The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(40)

It seemed clear from the police statement to the press Monday morning that they were not reassured about Carrie Helm’s well-being, either. They said there was no evidence that she had left her home in Utah of her own free will, and they still considered her a missing person in serious danger. What worried me most was that the cell phone had been purchased two weeks before Carrie had disappeared. It could mean nothing or it could mean that Carrie had known what she was going to do. Or that Jared Helm had planned all of this a long time ago, down to the smallest detail.

Meanwhile, there were plenty of other minor emergencies in the ward. The Torstensens’ ordeal was only one of many. Sister Grange had lost her father to a home accident in the tub. The Ringels were reeling from layoffs on both sides. The Andrews’ had all come down with whooping cough, despite the fact that they had all been vaccinated against it, and the Utah Health Department had become involved to make sure that the strain didn’t spread to other vaccinated people. The ward wasn’t even allowed to go into the home to bring aid. And if that weren’t enough, three of the Derringers were in the hospital with broken bones after a skiing trip.

For Kurt, this meant an enormous amount of time spent comforting families and updating various organizational heads. Over the weekend, he had spent almost no time at home, and he had even taken Monday off work, mostly so he could sleep.

Kurt had asked me to check in with the Torstensens every day that week. Despite the predictions of the hospice service, Tobias had survived past the ten day mark. The hospice nurse insisted that it was the arrival of his sons that had buoyed his spirits but did not think this meant any change in his prognosis. Both Liam and Tomas had arrived on Friday, and had found a hotel in Draper to share a room in.

I went over Monday afternoon, and was worried that Anna had begun to talk about plans for the future, as if Tobias would recover.

“If he starts to fail again, I just want to be sure you’re prepared for it,” I said.

“He wants me to help him out to the garden tomorrow so Liam and Tomas can do some clearing to prepare for spring planting,” she said as she sorted silverware from the dishwasher.

“What about his wife’s grave?” I asked. “Did you find anything out about that from Liam or Tomas?”

“Oh, that. I think he must have been confused. He says that she was cremated, and so there isn’t any grave.”

It still seemed odd to me, but perhaps odd was not reason enough for suspicion. “Where are her ashes, then? Did he say? Maybe that was what he meant, that he wanted to go back to the place where her ashes were.”

Anna shook her head. “He said he didn’t keep the ashes. He didn’t want such a morbid reminder of her death. He had the mortuary dispose of them.” She had opened the dishwasher again and was looking inside it, as if to find more dishes that had appeared there.

“Anna.” I wanted her to listen to me carefully. “Do you want Kurt to come talk to you and Tobias about having your marriage sealed in the temple?”

“That would be a lovely idea. You and Kurt could come and stand with us. Tobias always loves to go to the temple, and he looks so handsome in all that white,” said Anna.

“Anna,” I said gently, because she wasn’t understanding the question. “I don’t think Tobias is going to be well enough to get to the temple. I meant Kurt could talk to you about having the sealing done after Tobias is gone. If that is what both you and he wish.” I wasn’t one hundred percent sure on the details of all temple ordinances, but I didn’t think it could happen until Anna was also dead.

Anna’s mouth compressed. “He is doing so well right now.”

“But this is important. This is about what happens after this life. Forever after.”

Anna began to cry. I felt bad for bringing her to this point, but I also thought it was necessary. She had to face the truth about Tobias’s death.

Her shoulders shook, and the sobs were soundless, as if she was worried Tobias would hear her, but tears dripped down her face. She tried to wipe at the counter, but I put an arm around her and she let herself fall against my chest. I could hear the muffled sounds of her gasping breaths and realized she was terrified. As if a train were coming directly at her and there was no way for her to get out of the way. Was that the way it would feel for me, if Kurt were to die? With my daughter, there had been no chance to feel the anticipation. It had already happened before I realized it and had to take it in.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, and pulled away from me. She wiped at her face with the same wet dishcloth she’d been using on the counter, then stared at it as if she didn’t know where it had come from.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I said. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t make you feel sad when you’ve done nothing but be helpful and so kind.”

But feeling sad was what I was here for, to feel sad with her. “No one expects you to do this alone. Or without showing your real feelings,” I said.

Anna looked closely at me then, as if seeing me for the first time. “Do you know, I always thought of you as rather emotionless. Controlled. In charge.”

I had plenty of emotions. I just didn’t let myself show them because they tended to get out of hand. “I’m not in charge,” I said softly. I was the bishop’s wife. I wasn’t in charge of anything but making the bishop dinner, not officially.