Love's Labors Tossed

by Robert Farrell Smith

  I was just about to make my way back to the Heck home when I thought I saw a shadow moving closer from across the way. I tried to get my eyes to focus, but it was dark and the night was misty. I held my arm tight against my body, securely holding the Book of Mormon. By the time I saw who it was, it was too late to run.

  “Hi, Trust.”

  “Hope,” I said, surprised to see her but in no mood to talk.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Looking for Grace,” I answered.

  “Grace is gone,” she said as if she actually knew.

  “What?”

  “She’s gone, Trust. She wanted me to tell you that it could never work. She was going to just leave and not say anything, but I talked her into letting me tell you.”

  “So she’s not been kidnapped?”

  “I suppose she’s in Virgil’s Find or halfway to Knoxville by now.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m sorry, Trust. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Even in the dark night Hope looked hurt. So hurt that I began to feel bad about what I had just said.

  “I just can’t believe it.”

  “I know exactly how you must feel,” Hope said, brushing my shoulder. “Remember Fernando?”

  “Who?”

  “Fernando, the boy I was engaged to.”

  “I thought you said his name was Rolio.” I said.

  “Oh, yes,” she hemmed. “His name was Rolio, but we called him Fernando because he loved the sport of bull fighting so much.”

  “He liked bull fighting?” I asked in confusion. “I thought he was into animal rights.”

  “He was.” She sounded caught. “But, well, you must never tell anyone that I told you about the bulls,” Hope pleaded. “It was his one weakness. If it got out, many important animal laws would be in jeopardy.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to talk about me,” Hope changed the subject. “Enough about my past love and all that . . .”

  “Bull?” I offered.

  “Trust, do you want to talk about something important or not?”

  “I don’t really want to talk at all,” I said. “I’ve got to go find Grace.”

  “You’re going after her?” she asked in confusion.

  “Of course.”

  “But she told me to tell you it’s over, Trust. Hopeless.”

  I hated the way my name sounded on her lips.

  “I don’t care if Grace left the country and got a restraining order,” I said. “I would still go after her.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s out of the picture.”

  “What?”

  “You’re free, Trust,” Hope said, sounding desperate. “You and I can see each other now.”

  I realized for the first time that nature was finally helping me out. The dark was keeping my senses firmly in check. Hope had no spell on me when all I saw of her was a shallow outline.

  “Hope,” I said. “No offense, you’re a great girl, but I could never settle for anything less than Grace.”

  There was an incredibly heavy silence.

  “Less than Grace?” she sniffed. “Are you implying that I am less than that redheaded hillbilly?”

  “Excuse me?” I said in amazement.

  “I offer you me, and you take the table scraps.”

  “You don’t understand . . .”

  “No, I don’t,” she insisted, tapping my chest and causing me to step backwards. “How someone could possibly pass up me for anyone else is unbelievable. Don’t you read, Trust? Don’t you know how the story ends? I get what I want, and you get the girl, the most beautiful and sought-after creature in all the land.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  It was unexpected in every way, but Hope produced a thick, hard book from behind her back and swung at my face. I didn’t even have a chance to flinch. I saw new stars in the sky and felt the Book of Mormon tumble out from beneath my arm and onto the ground. Before I could pick myself up, I was hit again on the back. I rolled and pulled myself up.

  “Hope . . .” I tried to reason.

  “You were meant for me, Trust. Unfortunately, you’re just too thickheaded to ever know it. Well, let’s see if Grace likes you once you’re all marked up.”

  She swung again, and I stopped her with my hands.

  “Oh, so big and strong,” she mocked. “I bet Grace would love to see you now. I’ll tell you what,” she spat, “I’ll tell her how valiant you were when I see her later tonight.”

  “I thought you said she was gone.”

  “Guess what, Trust,” she laughed. “I lied.”

  I know what my mother and father had always told me. And yes, I had had lessons on etiquette and respecting women. But I disregarded everything I had ever been taught and lunged at Hope. I pulled her to the ground and tried to hold her down. She rolled out of my arms and jumped up.

  “My contact,” she screamed. “My contact popped out, you fool.”

  “I don’t care about your contact. Where is Grace?”

  She ignored my question. “You are most likely the biggest idiot I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Someday you’ll look back on this night and cry over what you passed up.”

  I stepped quickly towards her. She could see that I wasn’t in a good mood.

  “Happy pathetic existence,” she hollered, turning and running towards the other end of the meadow. She probably would have kept right on going if it hadn’t been for her bad eyesight and the dark night causing her to run right into Ed’s catapult. I didn’t know that it had been ready to fire. I suspected that was the case, however, when I heard it release. The popping of the spring was followed by a gigantic wizz. I then saw and heard a screaming Hope fly past the little bit of moon and out towards the forest. It was the most horrible and amazing sight I had ever seen. I prayed frantically that she would land someplace softer than her heart. Sick about all that was transpiring, I ran back and tried to find the Book of Mormon I had dropped on the ground. The dark night seemed to camouflage it well. I finally felt it. I picked it up and ran to the one place I thought it might be safe to hide it. I locked it inside, put back the key, and then ran as fast as I could to Sister Watson’s house to get help.

  Sister Watson didn’t know what to do, so we jogged as fast as she could all the way to the Heck home. We figured President Heck would have some idea where we could begin to look for his daughter and what to do about Hope.

  When we got to the house, Patty Heck was rubbing her husband’s back as he sat on the dirt. On the ground next to him was Hope lying in Ed’s lap and looking all but expired. Next to them was Winton, who, like Hope, was out cold. Mixed in amongst all of them were Toby and Leonard, one looking amazed, the other bewildered. President Heck’s rolling chair was scattered around in about a hundred pieces.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We don’t know,” Leonard admitted. “Ricky was pretty shook up about Grace being taken. So Toby and I told him that it might help him relax if he scooted about a bit. Winton saw him doing it and begged for a chance. Well, no sooner did Winton start to roll than Hope comes sailing through the air, landing right on top of him. Let me tell you, Trust, it was a spectacular collision.”

  “Are they all right?” Sister Watson said, holding a hand to her mouth.

  “We think so,” Toby said, taking all medical questions. “We sent Trust’s father to get help.”

  “So what happened to President Heck?” I asked, looking at him as his wife held him and realizing that he had not been included in the story so far.

  “He’s just shook up over losing the chair,” Patty explained.

  “I can’t believe this,” Sister Watson sighed.

  “What about Grace?” Sister Heck asked. “Did you find her?”

  “No, but I think she’s all right,” I responded. “Hope s
aid she knows where she is. Can she talk?” I pointed to Hope.

  “No,” Ed replied as she lay in his lap. “She’s way out.”

  I had never seen Ed look happier.

  “We need to keep looking for Grace,” I said. “I need to get a few people with a better sense of direction than I have to go out and help me look.”

  “Let me get my light,” President Heck said.

  “I’m in,” Leonard chimed.

  “Me too.” Toby stood tall. “We’ll find her.”

  He was right.

  All right, he was wrong; she found us. Well, she and Daryll found us. Before President Heck even came back outside, both Daryll and Grace emerged from the forest. I thought at first that I was just seeing things, but if that were the case, I never knew a vision could feel so good. I held Grace until her father came out and wanted a turn of his own. He stopped when Patty Heck demanded to know what had happened.

  “I was walking away from the reception yesterday when Hope stopped me,” Grace began to explain. “She said she needed help identifying a tree. I was in no mood to help, but she seemed so desperate.”

  “What kind of tree was it?” Ed asked.

  “There was no tree, Ed,” Grace said kindly. “She led me over to Martin’s Cavern and pushed me down Martin’s Pit before I knew what was happening. She told me to change out of the wedding dress and into these clothes because she thought I had made a mockery of the whole institution. She was screaming and acting so crazy, I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Marriage is a sacred union,” President Heck threw in.

  “I guess she tossed the dress out in the weeds,” Grace went on. “Luckily, on this occasion—disturbingly, on any other—Daryll had been following us.” Grace looked up at Daryll and smiled. “He took the dress and brought it to you guys so you could help.”

  “We ran him off,” Toby informed her.

  “That’s what he said,” Grace nodded. “He was only trying to help. After you scared him away, he came back to the pit and pulled me out.”

  “You did good, Daryll,” Sister Watson commended him.

  Grace did a nice job of filling us in, but she verbally left out one very important point—a point that I feel needs mentioning. Grace was extremely happy to see me. I guess while she had been in the pit, Hope had told her all about how she had tricked me into being seen with her and how she was going to make me hers. I would have let Grace go on and on about how glad she was that it was over, but I silenced her by pulling her towards me and kissing her instead.

  It’s not really that great kissing your fiancée in front of her mother, so I broke it up. Toby and I carried Hope, and Leonard and Ricky carried Winton down to Sister Watson’s house. A short while later my father showed up with help from Virgil’s Find. Winton and Hope were whisked away.

  I slept very well that night.

  42

  ’Fessing Up

  Cindy (“Hope” had even lied about her name) and Winton were going to be fine. I say going to be because they were both looking at a little recovery time. Cindy was worse off than Winton. She had a broken this and a fractured that, but her injuries were nothing from which she couldn’t eventually fully recover. She was incredibly lucky even to be alive. If she had not landed on Winton, who knows what might have happened. Unfortunately, all the injuries and bumps had not changed her insides one stitch.

  She was just as rotten as ever. I tried to have a brief conversation with her as soon as she came around, but she kept ripping on me for not being interested and passing her by.

  I couldn’t imagine ever pulling over.

  Her family had flown up from Georgia and were staying with her at the hospital. I had never seen people that I felt more sorry for.

  Winton was allowed to come home, but he was restricted to bed. He had a broken arm and a bruised back, but he was going to be all right. Jerry had hoped that the accident might loosen his tongue up, but it didn’t. In fact, if I didn’t know any better I would have sworn that Winton was now jabbering with an Australian accent. Sister Watson invited him to use one of her spare rooms so he wouldn’t have to stay in Jerry’s place deep in the woods. Well, while Mavis was getting the room ready, Paul, who had helped carry Winton back, discovered that he could understand his jumbled speech. Paul claimed it was his gift of tongues that made it possible. We let him think that, happy that Winton had someone to communicate with.

  President Heck instructed his wife to put together a funeral for Thelma’s Way. He figured that folks needed a chance to mourn.

  “If it were a person, we’d sit around and say nice things about her,” he explained. “Well, I dare say that this town will be more missed than a good chunk of people would.”

  So as our Relief Society president, Sister Heck began making preparations for Thelma’s Way’s funeral service.

  I had not had a chance to talk to Grace about the Book of Mormon or the fact that she had lied to me all this time. I had been tempted to tell my father that I had it, or President Heck, but I figured it would be best to talk with Grace about it first. I figured I would sit down with her Monday afternoon and get some answers. But my plans were altered due to the fact that Monday afternoon the entire town gathered in the meadow to hear Sister Watson deliver a discourse on the evils of lying. She was so upset and disheartened about all the damage that Hope’s lies had caused that she felt she needed to speak out.

  It was a powerful sermon. So powerful, in fact, that as soon as it was over, everyone began feeling as if they needed to confess something immediately. Well, President Heck was gone for the day trying to find a new chair. So, folks assumed that I would make the next best choice, seeing as how I had been the branch president before he was. I told them quite plainly that I was not the person to talk to, but all day long people kept coming up to me and getting things off their chests.

  “Trust, you got a moment?” Ed said as I was standing on the ever-rising edge of the Girth River.

  “What is it, Ed?”

  “Well, remember when I told you that there was an emergency at the school that one night?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a lie.”

  “I appreciate your telling me that.”

  “Also, I threw a rock at Grace’s window that night and told her to go down to the school. Hope made me do it.”

  “It’s all right, Ed.”

  “Whew, that feels good,” he smiled. “Oh, and Toby needs to speak at you.”

  Ed walked off looking carefree and happy, while Toby strode up looking heavy and concerned.

  “I just need a moment of your time, if that’s all right,” Toby said.

  “That’s fine, but you realize that I’m not the person to talk to,” I explained.

  “Don’t put yourself down,” Toby said. “Do you remember when Paul cooked up that sausage stuff?”

  “The manna?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Toby looked crestfallen. “Well, I knew he was going to do that. In fact, I had been the one that brought out the lighter fluid and gave it to him.”

  “But you voted for the road.”

  “According to Paul, that trial was tainted. Besides, that weather thing just kept fascinating me.”

  “Well, what’s done is done.”

  “That’s not the worst part,” Toby went on. “When I brought him the lighter fluid I squirted a whole bunch on the ground. Actually, I spelled out my name, thinking that it would kill the weeds in the form Toby Carver. That’s the reason the fire ran over to the boardinghouse. It’s my fault.”

  “Does Paul know?”

  “Yep. He said that it was still his doing.”

  “Then let’s leave it at that.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Trust,” he said. “By the way, I think Teddy Yetch is behind that tree waiting to talk with you.”

  “Yes, Teddy,” I hollered.

  She shuffled up, her old bones making her stride short and lab
ored.

  “You know that I’m not the person to talk to,” I pointed out.

  “Don’t be silly,” she insisted. “Listen up. For the last thirty years I’ve been living a lie,” she disclosed. “I hate cooking. I can’t stand to pick up another whisk or spoon except maybe to eat with.”

  “But I thought you loved . . .”

  “Loved?” she spat. “Loved to spend all day making things over a hot stove? Why do you think I always make such disgusting dishes? I kept hoping someone would tell me to knock it off.”

  “You made those things that way on purpose?”

  She looked at me with her kind wrinkled eyes. “What, are you daft? Do you think I’d really want to create things like tainted meat loaf and soggy liver spread?”

  “I thought you liked it.”

  “Have you ever seen me take a bite?”

  “Well, no.”

  “I’m done, Trust. I’m old enough to let others do the cooking.”

  “Sounds fair to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  Teddy let out a deep whew.

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as Teddy walked off, I did the same, hoping to find a spot where not quite so many people would want to confess. Just past the chapel Leonard psssted at me.

  “Over here,” he waved.

  I moved back behind the church. Leonard was wearing a pair of long johns with loose shorts over them. He had the makings of a small beard, and his hair looked unkempt. He was evolving. I asked him what he wanted.

  “Mavis’s speech on lying has really got me thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About being honest. Trust, I don’t want to shatter your image of me,” he said humbly, “but I think you should know that I’m really poor.”

  “I never thought you weren’t.”

  “Don’t try to be kind, Trust. Treating the symptoms and ignoring the problem will only prolong the pain.”

  “Really, I thought you were poor.”