The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(2)

Carrie Helm was one of the voices I most enjoyed in Relief Society, the church women’s group. Carrie was intelligent and she wasn’t afraid of saying something that might sound controversial. She was earnest about what she said, too, and didn’t do it purely for the sake of causing a stir. But I’d always had the feeling her husband’s viewpoints were more conservative than hers, and had wondered how that affected their marriage.

Last week in Sunday School, with Jared sitting beside her, Carrie had made a comment about the priesthood not belonging to men, but rather being God’s power that men had access to. Jared’s expression was livid. He’d leaned over and whispered something to her, and after that, I saw her flinch when he tried to touch her. Four days later, and apparently Jared Helm had still not apologized to her sufficiently.

And now he sat here crying silently in the hall at 6:50 on a Thursday morning. “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I can get you something to eat.” Food is the first thing we Mormons tend to offer. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t, but the offer is a way of showing concern, at least.

“No, thank you,” said Jared, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”

“I’m hungry,” said Kelly, taking her thumb out of her mouth.

“You don’t need to eat again. I already fed you breakfast at home.”

Kelly looked at her thumb and said nothing.

“Growing children are always hungry,” I said. “I don’t mind fixing her something. It will make me feel useful.” I put Kelly down, covering up the hand with the damp thumb as I led her into the kitchen.

“Behave yourself, Kelly,” said Jared.

I wasn’t sure if he was always like this with her or if he was simply overly anxious about being in someone else’s home. I hoped it was the latter, and I could show him that I didn’t mind the trouble.

In the kitchen, I set Kelly on a stool by the counter and set out six separate jams for her to choose from as I made toast. A few minutes later, I heard Kurt come downstairs. He spoke briefly to Jared in the front room, then invited him into his office. I breathed relief and focused my attention on Kelly. After she had chosen a separate jam for each slice of toast and worked through three full pieces, the little girl drank a glass of milk and burped.

“Are you too hot? Maybe I could help you get that snowsuit off,” I offered.

“Daddy put it on wrong,” said Kelly, glancing in the direction her father had gone, as if she wanted to make sure he couldn’t hear her.

“I can see that,” I said, fighting a smile.

“Mommy never puts it on wrong, but Daddy always does.”

I smiled at the echo of Carrie’s spunky attitude. “Daddies are sometimes good at other things,” I said.

“I know. But Daddy says Mommy is bad,” said Kelly. Her lips quivered. “He says that I shouldn’t want her.”

“But all little girls want their mothers,” I said. “Of course they do.” Was Kelly telling me that her mother had left them? I supposed this was the answer to the question of why Jared was here. Poor Jared. Poor Carrie. But most of all, poor Kelly. The children were the ones who always suffered the most when parents had problems. “Your daddy loves you very much,” I said.

Kelly put her hands to her hair. “He forgot to brush me,” she said.

“Well, let’s deal with that right now,” I said, and led Kelly to the upstairs bathroom. I didn’t have any ribbons or hair elastics suitable for a young girl, but I used what I could. In the end, the hair was well brushed, and I had a few tiny braids in it that were holding. By the time her father came out of Kurt’s office downstairs, Kelly was giggling and making faces at herself in the mirror.

But then Jared called for his daughter and Kelly tensed, all the happiness erased from her face. Just like her mother at church last week. What was going on here? I’d thought it was simply a case of an unhappy marriage, but was it more serious than that?

“I have to obey Daddy,” said Kelly.

“Yes,” I said, and led her downstairs to her father’s arms.

Jared didn’t say a word to her or to me, simply took his daughter and left.

Kurt closed the door behind them.

“Can you tell me anything?” I asked. Most of the secrets Kurt found out were to be held in confidence, but there isn’t the same kind of strictness in a Mormon bishop’s counseling session as there is with Catholic confession.

Kurt shrugged. “It will come out soon enough. Carrie has left him.”

“Last night? Did they have an argument? Why didn’t he come then?”

“Apparently she left him in the night. He woke up and found her gone. She left a note saying she wasn’t coming back.”

“I’m surprised she left Kelly,” I said. I was more than surprised. I was in knots about it. A mother leaving a child, it was—unfathomable to me. What pain had she been in? What had she been thinking? It was one thing to file for divorce and to ask your husband to leave the house. Or even to take your daughter and find an apartment. To leave her behind, and in the middle of the night without a proper goodbye … I shivered.

“It’s hard to know what goes on in the mind of a woman,” said Kurt.

I hated when Kurt said things like that. “It is not that hard. Women are just as sensible as men,” I said. “If you understand what their lives are like.”