The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(11)

I went upstairs to the Torstensens’ master bedroom. It was very clean and rather sparse, with few feminine touches. Was it because Anna was not typically feminine? Or because she had felt constrained not to change the way things had been when she came into a family already formed? I had never considered how hard it must have been for her to step into another woman’s shoes.

But as soon as I saw Tobias, my thoughts about Anna were pushed to the side. He looked fragile indeed. There was a smell in the room, some combination of sweat and medicine, that felt wrong. Kurt had been right to put Anna’s name on the fridge.

I moved closer to the bed and stood over Tobias. His hair was very dark, obviously dyed, the roots pure white around the crown of his head. He still had a full head of hair, though, which was more than Kurt could say, and Tobias had to be in his seventies.

“How are you today, Tobias?” I asked.

The old man’s hands were shaking, and he seemed to have difficulty focusing. But he said in a strong voice, “I’m fine. I don’t need any help. You can tell Anna she doesn’t need to watch over me like a mother hen.”

Anna Torstensen? A mother hen?

“She’s only worried about you,” I said softly. I didn’t want to chide him about his attitude. I was more concerned about his health. “Can you tell me what happened?” This seemed far beyond the cold or flu I’d assumed he had.

“Nothing happened. I’m only getting old,” said Tobias.

“He was out in the garden,” said Anna. “And he fell. I didn’t see him until I got home in the evening. I can’t find any sign of a broken bone, but it’s been three days.”

And neither of them had come to church yesterday, which had signaled something in Kurt’s subconscious. Or maybe it was the Spirit whispering to him, depending on your view of the world. Anna came to church tirelessly. I should have noticed she was missing in Relief Society. I might have, if I hadn’t been preoccupied with Gwen Ferris.

I leaned closer to Tobias. I could see a purple bruise on his right wrist and arm, presumably from the fall. But I could see no sign of a break. Still, at his age, it was worrisome.

“He should get an X-ray,” I said.

“I don’t need an X-ray,” said Tobias sharply. “Nothing is broken. I can move my arm perfectly well. If it were broken, it would be swollen.”

“It could be a hairline fracture,” said Anna.

“And what would they do for that? Nothing at all. I just need a little rest, and then I’ll go back out to the garden and finish what I was doing,” said Tobias, waving his hands as if to grip something and lever himself out of bed. He gave up and lay back.

“But it’s winter,” I said. “What are you doing out there at this time of year?”

“Says someone who knows nothing about gardening,” said Tobias.

I tried not to be stung by this. He was understandably irritable, and I wasn’t a gardener. I didn’t even try to grow vegetables, despite the frequent reminders in General Conference that we should grow as much of our own food as we could.

“I told him that we could hire someone else to do it for him, but he won’t hear of it,” said Anna.

Tobias made a face at Anna’s words. He was clearly not in a mood to listen to me or Anna. Which meant this was something for Kurt to deal with, I thought. Man to man. “It would make Anna feel better if you saw a doctor, you know,” I tried again. “She’s very worried about you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t make me feel better,” said Tobias, waving me off again. “It would make me feel worse. I hate doctors. All they do is tell you what you already know. You’re too old. You’re too thin. You’re too tired.”

“It’s good to have someone remind us of what we know, don’t you think?” I said, turning to see Anna’s face sink in despair.

“No, I don’t,” said Tobias.

“So you don’t care what Anna thinks or feels?” I said, trying one last time.

Tobias’s demeanor changed for a moment. “Of course I care what Anna feels. I love Anna more than—more than life itself.” Tears suddenly appeared in his eyes, and even if he didn’t shed them, I was touched. His first wife had died of cancer, very young, as I recalled. His relationship with Anna had always seemed a little businesslike, but that might be Anna’s doing as much as it was his.

“Then wouldn’t you want to help set her mind at ease? If you don’t want to drive all the way to the hospital, Kurt might be able to find someone in the stake who could come see you at home.”

Tobias looked away. “I saw a doctor two weeks ago, Anna,” he said, his voice low and gravelly and almost ashamed.

Two weeks ago? Then whatever was making him unwell had nothing to do with his fall in the garden.

Anna picked up Tobias’s hand and held it to her cheek as if she were a young bride again, desperately in love. “What did he say, then? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Suddenly, I felt as if I were intruding. I withdrew a little, moving to the door, but I did not leave the room—partly because that might have been even more disruptive than staying, but also partly, I admitted to myself, because I was curious about what the doctor had said. I had always been curious as a child, and growing older had not cured me of it. It was why I was a news junkie, switching back and forth through all the commercials to get as much information as possible.