“Thank you.”
He said goodnight to Buddy and crossed between the couple on the sofa and their video as quickly as possible. “’Night, now,” he said as he let himself out the door. There was no response.
* * *
Arriving at home, he didn’t immediately see Trish but supposed she was involved doing something with the children. He consulted his watch. Nearly nine o’clock. In Salt Lake City, Utah, it would only be eight p.m., not too late to make a call to the bishop of VerDan Winslow’s University of Utah student ward. He found the number LaThea had given him and dialed. Fifteen minutes later, he ended the call and sat in deep thought. Bishop Ronald Vale had been helpful, to some extent, and would have been more so, except that he felt he didn’t really know VerDan Winslow as well as he would have liked. VerDan came to meetings some of the time. He paid tithing, yes, but the bishop wasn’t entirely sure it was a full tithe, because VerDan hadn’t made it to tithing settlement. He didn’t really know of any particular problems or transgressions VerDan might have; the boy wasn’t one to confide in him. He had friends, but they were all of a seemingly casual nature. He really couldn’t say who the young man’s friends might have been. Even VerDan’s roommate hadn’t been especially close to him. No, he hadn’t ever applied for a temple recommend in the two years he’d known him. Yes, the young ladies did seem to like him; he was, after all, very personable and nice-looking. And yes, the bishop certainly had been surprised when he’d heard that VerDan had withdrawn from school and gone home, presumably to serve a mission. He would have liked to work with him on preparing for that, had he known VerDan was leaning in that direction.
The cat, Samantha, leaped into the bishop’s lap and settled against his stomach, purring.
“I don’t know what to think, Samantha,” he confided in her. “This kid gives the right answers, and his record seems to be at least pretty much okay. But something bothers me. D’you reckon something’s rotten in the state of Denmark? Or Fairhaven?”
She reached a paw up to investigate a button on his shirt, patting it to see if it could be removed.
“Follow my heart, you say? But see, the thing is, we have a kind of honor system in the Church. If VerDan Winslow insists to me and to the stake president that he’s worthy and ready to serve a mission, and we don’t have a shred of evidence to the contrary, what do we do? Then, too, his mother’s pushing like crazy, wanting to get him on his way before he gets cold feet or is it before we discover he really shouldn’t go? I don’t know, yet. Reckon I need to have faith, and keep putting it before the Lord. Though I don’t want to weary Him, either. Maybe this is one of those situations where I’m supposed to exercise my own judgment. If I were to judge what’s best right now, young Brother Winslow would head back to school, or go to work for a while if he’s tired of formal education.” He thought of the letters he had received from Elders Rivenbark and Smedley, then tried to imagine what kind of letter he might receive from an Elder Winslow. He couldn’t.
Samantha purred louder and narrowed her blue eyes to mere slits, apparently pleased that one of her humans was talking to her in such soft tones. He stroked her velvety back and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the overstuffed headrest. Together, they slept one in pure contentment, the other in sheer weariness.
* * *
“Jim!” Trish’s voice, low but urgent. “Jim, wake up.”
“What? Ow!” he muttered, sitting up from his slumped position in the chair, his lower back complaining at his mistreatment of it. Samantha slid to the floor and padded away, her tail switching in feline annoyance. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are the kids okay?”
“Kids’re fine, I’m fine. But listen, Jim. Muzzie’s here, with her girls. They needed a place to go for the night.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Trish’s lips tightened. “It’s Dugie. She can’t take anymore. She’s leaving him.”
He blinked. “Wow. That’s too bad. I didn’t see her car outside.”
“It’s in the garage. I closed the door and parked ours in front of it. I don’t think he’ll bother to come looking for them, at least not tonight. I put Muzzie and Chloe in the guest room, and Marie’s bunking with Mallory. Tiff has more room, but I didn’t want to get her all awake and upset, ’cause she has seminary in the morning.”
“So, what’s going on with Dugie?”
Trish shook her head. “It’s a long story, and not a pretty one.”
“Don’t tell me if she doesn’t want you to.”
“It’s not that. In fact, I think she’d like to talk to you about it.”
“Muzzie? Talk to me?”
“Don’t look so scared! It’s just Muzzie.”
“Trish, there’s no such thing as ‘just Muzzie.’ That woman has scared me to death all my life.”
“Well, she thinks you’re wonderful, and she knows you’re a bishop. So . . .”
“She’s not even LDS. Doesn’t she have a pastor, or something?”
“Not really. Not anybody she trusts enough to tell what’s going on. You’ve known her forever.”
“How about Big Mac? He’s known her forever, too.”
“He’s been away all these years. You’ve been here. You know Dugie.”
“Not well.”
“Not as well as you will when Muzzie gets through talking to you, that’s for sure.”
His curiosity surfaced. “Has he hurt her or the girls?”
“Yes and no. Not physically, not like Jack Padgett. And probably not the girls at least, Muzzie hopes not. But he’s expected things of her things she’s not willing to go along with.”
“Oh, boy.”
“And he’s heavily into porn.”
“So what am I supposed to do go over there and call him to repentance? I have absolutely no jurisdiction over Dugan Winston. We’re not even really friends just acquaintances.”
“I think it’s more that Muzzie wants you to counsel her about what she should do.”
“Aw, babe bet you could do that just as well as I . . .”
“It’ll hold more weight, coming from a man a clergyman, at that.”
He sighed. “You’ll have to be with us, anyway. I can’t talk to Muzzie alone.”
“I will. But don’t be all nervous about it. She’s so embarrassed and confused and and weary. She’s been dealing with this for quite a while.”
“Seems like it wasn’t too long ago she said something to me at the store about their marriage that it wasn’t as good as ours, or something? I can’t remember, exactly. But I sure didn’t get the impression that it was in serious trouble. I’m real sorry to hear it.”
Trish nodded. “Me, too.” She looked at him appealingly. “I had to let them stay, Jim.”
“Oh, I know. You’re her best friend. Shows she has good taste in friends, I always thought.” He shook his head. “No, you couldn’t do anything other than invite them to stay. But honestly, Trish, I hope it won’t be for too long. Maybe I’m just being jealous of our privacy as a family, but you know how it is. Having anybody stay for very long just I don’t know changes the fabric of the family, somehow.”
“I don’t think they’ll be here long. We’ll help her work something out.”
* * *
“I’m sorry, Lord, to be so selfish about this,” he prayed a short time later. “But I thought I had enough on my plate right now. Please forgive me if I was less than gracious. It just took me by surprise. Please bless Trish and me to be of genuine help to Muzzie Winston and her little girls. Help me to overcome my nervousness and fear around her, and see her as Thou seest her, as one of Thy dear daughters. I need Thee, Heavenly Father, every hour of every day. I know I’m nothing on my own. Please strengthen me.”
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
“here bring your wounded hearts”
He arose early the next morning and spent some time reading the scriptures and in prayer. Thus fortified, he went down to breakfast in time to see Tiffani o
ff to early morning seminary at Brother and Sister Warshaw’s home.
“Have a good day, sweetie,” he told her. “Learn a lot.”
“Right,” she agreed wryly, shrugging into her backpack. “Don’t I always?”
Her father winked. “Hope so. That’s why I’m paying for free public education.”
She gave him a funny look, but waved as she spotted her ride and headed out the door.
“Nobody else is up yet,” Trish told him, giving him a kiss. “Can you be late getting to the store this morning, or come home early, or what? I’m sure Muzzie’ll be fine with either one. She’s keeping the girls out of school today so that Dugie won’t be able to find her or them there. She just doesn’t know, yet, how he’s going to react to their leaving.”
“Did she leave while he was gone? And what did she bring with her? Does she have any money do they have a joint account? Is this something she’s planned for, at all, or was it a sudden, impulsive move meant to shake him up?”
“She said she went by the bank and withdrew several thousand dollars from the savings they had together there about half of whatever there was. I don’t know what other assets they have. Probably plenty. But she just wanted enough money to live on for a while to take care of the girls while things get settled.”
“So she’s set on divorce?”
“It sounds like it. She’s pretty disgusted with Dugie, and I can’t say I blame her.”
“Then why does she want to talk to me? Why not a good divorce lawyer?”
Trish considered the question. “You know what I think? I think she wants somebody sensible, and outside the situation, to hear her story and validate her feelings.”
“Well, again, a lawyer ”
“I know, but . . . it’s almost like she wants someone to give her permission.”
He sat down at the kitchen table. Muzzie Evans Winston, who had always had the aura of the pretty, the pert, the popular, the super-assured, around whom he had felt gawky, ignorant, and nerdy since third or fourth grade, wanted his permission to leave her husband? Life was just getting too weird.
“Want oatmeal?” Trish asked. “I made a big pot of it.”
“Sure,” he said distractedly. “And stir in a spoonful of fresh courage, would you?”
“Happy to,” she said, and gave his shoulders a hug as she set the bowl before him and poured him a glass of milk. He mixed brown sugar and a pat of butter into the cereal, the way he had learned as a child from his grandfather, a way which Trish found exceeding strange, but had learned to live with, just as she had his banana sandwiches and his penchant for fried vegetables okra, green tomatoes, eggplant, squash, even corn. It was, he had told her, a Southern thing.
“I’d better go get the kids up and running, or we won’t have time for scriptures,” she said.
“Okay. I think it’ll be best if I take a little time off this morning, but I’ll call Mary Lynn when she gets to the store to be sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
Mary Lynn agreed with him that morning would be best, today, for a little time off, so he enjoyed reading in the Book of Mormon with Trish and the little ones while they ate. Reluctantly, they had decided that trying to get in weekday scripture reading that included Tiffani was next to impossible, and hoped that she would get enough with her seminary studies and on weekends. The bishop could envision such family activities getting more and more difficult to plan as the children grew and acquired different schedules. Fortunately, it would be a few years before that became much of a problem with Jamie and Mallory.
Chloe and Marie, ten and seven, wandered in while they were finishing up.
“Oatmeal?” Trish asked brightly, but they both politely declined, saying they didn’t like it. They looked happier when Trish brought out a box of cocoa-flavored cereal.
“I didn’t know we had any of that,” Jamie said accusingly.
“You can have some after school, or tomorrow morning,” his mother promised. “Better scoot, now, or you’ll be late. Chloe, is your mom awake, yet? Not that there’s any hurry to be I just wondered.”
“Yes, ma’am, she’s awake. Do you want me to go get her? She doesn’t usually eat breakfast.”
“No, honey you just eat yours. I’ll go talk to her in a minute. Mallory, are you done? Go brush your teeth, and get your backpack. I signed the paper your teacher sent home, so you can go on the field trip to the zoo next week. Be sure to give it to her, okay?”
The bishop walked outside with his son. “Jamie, it’s best you don’t mention at school that Chloe and Marie spent the night at our house, okay?”
“Like I would!” Jamie said. “But how come they did, anyway? I heard ’em when they came last night, but I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Well, it looks like their mom and dad are having a serious disagreement, and she wanted a place for them to get away from him for a little bit, while she decides what’s best to do about it. So we just won’t tell anyone about it, okay, chum? And we’ll try to be patient while they’re with us.”
“Aw, man two extra girls? I’ve already got two sisters!”
“I know. It’s you and me, pal. We’ll stick together. And don’t forget the ball game, tonight. You and me and Buddy.”
“Yeah, cool! Go, T-Rex! Go, Mariners!” Jamie hopped on his bike and was gone.
Exactly, thought the bishop. But I have miles to go before I can relax and enjoy watching T-Rex do his magic.
“Who’s taking me to kindlygarden?” asked Mallory as he went back into the kitchen.
“I will, in my pumpkin carriage,” he volunteered. Kindergarten classes started half an hour after the other grades, which was not terribly convenient for parents with children on both schedules, but he liked the idea of the bigger kids being in class when the little ones arrived.
“Daddy, your truck can’t be a punkin. It’s not or’nge.”
“That’s true. It’s more like a what?”
“A snowball. It’s white.”
“Very good. A snowball carriage. Did you brush your teeth, like Mom said?”
“Not yet, but I will. Aren’t Chloe and Marie going to school?”
Chloe looked up from her cereal. “Not today,” she said. “Mommy doesn’t want us to.”
“Why?” demanded Mallory, not able to comprehend such a Mommy.
Chloe shrugged, apparently reluctant to talk about the situation.
Marie looked up from her breakfast. “It’s cause we’re hiding here from my daddy,” she explained unselfconsciously. “He’s been doing some naughty things, and we might not live with him, anymore.”
The bishop steered his youngest toward the stairs. “Hurry, now, sweetie,” he encouraged, before she could ask more questions.
* * *
Trish and Muzzie were seated at the dining room table when he returned, and sounds from the family room indicated that Chloe and Marie were occupied there. Muzzie looked smaller than usual somehow diminished, he thought as he pulled out a chair and joined them. She had a mug of some kind of fragrant, steaming herbal tea in front of her, which she was slowly turning around and around with her hands as if the action would help it to cool. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked miserable.
“Hey, Muzzie,” he said softly. “Trish tells me you’re having some troubles.”
She glanced up briefly and nodded. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys, and interrupt your lives like this,” she said. “But Trish is the person I trust most in my life. She knows everything about me always has, since we were fourteen, and she’s such a great friend.”
“She sure is,” he agreed. “She even knows everything about me, and keeps me around.”
Muzzie attempted a smile, but couldn’t quite achieve it. “Y’all are so sweet,” she whispered. “I’ll find a way to get even, someday. Thanks for letting us barge in.”
“No problem,” Trish assured her. “Want to tell Jim what’s been going on?”
&nb
sp; “No,” she answered honestly. “I hate telling anybody, and that’s why I never have, till now. It’s so . . . mortifying. All along, I kept thinking it would get better, you know? That Dugie’d get hold of himself, and stop acting that way. But it’s just . . . he’s just gotten worse. And I finally just had to leave. He won’t listen to anything I have to say, even about the influence he’s having on the girls. He said said it’d be good for them, teach them early how life really is, and how to enjoy it.” She ducked her head and began to cry in earnest. Her hosts waited patiently for her to gain control.
Once she did, Trish spoke, patting Muzzie’s arm.
“Why don’t you tell Jim how it all started,” she suggested, and Muzzie nodded. She gave him a quick glance from reddened eyes, then looked down again.
“I won’t go into any gross detail,” she promised. “We had a good marriage, for a number of years, we really did. We loved each other when we got married. I loved him, anyway, and I think he loved me. Then things started to change, about oh, when Bradley was about eight, and the girls were six and three. Dugie started traveling once in a while, to conventions and shows of boats and RV’s. We all went with him once, to Atlantic City, and it was okay, though some of the guys were a bit rowdy, I thought, for a convention that people brought their kids to.”
“Excuse me,” the bishop interrupted. “But where is Bradley, anyway not here, I take it?”
Muzzie nodded. “I talked Dugie into putting him into a private boarding school in Atlanta this year. I told him it was because they had such a great reputation for prepping kids for college and they do but it was really because I wanted Brad out from under Dugie’s influence. It’s a Christian school, too, and they’re really strict about standards and what do they call it? Comportment. Heaven knows I miss him I could hardly stand to leave him there but I felt I had to.”
“I see. You were brave to do that.”
She shook her head. “Not really, just desperate. I mean, it’s one thing if Dugie wants to go off the deep end and throw his life away, but he’s not taking our kids with him.”
“What’s he doing to throw his life away?”
Mercies and Miracles Page 16