Love's Labors Tossed

by Robert Farrell Smith

  “I’m undecided,” he said. “In a perfect world, we could have both.”

  “Well, this ain’t no perfect world,” Roswell spat. “I’ve got a spongy right eye and spider veins, but you don’t see me complaining.”

  I did.

  There was a tap on Roswell’s window. We looked over to see Leonard rapping. Pete hoisted the window up.

  “How’s it going?” Leonard asked.

  “We’re deliberating,” I said.

  “Any idea on which way it will go?” he asked.

  “Hard to say.” Toby scratched his head. “What do you think should happen?”

  “I’m for the road,” Leonard restated. “But hey, you guys go with what you think.”

  Pete turned around and looked at us all. “Should we just go with the road?”

  “Why not,” Toby gave in.

  “Not me,” Roswell said defiantly. “I don’t want no slick in-and-out to the town I love.”

  “You could get your ice cream home before it melted,” I pointed out.

  “Give us just a minute,” Roswell said, pulling the blind on Leonard. “I think we should take one of them there secret ballots,” he whispered to us.

  “Do you have any paper?” Toby asked.

  “There’s a stack of old napkins in my top drawer,” Roswell pointed.

  Toby passed out napkins and we shared a pen. After everyone had written down what they wanted they handed their opinions to me. I read them aloud.

  “Road.”

  “Street.”

  “Car thing.”

  “Pavement.”

  “Mavis.”

  “Ice cream,” spelled with a K and a backwards R.

  “Looks like we want the road,” I said, standing. I walked over to the window and pulled the blind. Leonard was gone. I walked to the bedroom door and opened it. Jerry stood there with his arms still crossed.

  “We made a decision,” I told him.

  He stepped aside and let us walk over to our chairs. Paul and Sister Watson were whispering about what the outcome would be. We took our seats just as Leonard walked back in. He stood behind the counter and banged his globe.

  “Jury, have you reached a verdict?”

  I could tell the word verdict threw everyone off. “We have,” I answered for them.

  “What say ye?”

  “We want the road.”

  The crowd went wild. Paul hung his head and then turned to shake Sister Watson’s hand. He was definitely a different man than he had been a couple of years ago. I excused myself and walked out of the building. My job was done here.

  Thelma’s Way was getting a road.

  27

  Definitions

  At five I picked a bunch of wildflowers and ran down the path to meet up with Grace on her return. She was nowhere to be seen when I got to the trailhead, so I hung out with Leo and CleeDee for a little while to wait. I filled the two of them in on everything they had been missing in Thelma’s Way.

  “There’s gonna be a road?” Leo asked in amazement.

  “Looks that way,” I said.

  “That’d be great. Then we could drag one of these houses in there for us.” CleeDee clapped while frying up a big pan of bacon on a portable gas stove. Grease popped and crackled. A large splatter popped against her dry face, causing her to wince.

  I suddenly realized that I should have voted against the road. I was so anti-Paul’s weather shelter that I was temporarily blinded to what I was supporting. With a road and the possibility of financing, the entire Thelma’s Way valley could soon be littered with little Leonard houses. Sure, the homes there now were not as well equipped and were somewhat aesthetically lacking, but they had character and represented the inhabitants better than fabricated boxes made by unknowns.

  “How long are you guys going to stay here in this place?” I asked Leo.

  “As long as Leonard will let us.”

  “Don’t you miss Thelma’s Way?”

  “Luxury is awful distracting.”

  “What about you, CleeDee?”

  “I’ll go where Leo’s job takes us.”

  “Leo has no job,” I pointed out.

  “I’m working on some things with Leonard,” Leo told us.

  “Really?”

  “Big things,” he went on. “Larger than wife.”

  His miswording didn’t go unnoticed. CleeDee glared at him and then whipped him on the back of his head with a dish towel.

  “Bacon, anyone?” she said, sitting down to the biggest plate of fried pork I had ever seen.

  “She’s eating for two,” Leo explained. He reached for a piece of bacon and got a stare from his wife. He withdrew his hand. “So I guess Paul’s pretty upset.”

  “He seems okay.”

  “That weather thing would have been neat.”

  “And impossible,” I added.

  “Nothing’s impossible,” CleeDee chewed. “Look at us.”

  “You guys have done well.” I meant in a broad sense.

  “It’s like this, Trust,” Leo said. “A man’s supposed to cleave unto his wife and no other.”

  I was about to change the subject when I heard someone coming down the trail. I jumped out of the mobile home and faced Grace and her mother.

  “Trust, what are you doing here?” Grace asked.

  I handed her my now-limp flowers.

  “I’ll walk on ahead,” Patty said, taking her cue. She stepped away from us and down the trail.

  “I wanted to say sorry.” I tried to look meek. “Are you mad?”

  “A little.” Grace nodded, indicating that she wanted to walk. We shuffled slowly so as not to catch up to her mother.

  “So, I go out of town, and you take a strange girl to the cemetery,” Grace painfully recapped.

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of what?”

  “Sort of dumb.”

  Grace smiled. “Trust.”

  “We were only talking,” I explained. “She was explaining why she was here, and I couldn’t just not listen.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  “I’m glad you understand.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “She wants to paint a picture for her dying dad.”

  “How can I compete with that?” Grace asked lightly.

  “Slowly poison your father.”

  Grace stopped and looked at me.

  “I’m joking, of course,” I said, realizing I had gone too far.

  She pushed back her hair, giving me a nice glimpse of the right side of her beautiful neck. “When I first saw you, I knew that you were going to be something good for me,” Grace said, as if remembering. “I also knew that it was going to be messy.”

  “Messy? Like cool?” I tried.

  “Messy like falling in love while on a mission, beating up boyfriends, angering entire wards, bringing in ex-girlfriends, hanging out with gorgeous women in moonlit cemeteries.”

  “How’d you know about the moon?”

  “We see the same sky,” Grace laughed.

  Nature was so conniving.

  “So am I not worth the sticky parts?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, my heart thinks you are.”

  “And your mind?”

  “It’s pretty ticked off.”

  Grace let me hold her hand, and we began walking again. All things considered, she was being rather generous.

  “So will you forgive me?” I asked.

  “I suppose I have to,” Grace said with more seriousness than I personally felt was necessary. “But this is strike two.”

  “What was strike one?”

  “The twelve mistakes you made before this.”

  I was going to challenge her memory and make her list them. But I was afraid that in doing so she’d realize that there were considerably more than twelve.

  “Paul’s weather thing got shot down,” I changed the conversation.

  “That’s good.”

  “The road’s a go.”
>
  “If it happens, our town will never be the same.”

  “I really am sorry,” I said, feeling that it needed to be added. “About Hope.”

  “I know.”

  “Never again,” I promised.

  “I’ll be watching you,” she smiled.

  That made us even.

  28

  Saints

  I was so thankful for Sunday. It was the end of a week and a chance to be recharged. Everyone headed over to the chapel dressed in their Sunday best, which just so happened, in most cases, to also be their Tuesday worst. Grace and I got there early and took a seat near the back. I then sat there in spiritual awe as folks continued to pour in. Last time I had attended church in Thelma’s Way, we had topped out at no more than thirty people. Now, however, there were more Saints in attendance than most locals could count.

  “What’s this about?” I asked Grace.

  We actually had to scoot down to make room for three of the Porter boys and Miss Flitrey and Wad. I couldn’t believe it. I had worked my entire mission trying to get people to get out to church, and now it seemed as if the solution to that problem had been my leaving. I leaned forward and asked Teddy Yetch if it was always so crowded.

  “For the last five or so months.”

  By the time church started, there wasn’t an open seat. I saw Hope a couple of benches up and to the right. I slouched in my seat so that Teddy’s head was blocking my view. Because of the crowd, a few people even sat up on the stand by President Heck and his counselors. Sister Heck played prelude music on the piano with fervor, softening it the moment her husband walked up to the pulpit. He signaled her and she stopped midnote.

  “Welcome to sacrament meeting.”

  It looked as if every single once-lukewarm member was now here in church. I couldn’t have been more blown away.

  I stand corrected.

  Todd Nodd was wearing a tie.

  Initially Grace didn’t seem to be as amazed by what we saw as I was. But when we began the opening hymn and everyone sang, I saw her feel her forehead as if checking to see if she were ill.

  I don’t know how he did it, but as I put my hymnbook away, I looked up and noticed Leonard squeezed in right next to me on the other side. It was the closest I had come to screaming in a long time.

  “Where’d you come from?” I whispered, knowing that he had not squeezed past me.

  “Too many people are afraid to crawl these days,” he whispered back.

  “Leonard,” I sighed, realizing that he had come from below.

  “I got a calling,” he informed me after the sacrament.

  I could only imagine what his “calling” was.

  “You’re looking at the new elders quorum president.”

  Despite Leonard’s being older, he had never been made a high priest because he preferred the lessons the elders had.

  “You’re the elders quorum president?” I whispered in amazement.

  “Didn’t I just say that?”

  “Congratulations, Leonard.”

  “President,” he corrected.

  The youth speaker was Greg Bickerstaff. His talk was on tithing. He told us how it was important and that the only reason his mother didn’t pay it was because she said they never had enough money.

  “Ma said she’d gladly pay if she found or won a huge pile of cash.”

  I looked over at Janet Bickerstaff. She was smiling—proud of what a good public speaker her son was.

  After Greg, Toby played an intermediate hymn on the penny whistle. Toby was still wearing the Ace bandage wrapped around his head. His number wasn’t too bad, but every time he caught his breath he would suck in through the blow hole and create a tremendously high-pitched wheeze that set poor Nippy Ward’s hearing aid squealing.

  “I never liked windy instruments,” Leonard commented.

  I wondered how he had any self-esteem.

  I was really quite surprised when President Heck stood up after the hymn and announced that Winton and Jerry Scotch would be our speakers. I hoped that Winton had been struck by lightning or scared straight. That wasn’t the case. He stood up at the pulpit not making a lick of sense and going on and on about who knows what.

  “Weroiddiktj. Wisdspd difdjnneiowofn ddkal lllllaldku.”

  Everyone politely listened and nodded when they thought it was appropriate. Eventually he said, “Plisthub,” and then just stood there.

  Finally, Sister Watson figured it out and said amen loudly for all of us. Winton smiled and sat down.

  Jerry got up and subtly let us know that he hadn’t prepared an actual talk by saying, “I guess me and my uncle should have coordinated our talks. He said everything I was planning to. But since I’m up here, I might as well say something.”

  That was an idea worth debating.

  “I sold seven corn dogs to one man the other day,” he bragged. “I watched him eat them all. I don’t know if any of you know, but I’m on a diet.”

  This was going to be good.

  “I eat only meat,” Jerry said. “It sounds funny, but I guess stuff that’s not meat makes you fat. I had a little problem fitting this lifestyle in with the Word of Wisdom, but heck, it’s not like I’m smoking. For breakfast I have a steak or sausage. For lunch I have a steak or something, and for dinner I’ll eat some sort of meat. I know what some of you are thinking, and that’s too kind, but I really could afford to drop a couple of pounds.” Jerry scratched his head as if thinking of something else to say. He located something within his gray matter and smiled.

  “I was reading Sister Watson’s Ensign magazine,” he informed us. “There was a story about a woman on a cruise. She saved all her money and then went cruising. Since she spent all her money on the actual boat ride, she didn’t have none left to pay for meals. So I suppose she hid in her closet or something—on that point I’m not quite clear.”

  “He sure can ramble,” Leonard whispered.

  “Anyhow, on the last day of her vacation she went up top and discovered that all the meals were free. So I guess she helped herself to a really big dinner. The meaning of the story is that we should get out and be seen. I’ve got a lot of Danish ancestors. That’s always confused me.”

  “I hope he doesn’t cut into our quorum time,” Leonard complained.

  “Sometimes I get scared,” Jerry admitted. “Not scared like when Tindy showed me that gash. But heck, I’m in my forties and still single. You’d think someone like me could find one person. I’ll tell you what shakes me up even more, though. The Last Days. Me and Pete did some addition on the cash register at my work, and our numbers show that we’re looking at an end sometime in the next three to sixty years.” Jerry paused as if trying to comprehend just how powerful and thought-provoking his last few words were. “Well,” he continued, “I can’t think of a stronger way to close. So with that I bid you amen.”

  President Heck stood up and patted Jerry on the shoulder. He then took the pulpit. “I am always amazed by what I hear here,” he said. “I come to church thinking that I’ve heard it all. But then one of you opens your mouth and says what the Spirit’s itching to have you say. It’s like that time Toby accidentally struck me with that diving board he found at the dump. I am suddenly dizzy with gratitude. You all are truly the best group of people I could ever hope to be caught broke with. I was talking to someone about some of the problems they were having, and it came to me that hurt is never going to stop. Heck, we are going to get scraped up and bruised our whole life through. What’s important is that we let it heal and don’t pick at it and make it worse.”

  President Heck said a few other things and then closed the meeting. I loved listening to him talk. He used a different English and at times a different reality, but he bore his soul so sincerely that I had a hard time seeing how anyone listening could help but feel the Spirit.

  “Your dad’s incredible,” I whispered to Grace, putting my lips considerably closer to her ear than when I was whispering to Leonard.
/>   “I already forgave you,” she whispered back, thinking I was just trying to score some points.

  Just for that, I sat extra close to her during Sunday School. Sister Knapworth taught the lesson. It was an inspiring lesson on tithing. She also gave us a tip that I found rather interesting. She told the class that when they write out their tithing checks, they should enter them in the check register as being for Heaven. Sister Knapworth was obviously unaware that there wasn’t anyone there besides Grace and me who even knew what a check register was. Luckily, before people became too confused Sister Lando stood up and took the rest of the class time telling us all how God gave her headaches as a signal for her to make or not make certain choices. The only reason I was sad when the class was over was that Grace and I had to split up for Priesthood and Relief Society.

  Still reeling from the pain of separation, I learned that thanks to the fact that President Heck had made all the men in his branch honorary high priests so no one would feel left out, Leonard and I were now the only elders.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Serious as a soup stain on a prom dress,” Leonard said cheerfully. “It’s just you and me.”

  “We could join the high priests for their class,” I suggested.

  “You’d be happy throwing all order to the wind, wouldn’t you, Trust?”

  So I spent Priesthood meeting in a room with just Leonard and him refusing to talk to me like a single individual.

  “Would everyone open their scriptures up to first Nephi chapter ten?”

  I opened mine, wishing I were a woman and in Relief Society.

  “Trust, would you read that for us?”

  I did so. It’s interesting how scriptures don’t sound as moving when you read them with a chip on your shoulder.

  “Who here has ever wondered if their faith were sufficient for our times?” Leonard asked.

  I raised my hand.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Leonard, it’s only me here,” I pointed out for the tenth time.

  “If angels can visit the choir,” he said sternly, “then a few of them can certainly take some time to drop by our class.”

  “That’s true,” I joked. “I can see a couple of them sleeping over there,” I said, referring to the slow-moving lesson.