Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  “Yes.” Elder Thomas was still trying to locate Matthew 24.

  “All right. That’s one of the signs. But it’s been going on forever, hasn’t it? Have you heard of any false Christs?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Of course you have. Have you heard of wars and rumors of wars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Famines? Pestilence? Earthquakes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing new in any of that, is there? All those things have happened. But what does Christ say about that?”

  Elder Smith turned and looked directly at Elder Thomas, who finally looked up from his Bible. “He says that’s not the end.”

  “Exactly right. ‘For all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.’ They are the ‘beginning of sorrows.’ So things are bad, with Hitler raising up one nation against another, but it’s going to get worse. What do you know about Jerusalem? What do we learn from Zechariah?”

  “There’s supposed to be a great battle in Jerusalem.”

  “Yes. Now that’s hard to envision right now. But it will happen. And then the stone cut out of the mountain without hands . . . you know that scripture, don’t you?”

  “Daniel.”

  “Yes. That’s right. It will roll forth, and what?” He leaned a little closer, and he raised his finger, almost touching Elder Thomas’s chin.

  “Consume the whole world.”

  “Well, that’s about right. It becomes a mountain, and it fills the whole earth. And what is this stone?”

  “The gospel going forth to all the world.”

  “That’s right. And that still has to happen.”

  Elder Thomas thought about that. “So the end might be a long way off yet.”

  “Now wait.” Elder Smith held his finger in the air, and he gave his head a little shake. “Don’t be too quick to say that. Things can happen quickly. And no one knows the time. Isn’t that what we’re told? The bridegroom cometh, but no one knows the day nor the hour. Where’s that?”

  Elder Smith was still leaning toward Elder Thomas, making him self-conscious. “Uh . . . Matthew . . .”

  “Matthew 25. That’s right. Now here’s what I have to say to you, Elder Thomas. Look up here now. Look me in the eye.”

  Elder Thomas had been turning to Matthew 25, but now he did as he was told. “Everyone wants to know the hour. And there is the answer right there in the scriptures. When will it be?”

  “No one knows.”

  “That’s right. You and I don’t know. The prophet doesn’t even know. So stick to your knitting. Don’t worry about it. You go home and serve the Lord. President Wood told me you were one of his best missionaries, which is exactly what I would expect. You need to get home and marry a woman in the temple of God, raise up a fine family, and serve the Lord in whatever capacity he calls you. And trust me, he’s going to call you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  “Yes.” Elder Thomas felt strangely out of breath.

  “You probably need to go to college. But don’t get caught up in it to the point that you start to think you know everything. You read the scriptures, and you learn from that. And you follow in your father’s footsteps. When the Lord comes—which may very well be in your time—you be ready. That’s the whole point of the parable, isn’t it? Keep your lamp ready. Be prepared. Does that settle that matter for you, Elder?”

  Elder Thomas was nodding.

  “Good. You run along now. Jessie wants me to go look at some museum. She’ll walk my legs off and tell me all about everything, and I’ll say ‘uh-huh, uh-huh,’ and she’ll think she’s educated me a little. She needs that.”

  Elder Thomas smiled when he realized that Elder Smith was joking—although he hadn’t cracked a smile. Some mornings, at the meetings, Sister Smith had sung to the group. Once she had even talked Elder Smith into joining her. And one day he had surprised everyone by saying, “When the Prophet sealed Sister Smith and me, he commanded me to kiss the bride. And I always do exactly what the prophet tells me. I keep that commandment as often as I can. Some day, you young men should do the same.”

  But now Elder Smith was saying, “Let me tell you one more thing. I haven’t told the others yet, but I will before long. It looks like we’re sending you home. You don’t have six months left on your mission, do you?”

  “No. Only about—”

  “Well, then, you’ll be going home. It isn’t worth sending you off to Nebraska or Kentucky or somewhere and just let you get settled in a little before we ship you home. Those with more than six months to go will finish their missions somewhere in the States—or maybe Canada.”

  Elder Thomas hardly knew how to react. Suddenly his mission was over and he hadn’t had a chance to complete the full term. Something about it felt incomplete.

  “Wish me luck,” Elder Smith said as he stood up. “If I don’t get just the right sound in my ‘uh-huhs,’ Jessie will chastise me something terrible. She’s not a woman who will settle for a half-hearted ‘uh-huh.’” Finally, he laughed.

  Elder Thomas laughed too and said, “I do wish you luck, Elder Smith. And thanks for talking with me.”

  “Let me tell you one more thing. You have the ability—and the heritage—to become a great man. You could easily end up sitting on the highest councils of the Church. Don’t strive for it, but do your duty—serve with all your heart—and the Lord will use you. I feel that in you, Elder.”

  He nodded, seemingly to seal the words, and then he walked away. During the rest of Elder Thomas’s stay in Copenhagen, he thought of those words constantly, wondered what his destiny would be back in Utah. And he wondered about the other part of his future. What would happen in Germany?

  After about three weeks, the missionaries were divided into two groups and shipped out. Elders Thomas and Mecham made certain they ended up on the same ship. They sailed on the Mormachawk, a freight ship that had been set up with cots down in the hold to handle passengers. Another part of the hold was inhabited by cattle, with all their pungent smells. The passage, especially in the beginning, was rough, and most of the missionaries spent many hours leaning over the rail. The steward finally brought a big metal tub down to the hold so the elders wouldn’t have to run quite so far to vomit. But the smell only added to the problems, and Elder Thomas tried to spend all the time he could out in the fresh air. Some nights he slept on deck rather than going down into the hold, where he always became sick immediately.

  The only baths the missionaries could take were cold,

  salt-water showers, and the food was terrible. After a few

  days, however, the weather improved, and the rest of the trip—another week or so—went much better. The missionaries gathered in groups each day, and they continued the gospel study that Elder Smith had started. Elder Thomas was one of the more knowledgeable of the missionaries, and he found himself called on to answer questions. He liked to play the Elder Smith role a little, to push the others to state what they knew from scripture, and quote chapter and verse. He wasn’t nearly so good at it as Elder Smith, but he was better than most, and that made him appear quite the authority.

  Toward the end of the voyage, Elder Thomas and Elder Mecham sat up late one night talking and looking at the stars. It was a cool night in early October, and they shivered a little, but the sky was enormous, and the stars were clear. It was too good to pass up after all the cloudy days they had seen at sea. So the two of them lay flat on their backs on the deck and looked at the sky.

  They talked about their futures, and Elder Mecham said he was going to take college more seriously this time around. He wanted to settle into a major and find something he could build a career on. “I’m thinking about forestry,” he told Elder Thomas. “They have a forestry school at the AC. And I like the idea of working outside.”

  “I think that’s a good choice,” Elder Thomas said. “I can see you doing something like that.”

  “So what are you going to do? Do you still wan
t to study history?”

  “I think so. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I have an uncle who’s a history professor, and I’ve always loved to talk to him.”

  “You’d be a good professor, too. It’s hard to think of you doing anything else.”

  “Of course . . . maybe we’ll all be soldiers.” Neither spoke for a time after that. Elder Thomas looked at the stars and imagined them falling from the heavens. So many calamities were coming, but he had never thought, until lately, that those “wars and rumors of wars” would involve him.

  “I pray every night that I won’t ever have to fight Germans,” Elder Mecham finally said.

  “Me too.”

  The two lay there, the universe stretched out overhead. Elder Thomas was always awed by the idea that God could see and understand so much. In the presence of such vastness, it seemed rather selfish to bother him now with personal concerns, but Elder Thomas began to pray—not about the war or the German Saints this time—but about a small matter: a young woman he wanted kept safe.

  He closed his eyes to shut out the stars for a moment, and he tried to see her face. But the image wouldn’t come. What he saw instead was a parade: tanks resounding on cobblestone streets, goose-stepping soldiers, trucks, artillery, blood-red Nazi flags. When he opened his eyes, it was hard for him not to think of the universe as something cold and immovable. And so he shut his eyes again and tried to picture God, his Father—someone who cared—and he prayed for a miracle. He asked that Anna might be protected, that he might see her again, that he might have the chance to ask her to marry him.

  And there, out under the stars, suddenly a tremendous warmth and calm filled him, the same power he had felt at the moment he had placed his hands on Anna’s head to bless her. He was sure he had his answer. She was the one he was supposed to marry, the one he would marry.

  Chapter 19

  The door was open part way, so Bobbi stuck her head in and said, “David?”

  Professor Stinson rotated in his chair and then stood up. He looked elated. “Bobbi. I was hoping you would come by.” Fall-term finals were over, and David was reading tests. He had on a sports shirt and a white V-neck tennis sweater. He actually looked stylish—just a little out of season.

  “I turned in my last paper, so I’m finished. But I wanted to bring you this.” Bobbi was holding a gift wrapped in red and green Christmas paper.

  “Bobbi, you don’t have to bribe me. I already gave you an A.” He smiled and reached for the package.

  “Oh. I’ll keep it then.” She pulled it back, but he stepped closer and took it away from her.

  Bobbi had completed her second class with Professor Stinson, whom she now called David at times, but only when no one else was around. The two had talked many times during the term. The conversations usually started with Bobbi’s questions about the Puritans or Emily Dickinson—or whatever she was studying at the time—but they had a way of continuing down the hallway and into David’s office. And then, more often than not, the talk turned to other matters, and at some point Bobbi had begun to express her frustration with Phil. She and Phil had agreed on a wedding date, but she had managed to put it off to June 16, at the end of her junior year. That had seemed a long way off in the fall, but now, with Christmas near, it was beginning to seem close.

  David tore off the wrapping paper and looked at the gift—a book. “Oh, my,” he said, and then he opened the cover and looked through the first few pages. “Bobbi, I don’t believe this. It must have cost you a fortune.”

  “Not really. Mr. Weller made me a good deal.”

  “But it’s a first edition.”

  “I know.” Bobbi had not intended to buy him a Christmas present, but she had been downtown in Zion’s bookstore, and she had looked through the used books. When she had come across this handsome edition of Henry James’ The Ambassadors, she couldn’t resist buying it for him.

  “This is wonderful. The binding is beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I thought you would.”

  “You knew I would.” He looked at her for a moment, smiling a little, but those green eyes of his looked serious, intense. “Bobbi, I don’t think, in all my life, anyone has known me so well. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone.”

  It was time to go. This sort of thing was happening too often lately. Bobbi was never so happy as when she could spend time with him—and never so miserable. “I’ve told you things I shouldn’t have told anyone. I hope you keep my secrets.”

  He nodded, smiling more now. She loved the way he studied her face, as though he were trying to discover any hint of what she was thinking. “I didn’t get you anything. I thought about it, but I didn’t know whether I should.”

  “David, I didn’t expect us to exchange gifts. I just saw this, and I wanted you to have it.”

  He looked at the book again, turned it over in his hands. “I think the proper response is to give you a kiss.”

  “Oh, I think not.” But she didn’t step back. She was confused about her relationship with David and well aware that she was playing with fire, but she loved these moments when his attraction to her was so obvious.

  “There’s another reason I should kiss you.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. A sprig of mistletoe is hanging over your head, and you know what custom requires in that case.” She began to look up, but he placed the palm of his hand on the top of her head. “Don’t look. That implies that you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, I would never suggest that.” She smiled, knowing she was flirting, wanting the kiss at the same time she was telling herself she wasn’t going to allow it. She loved the excitement when he stepped closer. In fact, she almost let it happen, but when he bent a little, she finally stepped back. “I need to go,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “That’s okay. I just need to go.”

  “Could I maybe see you—during the holidays.”

  “No. Of course not.” But the idea was wonderful to her, and she watched a subtle dimple form in his cheek when he sensed that he had a chance.

  “We need to talk,” he said, and now he was trying to say things with his eyes, and she was suddenly nervous.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You know that.”

  “Bobbi, you can’t marry Phil. You know you can’t.”

  Bobbi looked out the window, where the afternoon sun was angling across the snow. It was bright out there, and Bobbi had felt good all day. She didn’t want to think. She had only intended to surprise David with the gift and then go home, relieved that her last paper was in. “I know I’ve made Phil sound awful sometimes. But he’s not so bad as you think.”

  “He couldn’t be as bad as I think. Because I think you’ll hate him if you marry him.”

  Bobbi wanted to deny that, but she sometimes wondered whether that would be true. She looked back at David, whose eyes were still trained on hers. “I’ve got to go,” she said again.

  “What about college? What would he say if you told him you wanted to stay on for graduate school?”

  “I don’t know. He would think it wasn’t necessary, but if I told him it was important to me, he might try to work something out—at least at some point in my life.”

  “This is crazy, Bobbi. He has no right to decide things like that for you.”

  “You’re the only person I know who feels that way.”

  “You Mormons,” he said, and Bobbi could see his frustration. His shoulders lowered as the air seeped from his chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. It’s your life—obviously.”

  Bobbi pulled the door open. “Well—I won’t have a class with you next quarter, but I’m sure I’ll see you.”

  “I don’t want to go the whole holiday without seeing you.”

  “David! You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  He walked closer but stopped and pushed his hands into his pock
ets. “You’re right. I’m being unprofessional. Let me put it another way.” He cleared his throat and then said, formally, “As your professor, I feel an obligation to discuss your career options with you. Would you like to meet with me sometime?”

  “Yes, of course. We should talk about that at some point.”

  “How about tonight?”

  She smiled.

  “I’m serious.” He took hold of her wrists. “Meet me tonight. I won’t do or say anything I shouldn’t. But we could celebrate the end of the term together. It’s a lonely time for me right now. I need something like that.”

  “I can’t meet you. What if someone should see us?”

  “Meet me downtown.”

  “Are you serious? Everyone in Sugar House knows me, and half of them will be Christmas shopping tonight.”

  “Okay. Meet me here on campus. We’ll find somewhere to go. Give me one evening of your life—before Phil gets you forever.”

  Bobbi expected to say no. But the word didn’t come, and when he said, “Okay?” she found that she was nodding. And when he said, “Seven?” she nodded again. “Out in front of this building. I’ll think of someplace to go.”

  And once again she nodded, but she said nothing at all. She left quickly. Halfway down the hall, she almost turned back to tell him she couldn’t do it, and then on the bus, she remembered that she had told her parents she would go to a family party with them. Phil had promised Sister Thomas he would come along to meet some of the Snow family.

  Bobbi would have to stand David up. It was the only thing she could do at this point. But half an hour later, she was telling her mother that a professor of hers had gotten himself into a bind. An emergency had come up, and he had asked her to mark a set of papers for grammar—before he read them for content. “It’s actually a compliment to me,” she said. “Most professors would never ask an undergraduate to do something like that. I know he’ll write me a good letter of recommendation someday.”

  “But Bobbi, my mother is expecting you. She wants her sisters to meet Phil.”

  “Maybe Phil could go with you, and then I could run over a little later. If Dad will let me take his car, and you two drive with Phil, I could meet you there. The party doesn’t start until eight. I should be there by nine or so.”