Finally, his thoughts rolled him out of bed, and he tiptoed through the darkened house and down the stairs to his rolltop desk in the corner of the dining room. He had prayed before going to bed, both alone and with Trish, but evidently it hadn’t been enough. He knelt at his desk chair and poured out his heart in behalf of all who troubled his mind. He prayed for Muzzie and all three of her children, especially her absent son for Dugie, to be prevented from causing further harm to any of them, and to come to a realization of the destructive path on which he had set his feet. He pled for Melody, that she might be reunited with her little daughter for Jack, that he might be able to make the changes necessary for them to be a family again. He remembered Buddy, and prayed that both parents might appreciate the boy and give him the love he needed and deserved. He prayed for the Winslows Harville and LaThea that they might understand the needs of their son, and VerDan himself, that he might be strong enough to be honest with himself and with the bishop.
He mentioned the need for a ward choir, and the fact that only four people had attended its organizational meeting Trish, Tiffani, Claire Patrenko, and Sister Margaret Tullis, the ward organist. Thinking of Tiffani, as well as Lisa Lou Pope and the other young women of the ward, he prayed that they would be chaste and careful in their associations. He prayed for the Rexfords, that their needs might be met, spiritually and temporally. He rejoiced in the anticipation of the Wheelers, waiting for their little baby to be born to the birth mother who had chosen them to adopt it, and prayed that all might be well with mother and child. He remembered all who were ill or afflicted, including Elder Rand Rivenbark, Brother Bob Dolan, whose leukemia still appeared to be in remission, and the little Parsons baby, Alyssa, who had been born profoundly deaf. He prayed for the Jernigans, and for the ward’s elderly, including Sister Buzbee, Brother and Sister Mobley, and Sister Hilda Bainbridge. Then his thoughts and prayers turned to Scott and Marybeth Lanier. He prayed, as he did every day, for Scott to be comforted and granted wisdom in his ordeal, and he prayed that Marybeth’s eyes might be opened to the realities of spiritual things. Finally, exhausted but relieved, he returned to his bed, where he fell into the deep and restful sleep that comes to those who have done all they possibly can in any given day.
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
“for ’tis high to be a judge”
On Tuesday evening, Sister Linda DeNeuve brought to the clerks’ office a tray of country ham, whipped potatoes with red-eye gravy, and home-bottled green beans. There were flaky, hot biscuits on the side, and a jug of lemonade.
“Dear Sister, you’re bound to ruin us,” complained Sam Wright, as he accepted the tray with a smile. “Purely bound to spoil us rotten, and then how’ll we get our work done? We’ll just be lazin’ around here like a bunch of corn-fed hogs. No offense to present company,” he added, to the plate of thick ham slices.
Sister DeNeuve smiled back, unperturbed. “Y’all work awfully hard for us. You deserve a good meal. Besides, I didn’t make dessert, so I’m not spoiling you too badly. Now, don’t worry about the tray I’ll pick it up Sunday.”
“We’ll put it right here, under the counter,” the bishop told her. “And, since you’re here, would you mind visiting with me for just a few minutes?”
She looked surprised. “All right,” she agreed, and followed him into his office.
“Sister DeNeuve, you’ve had just a few months’ rest if you can call it that, having a baby and all that goes with it since you were released as Relief Society president, and I was wondering if you might be ready to consider a new calling. I understand you’re presently serving as a visiting teaching coordinator, is that right?”
“I am, and that’s not too demanding, most months. Sometimes I need to go fill in when someone isn’t going to get visited, but usually the sisters on my route are pretty faithful to go. What did you have in mind?”
“We’re looking for a director for our ward choir.”
She looked surprised. “Well, I’ve been Primary chorister, and Relief Society chorister, and I love music, but I’ve never really directed a choir. I’m told I have a pretty good ear, but you need to know, I surely haven’t had any experience directing a full choir, with men and women.”
The bishop nodded. “I’m not real sure anybody in the ward has had that kind of experience. I just can’t remember when we’ve ever had a full-fledged choir. I mean, once in a while we’ve had the Relief Society sisters sing, or the children, or special numbers by a duet or a trio but President Walker has directed that each ward develop a choir that performs about once a month in sacrament meeting. He suggested a Christmas program, and he wants us to contribute several singers to the stake choir for February conference.”
She nodded. “I heard about that on Sunday, and I wondered who’d be directing. Oh, boy! I surely didn’t think it might be me. Who’s the accompanist?”
“We’ve got Claire Patrenko on the piano, and of course Sister Tullis on organ. You could use both, or trade around, according to what you think sounds best with each hymn. And I think hymns are what President Walker wants us to work on, rather than a lot of fancy pieces that’d be beyond our capabilities, for now. We’re thinking just one hour of practice a week, right after church on Sundays.”
“How many people showed up last Sunday?”
The bishop made a little face. “Four,” he admitted. “The two accompanists, and my wife and daughter.”
“Ah! Then we’ve got our work cut out for us, recruiting, haven’t we!”
He really liked the way she said ‘we.’ It gave him confidence that maybe he’d be able to follow through on his instructions from President Walker. It was always a little unnerving when one’s ability to live up to a leader’s expectations was dependent on the cooperation of others.
“Then you’ll accept?” he asked eagerly.
“Sure,” she replied with a smile. “I don’t guarantee the quality of the results, but I’m willing to try to lead if we can get some people to sing.”
“Sounds like a deal, to me. The Lord bless you, Sister,” he added. “And thanks for the great meal, too!”
* * *
He had conducted two youth interviews and had a little break before meeting with Scott Lanier. The phone rang in the clerks’ office just as he wandered in to refill his lemonade cup and see if there was a biscuit left over. Dan McMillan answered the phone, consulted the evening’s schedule, then turned to the bishop.
“Bishop, have you got time to visit with Barker Reams for a few minutes? Says he can be here in five.”
The bishop’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why, sure,” he agreed. “Tell him to come on over.”
He went back into his office, pondering what might bring Barker voluntarily out to see him. Barker was not a member of the Church, but he allowed his wife, Ida Lou, to participate and to serve as Relief Society president, where the bishop considered that she was doing a bang-up job. He hoped Barker didn’t feel she was being overworked or taking too much time away from home.
Barker arrived, looking nervous, clad in a clean white shirt and new-looking jeans. He was what the bishop’s father would have called a portly man, a bit hefty through the upper body as some men tended to get, with age.
“Good evening to you, Barker! How are you?” the bishop greeted, shaking hands warmly. “Come and sit down. What can I do for you?”
Barker ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Ain’t rightly for me, that I’m here. I’ve come about my wife. That is, I need to ask you a couple of questions, kind of private-like, iffen you don’t mind.” He flicked a glance toward the clerks’ office door.
“Not at all.” The bishop closed both doors before sitting down.
“See, hit’s about these here temples you folks have got. Ida Lou, she talks about ’em like they was a piece of heaven or somethin’ but I need to know what, for sure, goes on inside. Is that somethin’ you can tell me?”
The bishop was surprised, to s
ay the least, but he welcomed the opportunity, and sent up a quick prayer for guidance.
“I’ll do my best. I reckon you already know that temples are different from meetinghouses like this one, where we worship on Sundays. Temples are built for a special purpose, which is to be a sacred place, as close to heaven as we know how to make it, where certain eternal ordinances are performed. We do some of these ordinances for living people, and also in behalf of those who have passed on, who didn’t have the chance to do them for themselves while here on earth. For example, couples can be married in the temple, not just till death parts them, but forever, if they’ll remain faithful. Baptisms are performed for deceased people by living people, in their name and we believe that the deceased have the opportunity to accept or reject the work done for them. So a temple is a place of Christian service doing things for folks who can’t do for themselves, without any thought of thanks or of favors returned. We make covenants with the Lord in the temple, promising that we’ll keep His commandments and devote our lives to His service. In turn, the Lord gives us wonderful promises and blessings which will mostly be realized in the hereafter, if we’ve kept our part of the bargain.”
Barker frowned, but nodded, trying to take in what he was hearing.
“One other thing we do in the temples is what we call sealings. For example, a couple who had been married civilly might go and have their marriage sealed for time and all eternity just as if they were getting married for the first time, like a young couple. Then their children are brought in, all dressed in white, and they all kneel around an altar and the children are made theirs forever, so that their family becomes an eternal unit.”
Barker nodded. “Our son Billy and his wife done that, so I know about that part. And I know about the um the clothes items.”
The bishop smiled. “The temple garment. Right.”
“Okay, so reckon what I want to know is, iffen I was to let Ida Lou go through, what would change, in our lives?”
The bishop’s heart leapt up. He knew how dearly Ida Lou desired the blessings of the temple.
“Nothing would change much, Barker. Ida Lou would wear the garment, of course, and we would hope you’d be respectful toward that. But she’d still be your same dear wife, only happier than ever. Ida Lou’s already as committed to the Lord and to serving her fellowman as anyone who’s been endowed in the temple. But you’d be doing her a wonderful service, to allow her to go, with your blessing. I don’t believe you’d be sorry, in any way.”
“You likely know how she takes a car full of older ladies down to the temple in Birmingham once a month. Then, they go in and do their thing, and Ida Lou just waits in the car, and does her crocheting and stuff, then brings ’em home. Now, she ain’t complained, never said a word against me regardin’ that. But of late, I’ve felt right bad about it. It’s just that I don’t want to stand in her way, you understand?”
“I understand,” the bishop said softly.
“I mean, she’s already there she might as well go inside with them other ladies. It’s only fittin’, her bein’ the president and all.”
“I agree.”
“So, I figger whatever I need to do to let her go, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, Barker. You’re a good man. I can see why Ida Lou’s so devoted to you.”
“Aw, I ain’t nothin’. I got me too many faults and weaknesses. But like I say, she’s a good woman, and I don’t want to hold her back none.”
“Then you just go home and surprise her with the news. And she is a good woman. She’s doing a great job with the sisters. They all love her.”
“Reckon they should! She sure goes out of her way for ’em. Like that little old lady up on the farm? One she took the sweet potater pie to? Land, that thing was nasty the pie, I mean plumb bitter with nutmeg, but that old soul shore did enjoy it! And as if the pie weren’t enough, Ida Lou had sat down and made that lady a dress just like the one of her own that the woman had admired! Worked on it all night, didn’t get her a wink of sleep. I tell you, she’s somethin’!” It was the most the bishop had ever heard Barker Reams say.
“Something special,” he agreed. “And so are you, Barker. Thank you, so much. The Lord bless you.”
Barker shrugged, and turned his head away in embarrassment. “Least I can do,” he said.
He shook hands again and left, and the bishop knelt to offer a prayer of thanks.
* * *
The next evening at dinner, Trish said, “I had a call from Meredith, today.”
“That right? How’s she doing?” asked her husband, with interest.
Trish smiled with satisfaction. “Sick as a dog.”
“That’s great!”
“Mommy!” Mallory scolded. “That’s not nice, for you and Daddy to be glad Aunt Merrie’s sick. Is it, Jamie?”
Jamie looked confused. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s goin’ on?”
Trish smiled at her two youngest.
“I’ll bet I get it,” Tiffani said, cocking her head to one side. “Aunt Merrie’s preggers, isn’t she!”
Trish looked at her. “Where’d you get that term?”
“It’s British. But am I right?”
“You’re right. Aunt Merrie’s expecting a baby.”
“I knew it. That’s so cool!” Tiffani said.
“A baby?” Mallory said in wonder. “For reals?”
“So we get a new cousin!” Jamie put in. “I sure hope it’s a boy. We’ve only got one boy cousin, and I never get to see him.”
“Well, Tim lives in Oregon, and that’s a long way off,” Trish reminded him. “You do have two boy cousins on your dad’s side, but they’re pretty much all grown up, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yeah Raden and Jerry. Yeah, they’re like what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
Raden and Jerry were the two sons of the bishop’s next older sister, Ann Marie Futrell. Ann Marie and her family lived near Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and the Alabama contingent didn’t see them very often.
The bishop thought for a moment. “Let’s see, Raden’s a senior this year, so he probably is eighteen by now, and Jerry’s about twenty. He joined the Navy, remember?”
“Oh, yeah that’s right. I wish he’d come see us, and wear his uniform. That’d be way cool. And Tiff could show him around, and everybody’d think she had a date with a sailor!”
Tiffani ignored her brother’s teasing. “So, Mom, when’s Aunt Merrie’s baby due?”
“Not for a long time. About next May just before school’s out.”
“How come it takes so long to grow a baby?” asked Mallory.
Her mother smiled fondly. “Got to have time to grow all the things inside the baby, like its bones and heart and tummy, and to get its eyes and skin all finished, and its little tiny fingernails and toenails and nine months is just right to get all that done, so the baby can live outside the mother and be healthy.”
“Well, why don’t we grow another one? I think a baby sister would be fun.”
“Nuh-uh,” objected Jamie. “A brother, if anything! There’s too many girls around here already. Even the cat’s a girl.”
“We’d like another baby, too,” Trish said, smiling at them. “But it probably won’t happen. We had a hard time getting the three of you here.”
“How come?” asked Tiffani.
“I have some problems getting pregnant,” her mother replied. “I’ll explain it to you, sometime.” She winked covertly at her elder daughter, who then understood that Mallory and perhaps Jamie too was too young to hear the details.
“Samantha’s a girl when’s she gonna have a baby kitty?” Mallory pursued.
“Bite your pretty little tongue,” admonished her father, reaching to tweak her nose. “If there’s anything we don’t need, it’s more little Samanthas running around the place. Besides, she’s still too young.” He thought a minute, and frowned in his wife’s direction. “Isn’t she?”
Trish returned his look, her eyebrows raised. �
��I’ll call the vet,” she promised.
The bishop enjoyed the mealtime conversation with his family the first private one they’d had for several days. Muzzie and her girls had gone with the lawyer to look at the condominium they’d been promised and to have dinner with her as well. Dugie and his son had not yet been heard from, according to the local police, who were on the alert to watch for them, regarding Dugie as a potential problem.
He watched Trish fondly as she brought in brownies for dessert. There were a couple of things he wanted badly to tell her about Barker Reams’s generous offer to let Ida Lou go to the temple, and about the imminence of the birth of the baby for the Wheelers things that would make her happy to know, but he was learning the bishop’s need for privacy and confidentiality regarding the members’ lives. Other people might speculate, gossip, or just spread good news but he had to be very careful. He hadn’t spoken to Trish about Marybeth Lanier’s request to have her name removed from membership in the Church, either nor would he, unless she brought up the subject, even though he knew she was already aware of the situation. It was not that he didn’t trust Trish he did. But he had been counseled to be very circumspect, and to let people’s news be their own to announce, if and when they chose. Besides, there was nothing Trish could do, except worry, about such things. It wasn’t fair to burden her.
He could, however, ask for general opinions. “So, what’d you think of the talk by Brother VerDan Winslow on Sunday?” he asked.
Trish gave him a look which he knew could be properly interpreted as, “Oh, brother!” or “Give me a break,” but Tiffani brightened.
“He is so cute! Really hot. Don’t you think so, Mom?”
“Mm-hmm. Almost as hot as he thinks he is,” said Trish dryly.
“Mom! What you think he’s stuck-up?”
“I get the impression he’s rather full of himself,” her mother replied.
“What does that mean?” Tiffani pursued.
Mercies and Miracles Page 20