed in white.
“Brother Stoltz,” Elder Thomas said, “I know that you too have felt the Spirit. You are right to wait for your baptism until you feel completely prepared, but I have seen tears in your eyes. I have seen how moved you have been by the change that has taken place in your family—and the change in yourself.”
Brother Stoltz leaned back in his chair, and he looked at Elder Thomas. He gave no sign that he agreed, but his look was warm and friendly, as it had been since the day that Anna had been healed. Since that day, Elder Thomas and Elder Sawyer had been in the Stoltz home almost every day. They had designed discussions to answer Brother Stoltz’s many questions. Anna had questions herself, but her attitude had changed. She no longer challenged the missionaries; she was trying to understand.
Brother Stoltz responded well to certain concepts. The plan of salvation made sense to him. The justice of the plan, the way it avoided the harshness of the hell that was taught by most Christian religions, rang true to him. What was much harder for him to believe was that God himself had visited Joseph Smith.
The elders had hoped to baptize the entire family, and they had been concentrating on getting Brother Stoltz ready. Then Elder Thomas had received word that he was being transferred. “The truth is,” President Wood had told him, “the signs point toward war. Any day now, we may all be evacuating. I need you to do your best in Heidelberg to get those Saints ready to take over for themselves.”
Missionaries usually waited for a family to apply for baptism, but when Elder Thomas got his transfer he decided to ask the Stoltzes whether they were ready. Above all, he was afraid he and the other missionaries would receive word that they had to leave, and the Stoltzes would be left unbaptized.
Sister Stoltz was quick to say that she was ready, and so were Peter and Anna. But Brother Stoltz sat quietly for a painfully long time, and then he said, “I want the others to do this. But I can’t. Not yet.” And that’s how things stood now. Brother Stoltz did seem touched by what was happening, but he was going to make his decision his own way, and on his own schedule.
Elder Thomas had had his chance to perform baptisms before, and so he thought it only right that Elder Sawyer have this opportunity. He had suggested that, and the family had politely accepted. But later, Sister Stoltz had found a chance to tell Elder Thomas that “the children” were disappointed. They would like to have Elder Thomas perform the baptism, if possible. “Could Elder Sawyer baptize me, perhaps, and you do the others?”
Elder Thomas had found himself in an awkward position. Peter liked Elder Sawyer, and it was hard to believe that he cared. Or in other words, maybe Sister Stoltz had been embarrassed to say that it was Anna who had made the request. But Elder Sawyer understood.
Elder Thomas finished his little talk, and he asked Brother Meis and Brother Müller to come forward to serve as witnesses. Then he invited Elder Sawyer to lead Sister Stoltz into the waters of baptism. Elder Sawyer walked to the stairs, on the left side of the pool. He looked unsure of himself, his face almost as colorless as his shirt. But he took Sister Stoltz’s hand and helped her down the stairs. When he stood a little too close to the center of the pool, Elder Thomas reminded him quietly to step nearer to the end.
Sister Stoltz grasped Elder Sawyer’s wrist, just as the two of them had practiced in her living room. Elder Sawyer raised his arm to the square and pronounced her full name—the sound echoing around the room—and then he said the brief prayer. His hand came down, and Sister Stoltz pinched her nose between her fingers as Elder Sawyer lowered her, backward, into the water.
She was under the water only a second, barely submerged, before Elder Sawyer pulled her back up. She came up gently and ran her hands over her face. Then she looked up at Elder Thomas, and that glimpse, that look of satisfaction, meant as much to him as anything he had experienced on his mission. It was that same joy he was feeling as Anna took his hand, and he walked with her down the stairs into the warm water.
He moved Anna into place, pushing gently on her shoulders. Then he raised his arm and pronounced the words. Anna Eleanore Stoltz. Beauftragt von Jesus Christus, taufe ich dich im Namen des Vaters, und des Sonnes, und des Heiligen Geistes. Amen.”
He placed his hand on her back and then lowered her into the water. She was buoyant, seeming to possess no weight at all. He let the water drift over her, made certain she was all the way under, and then lifted her up. As her face broke the surface, she was already blinking, and her hair had pulled back away from her face. She didn’t let go of his arm, even after she was standing. She turned and looked into his face, little rivulets of water still running over her skin, tiny drops clinging to her eyelashes. “Danke,” she said.
Everything seemed so pure. Elder Thomas could feel the vibrations of the Spirit, affirming his faith, telling him he was in the right place at the right time, that life had led him to this moment. At the same time, as the two looked into each other’s eyes, Elder Thomas felt an admission pass between them. He looked away quickly, pulled his hand back, and stepped away, concerned that others in the room might see what was in his eyes. He walked with Anna, held her hand as she climbed the stairs, but looked away when the water draped her dress tightly over her pretty figure.
And then Peter was there, smiling as though he were about to start some adventure. He climbed quickly down the stairs, continued to smile as Elder Thomas said the prayer, and then bent his knees and leaned backward against Elder Thomas’s hand. As he came out of the water, he smiled cheerfully, wiped the water away from his eyes, and then slapped Elder Thomas on the shoulder. “Now I’m a Mormon!” he said.
But, of course, there was more to it. Once all of them had changed their clothes and returned to the pool area, the elders and the branch presidency circled the three ne
w converts, one at a time, and confirmed them members of the Church.
When the meeting was over—after a closing hymn and prayer—Elder Thomas walked to Brother Stoltz. “I hope you feel good about this,” he said.
Brother Stoltz shook Elder Thomas’s hand. “Oh, yes,” he said. “This was very nice. Very moving.”
“And soon it will be time for you.”
Brother Stoltz looked into Elder Thomas’s eyes. “Perhaps. I have no way of judging this. Tonight I wanted very much to believe. But I don’t trust emotion. I don’t want to make a decision and then later doubt my rashness.”
Elder Thomas didn’t know the word Brother Stoltz had used. But he understood the idea. “You won’t ever do anything in a hurried way,” Elder Thomas told him. “I understand that. But keep studying, and keep praying. I want to get word, before long, that you have joined your family in the Church.”
“I will keep studying, and I certainly will attend church. I like the people in the branch, and I like the feeling there.”
Elder Thomas felt something new. Brother Stoltz was making deeper commitments than he had made before. But now others wanted to shake Brother Stoltz’s hand, and so Elder Thomas stepped away and spoke to Sister Stoltz. Anna was there too, but she said nothing. Elder Thomas was feeling some embarrassment around her, and he thought she was too.
“Bruder Thomas,” Sister Stoltz was saying, “could you and Bruder Sawyer come over. I have Kuchen for you. And something small for you to take with you when you leave.”
And so the good-byes were delayed a little. After everyone had a turn at welcoming the new members and congratulating them, the elders left with the Stoltzes and rode the streetcar back to their apartment. It was dark outside now, a cold April night, and the evening was getting away. In all the busyness, Elder Thomas still hadn’t packed. He was leaving on an early train in the morning. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan to get much sleep that night. He preferred, in this city he had loved so much, not to sleep many of his final hours away.
