“Oh . . . this is Pete MacDonald.”
“Well, hey, Petey. How’s your family?”
“Good,” Pete said cautiously. “I’ll call back, okay?”
“Okay. See ya’. Oh, and say hey to your dad.”
“I will. Bye.”
He returned to Jamie’s lesson and found Trish’s and Tiffani’s eyes fixed inquiringly upon him. He nodded toward his daughter. “Petey MacDonald. He’ll call back,” he whispered.
He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. Her eyes widened, and a wave of color rushed up her cheeks. She drew a deep breath and glanced at her mother, who gave her a small, raised-eyebrow smile.
He settled Mallory on his lap again and tried to give his attention to Jamie’s presentation, but he was concerned about Tiffani’s response. Trish had always assured him that Tiff was level-headed with regard to boys and that she would never behave like Lisa Lou—or even openly acknowledge or display her feelings in front of her parents. But a call from Petey MacDonald was obviously an event in her life, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“So, like, if somebody says something to you that hurts your feelings, how can you do what Jesus would do? Uh—Tiff.”
“What? Oh. Um—well, you could just ignore it, and not act ugly back, I guess.”
“Okay. Good. Anybody else . . . Mom?”
“Well, Jesus said we should go even further than that and try to return good for evil. Try to do something nice for that person, or be especially kind to them.”
“And pray for them,” added the bishop. “It’s not always easy. Well, maybe not ever easy—but it helps you feel better, and might even do the other person some good, too.”
“I can’t do that!” Tiffani objected. “I mean, like at school—kids are mean and sarcastic to each other all the time, and I’d feel like a total idiot being nice to some girl who had just dissed me!”
“As I said, it’s not easy,” her father said. “But if you could just keep from reacting in the same nasty spirit, and then try later to remember to pray for that person, it’d be worth the experiment.”
“I’d feel like a hypocrite, praying for them. I’d feel, like, ‘please bless Suzette to fall and break a leg in her next cheer routine.’ You know? How could I be sincere?”
“It takes practice, and maybe a certain amount of maturity,” Trish said. “Maybe you could start out by reminding yourself that Suzette is also a daughter of Heavenly Father, just as you are, and that maybe she doesn’t know that, yet. Maybe she’s feeling insecure inside and lashes out at other girls to try to make herself feel better. Who’s Suzette, anyway?”
“Oh, she’s just an example. There are tons of snotty girls at school. I get called ‘metal-mouth’ and ‘thunder thighs’ and ‘goody-goody’ and ‘ice queen,’ just because I won’t do some of the stuff they do.”
Thunder thighs? the bishop mused. His slender little Tiffi? Ridiculous! He remembered “metal-mouth” and “four-eyes” from his school days. In fact, he remembered Sally Lovelace, a pretty girl who sat on the front row and squinted at the chalkboard in English class, ashamed to wear her glasses because of the “four-eyes” taunt from a particular classmate.
“High school can be a tough place,” Trish was sympathizing. “Things’ll be better in college, I hope. They were for me, anyway. Just hold to your standards and remember that even those girls who tease you about them will respect you for them—later, if not now.”
“Okay, so . . .” Jamie began, trying to regain control of his class.
“Dad, did Pete say what he wanted?” Tiffani interrupted.
Her father shook his head.
“Probably just something for geometry or Spanish,” she murmured.
“Okay, so, Dad? What if a kid comes in and steals stuff from the store?” Jamie pursued.
“Depends how old he is, and what he takes,” his father responded. “I’d need to talk to him and make him understand that stealing is wrong and can get him in big trouble. Then I’d try to find a way for him to earn whatever it was he wanted.”
“Why wouldn’t you just call the police?”
“If he were an older kid, I might need to do that. But I’d rather take care of it myself—if it’s a younger person. I wouldn’t let him get away with it, however. Jesus didn’t let the moneychangers get away with what they were doing in the temple. But I’d try to be kind and forgiving.”
“Did he say what time he’d call back?” his daughter inquired.
Oh, boy, the bishop thought. I do believe we’ve got something new here.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
“ . . . dear are the ninety and nine”
It was Trish’s turn to supply dinner for the bishopric’s Tuesday night meeting, so after work, the bishop swung by the house to pick up her offering, which consisted of a thick, creamy version of chicken noodle soup, green salad, whole wheat bread, and apple pie. He kissed her gratefully.
“Any more words from Tiff?” he asked quietly.
Trish wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I think she really wants to go. Should we let her? On a single date?”
He shrugged. “How can we not? I mean, it’s Mac’s boy—and he just wants to take her to a movie. He’s probably a great kid. His dad was.”
“Well, I hope Petey’s taken after his dad, but that’s hard to know. I was kind of hoping she’d just date LDS boys. Not that that’s any guarantee, but most of the guys in our ward seem like good kids.”
“I know. I was hoping the same thing. I reckon they don’t seem all that exciting—just the same old boys she’s grown up with. And Petey is good-looking. I expect it’s considered an honor at school to be asked out by him. Still . . .”
“I know. Still.”
“Well, I’ll leave it in your hands. Whatever you think best.”
“Thanks a lot!”
He winked at her. “I trust your judgment, babe. Thanks again for dinner.”
* * *
He lingered over his pie, having taken it to his office to eat while he prepared for the evening’s interviews, particularly one with Melody Padgett. He also had a couple of youth interviews—one with Lisa Lou Pope and one with Ricky Smedley.
Ricky arrived first, with a cheerful smile and cheeks red from the cold.
“Hey, Bishop,” he greeted.
“Good to see you, Ricky. Come and sit down. Hey, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I sure do appreciate the fine way you priests take care of blessing the sacrament. I notice you dress appropriately, speak clearly, and always have someone assigned to do it. Knowing that it’s going to be taken care of makes my job easier.”
“Well, we have a good bunch of guys. Most ever’body’s willing to help.”
“That’s what it takes. That and organization. So how are things going for you, Rick, in your personal life? School, church, friends, personal study and prayer, plans for the future—start anywhere.”
“Um—school’s going okay, church is fine. Reckon I oughta study the scriptures more, on my own, but what with homework and having to get up early for seminary, I guess I just hope that studying ’em there is good enough for a while. I do say my prayers, night and morning, even if they’re real short, sometimes.”
The bishop nodded. “Sometimes mine are real short, too. Like, ‘I thank Thee for today and all it’s blessings. Please continue to be with all of us, according to our needs.’ That short?”
Ricky grinned. “Yessir. ’Bout that.”
“You just wouldn’t want all of ’em—or even most of ’em—to be that short. We need to get real specific, a lot of times, and report in to the Lord about all we’re doing, what we’re trying to work on, what we’re happy about, and what bothers us. Heavenly Father is interested, and he wants to hear from us. Imagine being a parent with a kid away at school, and the kid calls and leaves a message on your answering machine that says, ‘Hi, Dad. Thanks for the money. Send more when I need it. Bye.’”
“Yeah. I
mean, yessir. I get your point. I’ll work on that.”
“You dating anybody, Ricky?”
“Well, I don’t date a whole lot. It costs money, you know? Movies and stuff aren’t cheap, and food, neither. So I just go out once in a while, like to a special dance or something.”
“Anybody in particular that you like?”
Ricky blushed. “Oh, I don’t know—I took Claire out, a time or two.”
“Claire Patrenko’s a sharp young lady. Nice-looking, smart, talented.”
“Yessir. But I mean, it’s not like—I wouldn’t want it to get back to her that I—you know . . .”
“Oh, I know. What’s said here, stays here. Still, I expect she’d be flattered. Everything okay with you morally, Ricky?”
“Yessir. I’m real careful that way. I don’t want to mess up my chances for a mission, like some . . . well, you know.”
“I do, indeed. Continue to be careful. Avoid R-rated films?”
“I’ve seen one or two, but I don’t usually go past PG.”
“That’s good. I’ve noticed that even a lot of the PG-13s are getting pretty bad.”
“I know. Mom checks them out on the Internet before we go see anything.”
“That’s good. No dealings with any kind of porn, I hope?”
“Oh, no way.”
“Excellent. Anything I should know, as your bishop?”
“Um—no, sir, I don’t reckon so. Donnie’s a real good example to us younger kids. He’s always writing us about how important it is to keep the commandments and not do anything stupid.”
“He’s serving a good mission—almost ready to come home, isn’t he?”
Ricky grinned. “Mom’s countin’ the days.”
“You bet she is. And she’ll count ’em when you’re serving, too.”
“Yessir, I expect so.”
The bishop thought about Twyla Osborne. If Buddy were to serve a mission, would she count the days? More to the point, would she notice he was gone? His conscience smote him. He probably wasn’t being fair to Twyla.
He smiled at Ricky. “Be grateful for a mom like that,” he advised, shaking the young man’s hand and ushering him out. And, he wanted to call after him, you may take my daughter Tiffani out, any time you want!
* * *
Lisa Lou Pope entered his office with a little less flounce than usual. He approved the change. A little more decorum, a little less flounce would be an improvement in Lisa Lou.
“Hey, Bishop,” she said tiredly. He wondered if her weariness was due to the dedication with which she was chewing what had to be an extra-large wad of gum.
“How are you doing, Lisa Lou? You seem tired tonight.”
“Oh, it’s just that I’ve been working every night for the last week, and up early for seminary every morning, and doing homework in between. And of course, Billy wants me to spend time with him, whenever I can.”
“Billy Newton seems to be a fine young man.”
“He is. I’m real glad he got baptized. It made me feel like a regular missionary, you know?”
“Yes, I do, and you can be grateful for the part you played in introducing him to the Church.”
“Well, like I said before, he was so nice it just seemed like he ought to be a Mormon. But he hatn’t ever heard of the Church! Isn’t that weird? I thought ever’body had, by now. Anyway, I told him some stuff about it, and he wanted to find out more, so I got hold of the missionaries for him—and here he is, all baptized and ever’thing.”
“That must be very satisfying for you.”
“Well, sure, but you know what? Now I don’t know what to do, ’cause Billy acts like we’re going steady and practically engaged, and I didn’t ever agree to that! Well, I mean, I reckon I was interested in him, romantically, you know, for a while. But now I’m real interested in another boy, but I never get to talk to him at school, on account of Billy! He’s just always there, all happy and glad to see me, and I feel real mean that I get annoyed with him for it. What should I do, Bishop? I don’t want to run him away from church!”
“Hmm. Do you feel that Billy’s truly converted to the gospel of Christ, and not just converted to you?”
“Oh, you bet I do! He just keeps reading ever’thing he can get his hands on, and he talks to his friends about it, and he wants to go on a mission and all. It’s just that he thinks I go along with it, you know? Like I’m part of the package. It just plumb worries me sick!”
“Well, I think you should be honest with him. Tell him that you think he’s a wonderful guy, and you’re really glad he was baptized, and you always want to be his friend, but that you should probably not get too serious right now, and should both date other people. Something like that. Feel free even to tell him that the bishop suggested to you that it’d be a good idea.”
“Bishop, would you . . .”
He shook his head. “You go first. I’ll be talking to him soon, anyway, and I’ll back you up. I’ll explain that a young lady your age is too young to consider a true, committed relationship and should get to know a lot of people. It’s Church policy. Isn’t there something about that in the ‘Strength of Youth’ pamphlet?”
“You’re right! I b’lieve there is. Oh, good. I can use that. Thank you, Bishop!”
“And don’t wear yourself completely out, Lisa Lou. If you’re going to do well in school and make good choices and be strong against temptation, you need proper rest. Don’t try to burn the candle at both ends.”
She blinked. “Come again?”
“That means you can’t try to do too much, or you’ll burn out.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll try to cut back my hours at work.”
They chatted a while longer, and then it was nearly the hour for Melody Padgett to arrive, and he wanted time to say a brief prayer before he met with Melody. He walked to the door of the building with Lisa Lou and saw her into her car. He took several deep, bracing breaths of the cold air before returning to his heated office.
When Melody arrived, Dan McMillan showed her in, then withdrew to the clerk’s office, leaving the adjoining door ajar. Melody slipped out of her coat and let it fall over the back of her chair.
“Melody, we haven’t spoken for a while. How are things going for you? Where’s little Andi?”
“She’s tucked in bed, and my neighbor is sitting with her, reading her stories. It being a school night, I thought that’d be better, plus we can talk freely without her fretting or hearing things that might worry her.”
“That’s probably a good idea. How’s she doing?”
“She still doesn’t want to let me out of her sight—but she’s starting to believe, I think, that she won’t be stolen away from me again. It’s tough for me, to tell you the truth, to leave her. I even get emotional dropping her off at school in the morning.”
“That’s understandable. So you’ve decided not to home-school her, as you once talked about when Jack was here?”
“That was Jack’s idea—it was just another way to control us and keep anyone else from knowing it. I would’ve been happy enough to do it, too—just to have the time alone with her—although I’m sure Jack would’ve been popping in at odd times just to make sure we were still there.”
“Has Jack seen Andi yet?”
Melody shook her head. “They’re not going to allow supervised visits for another couple of months—and then only if his therapist thinks he’s ready. You know, I kinda feel sorry for him on that count, because I think he really does love Andi, and he’s probably missing her a lot. He was allowed to send her a Christmas present, though, and she got real excited.”
“Do you think she wants him to come home?”
Melody paused, considering the question. “If things could be different, I think she’d like that. But it scared her, too, when he would yell and slap me around. She’s only six, but I think she feels protective of me. She’ll say, like, ‘Mommy, it’s just me and you going to the store, right?’ Or, ‘We’ll have fun playing with my t
oys, won’t we? Just you and me. No Daddy.’ But then one day when it was cold and stormy, she said, ‘Mommy, do you think Daddy’s cold? Should we call him and let him come get warm?’”
“Mixed feelings, then,” the bishop agreed. “Understandable. How about you, Melody? Are your feelings mixed, too?”
She made a wry little face. “Not so much, to tell you the truth. I’ve learned to appreciate the peace, and the knowledge that I’m not going to get punished if something isn’t exactly right. I can come and go as I please, and take Andi with me, and it’s like being let out of jail! If I want to go to Enrichment meeting, I can—and if I want to take Andi to see a movie, we go—and I can wear what I choose and buy what I want to eat. Maybe all that sounds shallow, Bishop—and I suppose it is—but when you’ve been so totally controlled, it feels like heaven! Down the road a ways I might feel differently—I don’t know. Sometimes I miss Jack, in a way, but mostly the Jack I thought I married. He wasn’t quite so bad at first, you know. It just kind of developed, over time. I thought it was my fault, that I’d done something to make him think he couldn’t trust me, and that I was a terrible housekeeper and mother. Now I know that’s just not so.”
“It’s not so, indeed. I’m glad you’re feeling freer. You know, Jack has confided in me some things about his childhood that helped me understand why he has these tendencies to be controlling and abusive.”
Melody held up one hand. “Don’t tell me, please, Bishop. I mean, I know there have to be reasons why he’s like he is, and I know sooner or later I’m going to have to forgive him, but I’m not ready, yet. Does that sound selfish and awful?”
He smiled at her. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t going to share the things he told me with you. That’s for him to do, if and when he has the opportunity. Maybe it’ll need to be done in a therapy session, for that matter. We’ll let the professionals handle that. I mainly wanted you to know that his abusive behavior didn’t just erupt out of left field. There are reasons for it. Not excuses, I might hasten to add, but reasons. As for forgiving him—I expect the good Lord will have to make you equal to that. And forgiving him doesn’t mean having to take him back into your lives, if you can’t bring yourself to do that. One step at a time, okay?”
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