The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(27)

“I don’t know,” I said, though she was quite a bit younger than Tobias. And then I said, “I’m sorry,” again.

There was a long pause. I could hear her weeping, then taking a breath and holding it, as if she were trying to get control of herself. And then she would fall apart again. I waited.

“They said I should call and make sure that you and the bishop knew. To make arrangements for the—”

“Funeral,” I filled in softly. “I’ll tell the Relief Society to prepare to do a luncheon. And I’ll tell Kurt. I’m sure he’ll want to come see you later tonight, if he can. And Tobias, too, of course.” There is no such thing as last rites in the Mormon religion. There are rituals that are necessary to get into the highest level of heaven, of course, but the more important changes are always in the heart.

“Will you come with him?” asked Anna. “Tonight?”

A part of me wanted to say no. Kurt could go and not fall apart. I couldn’t. But instead I said, “Of course, if you want me to.”

“I need to talk to a woman,” said Anna. “Does that make any sense? Or maybe it’s just you. I don’t know.”

I should have been honored that she wanted to connect with me. “I’ll be there. And any time you need to talk to me, you call. Not just in the next week or so, but afterward, too. It doesn’t have to be for any particular reason. You can call me if you want someone to go shopping with you. Or just sit with you and listen to music. It can be a lonely thing, grief.”

“Thank you,” said Anna. “I’ll expect you tonight. Tobias might be asleep, but I’ll wake him when you come.”

“There’s no need—” I started to say, but Anna had already hung up.

I called Kurt and told him about the hospice and about the promise to see Anna tonight. He sounded very cool about it, not emotional at all. When I asked why, he said, “Death is a natural part of life. We’ll all go through it, and Tobias has had time to accept it. Besides, death doesn’t mean the end of things. It just means a change from one side of the veil to the other.”

“Easier to say than to believe,” I said.

“But I do believe it. And so do you,” said Kurt. “You believe your parents are waiting for you, behind the veil. And our baby daughter.”

Some days I believed that more than others. I wasn’t sure today was one of the better days. “I hate change,” I said grumpily. I didn’t talk about our daughter, not even with Kurt. Not casually like this.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that,” said Kurt.


WHEN SAMUEL CAME home, I found out that he had decided to join the new Gay-Straight Alliance at his school. It wasn’t a popular thing in the Mormon world, coming out in defense of homosexuals, but there was a lot less talk about how evil it was, and even the apostles had begun to admit there was likely a genetic component that was not a lifestyle choice.

“You are so wonderful, Samuel. I want you to know how proud I am of you for standing up for people who are being hurt, ignored, and told they aren’t worth being defended,” I said, kissing him on the forehead.

He shrugged and moved away uncomfortably. “It’s not that wonderful, you know.”

“Of course it is. You just don’t see how unusual you are.”

I made a quick dinner, and after Kurt had finished some phone calls to the stake, he and I dressed in warm coats and walked over to the Torstensens. It was the only kind of “date” we had anymore, walking together arm in arm as he went to visits.

Anna opened the door. She was wearing far too much makeup, but even that couldn’t disguise her red eyes or the puffiness around her cheeks.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she said to Kurt.

“No trouble at all. Of course we want to be here for you. How is Tobias doing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “He’s not always coherent, but he is upset about something. He keeps talking about a secret, but he won’t tell me anything about it. He says that he’ll only talk to you, Bishop Wallheim.”

“Well, then, perhaps I should go see him privately and you and Linda can talk.”

Anna nodded and watched Kurt go up the stairs. Her hands were tight little rocks.

We stood in the front room, with a view of the kitchen. “Have you eaten anything today?” I asked her.

“What? Oh. I think so.”

“What did you have for dinner?”

She waved a hand. “I had some toast. I don’t remember when. I’m not really hungry.”

She needed to eat. She needed her strength. “Do you have some eggs? I could cook you up a couple. How do you like them?” I led her into the kitchen, which was very different from the Helms’ kitchen, and from my own. It was smaller, but the wood of the cabinets was thick and the finish was buttery. Everything inside the kitchen looked sturdy and old, and there were very few of the everyday appliances that people seemed to use now. Anna sat at the small kitchen table, but she continued to protest. “I don’t think I could eat anything now. It would just come back up. I haven’t felt this nervous since the day I first met Tobias.”

I rummaged around to find a pan in the cupboards and then eggs in the refrigerator and bread in the breadbox. There was butter covered on a ceramic plate, which was something else younger cooks didn’t often do.