Through Cloud and Sunshine Read online

  Tom, Lula, and Rosetta came to join them. Tom and Lula looked like sleepwalkers, their faces haggard and set with fear. There was no one else in the waiting room at the moment, and the bishop roused himself to lean forward and give them what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “We gave Thomas a priesthood blessing just before the paramedics came,” he told them. “I was voice, and I felt prompted to tell him that he could be healed.” He didn’t include the part about “if he chose to.” These people needed a stiff dose of hope right now.

  “Thank you, Bishop,” Lula said. “I believe blessings do help.”

  “He’s young and strong, too—that’s definitely in his favor.”

  Tom nodded. “That’s what the feller in yonder said—the paramedic.”

  “Do they know the extent of any of his injuries, yet?”

  “Looks like there’s several, they said. Head, neck, plus his arm’s broke and shoulder dislocated. Might be some cracked ribs or internal problems, too—they don’t know, yet. They’re getting him all stabilized now, whatever that means, then they’ll do some more X-rays and stuff.”

  “Would you folks like to have a prayer, while we’re alone, here?” the bishop asked.

  Lula nodded. “If you’ll say it, please,” she whispered.

  The bishop bowed his head and expressed their sorrow, care, and concern for Thomas and his injuries, as well as his heartfelt thanks that they were led to find him. He acknowledged that they knew that the Lord was mindful of the young man and prayed for comfort and strength for his parents and skill for the doctors and nurses who attended him. He didn’t know whether the prayer comforted Tom and Lula, but it made him feel better. He felt the quivering in his midsection begin to settle down.

  “How’d you come to find him, exactly?” asked Rosetta. “Did one of you come across him in your search?”

  The bishop shook his head. “Buddy, here, had a lot to do with it,” he said, and explained the sequence of events. “And, Lula, bless your mother’s instinct for knowing that something must have happened and asking us to help. I believe you and Buddy both were inspired tonight.”

  “Well, and you, Bishop, for even thinking to ask me iffen I’d seen him,” Buddy put in.

  “Right. That felt kind of like a prompting, too,” the bishop agreed. “We had to go rouse Buddy out of a sound sleep, but I knew it was important to do, after we’d learned that T-Rex gave him a ride home.”

  Tom Rexford spoke. “And that Post Hole Road—whatever the boy was thinkin’, to ride that stretch at night, I don’t know. How come you to think of that, Buddy?”

  “I don’t rightly know, except he’d said he knew a shortcut he’d take, so’s he could get home sooner to watch the movie y’all got.”

  “Well, thank you, son, for your part,” Lula told him. “We’re real grateful. And thanks for that picture you drew of him in his uniform, too. It’s hangin’ on our livin’ room wall. It’s just real good. You got a gift.”

  Buddy looked down. “Welcome,” he muttered softly. “T-Rex is a good guy.”

  The examination seemed to take forever, but finally one of the doctors motioned to Tom and Lula to come with him. The bishop wanted badly to follow, but he kept his seat. Buddy had succumbed to weariness and stress, and slept slumped in his chair, still wrapped in his blanket. Rosetta sat silently, lost in her own thoughts.

  Tom came back. “They’re gonna take the boy down to Birmingham, to the trauma center at Baptist Princeton,” he said. They’ve just been workin’ out whether they ought to fly him down on Life Flight or use an ambulance. Weather’s gettin’ worse, and I think they don’t want to risk a helicopter in the storm, so likely it’ll be the ambulance. Lula and me, we’re goin’ on down there, too. We want to thank y’all—ever’body who helped out—tonight. We’ll let you know, Bishop, what happens.”

  “I could drive you down,” Rosetta offered, standing up. “Y’all have enough on your mind without having to drive.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but we’ll take it from here,” Tom replied. “All y’all go on home and get some rest. You deserve it.”

  He turned and headed back to find Lula, and the bishop looked at Rosetta.

  “Rosetta, thanks so much. You’ve been a real help tonight.”

  “I wish he’d let me drive them.”

  The bishop nodded. “I know, but he’s pretty independent. Thanks for offering, though. Let’s head home now, so if we can be of any help tomorrow, we’ll be ready.”

  She wished him a good night and left. He bent over Buddy and gently shook his shoulder. “Come on, friend—it’s time to turn in our blankets and head home. They’re going to transport T-Rex to a bigger hospital down in Birmingham, so there’s nothing more we can do now. He’s in good hands. Let’s go home.”

  The boy nodded, stood, and silently peeled off his damp blanket. The bishop gave them both back to the lady at the desk with his thanks, and they headed out the double doors into a maelstrom of blowing and stinging snow. In the truck, he turned the heater up full blast and drove home. Neither of them spoke.

  At the house, he sent Buddy into the downstairs bath with orders to take a good, warm shower and then wrap up in one of his own old bathrobes for the night. He took the boy’s wet clothing and put it in the dryer, then stripped his own damp clothes off and got a shower, too, grateful that their water heater had a good capacity. He had planned to offer Buddy a snack, but the boy was curled on a family room couch, almost asleep again, when he came downstairs. He covered him with a comforter and told him to sleep as long as he liked. He considered a snack for himself, but found he had little interest in food, so he went upstairs. The wind still keened around the eaves, and the icy crystals spanged against the windows. Never had his home seemed more welcoming.

  Trish roused herself when he slipped into their bed. “What happened?” she asked. “How’s T-Rex?”

  He told her the latest, then added, “Buddy’s asleep in the family room. Locked out, again. Besides, he’s real upset about T-Rex, and I think he may need us tomorrow.”

  “Poor kid,” she said. “Well, both kids. I hope they’ll both come through this all right.”

  “So do I. Would you offer a quick prayer to that effect? I expect the Lord’s tired of hearing from me tonight.”

  She did so, and they curled close together. “Hey, babe?” he said, just before sleep claimed him.

  “M-hm?”

  “About that cell phone? I got the message tonight. That was an inspired gift.”

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  “ . . . to make our hearts as one”

  The phone rang at six a.m., and the bishop blinked sleepily, struggling for a moment to determine whether he was hearing the phone or the alarm clock. Then the events of the night before crowded back into his mind, and he grabbed the phone.

  “Jim Shepherd,” he said, leaning up on one elbow.

  “Bishop, this is Lula Rexford callin’, to let you know about Thomas.”

  “Yes, Lula. Go ahead.”

  “Well, they’ve got him in surgery down here. They figure his brain is bruised, and bleedin’, and they’re gonna try to get that to stop, and to drain off so’s the pressure don’t build up too much. He ain’t never woke up yet, and they think that’s why. He’s like, in a coma.” Her voice broke, and she was silent for a moment. “I’m purty scared, Bishop. I cain’t hardly stand to think of Thomas like this. He’s always been such a strong, healthy kid. I don’t want him to be . . . any different. And I surely don’t want to lose him.”

  “I know, Lula. Neither do I. I love Thomas, too. What about his neck?”

  “They say it ain’t broke, but there’s a compressed vertebrae. And Tom says he told you last night about his arm and shoulder. His ribs are bruised, too. But right now they don’t think there’s any internal bleedin’, except in his head. Will you keep prayin’ for us, Bishop?”

  “You’d best believe it. And I’ll do even better than that. I
’m going to call a ward fast for him. I’ll also call his name in to the temple prayer list as soon as the temple opens. We’ll bring in all the spiritual power we can muster to help Thomas. You just add your own prayers, you and Tom, and try your best to have faith. I know I can’t tell you not to worry, but just keep reminding yourself that you love Thomas and you love the Lord, and the Lord loves all of you, and He’s told us that perfect love casts out fear.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Lula promised. “Thank you so much—and thank ever’body for us, will you, Bishop?”

  “I will. Do you want me to come down there? I’ll be glad to.”

  “No, sir, not now, please don’t. I reckon the roads are plumb awful. Have you looked outside yet?”

  “No. Did we get a lot of snow?”

  “There’s a ton down here, so I reckon Fairhaven got it, too. And it’s slick as—well, it is ice.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait till the roads are better. But call me again, will you, when Thomas is out of surgery? Or as soon as there’s anything to report?”

  “Yessir, I’ll do that.”

  Trish was awake when he hung up, watching him wide-eyed from her pillow. He eased back down on his own for a minute.

  “Tell me,” she said softly, and he did.

  “So you’re going to organize a ward fast?”

  “I’ll call the priesthood leaders and have them mobilize the home teachers and pass the word that way. It wouldn’t hurt to alert the women, too, I suppose, just in case the men don’t catch everybody.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thanks, babe. Lula says there’s a ton of snow outside—at least in Birmingham. I’m reluctant to get up and look.”

  “I’ll be brave,” Trish said and slipped out of bed to go to the window. “Oh, boy,” she said. “I guess there’s a ton! It’s beautiful, though. And still a few little flakes falling. Our white Christmas was a day late arriving.”

  “Kids’ll be thrilled.”

  “That they will.”

  “What time should I start calling, do you think?”

  “It’s a little early yet. Maybe around sevenish? Start with those you know are early-birds. Which meals shall we fast?”

  “I thought dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. We should be able to notify everybody in time for that. And I think I’ll ask everybody who can to meet at the chapel tomorrow at noon, to close our fast with prayer—and those who can’t, to try to pray at the same time.”

  “Storming the gates of heaven, hmm?”

  “Something like that. When it comes to prayer, I believe in strength in numbers as well as in fervency and faith.”

  “Jim?”

  “M-hmm?”

  “Do the Rexfords have any health insurance to cover this?”

  He sat up, then, frowning. “Wow, I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’m sure as a football player, T-Rex would’ve had some through the school.”

  “But the season’s over. Does the coverage extend all year?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll find out. I doubt that Tom or Lula, either one, has any health coverage. Tom’s still out of work, and Lula’s just part-time. Oh, boy. That’s a sobering thought. There didn’t seem to be any trouble checking him in, last night, though.”

  “Injuries like T-Rex’s—especially head and neck problems—could require a lot of time and therapy, and run up some big bills.”

  “I can direct the fast offerings toward their needs for a while. There isn’t too much of a drain on the funds otherwise, right now. We’ve been giving a little help, here and there, but not much.”

  “That’s good. Assuming Tom’ll accept it. Maybe they can get some help through the state, too. Once again, assuming Tom—”

  “Well, Tom’s proud and stubborn, but this just may be more than he can handle on his own. Listen, I think I’ll go down and grab a little bite of breakfast before I start calling. You stay in bed, sweetheart—there’s no need for you to be up this early. I’m sure Buddy—and our kids—will sleep in for a while yet.”

  She sighed. “Are you sure? I could make you something . . .”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “I’m positive. A little later, maybe you and Rosetta can divvy up the visiting teachers and spread the word. I doubt many folks will be venturing out early today unless they absolutely have to.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to open the store.”

  “Me, too. But if I don’t, and the big guys do, I reckon we’ll lose some customers—maybe for good. So goes the grocery business. People expect to be able to buy food whenever they need to.”

  “We’re all spoiled,” Trish said sleepily. She was already drifting back into slumber. The bishop went quietly downstairs and spent some time in the living room in prayer, then made himself a couple of pieces of cinnamon toast and a cup of cocoa and sat down at his desk. He began by calling the people who had been involved in the search the night before and letting them know the latest. Then he organized the high priests and elders quorum leaders to get the word out through the home teachers. Finally he sat back, already weary, although the day had barely begun.

  “Bishop?” It was Buddy’s voice, from the kitchen doorway. “What’ve you heard about T-Rex?”

  “As of about forty-five minutes ago, he was in surgery,” the bishop explained and went on to share with the boy what he knew.

  “So are you goin’ down there, to Birmingham?” Buddy asked.

  “Not this morning, that’s for sure. Have you looked outside?”

  Buddy turned, the bishop’s robe wrapped nearly double around his thin body, and went to pull a blind aside. “Oh, my gosh,” he breathed. “That’s a lot of snow.”

  The bishop nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  Buddy turned back to face him. “Bishop, what if . . . I mean, what if we hadn’t’ve found him when we did, last night? He’d be all covered up—T-Rex, he’d be . . .”

  “I know. He likely wouldn’t have survived, cold as it was. We were greatly blessed.”

  Buddy perched on the edge of a dining room chair. “Reckon I can see that, all right. That we were blessed, I mean. But—what I cain’t get my mind around, is—if the Lord could bless us to find him, why couldn’t He bless T-Rex not to get hurt to begin with?”

  The bishop sighed. “That’s a good question, and sooner or later, we all ask it—or something similar. Like, why do bad things happen to good people? Why did Brother Bainbridge get cancer and die? Why did Rand Rivenbark get burned so badly in that car accident? Why do little children get kidnapped, or killed and injured in wars? Why did people we’d hardly ever heard of fly into the twin towers and the Pentagon and kill so many innocent people? You could go on and on.”

  “Well, yeah—so what’s the reason? I mean, God has the power to stop all that, don’t he?”

  “He does—but he won’t always use it. I know it’s a hard thing to come to terms with, but I reckon it has to do with a couple of things we need to understand about Heavenly Father. One is, that he’s given us our agency—our free will to make choices about how we’ll behave—how we’ll treat other people. That seems to be real important. You’ve heard about that, haven’t you?”

  “Yessir. How the devil wanted to force us all to act a certain way, and all? But God said no, that wasn’t his plan? I learnt about that in Sunday School.”

  “Right. And he apparently won’t infringe on our agency, or else this life wouldn’t be a real test, and we wouldn’t learn. So some folks are bound to misuse that freedom and choose to hurt other people—or just to make mistakes and do dangerous things that might hurt themselves, like rushing down a dark, chuck-holed road on a fast motorcycle. And it’s a fact that a lot of young folks, like T-Rex, feel like they’re invincible, that nothing really bad could happen to them.”

  “Okay, I get that. But what about, like praying for protection and safety? Don’t that even work?”

  “Well, sometimes we realize that we’ve been protected fro
m dangers and troubles, that our prayers for safety and protection have been answered. Many times I suspect we simply don’t recognize the protection we did receive. Other times, when bad things do happen, we wonder why we apparently weren’t protected! I don’t know all the answers, Buddy. Sometimes I just think that mortality’s a dangerous condition. We’re all subject to accidents, all kinds of illnesses, human error, and acts of plain old meanness. But I’ll tell you something I do understand—and that is that no matter what happens to us, the Lord’s always there, reaching out, ready to comfort us and help us get through it.”

  “But, how come the Lord created stuff like germs and viruses, to begin with?”

  “Gotta wonder sometimes, don’t we? I reckon it’s probably because we need to experience both health and sickness, good things and bad, so we’ll appreciate the good. There’s a real good discussion of that in the Book of Mormon, in case you want to look into it. Read the second chapter of Second Nephi, where Lehi’s talking to his son Jacob and trying to explain these things to him. He did a way better job than I can do.”

  “Huh. I will read it. Bishop, you got any clothes I can put on, I’ll shovel your driveway for you.”

  “We’ll work on that, together. But clothes? Wow. Let’s see—your pajamas and socks and underwear should be dry. I put ’em in the dryer last night. But you can’t shovel snow in your pj’s! You’re too big to wear any of Jamie’s stuff, so we’ll probably have to cinch up some of my jeans, and you can wear Trish’s snow boots and a sweatshirt and one of my jackets. Soon as the roads are clear enough, I’ll drive you home. I mean, if your Mom’s there.”

  “She’s not. Her and Jeter went to Atlanta till Sunday. So I’m locked out till then. But I’ve got a few clothes at Deddy’s place, and I can go there around six tonight, when he gets home from work. ’Though maybe he cain’t work, today, on account of the snow. I’ll call and see.”

  “I expect a lot of folks will have to put work and other things on hold today. Well, let’s get you some breakfast, okay? And then I’ll tell you what the ward’s going to do for Thomas.”