Mercies and Miracles Read online

  The boy nodded. “Makes sense. Yeah, I knew about that part. Went out a couple of times with the deacons to collect fast offerings from people.”

  “Right. Good. Oh one other thing, Thomas. I wanted to tell you that the other night, at the game, I felt bad about what that young lady yelled at you. Thought that was totally uncalled-for.”

  “Man, I reckon! Dumb girl, she got me in trouble with Coach. He was mad, whoo-ee!”

  “Is she somebody you’ve dated?”

  “Angie? Took her out, once, is all. She’s um she’s . . .” Thomas made a little face and wiggled his fingers.

  “Trouble?”

  “Um right. Nicest way to put it. Good work, Bishop.”

  “Hard to know how to respond to something like that, isn’t it? What to say, or do.”

  “Yeah, but I just took it like a joke. Which it was I guess.”

  “But girls like Angie sometimes they say things in a joking way that they really mean.”

  “Well, I hope to heck she didn’t mean that!” Thomas looked embarrassed.

  “Keep away from her, Thomas. Don’t even chance finding out what she meant. It’s so important that you not get mixed up with that sort of girl. Date the young ladies in our ward, and treat them like something precious, because they are. Save the heavy stuff for later much later. After you’re married.”

  Thomas summoned a weak grin. “Seems like we’ve had this conversation before.”

  “Yep, and I expect we’ll have it again, because it’s very, very important for you. And you have an extra challenge that lots of guys don’t have. You’re popular, and admired, and that’s great, except it brings out the girls who want to date you for all the wrong reasons. You know what I mean?”

  “I guess I do.”

  “That’s all pretty scary, and dangerous, Thomas. I’m glad I never had it to worry about when I was in high school. Nobody that I know of ever fought over me or suggested any inappropriate behavior. Certainly nobody ever offered to be the mother of my child! ’Course, maybe that was partly because I was too shy to look ’em in the eye. And maybe it was because I was a skinny, gawky kid who cared more about working on his truck than much of anything else. But you, Thomas! You’ve got an added burden in your life, friend. The burden of popularity. It’s not an easy thing to carry.”

  The bishop almost chuckled as he watched T-Rex process this notion. He had obviously never regarded his popularity as anything other than a desirable and well-deserved blessing.

  “Yeah, but . . .” he began, and stopped, confused. “Burden?”

  The bishop nodded. “Popularity is a burden. Or at least, it can be. Think of the extreme example entertainers and musicians and sports figures who can’t go anywhere without being mobbed and followed. People try to get their attention, or steal from them, or haul them into court to sue them for big bucks. Half the time, they can’t tell their friends from their enemies. Even in your case, you have to wonder about the motivation of any young lady who tries to get your attention. Then, you’ve got the envy of the other guys. How do you know who’s really your friend, and who just wants to hang on to your jersey for his own benefit? It’s tough duty, for sure. But, I’ll admit, there is an upside to being popular. Can you think what it might be?”

  “Bishop, you’re like, messin’ with my head!”

  “I don’t mean to do that, Thomas. I just want to show you all sides of the situation.”

  “Well, I reckon it’s good to be popular because um shoot, now I can’t think of why. I s’pose because everybody knows you, and talks to you?”

  “That’s not a bad thing, is it? And that gives you wonderful opportunities to get to know a lot of different people all kinds of people, not just the ones in the ‘in’ crowd, or on the team and cheer squad. And the more people you know, and like, and who like you, the more good you can do, just by setting a good example and being decent to everybody. It’s almost like a missionary opportunity. I don’t mean you have to preach the gospel to everybody,” he added, noting the slight panic in Thomas’s eyes. “Just live it in how you treat people. Then your burden will become a blessing to you, and to other people, as well. Does that make sense, Thomas?”

  T-Rex was quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, predictably, “Huh.”

  “So it’s something to chew on, okay, Thomas? Now, tell me how’re your folks doing?”

  “Mama’s workin’ more hours, now that Grandma’s passed on. I know Mama, she sure appreciated y’all holdin’ the funeral here, even though Grandma wasn’t a member of the Church.”

  “No problem. Our privilege. I’m sure your grandma was a fine woman.”

  “She was real nice, back before you know her mind went, on her.”

  “Right. How’s your dad? He found any work, yet?”

  “Naw. I reckon he don’t quite know what to do with himself. All he knew was the work he did at the base, all them years. He’s kinda embarrassed, I reckon, to go for training in something new.”

  “I see. Well thanks, my friend, for coming in to talk with me. Remember I’m here for you, anytime you may need me, okay? Also just a few more Sundays, and I think we can get you ordained to be a priest. Speaking of which, I’ve got to give a little presentation to the combined Aaronic Priesthood in about ten minutes. Come on, I’ll walk down there with you.”

  Thomas sighed, but the bishop smiled to himself. It looked like the football hero would be staying for the whole three-hour block.

  * * *

  Early that evening, on their customary Sunday stroll around their neighborhood, the bishop and Trish held hands and enjoyed the capricious little wind that swirled and tugged at leaves that were still reluctant to be detached from their twigs.

  “So, how’d your presentation to the Aaronic Priesthood go?” Trish asked.

  The bishop chuckled. “Better than I’d hoped, actually. The guys themselves brought up some things I’d wanted to address but was a little reluctant to, so it didn’t all come from me. And that’s good. It’s better when it comes from them.”

  “Now I’m curious. What did you talk about?”

  “Basically, just about respectful speech. How holders of the priesthood ought to speak of their leaders, of adults in general, and of girls and women and how they should not. It’s gotten to be a problem, recently.”

  “Was T-Rex there?”

  “He was.” The bishop smiled, recalling how that had come to be. “And I didn’t even have to suggest that he not call me ‘Bish,’ or ‘Bishie.’ One of the young priests brought it up, himself. He didn’t mention Thomas by name, which was good he just said ‘we’ probably shouldn’t use nicknames like that for our leaders. Then Sam Wright said, ‘Yes, and I’ve always called Bishop Shepherd “Jim” because we were friends in the Fairhaven Ward, so I’ve had to watch myself, too, and call him “Bishop,” now not because he’d get mad if I called him “Jim,” but out of respect for the office he holds.’”

  “That was good.”

  “It was. And then we talked about how to refer to young ladies, and you can imagine that was interesting.”

  “I’ll just bet it was.”

  “The young men came up with quite a list of terms that were less-than-flattering, which we shouldn’t use, even if they seem to apply.”

  “And even if they’re widely used on TV and among the school population?”

  “That, too. And then, I was real proud of Ricky Smedley. He said, ‘You know, some of us have called Brother Jernigan “Old Brother Hunker in a Bunker,” but when he got up today to bear his testimony, I felt real bad about doing that, and I don’t think we oughta do it anymore.’”

  Trish smiled. “Even if it applies.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Even if. Maybe especially if it applies. You know, I’ve grown real fond of Ralph and Linda.”

  She nodded. “I know you have. And I think they know you care, which is most important. Bless their hearts. I was so proud of him, today. That had to be hard.”

&
nbsp; “I don’t think we have any idea how hard.”

  “But it really was impressive of Ricky, to admit that hunker-in-a-bunker business, and speak out against it.”

  “Wasn’t it? He’s a nice young man. Plus, his dad has home taught the Jernigans for years, so maybe he’s put in a good word for them with Ricky. It could be he’s taken Ricky with him to visit them, for that matter. In any case, what he said today was a good start in what do they call it? raising everybody’s awareness of respectful speech.”

  “Can’t hurt.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments, then the bishop asked, “What do you make of Tiff’s prickly attitude when I was talking about that cheerleader’s comment to Thomas?”

  “I didn’t hear all of that conversation, but I got the distinct impression that her nose was out of joint over something, all right. I don’t know maybe it’s just the natural instinct to take up for her own age group. I know she disapproves of what Angie said, so it’s not that she’s defending that. She’s been kind of defensive lately about a lot of things. I’ll try to talk to her, and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  * * *

  “Oh, Jim I forgot to give you this. It came in yesterday’s mail,” Trish said later Sunday evening, handing him an envelope. He nodded, looking at the return address. Elder Rivenbark, in California. He opened the envelope and drew out the letter.

  Dear Bishop Shepherd,

  Things are going great here in the best mission in the Church. I have a new companion, Elder Bidwell, and we get along just fine. He’s a big help to me, and I hope I can be helpful to him in some way. We are teaching two families and one young guy who is out here trying to become an actor. He’s from Kansas, and seems really interested in the gospel, although sometimes I wonder if maybe he just likes us because we’re close to his age. Anyway, he has promised to read the stuff we left him, so we’ll see how things go. The families are neat. One is the Truman family no relation to President Harry, I guess, as they’re a black family. They’re really nice. They always want to feed us, and Mrs. Truman’s a really good cook. They have two little boys who climb all over us and sit on our laps even mine, once they got used to my wheelchair, which I use a lot, here. I think Mr. Truman might have a little trouble with the Word of Wisdom, but he also seems to be a man of faith, and I can tell he loves his family, so I have hope.

  The other family is the Marchbecks. There’s the mother, Agatha, and two daughters, Melanie and Jacqueline, who are in their late twenties or early thirties, it’s hard to tell. They are always polite, but sometimes I think they are secretly laughing at us especially Jacqueline but their mother rules the roost here and makes them sit down and listen, and they obey her, out of respect or what, I don’t know. The father died about a year ago, and I think the idea of an eternal family appeals to Agatha. She is reading the Book of Mormon, and finds it interesting. I don’t know if the daughters have read any, yet.

  I am really enjoying my mission, Bishop, and my testimony is growing more and more. I am less and less scared to bear my testimony anytime and anywhere, to anybody. I want to thank you for all your encouragement and letters of recommendation for me. Please pray for me and for our contacts, and say hi to everybody in the ward.

  Sincerely yours,

  Elder Randall Rivenbark

  The bishop leaned back in his desk chair and watched through the dining room doorway as Trish tidied up the kitchen, but his mind was in California with two young elders, sharing their excitement and hopes for the people they were teaching. He hadn’t served a mission, himself; maybe he could get a feel for the experience through the letters of those serving from the Fairhaven Ward. It was some compensation.

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  “through mists of darkness we must go”

  Monday morning dawned dark and gray. The whippy little wind of the previous evening had ushered in banks of clouds that seemed ready to unleash a downpour. Bishop James Shepherd rather relished the prospect. Except for the somewhat adverse effect it had on the grocery business, he enjoyed a good rainy day now and then. People who really needed to shop for food came anyway, while people who could wait for clear weather to venture out did so, and all in all, it made for a rather cozy atmosphere in the store, with a little more time for employees to visit with customers or each other and to catch up on tasks that were set aside when things were busy.

  He and Jamie left the house early, and after he dropped his son at school for a morning Space Club activity, he turned his truck in the direction of the ward meetinghouse, but instead of turning in at the usual parking lot, he continued on for four more blocks and stopped at the AM/PM Bakery and Donut Shop. He wished AM/PM would let him distribute their product, but they were adamant about keeping their business a strictly small, in-house, mom and pop affair. He ordered a half-dozen cinnamon twists in one box, and two dozen mixed varieties to treat his employees, then headed for the Rexford home.

  Sister Lula Rexford opened the door. “Bishop! What in the world . . .”

  “Morning, Sister Rexford. Is Thomas still here?”

  “Well, he’s in the shower, but . . .”

  “That’s fine. Would you please give him these, from me? It’s a little joke between us. He’ll understand.”

  “Sure I will. He loves these things. Thank you, Bishop.”

  “You’re welcome. How are you and Tom doing?”

  “We’re gettin’ by. I’m working more, now. Thank goodness we’d already paid off the house, or we’d be in a peck of trouble.”

  “Boy, that’s a blessing most folks can’t claim! Good for you. By the way, you might want to stop by the store Wednesday afternoon. Are you off work then?”

  “I get off at two.”

  “Great. Come by, ’cause we’re planning one of those unannounced buy-one-get-one-free sales between three and four o’clock. In case you’re interested.”

  Lula Rexford chuckled, and he could see traces of T-Rex’s smile in hers. “Can’t be totally unannounced, can it, since you just announced it to me?”

  The bishop smiled. “Oh, you know preferred customers sometimes get a heads-up on these things.”

  “Well, thanks again, Bishop. Uh-oh you’d better get back in your truck before you get drenched!” A dart of lightning pierced the clouds, followed by the expected thunder, and rain began to fall in earnest.

  “See you!” he said, and sprinted for his truck.

  * * *

  That night, as his family gathered in the family room on the back of the house for their weekly home evening, he enjoyed the cozy warmth of the lamplight that illuminated the rain-streaked windows. Jamie was tinkering with an old puzzle cube he had found at a neighborhood yard sale, and Mallory, her platinum hair turned into an angel’s halo by the table lamp above her, sat on the floor, arranging several Barbies in sitting position beside her. Tiffani yawned and kept reading her library book, waiting for the meeting to begin.

  Under Trish’s direction, they more-or-less sang a Primary song about an autumn day not the kind this one had been, but one that was bright, and featured red and yellow apples. Jamie and Mallory sang along with their mother, while the bishop muffed most of the words, and Tiff, looking embarrassed, muttered along. Jamie gave the opening prayer, then Trish said, “And now we’ll turn the time over to Daddy, who has the lesson.”

  He did? It was his turn? Why hadn’t Trish reminded him? He thought fast. “Okay, gang, hang on for just a sec while I grab something from my desk,” he said. As he climbed over Mallory and her dolls, he saw Trish mouth the words, “He forgot!”

  “Daddy!” Mal’s voice followed him. “You forgot? Mommy and I didn’t forget the ’freshments!”

  “Well, I’m sure glad of that,” he responded, coming back with his briefcase. “Because I think that’s just about the most important part. Let’s see, now. In here . . .”

  “Oh, no, the dreaded briefcase,” Tiffani intoned. �
�Who knows what boring things may be lurking in there?”

  Her father pulled out the notes from his discussion with the Aaronic Priesthood the day before. None of his family had been there, the subject was adaptable for children of all ages, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he threw out a couple of opening questions about speaking respectfully of and to others, and the children responded. Mallory opined that everybody should always say “ma’am” and “sir” when talking to grown-ups, and her father, having been brought up in that good Southern tradition himself, agreed.

  “In fact, I still can’t talk to some folks without doing that, myself,” he admitted. “Mrs. Martha Ruckman will always get ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’ from me, no matter how old I get.”

  “Yeah, ’cause she’ll always be older’n you, huh, Dad?” put in Jamie, grinning.

  “I think it’s ’cause she’ll always be my fifth-grade teacher, and I have great respect for her. Same with some folks at church Brother and Sister Mobley, Sister Bainbridge, Sister Strickland, Brother Tullis. He used to be my deacons quorum adviser. It never hurts to be a little too polite. It’s way better than not being polite enough.”

  “My Mia Maid adviser said we could call her ‘June’,” Tiffani said. “But I have a real hard time doing that. It feels funny. So should I call her Sister Ralston, or will that hurt her feelings?”

  “What do you think, Trish?” the bishop deferred.

  “I think if you’re comfortable calling her Sister Ralston, then keep doing that unless she makes a point of wanting you to call her June. Sometimes younger women feel funny being called Sister somebody, all of a sudden, especially when they’re young marrieds, like June is. It makes them feel old. I remember somebody calling me Sister Shepherd once, when your dad and I were first married, and I actually turned around and looked for your Grandma.”

  “Well, I sort of don’t call her anything, most of the time. I just go, ‘um can we do this, now?’”

  The discussion meandered, but some useful things were said including the fact that the reason that we speak respectfully is that we are all children of God and all in all, the bishop felt, as he enjoyed his pumpkin cookies and milk, that things had gone pretty well for a dad who had forgotten his assignment.