“Hello, Jack,” he said easily. “Come on back and have a glass of lemonade in the shade.”
They shook hands.
“Thanks, Bishop, but no can do. Melody doesn’t like me and Andi to be late for dinner. Where’s Andi—inside? Is she feeling okay?”
“She seems to be doing just fine. No, I’ll tell you—Trish took the little girls off somewhere with her, and they’re not back yet, so you might as well relax a minute and cool off. I’ve been hoping for a chance to visit with you anyway, and this would seem to be a good time.”
Jack frowned but followed him into the backyard and accepted a glass of iced lemonade. The bishop sat down in one of the white-painted lawn chairs, but Jack continued to stand, his feet apart, his expression wary.
“How’s the Auto-Tec business doing?”
“Excellent. Very busy. Expanding.”
“Lot of stress, opening and staffing new stores, keeping an eye on everything?”
“Goes with the territory.” He finally sat, but ready for flight, on the edge of his chair.
“Seems like extra duty for you, having to do all the driving to take Andrea to day care and pick her up, doctor’s visits, whatever. How come you don’t let your wife help with the chauffeuring?”
“Well, to tell the truth, Bishop, Melody’s not the safest driver in the world. A woman driver, you know what I mean? Talks with her hands, doesn’t keep her eyes on the road. One time, with Andi aboard, she had to run off the road to keep from plowing into the car ahead of us. Right then, I decided that Andi rides only with me. Sorry if that seems strict, but Andi’s too precious to risk losing her to Mel’s carelessness.”
The bishop looked at him searchingly. “I wonder what you’re most afraid of, Jack?” he asked.
“Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything but Mel’s driving. She’s a nut behind the wheel, like I just said.” He laughed nervously and drained his lemonade, dropping the tumbler on the soft grass.
The bishop took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Brother Padgett, I’m not going to ask you if you abuse your wife—if you yell verbal abuse at her and hurt her physically and emotionally. I’m not asking, because I know you do. I know that happens. What we need to do is figure out where to go from here. How to get you the help you need to stop doing those unacceptable things. How to keep Melody safe—and ultimately, Andi, too.”
He saw the fear, raw and stark in Jack’s eyes for a moment, as his face paled noticeably, then the color rushed back from his neck to his cheeks and forehead, where a pulse beat rapidly.
Okay, he’s angry, now, the bishop thought, surprised at how detached he felt in this moment, how his fear had left him as soon as the words he needed to say were out of his mouth. It’s true what I heard on that program, today, he thought with interest. I saw the fear and shock before the anger came.
Eyes hard, Jack glared at him. “Melody tell you I hit her?” he asked.
The bishop shook his head. “No, in fact, she didn’t. She’s never lodged any kind of complaint against you. She’s a remarkably loyal woman, all things considered.”
“Then who? I’d like to know who’s accusing me of this, if it’s not too much trouble. And I’d like to know just how anybody thinks they know what goes on in our marriage, in the privacy of our home!”
“The signs aren’t so hard for anybody to read. Bruises are visible, even under makeup. I’ve watched both of you avoid uncomfortable questions, and I’ve seen your need to control even what church calling Melody accepts. I’m aware of your decision not to allow her to be alone with Andi, in case she should take your daughter and escape—is that what you’re most afraid of? And even little Andi has been noticed, acting out scenarios she’s seen and heard at home, and talking about how Daddy spanks Mommy all over when she’s naughty.”
“All circumstantial nonsense,” Jack objected, his hands clenched on the chair arms. “Mel bruises easy—she’s got some confounded vitamin deficiency or other. And we horse around a lot, playing—wrestling, tickling, and so forth. Andi’s just playing like that.”
“Verbally abusing and hitting kids at her day care?”
“What—did that Marshall woman tell your wife that?”
“No, she told me.”
“Well, she should’ve told me if my kid’s misbehaving, not you! Where do you get off, anyway, coming at me with all this garbage? You say you’re my friend? I don’t think so, Bishop!” He gave the title an ugly emphasis. “I want you to stay out of our business—out of our lives. Do you understand me?”
“I understand you perfectly, but I can’t do that. I’m Melody’s and Andi’s bishop, too—and I’m concerned for their safety and welfare. Now, I repeat, Melody has not asked me for help—has not complained—so there’s no need to go home and punish her over this. But this is a serious matter, Jack, and the abuse has got to stop, one way or another. Either you actively seek help, which would be the best route, or the authorities will have to step in and do what they think best.”
“You threatening me? You been in contact with the police or something?”
“No. I’m not threatening you. I’m just spelling out how things have to be. I’m bound by law and by conscience to report any spousal or parental abuse I know about.”
Jack tried to laugh, but the sound was desperate and weak. “You know nothing! And if Mel doesn’t file a complaint, they’ll laugh at you. They’ll throw the whole case out.”
“I’m not the only one who knows. In fact, this first came to my attention because of observations by other ward members.”
“Damn busybodies. They don’t know anything, either. They don’t know crap, and neither do you! Who told you this, and what did they say?”
“That’s confidential, and so is this conversation. It’s between us. I just needed to let you know that I’m aware of at least some of the things that are going on behind closed doors in your family, and that I want to help you get past this sickness in your life. It’s a spiritual sickness, Jack, just like alcoholism and other kinds of addictions. It escalates, and it’s tough to break out of, but for all your sakes, it needs to be done. I’m no expert, but there are family therapists around who are and who can help you.”
“I don’t need their help! Do I look like a guy who needs some kind of mealy-mouthed therapist to tell him how to take care of his own?”
“You don’t look it, but, my brother, you surely do act like it. Look, I don’t blame you for being defensive and upset at me. I wouldn’t want to hear what you’ve just heard, either. In fact, I’ve dreaded this conversation myself and tried to find a way to squirm out of it, but the Lord wouldn’t let me. I’ve spent this whole day in fasting and prayer about your situation, and I—”
“Oh, how touching. How sweet. Who the hell asked you to do that?” Jack’s sneer was ugly.
The bishop was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, “You know what? You did. And Melody. And Andi. You all cried out for help, by your actions, by your very denials. You’re all hurt and confused, but I know there’s a way out of this, a way you can all be happier, with no hurting going on. You’re hurting your daughter, Jack. Don’t you see that?”
“I’ve never laid a hand on Andi! I’m crazy about that kid.”
“Sooner or later, you probably will, whether you believe that now or not. But even now, the way you treat her mother is having a tremendous impact on her. Anybody can see that. And she’ll carry it on—maybe she’ll abuse her children someday, or never be able to trust a man. Now, maybe somebody abused you when you were too young to fight back. Maybe that’s where all this started. You don’t have to tell me, but you’ve got to get help somewhere, please. I’d suggest LDS Social Services as a good place to start. I can give you a family referral.”
Jack flung himself back in his chair and stared across the yard, his mouth forming a hard line. “You’re a stubborn cuss, aren’t you? Not going to believe me, not going to give up, are you?”
“No, I’m not. Can’t
do that.”
“So, are you so perfect? You, so holier than thou, never made a mistake in your life?”
“Don’t even go there, Jack. This is about you, and your present needs.”
Jack leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. He spoke softly. “What I need, what I’d really, really like to do, Mister Mormon mighty judge in Israel, is to punch your lights out!”
The bishop nodded. “I don’t blame you. I’ve had the same feeling toward you a few times, to be honest. But that’s gone now. It’s kind of strange, but all I feel toward you right now is compassion.”
“Well, I don’t need your stinking compassion! Where’s my daughter? Where’d your wife take her? I have the right to my child!”
“I honestly don’t know where they are, but I’m sure we’ll hear from them soon. We’re not kidnapping Andi from you. I might suggest to you, though, that it’d be a good idea to let her spend the night here with our little girl. That’d give you a chance to go talk to your wife and begin a healing process. Because I do believe that on some level, you and Melody care for each other, Jack.”
Jack stared at him, frowning, but for the moment seemed at a loss for words.
The bishop went on. “I’ve probably said my piece in a pretty clumsy way, tonight. I’m not much on eloquence. I speak plainly. You’re a Latter-day Saint. You’re a priesthood holder. You know that abusive behavior toward your companion and your family is totally unacceptable to your Savior, your Heavenly Father, and your church. I don’t have to tell you that. I’d imagine you’re pretty torn up inside already, because of the conflict of your actions with your beliefs.”
“I’ve got a little temper, but I’m not admitting to anything else. Maybe I have a gruff way about me, but hell, I’m a Marine! What’re you gonna do, call a bishop’s court, get me excommunicated for that?”
“Right now, that’s the farthest thing from my mind. I’m hoping for changes here. I’m hoping to see you break a cycle. I know you were a Marine, and I know you have to be pretty tough to be one. But the drill-sergeant routine doesn’t go over so well with families, you know?
“My father-in-law was career military, but he didn’t behave toward his wife and daughters the same way he did to his men—and for that matter, I don’t believe he abused his men in any way. He led them by his example, is what I’ve heard. He’s no patsy, but he’s no bully, either.”
Jack ducked his head. “I don’t know how to be different,” he muttered, in a voice the bishop barely heard. His heart leapt up in gratitude for what might be the first sign of humility.
“I know, I understand. It’s not something we’re just born knowing, and it’s not something that all of us saw, growing up. But there are skills and techniques that we can learn, about managing anger and stress and fear. There are people who can teach us, coach us, till the skills become second nature to us. I’ve been learning some new concepts, just today.”
He heard the phone ring in the kitchen. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, and sprinted for the house, on legs that felt as if they were powered by Slinkies, ready to drop him in his tracks.
It was Melody Padgett.
“Bishop? Has Jack come by to pick up Andi yet? They’re not home.”
“Oh, hi, Melody. Yes, Jack’s here. He and I have been visiting, waiting for Trish to come back. She’s got the little girls out with her for a bit.”
“Oh. I—see. Is Jack—okay?”
“Well, we’ve been having a very frank discussion. I’m hoping he’ll be making some changes in the way he treats you.”
“You’ve been talking to him about—about our marriage?”
“Been trying to.”
“Oh, no. That’ll make him so mad. That’ll . . .”
“He’s been yelling at me a little, and that’s okay. I’ve made it clear that you haven’t said a word against him—that I learned what was going on from other sources. By the way, I’ve suggested that he allow Andi to sleep over here, with Mallory, so the two of you can have a chance to talk things over tonight.”
“Oh, no, Bishop—let her come home, please! He’s a little better, when she’s here, and—”
“I don’t really think he’ll be abusive tonight. Not now that he knows people are aware and watching him.”
She sighed. “Well. Whatever he decides, then. I’ll just wait.”
“I’ll keep in touch, Melody. You call me, anytime, if you need me, okay?”
“All right.”
He disconnected with the feeling that she thought he had just condemned her to a traitor’s death. He keyed in the numbers to Trish’s cell phone. She answered on the third ring, with a background roar of noise that almost obscured her greeting.
“Trish? Where are you? Sounds like the circus.”
“We’re at Pizza Playground. The movie was sold out, so we’ve eaten, and I’m standing here watching the girls romp in the Ball Pen. Did Jack come?”
“He’s out back. I think you can come home now.”
“Oh, good!”
“I’m trying to persuade him to let Andi sleep over, so he and Melody can be undisturbed to talk things over. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure. We’ll be there shortly. I’ve had about all the pizza and good cheer I can stand. Love you!”
“Love you,” he replied softly, not knowing if she heard, but secure in the knowledge that she knew.
Chapter Twenty
* * *
“ . . . Lord, behold this congregation”
Jack agreed, spurred by his little daughter’s pleadings, to allow her to sleep over with Mallory. He scooped her up into his arms and kissed her, then set her down to run after Mallory and Trish into the house.
“I know this has been hard, Jack,” the bishop said, walking with him toward his truck. Jack’s lips were set in a bitter line, but his anger and bravado seemed to have abated. He stared at the ground and didn’t reply. “I know, too, that the Savior’s atonement can cover anything you’ve done that you truly repent of. I’ll work with you, but my best advice is to take it to the Lord. He already knows all your faults, all your strengths, all your hopes and fears. You can safely trust him, Jack. He’ll be with you every step of the way if you ask him to. He’ll help you lick this thing.”
“Seems to me you oughta be telling Mel to pray for help, since you think she’s the victim, here.”
“I do counsel her to pray, of course. But somehow, I suspect you’re as much of a victim as she is. Oh, not her victim, I don’t mean that—but a victim of somebody, somewhere along the way. Somebody who left you so little power and control of your life that you learned to be a bully in response.”
Jack looked taken aback. His gaze flickered quickly toward his bishop and away again.
Hit, thought the bishop. Thank thee, Father, for a timely radio program, even if it was oversimplified pop psychology. It was exactly what I needed to hear today. As was Mary Lynn’s story.
He faced Jack as the man reached for the door of his truck. “I’m not your enemy,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, silently, Jack gave it a brief grasp. As the truck pulled away down the long-shadowed street, the bishop slumped against a wrought-iron patio support and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the accumulated weariness, hunger, thirst, and emotional stress of the day descended upon him, and he realized exactly how much support the Lord had been lending him to get him through the confrontation. Now, for the moment, he was on his own again and painfully aware of his weakness and mortality. He dragged himself into the kitchen and flopped into a chair. Trish, knowing his habits, placed a tall glass of water before him.
“Thanks, sweetheart. And thank you, Heavenly Father,” he added, lifting the glass in tribute before he drank. He leaned back in his chair and smiled feebly at his wife. “Feed me,” he entreated. “Just something simple.”
She prepared a quick scrambled egg sandwich and placed it before him—just the way he liked it, with soft white bread and mayonnaise. Comfort food. She stirred a li
ttle chocolate syrup into a glass of milk, not too strong.
“Now you are spoiling me.”
“Just carrying on what your mama started. You’ve taught me well exactly what you like.” She slipped behind his chair and gave him a hug and a kiss on the ear. “So, how’d it go, with Jack?”
“I don’t even know. I’m not real sure, right now, what I even said. It must have been somewhat successful because I’m still breathing. But something like he’s doing—I’m not naive enough to think it can be all solved and made better just because I let him know that I’m aware of it.”
“We could only wish that’s all it took,” Trish agreed, sitting down opposite him. “How was Shepherd’s Pass?”
He described his visit to that favorite place, the feelings of peace that had come, and then the program he happened to tune into on the way home.
“You didn’t happen across that program, Jim,” Trish told him, reaching across the table for his hand. “That was no accident.”
“I know,” he acknowledged. “I’m sure that was why I suddenly jumped up, ready to leave, when I’d been drowsing happily only the moment before. And let me tell you what Mary Lynn said this morning,” he added, and proceeded to do so.
Trish shook her head. “It’s amazing. Shouldn’t be, maybe, because we’d prayed for help, especially you, but still—when help comes in such obvious ways, it’s kind of a thrill, isn’t it?”
“It is. But you know, I think both of those little incidents were more for my benefit than Jack’s. I needed to find a way to think about him and his behavior with some kind of compassion and understanding rather than just anger and outrage, which is my natural reaction. Couldn’t have done it on my own.” He yawned. “I am so beat. Just wrap a sheet around me. I’ll sleep right here.”
“Come on,” his wife urged. “You go tuck up in bed. I’ll see to the little girls.”
A Fresh Start in Fairhaven Page 24