The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(12)

“It’s my heart,” said Tobias at last. “He gave it a fancy name. But if I wanted him to translate what’s wrong with me into Latin, I’d get out my dictionary.”

Anna smiled valiantly at this. “Your heart? Go on.”

“The point is that my heart is failing. It’s just spent too long beating and it wants a rest. The final rest,” he said, his impatience returning.

“But can’t they do anything?” said Anna, leaning over him, the picture of devotion.

“They can put me on a monitor, but as far as I can tell, all that will do is make it more clear how close to the end I am. He can give me something to help me feel better, but nothing that will make me live any longer.”

“But what about a transplant? Can’t they get you a new heart?” asked Anna.

“I’m too old. No one wants to put a new heart in this body.” Tobias gestured down at himself. “Save it for someone who has more of a chance at life.”

“Then you—” Anna began, pressing her hand to her mouth.

“I’m dying,” said Tobias. “And not very slowly anymore.”

A sound like a cry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her head sunk to his shoulder, and he patted her back ineffectually.

It was one of the sweetest things I had ever seen. Their marriage might not be a typical one, at least not in Utah, but this was true love. I felt a tiny prick of jealousy for them, then reminded myself that I loved Kurt, too. He put up with all my failings and I put up with his, and we had five sons together. We were very happy, in our own way. I didn’t need to see Kurt close to death to remember how much I loved him.

“I’m not going to give up working in the garden,” said Tobias when Anna pulled back from him. “Even if that doctor did say that it might give me a few more weeks.”

Anna laughed shakily, wiping at her face. “I don’t expect the impossible.”

I stepped out the bedroom door at that. Anna met me in the front room after a while.

“Thank you,” she said. Her face was streaked with tears. I realized I didn’t think of her as any less strong because of that. Maybe I thought of her as stronger, because she felt no need to hide her emotions. She was honest and open, and that was something I had always admired.

She sat down on the tan couch, and I finally felt able to sit as well. My legs ached.

“I’ll tell Kurt,” I said. He would want to alert the high priests group, the most senior men in the ward, so that they could check in on Tobias regularly. And the Relief Society would need to prepare to deal with a funeral and the aftermath for Anna. “Do you need anything? Meals?” I asked. Food again. It probably wasn’t what Anna really needed, but it might make her feel connected and cared for. But Anna shook her head. “We’re fine. I think we’ll take it one day at a time. I like cooking these days. Though Tobias used to be the cook in the family. He complained about my cooking more, too. I’m not sure if I’ve actually gotten better or if he just can’t taste the difference anymore.”

“We’ll assume it’s not because he’s simply mellowed out and doesn’t complain about the little things,” I said, smiling and thinking about what he’d said about doctors.

Anna let out a brief laugh. “No, that’s not it,” she said.

I stood up, preparing to leave. I had surely outstayed the minimal welcome I had expected. “I’ll come back to check on you in a few days, if that’s all right,” I said, and not only because Kurt would want me to. It was only now that I was leaving that I realized how much I wanted to stay and talk to Anna.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” said Anna.

“Would you prefer I didn’t?” I asked bluntly. “Do I bore you?” It was absolutely the wrong thing to say, and I wished I hadn’t as soon as it was out. But I realized I cared about her opinion. She had done so much more with her life than I had with mine. I always excused myself because I got started so late, but that hadn’t stopped her.

“Not at all,” said Anna. “I didn’t mean that. I only meant that I’m sure you have a lot of other important things to do, as the bishop’s wife. You don’t need to come play nursemaid to me. I’m perfectly capable of managing things on my own.”

“I know that,” I said. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. “And that is precisely why I’d like to know you better.” I felt dizzy as I said the whole truth, and hoped it didn’t come back to hurt me.

“If you want to, then,” said Anna. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to be kind, or if she just had other things to think about. But I would stop thinking about myself, now. There would be plenty of time for us to become better acquainted.

She stood and moved to the door with me. Her eyes seemed distant. “I think his wife died of a heart condition,” she said. “His first wife.”

I put my hand on the doorknob, then turned back. “I thought she died of cancer.” I tried to remember where I’d heard that.

“No. It was her heart. The boys speak of it frequently. I don’t know if it’s irony or some kind of cosmic justice, but … when his heart fails as well, he will return to her in heaven. Do you know, we were never married in the temple? He feels he is still bound to her, though he and I have been married five times as long.”