“You’re kidding!” The bishop’s pulse began to increase. “She actually heard?”
“Well, we took her right to the doctor the next day, and he told us to calm down, that it was virtually impossible that she had heard anything, but we insisted that they test her again. And, Bishop, we were right! She does have some hearing! Just in one ear, but it’s pretty good! Can you believe it?”
“Oh, that’s such good news I’m so grateful! Lord be praised, for this great blessing! And it truly is a miracle, isn’t it?”
“Well, the doctor called it one, and you know doctors don’t throw that word around very often,” said Joe Parsons. “He wants to do a study on her, see if he can figure it out. We were all prepared to go for the implant, saving up for it, and we already started learning how to sign. We weren’t bitter about Alyssa’s problem, or anything, and we surely weren’t expecting this! But we’re very thankful.”
“I just can’t stop smiling,” Lori added. “Now I give thanks when she’s fussy, or can’t seem to sleep, because I realize she’s getting used to having sound in her life, and it’s all new and scary. You know, I’ve always sung to her when I’ve held her close to me, thinking that maybe the vibrations of my voice would soothe her even if she couldn’t hear it but now I’m so humbled by the fact that she hears, that I just cry when I try to sing, even though I’m smiling!”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop smiling for a while, either,” Bishop Shepherd told them. “Isn’t it great to know the Lord knows each of us, and our needs?” He didn’t say so, but the thought flitted through his mind why the Lord would choose to heal some but not others. He thought of Rand Rivenbark and of other good people he knew who struggled with physical or mental problems. None of that diminished his joy for Alyssa and her parents, it was just a part of this mortal puzzle he hadn’t yet been able to solve.
To her beaming parents, he said, “I’m thrilled for you. What a blessing!”
Joe said, “We can’t explain it, but we’ve wondered if there isn’t some reason why Alyssa has been healed. Maybe, as it says in the Bible, that the works of God might be made manifest in her.”
Lori quickly added, “We’ve also thought that maybe her own mission in life might require her to have at least some ability to hear. But whatever the reason, we’re just rejoicing over it and we wanted you to know, too.”
“I rejoice with you, and so will the whole ward,” he assured them, and went to give them each a hug. “We are truly blessed.”
Chapter Twenty
* * *
“praise god, from whom all blessings flow”
On Wednesday morning, since Jamie was out of school for the Thanksgiving holiday, the bishop took him along to Shepherd’s Quality Food Mart, where together they packed a box of food turkey, stuffing mix, cranberries, various fruits and vegetables and rolls, and drove to the Rexford home.
Tom Rexford answered the door, a quizzical frown on his face. “Hey, Bishop what’s goin’ on? Y’all makin’ deliveries these days, down at Shepherd’s?”
“Sometimes we do just exactly that,” the bishop agreed, with a smile. “Now, I know nobody ordered these things, but I figure they’ll go to good use. I’d hate to have them lying around the store over Thanksgiving, going to waste. Are Lula and Thomas here?”
“Now, Bishop, we don’t take charity, I thought I’d made that clear. Lula! Bishop’s here. And get the boy.”
“My word, Bishop, what’s all this?” Lula asked, gazing at the box. “We don’t need anything, honest!”
“I was coming over here anyway, to talk to Thomas and give him something, and I saw this fresh turkey, here never been frozen I’ve got several left that nobody’s claimed, and I thought I’d just bring it along and see if you knew what to do with it. Reckon I ordered a few too many, this season. Other stuff is just to go with, you know. It’s not much, really. I mostly came to give Thomas a little remembrance.”
“Well, that’s mighty nice of you. Tommy! Bishop’s here, T-Rex!” called Lula, and eventually the young man emerged from his room, sleepy-eyed, pulling a sweatshirt on above pajama bottoms.
“Hey, Bishop! I was just takin’ advantage of a day off from school to sleep in.”
“Tiffani’s doing the same thing,” the bishop said. “Good chance for it. But Jamie and I are early birds, so we’re up and about, bothering people.”
“Sit down, ya’ll,” Lula instructed, doing so, herself. Her husband subsided into an easy chair, still frowning at the box of food in the center of the floor.
“Thomas, when I saw this, I just knew I had to give it to you, and your folks,” the bishop said, extracting from the side of the box a wrapped rectangle and handing it to T-Rex. “At first, I was just going to make you a copy and keep the original, but I decided you deserved the original, so I made a copy for myself. It’s by Buddy Osborne.”
“Buddy?” T-Rex questioned, pulling the framed drawing from its wrapping. “Oh, my gosh! You tellin’ me little ol’ Buddy Osborne done this?” He gazed in awe at the charcoal sketch, which was even more impressive framed than it had been just torn from the sketch pad. “That is so dang cool! I cain’t believe it.”
His parents both went to peer over his shoulder.
“Oh, my land!” Lula exclaimed. “We’re gonna have to hang that right in here, by your other pictures. This is that little Osborne boy in the ward, Bishop? Gerald Osborne’s boy?”
“That’s right. Buddy’s real quiet and shy, so hardly anybody even knows he has this gift, but he’s been going with Jamie and me to Thomas’s home games, and he’s loved it I think he really looks up to Thomas. He gave it to me for taking him with us, but I knew Thomas would want to have it, too.”
“I sure do! That little dude I sure didn’t know he could do this. Man! I gotta talk to him.”
“He’s real cool,” Jamie offered. “He’s good at video games, too.”
“I hatn’t seen Gerald Osborne in a coon’s age,” remarked Tom Rexford. “He used to come to church when he was a teenager, but I thought he’d fell off the face of the earth, or somethin’.”
“No, he still lives here in town. He and Twyla divorced when Buddy was just little, and they share custody, so he goes back and forth between them.”
“You remember Twyla Hotchkiss, don’t you, Tom?” asked Lula. “Her and her mama joined the Church when Twyla was about fourteen, and then later they fell away, and her mama moved down to Birmingham. I don’t know where Twyla is.”
“She’s living in a mobile home park just off Two-seventy-eight.”
“She don’t never come out anymore, does she?”
“Haven’t seen her in church since I can remember,” replied the bishop. “She and Gerald both allow Buddy to come, but I don’t think they give him much encouragement.”
“Well, he’s sure a talented boy,” said Lula, taking the drawing of her son to admire it again. “Hope he’ll keep workin’ on it, and make something of himself.”
“I hope so, too,” agreed the bishop, although he privately thought that Buddy was already quite something. “Listen, folks, y’all have a nice Thanksgiving, all right? We’d better head, James.”
T-Rex and Lula shook hands with both of them, which made Jamie grin in pleased embarrassment, and Tom followed them out onto the porch.
“Now, Bishop, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, and I won’t make you take the food back, since Lula and the boy’ve already seen it, but I still gotta say, I don’t hold with takin’ charity, and we’re gettin’ by okay. So no more, all right?”
Jamie ran out and hopped into the truck, but the bishop paused, one foot on a step, and looked up at Tom. “You know, Tom, I totally appreciate your independence and self-reliance, and I understand your feelings. But you and I both know that things have been pretty tough for your family, lately, and this is just a little personal gift from me to you, as a friend. This wasn’t bought with Church funds. But even if it had been, would that be so bad? I know that the Lor
d inspired the welfare program that we have in the Church, and it’s a program of helping each other in times of need. There are times when we help others, and times when we accept help. If nobody accepted, how could anybody give?”
Tom looked down. “I know. Reckon I’m just too proud. Don’t mean to be, but that’s how I was brought up you don’t be beholden to nobody. Even if you starve, you do it with pride.”
The bishop smiled. “Yep, I’m familiar with that attitude. But you might want to look up what the Lord had to say about pride,” he suggested softly. “It’s not always a good thing. Sometimes it means something other than dignity. Sometimes being proud’s the opposite of being humble, and the Lord wants us to learn to be humble. Check it out, Tom. We’ll talk about it again, sometime. In the meantime, now, don’t choke on that turkey enjoy it!”
Tom grinned reluctantly. “Don’t reckon I’ll choke. Thanks, Bishop. And for the pitcher, too.”
* * *
The bishop called Buddy Osborne, and found him at his father’s house. He invited both of them over for Thanksgiving dinner the next day.
“Thanksgiving dinner? I dunno. Let me ask Deddy.”
He could hear bits of the conversation going on in the background, including Buddy’s voice saying, “She’s a real good cook. Better’n any ol’ cafe!”
Buddy came back on the line. “Deddy says we’ve got plans for dinner, but thanks anyway,” he reported. “It’s real nice of y’all to ask.”
“Well, if you guys change your minds, dinner’s at two,” he replied. “Jamie’ll be disappointed if you don’t come. He and I were hoping to get some more guys on board. It’s another of those times when the girls are outnumbering us. Oh, say, Buddy I made a copy of your drawing of T-Rex for myself, and gave him the original. You should have seen how tickled he was! You’ll be hearing from him, I’m sure. He and his folks were all amazed at how good it was.”
“You did? They were?”
“No kidding, they were delighted. His mom said she’s going to hang it in their living room. I put it in a frame, and it looks great.”
“Wow. I hatn’t never seen any of my stuff in a frame. That’s cool. Thanks, Bishop.”
“Mine’s framed, too, and I’ve got it on top of my desk at home, where I can see it while I work on church stuff. Thanks again, Buddy. That was a great gift.”
* * *
He had no sooner put the receiver down than the phone rang.
“Bishop Shepherd?” came a woman’s voice. “This is Candace Kingsley, with LDS Family Services.”
The bishop thought rapidly. Kingsley, Kingsley. Not Hallmark, who was Melody’s therapist. The lady from Atlanta. “Oh, yes, Sister Kingsley. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I have good news for you, if you have the same for me! The baby boy chosen for Don and Connie Wheeler has been born, and everything seems fine with him. I’m just calling to check one last time about the worthiness of the Wheelers, before I let them know.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “I’m happy to report that the Wheelers are still one of the finest young couples I know, and I can’t think of a better way for them to spend Thanksgiving than by becoming parents!”
“They’re still worthy temple recommend holders, active and faithful in the Church?”
“That they are, with absolutely no reservations.”
“Thank you, Bishop. I expect you’ll be hearing from them, before long.”
“Thank you. And let me just say, this makes my day, as well!”
“And mine,” she agreed, a smile in her voice.
He bowed his head for a moment’s prayer of fervent thanks, and went to find Trish, wondering how he was going to keep from bursting with this good news.
She looked at him, and a smile spread over her flushed face as she took a pie from the oven. “Jim, I overheard your part of that last conversation, when I was coming into the dining room. I backed out, but I couldn’t help it. That is so exciting!”
He hugged her exuberantly. “Isn’t it? I sure have learned to appreciate good news in the last few months, and this is the best kind! Hey, lady what kind of pie are you making?”
She looked at him strangely. “Pumpkin, of course. And Dutch apple. What I always make for Thanksgiving.”
“Well, you’re going to make a sweet potato one, aren’t you? With lots of nutmeg?”
She grabbed a dish towel from the handle of the oven and flicked it in his direction.
“Git!” she ordered, and laughing, he “got.”
* * *
He went back to the store for the afternoon, helping out with the checking and stocking as needed for the last-minute Thanksgiving shoppers. After several hours, he took a short break, sprawling wearily in his father’s old chair in the office.
“Hey, Jim,” Mary Lynn said, “that was him the other day, wadn’ it?”
“Him?” he asked, trying to follow.
“The wife-beater. That guy who came to take you to lunch.”
“Oh. Well I shouldn’t say so, I reckon, but you’re pretty perceptive. It was.”
“Thought so. How’re they all doin’?”
He nodded. “Not bad. Little girl’s back with her mother, the dad has to stay away for the foreseeable future. They’re all in therapy.”
“Does it help, you reckon? All that therapy stuff?”
“I think it can. Especially if it’s done by somebody with a faith-based take on things, and sound understanding of people.”
“Huh. Hope so.”
“Hey, Mary Lynn, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Me? I’m goin’ up to Mama’s. All of us that can, will be there.”
“Good, good.”
“Y’all havin’ a tableful?”
He nodded. “Looks like it, all right.” He added them up on his fingers five in his own family, Hestelle Pierce from next door, Muzzie and her two girls, Melody and Andrea Padgett eleven. And if Gerald and Buddy Osborne should change their minds, there would be thirteen. It was a goodly company, if a bit overbalanced on the female side.
“So, Jim?” Mary Lynn was twisting her long hair, frowning at him speculatively.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Have you give that man one of them blessings you was tellin’ me about?”
He sat up straight. “No,” he said slowly. “I haven’t.”
“Well has anybody?”
“Not that I know of and I think I’d probably know.” He gazed beyond Mary Lynn at the bulletin board with its copies of ads and notices, not seeing them, but examining instead his relationship with Jack Padgett. Jack, he felt sure, would never ask for a blessing. Were they to a comfortable enough point in their relationship that he, as Jack’s bishop, could bring himself to offer? Certainly, Jack needed all the aid and comfort he could get, and he was making an effort to keep in touch, and to cooperate with the Social Services therapist assigned to him. His records were still in the Fairhaven Ward, so Jack was still officially under the bishop’s jurisdiction. Melody had been the recipient of two blessings during this painful time, but he hadn’t thought of offering a blessing to Jack probably, he thought, due to the man’s attitude of defiant belligerence. But lately, as he had told his counselors, there had been signs of softening. Maybe . . .
“Uh, Jim?”
“M-hmm?”
“You did say them blessin’s was for more than just bein’ sick physically, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“So that’s why I figgered maybe it’d help him. But you’d know best about that.”
“Mary Lynn, you’re an amazing woman. I’m ashamed to admit I hadn’t even thought of giving Jack a blessing. Now, thanks to you, I am thinking about it.”
Mary Lynn ducked her head in pleased embarrassment. “Well, you know. Whatever.”
* * *
The house was redolent of wonderful smells roasted turkey, onion and sage, hot rolls and the tables were set. Had been, in fact, since the previous afternoon. Muzzie and Melody
were in the kitchen with Trish, one stirring gravy, one whipping potatoes, and the other filling pitchers with ice and water as the bishop picked his way through from the family room to answer the doorbell.
“Welcome, Miz Hestelle, and a happy Thanksgiving to you,” he greeted, as their neighbor stepped inside, carrying a large jelled salad.
“And the same to you, Mr. Shepherd,” she replied. “Y’all are so nice to ask me over! I’d thought I was goin’ to my sister’s in Tennessee, you know, but then she broke her hip, and she’ll have to be in rehab for several weeks. I tell you the truth, my own hip’s been achin’ ever since I heard about hers! What do you make of that?”
“You must have a sympathetic connection with your sister, Miz Hestelle, is all I can figure,” he told her kindly. “May I take that salad for you? Come on into the kitchen that’s where the ladies are hanging out just lazing around, you know, with nothing to do.”
She laughed merrily. “My nose is a-tellin’ me just how lazy they’ve been, indeed. Oh, land ever’thin’s so festive and pretty!”
“Well, Trish says Thanksgiving’s about her favorite holiday, ’cause there’s no candy attached to it, and no gifts to buy.”
“That’s true. Most ever’ holiday means cookin’ for the womenfolk, though, isn’t that right, Miz Shepherd?” she added as she saw Trish.
“Hey there, Miz Hestelle, it’s so good to have you! Thanks so much for that yummy-looking salad. Let me take that, Jim. I’ll put it in the fridge till we’re ready to serve, which should be in about five minutes. Oh, there goes the phone. Jim, honey, would you get that? It’s probably for you, anyway.”
Jim-honey went to the phone on his desk in the corner of the dining room. He answered, and a boy’s timid voice said, “Mr. Shepherd?”
“Yes?”
“Um this is Brad Winston. I was wondering if maybe your wife might know where my mom is?”
“Bradley!” he almost shouted. “I know where your mom is! She’s right here. Hang on!”
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