“Mom, it’s okay . . .” the boy said half-heartedly, as he responded to Mrs. Pearson’s determinedly outstretched hand.
“Won’t you please sit down?” LaThea invited, her ingrained manners asserting themselves.
Everyone sat. VerDan went back to studying the weave of the carpet.
Nina Pearson spoke. “I’ll come right to the point. My daughter has received no response to her letters or her attempts to contact Dan by phone,” she stated flatly. “We felt our only recourse was to fly out here and surprise him, so that he couldn’t avoid hearing what she has to say. But I’d be interested to know, first of all, from the young man, himself, why he hasn’t responded to Bethany’s attempts to contact him.” She looked at VerDan expectantly.
The bishop had to give her good marks for her forthrightness and the calmness of her voice. VerDan didn’t answer, but flicked a glance at his mother and hung his head, if possible, even lower. LaThea opened her mouth, then closed it again. The bishop and Harville each cleared their throats, looking at her.
She took a deep breath. “All right, I suppose that was my fault,” she said quickly. “I thought Bethany’s attentions weren’t welcome, so I intervened in my son’s behalf. I apologize. Perhaps it wasn’t the best course to take.”
“What do you mean by ‘intervened’? You wouldn’t let him talk to me?” Bethany asked in a quavery, little girl voice, then turned to VerDan. “But you got my letters, didn’t you, Danny?”
VerDan shook his head, but didn’t look up.
“Not even one?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry, Beth.”
“Go ahead and say it, VerDan,” LaThea said with a sigh. “Tell her what happened to them, so she won’t blame you.”
“No, it’s okay, Mom. I can take the blame.”
“Miss Pearson, I threw your letters away before he could see them. I thought he wouldn’t want to hear from you, and I was hoping we could get him out on his mission with no further interference.”
The girl gave LaThea a long, level look, said nothing, then turned to VerDan. “I know you came home to get away from me,” she said. “But you didn’t have to do that. All you had to do was tell me you didn’t want me around anymore. I could take it.”
“Sorry,” VerDan whispered. “No excuse, but I—I guess I got scared. We were getting too close. Going too fast, you know?”
“Well, that’s not what you said when we were together. You said you loved me.”
“I know. And I meant it, Beth. I did. And that scared the heck outa me. I didn’t know what to do about it.”
“Well, it didn’t scare me.” Tears pooled in her eyes and ran unheeded down her cheeks. “I guess maybe it should have, but it didn’t. It just made me happy—and stupid. I’m sorry I was so stupid, to believe you. Stupid enough to think that what we shared was different, and special. Stupid enough that I went against everything I’d ever been taught, just to be with you.”
He shook his head. “Not stupid. You weren’t ever stupid. I was.” He lifted his head and looked at her, at last. “I was stupid enough to think that after all that happened, I could run away and act like it was nothing. I even thought maybe I could make myself forget all about you and bluff my way onto a mission—but the bishop, here—he saw through that.”
“But I guess you did manage to forget all about me. Right?”
He shook his head. “Wrong. Wrong, because I’ve thought about you every single day. I mean, I like—tried not to. I tried to be cool, and flirt with other girls, and have fun and all that—but you were always there, in my mind. Only I didn’t know what to do about you. I’m nowhere near done with school, and I don’t have much of a job. How could I marry you?”
LaThea gave a little gasp, and leaned forward as if she were about to speak, but Harville reached out a restraining hand, and she subsided.
“You don’t have to marry me, Dan,” Bethany said. “But I did think you deserved to know that I’m carrying our son. And I’m going to keep him. I’m not giving him up, even though in some ways that would be easier. I’ve prayed about it, and I just don’t feel that’d be right for him. So I’ll bring him up, with the help of my family. If you’d like to be a part of his life, that’d be great. If you’re able to give me anything toward his support, that’d be good, too, but I’m not going to insist on it. I just came to see you, face-to-face, to be sure you know.”
“Well, of course we’ll contribute to the child’s support,” LaThea burst out. “Although I think a paternity test is indicated, to be certain—”
VerDan shot to his feet. “Mother,” he said firmly, “no offense, but this is between Beth and me. And there’s no test needed. Beth’s not like that. Beth, will you go for a walk with me?”
She rose, and hugged her coat around her slim figure, which the bishop could now see swelled at the waist, and followed VerDan out into the winter sunshine. The group left in the living room sat in a strained silence.
“So, Sister Pearson, where are you folks from?” the bishop asked conversationally.
“Boise, Idaho.”
“Ah. Cold up there, this time of year.”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Never been to Idaho,” he replied. “You folks been there, Harville?”
“Um—just skiing once, in Sun Valley, when the kids were all at home.”
“Does your family ski?” the bishop asked Sister Pearson.
“No.”
“Oh, uh-huh. I see. Well, neither do I, but my wife has done some, when her family lived out west.”
Nina Pearson was not interested in small talk. She spoke to LaThea. “How could you keep my daughter’s letters from your son?” she asked. “I think there’s even some federal law about that. Don’t you believe in honesty?”
“Of course I do! Don’t you believe in protecting your children?”
“I’m here with my daughter for that very purpose. Her heart’s been broken by this boy, thinking that he was ignoring all her pleas, all her efforts to communicate with him. I suppose you read her letters before you chucked them?”
“Certainly not! I wouldn’t read someone else’s mail.”
“No? But you’d throw it away, and never even tell him it came?”
“Um, sisters,” began the bishop. “It’s certainly true there’s been harm done, and I know Sister Winslow’s sorry for the part she played. But let’s allow the young couple to settle the matter themselves, if they can. I’m not sure, but I suspect they still have feelings for each other. I grant you VerDan’s been very immature in his behavior—but then, he’s quite young, still—”
“And obviously thoroughly spoiled and overprotected by his mother, and not given to living up to the principles of his Church.”
LaThea drew herself up. The bishop was reminded of his cat, Samantha, arching her back against a perceived enemy. “Well, your daughter didn’t exactly live up to those principles, either, did she?” she demanded.
“No, ma’am, she did not—and she’s paying for it, in a big way. Whereas—”
The bishop intervened again. “Both of them transgressed, and both will need a process of repentance. We don’t need to place blame. We just need to be helpful and supportive—and forgiving.”
Harville spoke. “Sister Pearson, we’re very ashamed of VerDan’s behavior toward your daughter—both the . . . er . . . transgression—and his neglect of her these past few months. We apologize to you, on his behalf, and we’ll see to it that he apologizes, too, and carries his part of the burden. We’re not irresponsible people.”
“No,” LaThea agreed. “And you have to understand that none of our other children have done anything like this. We have an excellent family heritage, going back to—”
“None of my other children have caused me this kind of grief, either,” said Sister Pearson. “Bethany’s the youngest of seven, and she’s always been such a good girl that I counted myself blessed. The others are all married in the temple and have happy families. I thought Beth would f
ollow suit. Then she met Dan.”
“Now, let’s not give up on either of them,” the bishop said. “True, this is a serious matter, but certainly not one that’s unknown in our society—even in our LDS culture, in spite of all our efforts to prevent it. It strikes me that Bethany shows excellence of character in not following the ways of the world and having an abortion, and by praying for wisdom in whether to keep the baby or put it up for adoption. And VerDan—well, we need to realize that he feels kind of blindsided by this. Not to excuse his behavior, but let’s see what he does, now that he knows. He’s already indicated that he’s felt guilty for running away from Bethany, and she’s been in his thoughts all this time.”
“Hmph,” was Nina Pearson’s reply.
“Umm—what does your husband do, out there in Boise, Sister Pearson?” inquired Harville.
She fixed him with an unwavering brown stare. “He lies in his grave, and has done for twelve years, now. Otherwise, I’m certain he’d be here beside me, seeing this matter through.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry,” Harville said, his face reddening. “You’ve had quite a challenge then, bringing up your family alone.”
“A mother does what has to be done. That’s why I’m here. But you’re right, it’s not an easy row to hoe, and that’s why I’m not eager to see my daughter embark on single motherhood, although she’s adamant about keeping her baby.” She allowed a very small smile to touch her lips. “I’m afraid that in some respects, Bethany’s as stubborn as her mother.”
“That can’t be all bad,” put in the bishop, answering her smile with an encouraging one of his own. “Seems to me a good dose of determination is needed in today’s world, especially if it’s directed against all the negative influences around us.”
“Yes, and that’s what Bethany would normally do,” her mother said, frowning slightly.
LaThea took umbrage. “Are you saying our son is a negative influence?”
“Um, well, ma’am—there is a pregnancy.” Sister Pearson took a tissue from her purse and pressed it to her nose. “Although, of course, I have to admit they’re both culpable. I’ll try to be fair toward Dan—especially now that I know he didn’t get any of Bethany’s messages. That does change my initial assessment of him a little.”
LaThea’s defensive stance crumbled, and she flicked a miserable glance toward her husband. “But what must you think of me?” she wondered, her voice tinged with tears. The bishop wondered if her query was meant for Harville or for Bethany’s mother. Sister Pearson chose to respond.
“I’ll admit I don’t totally understand you,” she said, “but I guess I can see that you had good intentions, of a sort. It’s not how I would have handled the situation, but we’re all different. In any case, as your son pointed out, this isn’t about you—or me, for that matter.”
LaThea bowed her head. “That’s true.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued, with all four persons looking inward. The bishop pondered on the conversation that might be taking place between VerDan and Bethany. Would there be accusations, recriminations, or some kind of conciliation? Would LaThea’s image be forever tarnished in the two young minds? And if the young couple decided to marry, could the union survive the scrutiny of either mother-in-law?
Tension stretched between the adults in the room like a rubber band pulled to capacity. Just when the bishop thought the band would snap, the front door opened and the young couple entered on a waft of cold air. The temperature between the two of them had obviously warmed, however, as VerDan had an arm around Bethany, and she snuggled close to his side. They stood in the entranceway to the living room, and VerDan spoke.
“Mom, Dad—Sister Pearson, Bishop—we’re . . . going to be married.”
“Now, VerDan, you needn’t make any hasty decisions, dear,” LaThea began. “You could just wait until the baby comes, and then if you still feel the same, have a nice—”
“No, Mom, we can’t. I’m not about to let my son be born out of wedlock. I’ve been a coward and a schmuck about this whole situation long enough. I do love Beth, and I’ve missed her—and even though I know I told you she was chasing me, that wasn’t really true. I was just trying to run away from feelings I didn’t know how to handle. And Bishop—you were right—I would have been going on a mission just to get away. I wouldn’t have lasted. I’m glad you could see that.”
The bishop nodded. He was glad, too.
“Bethany, are you sure this is what you want?” asked her mother, applying her tissue again.
“It is, Mom. It’s all I’ve wanted, ever since I knew about the baby. In fact, ever since I got to know Danny. We’ll be fine. We know it won’t be easy, but it’ll be so much easier together than apart. And better for the baby.”
“But, VerDan, what will you do? Where will you live? How can you support—”
Harville reached a steadying hand to grasp his wife’s. “If you’ll recall, LaThea, we didn’t have a penny when we got married, either, and we survived.”
“Yes, but times are different, now. Everything’s so expensive! And his schooling—he can’t just give that up!”
“Mom, it’s time I grew up. I’ll get the best job I can find, and go to school part-time. Lots of couples do that. We’ll get by. Now, we’re going to go apply for a license before the courthouse closes.”
All three parents stood up, as if to prevent such a hasty departure. The bishop smiled.
“I think you’ll both need some documentation, to do that,” he reminded them. “Birth certificates, at least.”
“I brought mine—it’s in my suitcase at the motel,” Bethany stated. “Danny, do you know where yours is?”
“Mom? Where—in the filing cabinet?”
“A pocket in your baby book, on the second shelf of the office closet,” LaThea said faintly and sat down as her son left the room, taking Bethany with him. “Oh, my . . .”
Nina Pearson looked at her with more sympathy than she had yet shown. “I know this isn’t how either of us wanted things to be,” she said. “I pictured a temple wedding and Beth in a lovely white dress, maybe a garden reception in June, with all her friends and family there. But here we are, in January in Alabama—in a town where we don’t know a soul—and her six-and-a-half months pregnant. So if you feel a little bit bowled over, please know that I do, too.”
“Oh, my,” LaThea said again. “How—who—it sounds like they mean to do this right away. Oh, dear. Bishop, would you perform the ceremony?”
“I’d be glad to—if that’s what they want.”
“Well, of course they will. And let’s see. I have my daughter’s wedding dress upstairs—it would probably fit, except it’d be a little long. If she wears really high heels, it should—”
“No,” said Bethany, who had come back into the room. “I mean, thank you, Sister Winslow, but I refuse to be a pregnant bride in a white dress and veil. I always think that looks absurd—like Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl. I’ll just wear a nice Sunday dress, and Danny can get me a corsage if he wants. I’ll wear white later, when we’ve taken care of things and can be sealed in the temple.”
The bishop nodded silently. He was impressed with the gumption of this girl. She just might be able to survive LaThea—and make something good of VerDan in the process.
Chapter Nine
* * *
“ . . . the spirit’s bright assurance”
Mr. VerDan Compton Winslow and Miss Bethany Kaye Pearson exchanged vows and rings on Friday evening, January 4, 2002, at the home of the groom’s parents in Fairhaven. In attendance were the couple’s parents and a number of friends. The bride is the daughter of Mrs. Nina Booth Pearson of Boise, Idaho, and the late Geoffrey Pearson, while the groom’s parents are Harville and LaThea Perry Winslow of Fairhaven. The ceremony was performed by Bishop James Shepherd of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, followed by a reception at the same location.
The bride wore a rose-colored, silk shantung sacque dress set o
ff by a corsage of pink rosebuds, white baby’s breath, and asparagus fern. The bride’s mother was attired in a navy blue suit, accessorized by a corsage of white carnations. The mother of the groom wore a similar corsage against the pale gray suede of her jacket dress. Music was provided at the piano by Miss Claire Patrenko.
The refreshment table, presided over by Mrs. James (Trish) Shepherd and her daughter, Miss Tiffani Shepherd, featured a raspberry-filled, two-layer cake decorated with white roses, as well as mint and nut cups and a pink sparkling punch. The table was covered with an antique rose damask cloth that had belonged to the groom’s maternal great-grandmother, Elise Compton Perry of Salt Lake City, Utah. Tall white tapers and two lovely arrangements of roses and carnations flanked the cake, and a matching arrangement graced the smaller table that held the bride’s book. After the reception, the couple departed for a honeymoon weekend in Birmingham, after which they will fly to Boise, Idaho, for a reception at the home of the bride’s mother. They plan to make their first home in Salt Lake City, Utah, where they will continue their education. (Fairhaven Lookout, Monday, January 7, 2002)
* * *
“So how do you think it went?” Bishop James Shepherd asked his wife and daughter as they relaxed in their family room later on the evening of the wedding. The bishop had loosened his tie and propped his stockinged feet on a hassock, and his wife leaned back in a rocking chair, her arms draped wearily over the sides.
“Well, given the time constraints and the circumstances, I think things went as well as they possibly could,” she replied. “But I suspect, my not-so-subtle husband, that you’re really asking how you did with your part.”
He grinned. “Got me. I was fishing, I admit it.”
“You did beautifully. No one would know it was your first time to perform a marriage. Your advice was wise, and you seemed completely at ease with the ceremony.”
The bishop looked at his daughter. “See? That’s why I keep your mom around. She feeds my fragile ego. Well, that and her meatloaf.”
“I know, I know. And her lemon icebox pie.”
Through Cloud and Sunshine Page 9