by Jack Weyland
“What’s this for?”
“We need to improve our communications. This book talks about active listening. Let’s try one of his examples. Suppose you were my son and you were taking piano lessons. You come home from a lesson and say you don’t want to go anymore.”
A pause.
“Well?”
“Go ahead and say it.”
“I don’t want to take piano anymore.”
“Not like that—say it like you mean it.”
“I’m not taking any more dumb lessons!”
“You’re mad at the teacher, aren’t you?”
A long pause.
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Lara, how should I know? It’s your example.”
“Pretend the teacher really cuts you down.”
“I hate the teacher!”
“You don’t like to go there every week, do you?”
“No, she’s always putting me down! I can never please her!”
“You’d like to quit the whole thing, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah and I will, too! So don’t try to stop me! And there’s another thing. Quit trying to make me eat spinach!”
We stopped and looked at each other.
“Spinach?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how that got out.”
“Hello, there.” It was a man’s voice.
We looked out and saw the stake president’s shoes. We crawled out from under the table, both of us blushing.
“I suppose you’re wondering why we were under the high council table with a picnic basket talking about piano lessons,” I said.
“Yes, but I’m not going to ask. Whatever it is, it’s a ward problem. Good night.”
He stopped halfway to the door and turned back with a grin. “I know what you mean. I didn’t like piano lessons either.”
* * * * *
The next day after work, Lara and I helped my folks pick cucumbers for pickles. My parents were inside getting the jars and lids ready.
Paul and Julie showed up.
“Ta da!” Julie shouted. “Here we are, the stars of physics research! Paul took me to his lab and made me a diamond.”
“Actually,” Paul modestly explained, “it’s just a microscopic diamond.”
“Have you two had dinner?” I asked.
“I don’t remember,” Paul grinned. “Julie, have we eaten?”
She giggled. “After you gave me that tiny diamond and proposed, I can’t remember anything else.”
“Proposed?” I asked. “Proposed what?”
“Marriage,” Paul answered. “We’re going to get married—to each other.”
We had created a monster.
“When?” Lara asked, as stunned as I was.
“Any time we want.”
“We need a license and a blood test,” Paul said happily.
“Do I pass the test? I have blood.”
“I know,” Paul blushed. “That’s what makes you so warm. Hey, how about next Saturday?”
“Okay—I always wanted to get married on a Saturday. Paul, can we stay up and watch ‘Saturday Night Live’?”
“Julie,” he blushed, “we’ll be ‘Saturday Night Live.’”
“You can’t get married just like that!” I growled.
“Julie,” Lara explained, “you’ve got to pick out a wedding dress, then there are invitations, and a reception to be planned. It takes weeks to get everything put together.”
“Sure—that’s what you do if your parents are around, but ours aren’t. They won’t be back in the states for another six months. Besides, we don’t want all the expense. We’ll rent a wedding dress at the temple. The most important thing is to be married in the temple.”
“Julie, you’d better talk to your bishop about this,” I grumbled.
“We did,” Paul said.
“What’d he say?”
“Congratulations.”
“You’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” I said. “Take more time.”
Paul looked at his watch and observed the second hand. “That’s thirty seconds. I still feel the same way. How about you, Julie?”
“I waited for you,” she teased. “Why didn’t you ever write?”
“C’mon, Paul, what do you really know about girls? How many girls have you ever dated? I mean, besides the girl with the frozen hand and the other, the one with bugs.”
“That’s a story I’d love to hear,” Lara said.
“What does it matter how many others I’ve dated?” Paul argued. “I’m twenty-four. This isn’t exactly a teenage wedding.” Then, remembering Julie, he asked, “Is it?”
“No, but just barely.”
“Don’t rush into this.”
“Why are you both against us getting married?” Julie asked.
Lara turned to me. “Why are we?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Julie is too—well, alive for Paul. I always pictured him marrying someone like Madame Curie. She’d stand by him in the lab.”
“Sure,” Lara added. “and Julie’d marry a PE major, and they’d do morning calisthenics together.”
“That’s why we object,” I said. “You’re both so different from each other.”
“I know we are,” Paul said, “but it works for us. Julie’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. All of sudden the world is full of colors I never even knew existed.”
“And Paul is the nicest and smartest guy I’ve ever known,” Julie said. “Do you know he has nearly all the hymns memorized?”
“Paul,” I suggested, “what’d be wrong with waiting six months to see if you still love each other then?”
“No! I’m tired of singing and jogging! I’ve taken so many cold showers this week, I think I’ve got diaper rash.”
“And I’m tired of riding elevators,” Julie complained.
“Elevators?” I asked.
“Paul said it was okay.”
“I want to get married!” Paul called out.
“That’s not a good enough reason,” I said.
Lara turned to me. “What exactly do you want to happen first?”
“Marriage is a big step, Lara,” I said.
“I understand that, Sam.”
“What do you want?” she asked. “A letter from the First Presidency saying it’s all right? If they get along, if they love each other, if they can go to the temple, why on earth shouldn’t they get married?”
Now they were all looking at me.
“It’s a big step,” I repeated.
“We’re ready for it,” Julie said.
“Sometimes married life is tough.”
“We’ll face whatever comes,” Paul said.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay. Congratulation, you two.”
By way of advice, I started the story of the two frogs, but Julie turned the hose on me, and Lara joined her. Then Paul joined me, and we started a mammoth water fight.
Later that day Paul asked me if, after the ceremony, I would drive him and Julie to the motel he had reserved for their honeymoon.
“I could take a taxi,” he said, blushing a little, “but I’d be too embarrassed. I’d tell him to take us to a motel—and he’d suspect something.”
* * * * *
Lara and I watched as Paul and Julie knelt at an altar in the temple.
The temple president counseled them. “You know, only in one of these temples can you be married for time and eternity. It’s not because these buildings are more beautiful nor because we think we’re any better than anybody else. It’s because the prophet Elijah as an angel returned to earth and brought back the sealing power of the priesthood. And that’s why you’re here today—because of Elijah.”
Lara was watching Julie and Paul, and I was watching Lara. It was so comfortable to be sitting next to her in the temple.
“Now you both want this marriage to last into the eternities, don’t you?”
They both nervously nodded yes.<
br />
“Well, if it’s going to last that long, then it has to last today, doesn’t it? You’ll never reach forever if you don’t reach five years, or ten or fifty. And that means you have to work at it day by day, because eternity is made of days, and each day is important and carries the thread of eternity.”
I reached over and held Lara’s hand. She looked at me and smiled.
“We’re taught that the home is to be led by the priesthood. Young man, do you know how you are to rule over your wife?”
Paul was too nervous to remember his name, so he just smiled.
“The key is found in the Doctrine and Covenants. Does anybody here know the section that talks about how the priesthood functions?”
“Section 121,” Lara said.
“That’s right. It says that no power or influence can or ought to be maintained by the priesthood, only by persuasion, gentleness and meekness, long-suffering, and unconditional love. That’s how a husband should treat his wife.”
Paul nodded.
“The pattern the Lord has set up is the husband follows the Savior and his teachings, and the wife follows her husband. Young man, you love your wife as much as the Savior loves the Church, and you’ll be blessed in your marriage.”
Then he performed the marriage ceremony.
Afterwards we treated them to lunch, drove them to their motel, and waved goodbye.
That night I took Lara to supper at a Mexican restaurant.
“It was nice to ben in the temple with you today,” I said as we waited for our food. “You’re beautiful in white.”
“Just in white?” she teased.
“No, in anything.”
“Lately I’ve been winning some clothes at the store. Steve has a prize every month for the one who sells the most. I won this dress.”
“Is Steve married?” I asked, a little jealous.
“Yes—for now he is, but his marriage is on the rocks. He works too hard, and he’s never home. By the way, he said he’d like to meet you. Why don’t you pick me up after work Monday?”
“Okay.”
Our salads came.
I looked at my watch. “Well, Paul and Julie have been married now for five hours.”
She looked at me, smiled a little, and glanced at her watch. “Yes, that’s about right.”
“I suppose they’re having dinner now.”
She blushed. “Yes, this is dinner time, all right.”
“And tomorrow morning, they’ll have breakfast together, won’t they?”
She laughed. “I’m sure they will, because tomorrow morning it’ll be breakfast time. Sam, before you embarrass me, can we change the subject?”
“Okay—your choice.”
“I’m in my ward choir and we’re singing tomorrow. Want to come hear us?”
“Are you any good?”
“No, but we’re enthusiastic. Our bishop says we’re great.”
“Bishops always say that. Just once I’d like to hear one say, ‘We’d like to thank our ward choir. They are adequate, aren’t they? We don’t have much musical talent in our ward, as must be obvious by now. The way the choir sounded today is just about what we expected. Thank you, choir, for your slightly amusing rendition of a favorite hymn.”
“Sam, you’ve got a mean streak a mile wide,” she joked.
The waitress brought our food.
“Oh, look at that!” she said. “I love Mexican food!” She took a bite of her taco. “Oh, that’s good!”
I watched her enjoy the food. She was beautiful even when chewing.
“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked.
“Lara, I love you.”
“Really?” she asked, putting down the taco. “You mean indications have finally pointed to love?”
“They have.”
“That makes me very happy.” she picked up her taco and took another bite. I just sat and watched her.
“Isn’t your enchilada going to get cold?” she asked.
“I don’t care. Lara, I want to hold your hand.”
“You do?” she asked, her taco stopping midway to her mouth.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“If you hold my hand, I won’t be able to finish my taco.”
I’m sorry about the timing.”
She sighed. “The greatest tribute I can give you is that a returned missionary from New Mexico is now laying down her taco. Look, you may as well hold both hands—I’m not doing anything with the other.”
“I love you very much.”
“You know what?” she asked. “Right offhand, I’d bet we’re going to kiss tonight, aren’t we.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I don’t want you to think this’ll require any permanent commitment, but it will mean we love each other, won’t it?”
“Yes, that’s what it’ll mean,” I said.
“I can hardly wait.”
“I guess we should finish our food,” I said.
“Sam, look away. I don’t want you to see this. I’m about to set a world record in taco snarfing.”
We ate quickly without much talk.
After paying the bill, we jumped in the car and left. I raced to a place I used to go in high school after dates. It was a vacant lot then—now it was a housing development. Then I decided to see if my car would go where I used to go when I had my Jeep. We got stuck in a ditch and had to phone a wrecker service.
Three hours later I parked outside her house, turned off the ignition, turned on the radio, reached over with my lips, and kissed her.
A few seconds later, we decided to breathe.
“Wow!” I gasped.
“It was adequate?” she teased.
“Much more than adequate.”
“For me, too. I think having the radio on to ‘Mystery Theater’ was a nice touch.”
“Thanks.”
“It really set the stage.”
I held her and together we tried to figure out who killed the butler.
“Did you have the onions or did I?” she asked.
“I did—sorry.”
“I can take onion breath—I’ve been to New Mexico.”
All that night, after I’d gone home, I had heartburn.
* * * * *
Monday after work I dropped by the store where Lara worked and met Steve. He was about my age—enthusiastic and charming.
“So you’re Sam. Lara’s told me a lot about you. As far as I see it, you’re the only one standing in the way of her becoming a very rich lady.”
“How’s that?”
“Running off with her every Saturday cuts into her sales.
“She tells me she’s doing better than anyone else.”
“She is, but think what she could do if she worked Saturdays. Why don’t you let her do that, and I’ll give you both five percent of what I make from her sales that day.”
“I’d rather have her with me.”
“She’s a wonder—I hope you know that. For our best customers she’s memorized names, faces, dress sizes, color preferences. When we get a new shipment, she goes through it, picks out the ones they’d like, calls them up, and they come down and buy. People are calling on the phone to make appointments with her. I’ve never seen anything like it. She could be a very rich woman in a few years. I just hope I can keep her happy enough here so she won’t start her own store. She’d be my toughest competition. By the way, Lara, why don’t you pick out another dress—you won last month’s contest.”
Lara walked over to a rack.
“And what do you do, Sam?”
“I work at the computer center at the U.”
“Is there any money in that?”
“Not much—working for the state, you know.”
“You going to do that your whole life?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“When are you going to decide?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me give you some advice. Don’t sit on your dream
s. Think big and act big. You can be an eagle in this world, or you can be a cow.”
A secretary told him there was a call waiting.
“Do you know what that’s for?” he asked. “I’m working on a deal to build four new stores in this area. In five years, I’ll rich enough so I’ll never have to work again if I don’t want to. Be an eagle, Sam.”
The next day at work, as someone shoved a fouled-up program over my desk for the thousandth time, I had an almost uncontrollable urge to moo.
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
We were kneading bread together. “My parents would like to meet you,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Relax, it’s no big deal. I’ve told them so much about you and Adam, they just want to get acquainted. They said if you can take me up some weekend, they’ll show Adam the horses and cows and chickens. He’d love that, wouldn’t he?”
Friday after work we drove to her home, a farm near Idaho Falls. A few handshakes and “How was the trip?” and Adam and I were safely tucked away in our room for the night.
The next morning I stayed in the room as long as possible before going downstairs. Finally Adam and I walked into the kitchen, where the family was waiting for us.
Adam quietly and efficiently consumed everything they put in front of him for breakfast but didn’t say much. After breakfast he got out of his high chair and sat on Lara’s lap.
Lara’s older brother Bob and his wife, Faye, were there plus their four children. When he found out I worked with computers, his eyes lit up. “Computers, hey? I’ve got a problem for you. If a chicken and a half can lay an egg and a half in a day and a half, how many eggs does one chicken lay in one day?”
“One,” I said confidently, still eating.
“Nope,” he chuckled. “That’s what everyone says, but it’s not right.”
My face began to redden. “I’m sure it’s one.”
“Dead wrong,” he grinned. “Hey, Lara, I gave your computer man a problem he can’t solve. I thought you said he was smart.”
I asked for a piece of paper and a pencil. As the conversation swirled around me, I worked on the problem, getting madder every minute and less able to think clearly.
Every few minutes Bob would grin and ask, “Got it yet?”
Large drops of sweat cascaded down my back.
The dishes were cleared. Bob went outside with his father. They took Adam with them, but I stayed hunched over my paper.