The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(5)

Just as I was finishing, Cheri came in and stared at the gazebo. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I really didn’t think that was going to get done. I was so worried.”

“Now you can go home and take a nap before the wedding,” I suggested.

She began to cry.

Cheri Tate. I had honestly never seen her cry before, not even when her older son was in the hospital with double broken arms from a skateboarding accident. She had mostly been angry then.

“It’s all right,” I said, moving closer to her. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I just—never thought that Perdita would be married like this. It feels so wrong. It should be at the temple. I talked to her all those years about being married in the temple. A white dress, a white tuxedo, and pictures at the temple to put on her walls forever. And now this.”

A church wedding also required the couple to make certain promises about their religious beliefs. But a temple wedding is the symbol of extreme righteousness. Perdita and Jonathan hadn’t had any problems with the tithing, Word of Wisdom questions, or attending church every week and supporting their leaders. But the chastity outside of marriage question had been the stopper. I tried to make Cheri see the bright side in all of this. Her daughter was getting married and this should be a happy day. “She still has a beautiful white dress. And Jonathan seems like a nice young man. He loves her deeply and they seem sensible.” Not that either of those qualities would make marriage easy. But at least they would get through the first few years, which could be the hardest.

“They won’t be sealed for time and all eternity.”

“But there’s nothing to be ashamed of. They’re marrying, not living together. They’re still going to be good members of the church.” Perdita and Jonathan’s marriage would be for “time only,” until they waited the requisite year to be sealed in the temple eternally. The year wait was supposed to make people more eager to marry in the temple in the first place, but it could feel like a punishment. I knew, because Kurt and I had been sealed a year and three days after our own church wedding. It wasn’t something that Kurt brought up a lot, but a handful of people in the ward knew about it. “But what if something happens? What if one of them dies before the year is up?” asked Cheri.

“Come now,” I said. “If one of them dies, you’re going to be worried about whether they were married in the temple or not?” Surely there were more important things to deal with in those circumstances.

“Yes. It won’t be binding in the afterlife.”

“But you can have the sealing done after death,” I said. Wasn’t that what temples were all about? Doing vital ordinance work for those who couldn’t do it themselves? “Or what if they leave the church, either of them? Then they won’t be sealed, either.”

“People leave the church who marry in the temple, too. It’s not a guarantee. And the sealing is broken as soon as they disobey their covenants anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right and I’m worried over nothing,” said Cheri. “I don’t know.” She wiped at her eyes. Then she glanced around to make sure that no one else was there.

Mothers never worry over nothing, but it is true that sometimes we worry over things we can’t control. But I knew Cheri would never have had this conversation with me if I weren’t with her here, in her time of need, and if I weren’t the bishop’s wife. “Is Perdita still in the kitchen?”

Cheri shook her head. “She went to get her hair done. Jonathan’s sister is doing it.”

“To save money again?”

Cheri nodded and wiped her hands on her apron, which was on top of a skirt and nice blouse. I had worn jeans and a T-shirt, anticipating hard work, but I think Cheri felt like she had to wear Sunday clothes every time she was inside the church. “But I feel like I’m walking around naked. Everyone in the ward knows every problem in my life. Every mistake I made in raising Perdita. Every time I indulged her when I should have been more strict—every time—”

I put a hand on her arm. “Stop,” I said. “No one is looking at you like that. No one is judging you.” I knew it was a lie. I knew there were plenty of people who were doing just what she was afraid of. Those same people had made judgments about me when I lost my daughter. They told me I hadn’t chosen the right doctor, that I hadn’t gone to the hospital soon enough, that I should have taken better care of myself while pregnant. But I chose not to let them have power over me. And I didn’t think Cheri should let them have power over her, either.

“But—”

“Perdita and Jonathan may end up as one of the best, most moral couples we have ever seen, deeply in love, and devoted to the church. How do you know they won’t?”

“But this is such a bad beginning.”

“It’s not a bad beginning. It’s just not the beginning you imagined.” But of course, Mormons have to have absurdly high standards. Other people try not to drink to excess. Mormons refuse to drink at all. Other people cut back on their coffee at Lent. Mormons drink neither coffee nor tea, ever, and I know plenty of Mormons who think it is wrong to drink hot chocolate, or herbal tea, or decaffeinated coffee. Or anything that could be mistaken for tea at a casual glance. Or anything coffee-flavored. Or rum-flavored. Or even vanilla extract.