© 2004 Sharon Downing Jarvis.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company ([email protected]), P.O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City Utah 84130. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book. Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jarvis, Sharon Downing, 1940-
Mercies and miracles / Sharon Downing Jarvis.
p. cm. (The Fairhaven chronicles ; bk. 2)
ISBN 1-59038-218-8 (pbk.)
1. Mormons Fiction. 2. Bishops Fiction. 3. Southern States Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3560.A64M47 2004
813'.54 dc22 2003023884
Printed in the United States of America 54459-7164
Malloy Lithographing Incorporated, Ann Arbor, MI
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Andy, Farrah, Camille, Sierra, and Brady with much love and gratitude for each
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
* * *
“when dark clouds of trouble hang o’er us”
“Morning, Miz Hestelle.”
“Mornin’, Mr. Shepherd, how’re y’all today?”
“Oh, we’re doing fine, thanks,” replied Bishop James Shepherd of the Fairhaven Alabama Ward, stooping to pick up the rake his son Jamie had left out in the backyard. His nextdoor neighbor, Hestelle Pierce, leaned her bulk against the fence, apparently hoping for a chat. He sighed. He was already running later than he’d intended.
“I believe I feel a mite better, now the weather’s cooled off,” remarked Hestelle. “My, that was one hot summer, wadn’t it?”
“It surely was,” he agreed, with feeling. There was a definite change in this morning’s air a coolness wafting down from the hills that was welcome. He felt like putting on new sneakers, gathering up his books, and heading for school. Funny, he thought, how childhood colors the rest of our days.
“Sometimes I envy my kids when I see them heading off to school with their book bags. They’d think I was crazy if I told them that, wouldn’t they?” He chuckled.
“Oh, I used to love school,” Hestelle said. “’Specially the beginning of each year. I purely loved going school shopping with my Mama down to Birmingham, getting my new saddle shoes or penny loafers, and new skirts and blouses. Us girls couldn’t wear pants to school then, way they do now, you know. And I was always excited to get my new books, and pencils and notebooks and crayons! Tell the truth, the excitement didn’t last much past the first couple of homework assignments, but I still remember the feelin’. Makes me plumb homesick for those times.” She sighed. “Way things are going in the world, now, makes me long for the old days, too.”
He nodded. “Isn’t that the truth? But you know, about school my kids make a big fuss, and act like they hate for it to start, but I think I can detect some excitement underneath it all. Tiffani’s a junior this year, Jamie’s in fifth grade, and Mallory’s just starting kindergarten. At least she’s openly thrilled with it all. I hope it lasts.”
“Land, I can’t believe Tiffani’s that old,” Hestelle commented. “Seems like only last week she was runnin’ around the yard with her jump rope, about little Mallory’s size.”
“Time passes, Miz Hestelle. I’m just starting to realize it passes too fast.”
“Ain’t that the pure-n-tee truth? And I’ll tell you what else, Mr. Shepherd the older you get, the faster it goes by.”
He glanced at his watch. “That’s what I hear. And you know, it’s passing too fast right now I’m getting late for a meeting. I’d best run. You take care, now have a nice day.”
“Yessir, I’ll try to do that,” she agreed, moving toward her house.
He set the rake in the garage and climbed into his truck. His meeting was with the social worker assigned to Melody Padgett’s case, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. It had been four months since the family protection services had removed little Andrea Padgett from her home, and the police had taken her father, Jack, in for questioning about a complaint that he had abused his wife and might possibly be a danger to his daughter. Jack Padgett had been ordered by a judge to live separately from his wife for at least six months while undergoing evaluation and counseling. Melody, left alone in her beautiful new house, had been devastated especially by the mistaken notion that it had been her bishop who’d made the call about the abuse. Bishop Shepherd had finally been able to convince her that he hadn’t been the one, and he had been working with the authorities to see that Jack was able to receive counseling through LDS Social Services. Now he was trying to persuade the caseworker that it was in no one’s best interest, nor had it ever been, to keep little Andi from her mother and her home.
He drove the twelve miles to the county seat and the building that housed the county social services offices. He circled the block until he found a parking place for his truck. Riding up to the third floor in the elevator, he tried to marshal his thoughts and think how to present them to Melody’s best advantage. It shouldn’t be hard; Melody wasn’t the abuser. Jack, after a few minor violations of the restraining order that had been placed on Melody’s behalf, had agreed to obey the court and stay away for the duration.
“Good morning. I’m James Shepherd,” he told the girl at the reception desk. “I have an appointment with Mrs. Parkman.”
“Oh, right have a seat, Mr. Shepherd. The others aren’t all here, yet.”
“Others?”
“Yes, sir. There’ll be several people at the evaluation meeting.”
“I see.” Great, he thought. I’d hoped it would just be the two of us. “Who’ll be there?” he asked.
“Sir? Oh um, usually the caseworker and her supervisor, the family counselor, the psychologist, maybe a clergyman, a representative from the police sometimes a lawyer people like that.”
“And how many of them will be on Melody’s side?” he mused in a low voice as he turned away. Apparently his voice wasn’t quite low enough, however, because the receptionist bristled.
“Sir, these meetings are not a matter of taking sides,” she told him with an air of controlled patience. “They’re about sharing various professional opinions about what’s best for a family especially the children.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, just thinking out loud.”
She gave him a suspicious look and went back to her work. Obviously, she was more than a receptionist probably a social-work intern. Already, he felt at a disadvantage. He sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting area and watched on the wall-mounted television silent images of exhausted workers trying to clear the debris of the twin towers and the Pentagon.
Once the meeting was underway, he listened carefully to the profe
ssional evaluations of the situation. Melody’s caseworker, Mrs. Parkman, presented Melody’s request to have Andi restored to her custody and home, and stated her opinion that, with some reservations, she felt that action would probably be appropriate.
“What reservations do you have, Mrs. Parkman?” inquired her supervisor, a man of some sixty or so years.
“Well, Mrs. Padgett is still quite emotional. She seems to cry very easily, and I’m not entirely certain that her emotional state is such that she could create a positive tone in the home for her little girl.”
Bishop Shepherd cleared his throat. “Pardon me?” he asked. “May I comment?”
“Let’s see you’re the family’s clergyman, is that correct?” asked the supervisor.
“That’s correct. Her bishop, which is something like a pastor. I just wanted to make an observation, if I might? Melody Padgett is quite understandably emotionally fragile right now, it seems to me. It was a tremendous shock to her to have her little girl snatched from her home with no warning, at six o’clock in the morning, by strangers . . .”
“I don’t care for your terminology, sir,” stated the supervisor. “We do not ‘snatch’ children, we remove them, temporarily, for their own safety and well-being.”
The bishop felt his neck growing warm. “I’m sure that’s true, but snatched is how it looked and felt to Melody, and no doubt to little Andi, as well, no matter how well-intentioned you folks may be. Melody is the victim in this case, not only of her admittedly abusive husband, but of the very folks who claim to have her best interests at heart. She’s the one being punished, by being forcibly separated from the little daughter that she loves very dearly. And how is Andi’s emotional state? Does she cry herself to sleep at night, wondering why Mommy doesn’t ever come to get her? What was she supposed to think, when she was um removed from her home and family and all that was familiar to her, and not even allowed to take along her own teddy bear? My firm opinion is that it’s high time to return Andi to her mother. Why punish the two of them for Jack’s behavior? And frankly, folks, if someone came to my home and removed my little girl, for her own good, I believe I’d be in a pretty rough emotional state myself, and I know for a fact that my wife would be!”
“Yes, well, thank you, Mr. Shepherd. We’ll take your opinion under consideration. Of course, as you may or may not realize, this is just a preliminary fact-finding meeting. It is the judge who will determine whether the child will be returned to her mother. We merely offer him or her the benefit of our opinions. You may be asked to be present at that hearing.”
Bishop Shepherd nodded and subsided, trying to listen calmly and evaluate each speaker’s attitude. The policeman also felt that Andi should be returned, as long as Jack was kept well away from the home by a restraining order. He had his reservations about the possibility of complete rehabilitation of abusive husbands or parents. He’d seen too many repeat offenders, and Jack Padgett struck him as the type.
The psychologist begged to differ and offered statistics showing that abusive behavior could be modified, and gave his opinion that Jack seemed to have sufficient motivation to make the desired changes. He was, however, concerned about whether Melody had received sufficient counseling to strengthen her to perform successfully as a single parent for the time being. She hadn’t, after all, been able to protect Andrea from seeing her father’s inappropriate treatment of her mother.
The counselor from LDS Social Services felt that the family could be saved and rehabilitated. She thought that it would be in Melody’s and Andrea’s best interests to be reunited as soon as possible, to prevent the child from forming even stronger attachments to her foster parents. She suggested parenting classes for Melody and continued counseling for mother and child. The bishop sent her a look of appreciation. There were then a few brief discussions about timing and procedure, and the meeting ended.
Bishop Shepherd walked outside into the sunlight with the LDS Social Services representative, a Sister Hallmark.
“Thanks for your input,” he told her. “You were more convincing than I was. I’m probably a little too personally involved with the family, but I hate to see Melody suffering so from loneliness and frustration it makes it seem like Jack’s found a new way to hurt her, although I know that’s not a fair assessment.”
Sister Hallmark smiled. “You’re a good bishop to have in her corner,” she complimented. “I’d like to think my bishop would go to bat for me, that way.”
“What’s your take on the consensus will they recommend reuniting them?” he asked.
“I hope so. I think the main concern is that Melody didn’t report the abuse she was receiving to the authorities, and so she wasn’t able to protect the little girl from the effects of it.”
“I realize that was a mistake on her part,” the bishop said, “but I don’t see it exactly as weakness. I think, from her point of view, she was trying to be strong and endure whatever it took, to keep her family intact. She absorbed an awful lot, and went along with a lot of unrealistic and unjust demands on Jack’s part all the time just thinking that if she could somehow be a better wife, the problems would stop.”
Sister Hallmark nodded. “You know, it’s quite common for an abused wife to blame herself. She has to learn not to do that.”
“Right, and I think she realizes that, at least intellectually. With time, I hope she’ll really believe it on all levels.”
“She’ll need to, for the family to succeed. She can’t afford to let things fall back into old patterns.”
* * *
When the bishop got back to town it was lunchtime, and he fought a losing battle with himself over where and what to eat. He parked at the Dairy Kreme and ordered a cheeseburger and a strawberry-banana milkshake. As a sop to his screaming conscience, he left off the fries. It had been a difficult morning; he needed comfort food.
Once back in his office at Shepherd’s Quality Food Mart, he put in a call to Melody Padgett. She was at work herself, having taken a job in a classy little boutique in the new shopping area south of town, but she answered her cell phone.
“Hey, Melody, it’s Bishop thought I’d let you know how things went at the meeting,” he said. “I’m somewhat optimistic. The lady from LDS Family Services put in a good word for reuniting you and Andi, and so did I.”
“Oh, thanks, Bishop! I appreciate it so much. Um who was against it? What did they say?”
“I’m not sure anybody was flat-out against it, but some of them were kind of cautious, and felt you were still sort of stressed out, emotionally.”
“Well, you know what? I’d like to see how any of them would feel, having their child just taken away like that! I worry about Andi all the time, Bishop. How’s she getting along without me? Who reads her stories at night? They don’t know her favorites! Who does her hair and dresses her, and who knows how she likes her oatmeal with strawberry jam swirled in it? And with all the awful news about nine-eleven on the TV, which just adds to it, I reckon I am stressed out and I figure I’ve got a right to be!”
He swallowed. “I know. Just whenever you have to meet with someone, try to seem calm, but concerned.”
“It’s that Parkman woman, isn’t it? She’s always going on about, ‘How come you’re so upset, Mrs. Padgett? Andrea’s being well cared for.’ Like any old body could take my place! It just makes me furious.”
“Frankly, it does me, too. But let’s just try to cooperate with the powers that be, in hopes of speeding things up for you. I reckon they mean well I just happen to disagree with them about your situation. But we’ll keep plugging away, Melody, and do all we can, okay? Now, how’s your job going?”
She sighed. “It’s the only thing that keeps me sane, Bishop. I dread going home to that big, empty house, but I’ve got to keep it all up in good shape, or for sure somebody’ll say I’m not competent or something. Honestly, I don’t feel like I live in America anymore.”
“You know we all pray for you as a bishopric, as well a
s Trish and I at home and we pray for Andi and Jack, too. Listen, let me know if you need another blessing, okay? Anytime.”
She thanked him, and he turned away from the phone with a sigh of his own. His secretary, Mary Lynn Connors, had returned from lunch and seated herself behind the computer. She looked up curiously, twirling a lock of long brown hair around one finger.
“So I overheard what you just said,” she began, “and I gotta ask you. These here blessings you give folks how exactly does that work?”
He sat down, surprised. “Um well, the person who asks for the blessing sits in a chair, usually, unless they’re sick in bed, and two or three men who hold the priesthood place their hands on the person’s head and bless him with health, or comfort, or whatever’s needed.”
“How’s that different from just prayin’ for ’em?”
“It’s like a prayer, except in a blessing, the person speaking talks to the person being blessed, instead of directly to the Lord. It’s like, ‘we bless you with health and strength to overcome the infection that’s troubling your body . . . ’ or, ‘we bless you with confidence and courage to undergo the treatments prescribed by your doctors.’ That sort of thing. And, of course we mention the priesthood we hold, and close in the name of the Savior. That’s pretty much how it goes.”
Mary Lynn was silent for a moment, considering. “And it works?”
He nodded. “I’ve seen it work, numerous times. Seen people healed, comforted, strengthened. Of course, it works on faith in Christ, and it also depends on the Lord’s will in our lives. It’s not always His will that everybody be healed of everything. Sometimes we just need to learn to endure, or to allow other people to help us. And sometimes, naturally, folks just plain need to die. Can’t have everybody livin’ forever at least not in this mortal life!” He smiled.
Mercies and Miracles Page 1