The bishop nodded. “I believe that, too. I believe Joseph was prepared for that calling from before he was born.”
“That’s another thing I like,” Chuck said. “The way your church makes eternity go backward as well as forward. Like I didn’t just start when I was born, but my life’s a part of a long line of things we all go through, one part building on the other. And Jim, I don’t know why, but I feel closer to my mom and dad now than I have since either of ’em died. I think it’s on account of what the boys taught me about families being together forever. That thought sure does appeal to me.”
“Yeah, it’s comforting, isn’t it? Especially for any of us who’ve lost people we loved—or who’re afraid we might.”
“Yep. So, in answer to your question, I reckon things’re just swimmin’ along, with me and the elders. And, um—I don’t know how to bring this up, but—I’ve sure enjoyed gettin’ to know your secretary, too. She’s a fine young lady.”
“Mary Lynn’s a real sweet girl. Smart, too. You couldn’t do better.”
“I know, but it ain’t like I got anything to offer her, in the way of marriage. No real job, no savings, nothin’ to show for all the years I’ve lived.” He shrugged. “I’d be ’shamed to even bring up the subject.”
“Now, stop and think a minute, my friend,” the bishop told him. “What you’ve accumulated in all these years may not be material goods or money, but you’ve had years of life experience, and you’ve learned to sacrifice and to be honest and faithful and do your best at whatever you do, and that’s a whole lot more than some guys have to offer.”
“Well, but a girl like Mary Lynn, she deserves that and more! She oughta have some security, and a future, in case there’s kids and all . . .”
“Chuck, don’t underestimate Mary Lynn. She has plenty of common sense and knows what’s important and real. Besides, you have your mother’s little house, and that’s worth something, either to live in or rent or sell. And I’m confident you can get some kind of steady work. Plus, she’ll have her job here for as long as she wants it. So don’t discount your feelings, pal, okay? Or hers. Maybe it’s time for both of you to have a little happiness.”
“I’ll consider all that, Jim. I hatn’t known her that long, but I’m sure taken with her.”
“Well, I happen to know she feels pretty much the same about you.”
“You serious?”
“I am.”
Chuck’s smile was beatific.
* * *
The bishop’s scheduled meeting with Melody Padgett the previous Sunday had been canceled because little Andi had developed an upset stomach, so he invited them to come to his home on Thursday evening. Trish greeted Melody with a hug, then kept the children, including a recovered Andi, back in the family room while the bishop and Melody talked in the living room.
“Bishop, it’s good of you to see me at your home,” she told him. “I’m real sorry to inconvenience you like this. It really could’ve waited till Sunday, what I wanted to talk about.”
“No need for that, Melody. Besides, Sunday’s schedule is already pretty full. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I was wondering—have you seen Jack, lately?”
“You know, I haven’t. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with him, but things have been pretty busy.”
“Sure. Okay. Well, I was just wondering how he’s doing.”
“Is he still getting money to you and keeping up the house payments and all?”
“Oh, yes. He is. He’s always been real good that way. Very responsible about money.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“He does have some good qualities, you know. He’s not all bad.”
“No. He’s not. He has a lot of good in him.”
“I reckon he never really had much of a chance, if his upbringing was as dysfunctional as I think it was.”
“It sounds pretty dysfunctional, all right. He feels that his parents—but wait, you probably don’t want to hear about it, do you? That was what you said, before.”
She regarded her slender fingers, clasped in her lap. “I do and I don’t,” she replied. “Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly. It’s normal to have mixed feelings about people you’ve loved who’ve treated you the way Jack did.”
“Reckon I do have mixed feelings, Bishop. Just a couple of months ago I didn’t even want to hear his name. But lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I missed Andi when she was taken from me and realizing that he must be going through something like that, too.”
“He does miss her. It’s not quite as bad, now, because he knows you have her back and that she’s happy and safe. But still, he misses—both of you. I know that much.”
“Will you think I’m crazy if I say I sort of miss him, too?”
“Nope.” He smiled at her.
“Maybe you could tell me—just one little tiny thing about his childhood. He never would talk to me about it.”
“He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. It was way too painful and too embarrassing. He was supposed to be the big, strong Marine, and talking about his family reduces him to jelly.”
Melody stared at him. “Why?” she whispered. “What in the world did they do to him?”
“I think it’ll be better if he tells you—if and when you’re both ready. I’ll just say that they did their best to destroy his trust—in them and in his brother.”
“That’s awful. Why would they?”
The bishop shrugged. “I suppose they were pretty sad and confused people. But here’s the amazing thing—Jack’s been working on their genealogy, and I think it’s had something of a healing effect on him. I believe he understands a little bit more about why they were like that.”
“Jack—doing genealogy? I never knew him to take an interest in that, before! In fact, he was always kind of scornful of the whole idea.”
“Right. He had to be, don’t you see, Melody? How could he bear the thought of happy, forever families, when his was so totally opposite? He had to reject the notion that it was even possible. I think he knows better now.”
“Who got him started in genealogy?”
The bishop smiled. “Well, a man has to have a lot of interesting activities to take up his spare time when he’s determined to be morally clean and stay totally faithful to his wife, even in a marriage that only has a fraction of a possibility of surviving what he did to it.”
Melody covered her mouth, and tears filled her eyes. “Poor Jack,” she murmured.
“And poor Melody,” he reminded her. “Much as I’d like to see your marriage mended, please don’t rush back into something you’re not sure of. Jack’s making good progress, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be entirely healed. I hope he will.”
She nodded. “So do I. But Bishop—the Lord can heal all kinds of sickness, can’t he?”
“Yes, he can. It takes faith and desire, and has to be the Lord’s will, but it can surely happen.”
“Then I’ll pray for faith and healing—for Jack and for me.”
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
“ . . . All my daily tasks fulfilling”
Early on Saturday afternoon, Bishop James Shepherd pulled a footstool up beside his mother’s chair in the sunny, plant-filled family room of his sister, Paula Trawick, in Anniston. Trish and the children sat nearby, and Paula was preparing a snack for them in the kitchen.
“Mama, I’ve got good news for you,” Jim told her, as she nodded and squeezed his hand with her good one. “The family and I took a trip down to Georgia last month to look for records of your father and his family—the Rhys family.”
She nodded harder. “Good,” she said firmly. It was one of the few words she had mastered since her stroke several years before.
“We were really blessed, Mama. We found a lot about them. We found out that your father, Benjamin Rhys, died fighting in World War One. By the way, the spelling is R-H-Y-S, instead of R-I-C-E.�
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“Ah?”
“I know. I was surprised, too. We couldn’t find Grandpa Benjamin’s grave, though, so we figured he might have been buried overseas, wherever he died. We’re still researching that part. But then we discovered a Rhys cousin still living in the county and talked to him about the family. His name is Ezra Rhys Jr., but he just goes by Junior.” He went on to tell her, with help from Jamie and Tiffani, the miraculous way in which they had come to meet Junior and how they had been led by the Spirit to go back the next morning. Then he showed her the Bible pages that had been snatched from the jaws of obscurity just before Junior had been bused off to his new quarters. He was aware of Paula, stopping her fixing and fussing, standing in the doorway to listen.
His mother’s eyes had teared up. “Son—good. Good,” she kept saying. He took a tissue and patted her cheeks.
“It was good,” he agreed. “It was an absolute thrill for us. And from these pages, plus some deeds and a will and the census records that we’ve found since we got home, we’ve got four generations back from Junior on the pedigree chart, and family groups for each couple. I’m not sure they’re totally complete yet, but I believe we’ve got most everybody. See here?” He turned the pages of the group sheets, while his mother looked on in awe.
“Can I get copies of that stuff, Jim?” asked Paula. “I’d like to look it over and show it to Travis, and to the kids when they come.”
“I brought you copies, Paula,” her brother told her. “And I thought maybe Mama’d like for you to read over them to her, when you have time, so she can get familiar with her dad’s people.”
“Good, good,” his mother affirmed, nodding deeply.
“I sure always thought the name was Rice,” Paula remarked, bringing in a tray of cake and milk.
“So did we, and that had us stymied for a while,” her brother agreed. “Until a very knowledgeable researcher suggested that the spelling might be different. Some of the family apparently still pronounce it ‘Reese,’ which is probably the original way, while others, including our branch, pronounced it ‘Rice.’ Paula, I’ll tell you what—we had help from a lot of sources on this project, both seen and unseen.”
Paula raised her eyebrows. “How about that,” was all she said. The bishop said no more, though he longed to bear testimony to his sister, who had never seen fit to join the Church, but who was a kind and tender caregiver to their mother. He had learned long ago that Paula had a mind and will of her own and wasn’t about to be pushed into anything, least of all religion, and least of all by her baby brother. Of late, however, he had sensed a softening in her and wondered if some of that might be due to having visitors from the Church in her home on a regular basis to minister to Sister Velma Shepherd.
“And we stayed at a farm place,” Mallory put in. “It had a donkey and a dog and chickens and goats and a cat with little babies. We had so much fun!”
“You come here, sweet thing,” said Paula, “and give your old Auntie Paula some sugar.”
Mallory smiled and ran to be enfolded in her aunt’s embrace. The bishop reflected that as much as anything else, love and acceptance and gratitude might do as much for Paula as any words of gospel truth he might utter. Trish had gone to stand beside his mother, guiding that lady’s hand to her abdomen, where, apparently, the baby was making its presence felt. His mother’s lopsided smile widened.
“Ah-h,” she said, and after a moment, turned her hand to grasp Trish’s in a gesture of affection and thanks.
* * *
By the wonder of cell phones, Jim tracked Jack Padgett down at his Anniston store and arranged to stop by and visit him for a few minutes.
“I can’t stay long—I’ve got the family with me,” he explained, as he and Jack stepped into a small back room that held a table, two chairs, a miniature refrigerator, and a microwave. “How’re you doing, Jack? You look good.”
“I’m okay. You know. Existing. Well—maybe a little more than existing. Keeping busy.”
“Busy’s good,” the bishop said, nodding. “Business still doing well? Hey, I’ve got a friend I can recommend whenever you need a new clerk—especially at the Fairhaven store.”
“Good. I probably will need one, before too long. I’ll let you know.”
“Great, thanks. How’s the genealogy coming?”
“Stuff gets addicting, you know that?” Jack replied, with a small smile. “Know more than I ever wanted to about people I never heard of before, and I still go after more!”
The bishop chuckled. “Tell me about it. We’ve been up to our ears in it this summer, too.” He took a moment to relate some of their adventures.
“Now, that’s something,” Jack said. “Feel kinda like I’ve had some pushes in the right direction sometimes, too—though why anybody from the other side would care about me or my family is more than I can see.”
“Well, exactly—you said it right. It is more than we can see. The powers that be, in these matters, can see the whole picture—why people do what they do, who’s repented and been forgiven, who’s accepted the gospel and wants to progress. I figure we don’t judge the folks who went before us—we just do the research and the temple work and let the chips fall.”
“Guess that’s the best approach, all right. Latest dude I’ve found was my second great-grandfather on my mother’s side. He was a Lutheran minister, of all things! Didn’t think we grew any of that kind on our family tree. Who knew?”
“I expect we all probably end up with a pretty good cross-section of humanity. Well, I’m glad you’re working on that, Jack! And how’s therapy going?”
Jack laughed shortly. “On and on and on,” he said. “Oh, I guess maybe I’m making some progress, though why I want to bother is a mystery to me. I’ve already blown it with my wife and daughter, and frankly, I don’t think I have the heart—or the confidence—to try again with somebody new.”
“I wouldn’t assume you’ve totally blown it. I still think there’s hope.”
“You’re a nice guy, Bishop, but I don’t know why you’d say that. Just to make me feel better, right?”
The bishop had sworn he wouldn’t be any kind of go-between for either Jack or Melody. However, since Melody definitely had not asked him to, he thought he might venture to give Jack a little hope.
“I had a talk with Melody the other night. It may be too early to say for sure, but I believe her heart is softening a bit toward you. She asked how you were doing and worried that you might be missing Andi a lot. I told her you were missing both of them. She actually shed a tear or two and said she missed you, too.”
“Oh, right—I’m so sure she misses getting slapped around by her angry brute of a husband. What woman wouldn’t?”
“Well, I think she misses the guy she married, before he got so scared and controlling.”
Jack stared at his hands, gripped on the tabletop before him. “That guy got so scared and controlling because he fell deeper and deeper in love with his wife and was crazy about his little girl and was terrified he’d lose them both if he didn’t keep them reined in, because deep down he knew—he knew—he didn’t deserve ’em.”
“I think it’s a good sign that they haven’t picked up and gone anywhere—nor even talked about leaving. What if that scared guy was able to become more deserving of them? What if he’s learned a lot about himself in the meantime and made some really positive changes in his life?”
Jack shook his head. “What if he thought he had but then went back to them and started in again on the abuse? What would he do, then? I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to deal with that, Bishop. I’m afraid he’d end it all.”
“Jack, I’m not suggesting that you’re ready at this point to jump back into family life. I’m just telling you I think there’s hope, on both sides, that eventually you will be ready. I think it’ll be a long, gradual process for both of you to learn to trust each other, and for you to trust yourself. But Melody’s praying for healing, for both of you. That’s more
than she’s been willing or able to do before.”
“She is—Mel is? She prays for me?”
“That’s what she said. She asked me if the Lord could heal both of you. I told her yes, with real desire and faith, and if it’s His will. I can’t imagine that it wouldn’t be His will, can you, to heal a family?”
Jack didn’t seem able to speak. He just nodded, stood up, and reached to shake the bishop’s hand. The bishop pulled the former Marine to him for a brief hug.
“I’ll keep in touch,” he promised, and Jack nodded again, his lips tight against the emotion he didn’t think he should show.
* * *
“You know,” Trish said as they began their homeward drive, “since we’re out this way and don’t have to get home right away for anything—and since if we turned north before long, we could wind around and end up at Sister Buzbee’s place—what if we were to pay her a little visit? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
There were murmurings and little groans from the backseat, but the bishop looked across at his wife and blessed her for her suggestion. It had been a while since he’d seen Hazel Buzbee, also—and living alone as she did, without a phone, he worried about her. He had long since left his phone numbers with the young couple up the road who looked in on her, in case she needed him for any reason, but that didn’t take the place of visits. As her self-designated home teacher, he tried to bring someone and see her at least once a month, but he hadn’t seen her since before their trip.
“Do we have to?” asked Tiffani. “I’m supposed to go shopping this afternoon with Claire. I thought we were just going to see Grandma. Then we had to stop for you to see Brother Padgett. Now Sister Buzbee. I feel like I’m being held hostage by my own parents!”
“You can call Claire and tell her you’ll be later than you thought,” her mother told her. “She’ll understand that you can’t escape. Anyway—it’s summer and you and Claire can go shopping any day. You don’t have to wait for Saturday.”
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