The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(54)

There are stories about the mystical power of garments to keep people safe. I had heard about a man who was caught in a house fire. He went to the hospital to be treated and when they cut off his clothes, they found his skin under his garments untouched. There is a specific promise in the temple that protection to various body parts would be offered to those who keep their promises, signified by the marks in the garments. I had always believed it was a metaphorical protection, rather than a physical one. But who am I to tell other people their faith is wrong and foolish? If I believe in God even a little, I’ve already passed into the area of the unscientific.

I got out the rest of the clothes. We put on the white shirt, Anna carefully smoothing out the collar and buttoning each of the tiny buttons, even the ones on the wrist. We put on the white slacks, white socks and slippers. And then at last, the final temple garments: the green apron, white robe, hat, and sash.

When it was finished, Anna and I both leaned over the table and caught our breath.

“He looks handsome, doesn’t he?” said Anna, stepping back.

He still looked dead, I thought.

“Thank you for coming with me and doing this with me.”

“Of course,” I said automatically.

“No.” Anna grabbed my hand and pressed it to her face. “You are a true friend. To do this with me—of all things. I can’t ever thank you enough.” Her eyes glistened.

Startled by her sudden gesture, I said, “I’m glad that you were able to share it with me.”

Anna looked at Tobias one last time, and then we walked out of the mortuary, stopping at the desk to tell the woman that Tobias was dressed for an open casket.

I drove Anna back to her house. “Do you want me to come in and stay until the funeral?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s only a couple of hours. And Tomas and Liam wanted to talk to me privately, I think.”

So I dropped her off and went home to find Kurt was already there, dressing in his Sunday best. I changed and put on my own black funeral dress. I hadn’t had one before I became the bishop’s wife, but I attended every funeral in the ward now.

Since we had enough time, Kurt and I walked over to the church. I held his arm and I was glad to be with him, but we didn’t talk. We never talked before or after funerals.

The church was open and we could hear the music coming from the organ in the chapel as we stepped in the back door. The chapel was nearly full, which meant there were over a hundred people here. I was surprised. I hadn’t realized so many people cared for Tobias, especially since a Friday funeral required people to take time off work. Kurt went to the podium and I sat down in one of the front rows. In a few minutes, Anna came to sit by me, along with Tomas and Liam and their wives, who had flown in just that morning.

It was a nice service. Tomas and Liam both spoke. Tomas emphasized his father’s love of order and how it emerged in the garden and in the way he disciplined his sons. He simply told them what he expected, and then told them he was disappointed if they didn’t achieve it. Apparently, Tomas felt that he frequently disappointed his father. He didn’t say a word about his mother, Helena. He did mention a few tender moments he had seen between Tobias and Anna, and talked about how he aspired to have that kind of marriage with his own wife.

There was a short musical number, which someone else must have arranged, because it had nothing to do with the family. Two young women and two young men from our ward sang “How Great Thou Art” in four-part harmony. I wished I had less musical training when I heard them. I was jolted by some bad notes. But it was soon over, and it was Liam’s turn to speak.

Liam began with, “I know that at a funeral, it’s traditional to talk only about the best parts of the deceased’s life. But I am not going to do that here. I am going to tell you all the worst parts of my father.”

I turned to Anna, who had gone a little pale. I reached for her hand and patted it. “Kurt is up there. Kurt is in charge, as the bishop,” I whispered to her. But to myself, I wondered what in God’s name Liam thought he was doing. If he had a grievance with his father, now was not the time to air it in public.

“My father was a fierce man with a temper,” said Liam.

The hammer, I thought, and squeezed Anna’s hand more tightly. I could see Kurt edging forward on his seat.

“He got angry about many things. He was angry about evil in the world. He read the newspaper every morning and sometimes he would slam his fist down over injustice, or people being hurt.” Liam looked down at Anna. “He would remind Tomas and me that he had better never hear of us hurting anyone, or we would regret it.”

I was very tense.

“And then he would go out into the garden and he would attack the dirt as if it were those bad men he had read about. And he would water it, weed it, smooth out the dirt and make it perfect again.”

I stared at the strength in Liam’s hands as he mimed hacking into and then smoothing the dirt, and I thought again of the photo of the beautiful woman Anna had shown me. I thought of how gentle the Tobias I had known had always been, and how people are often different when they are alone. I also thought of the guilt that came from doing the wrong thing, and how it could transform an entire life.

“And then he would come back inside and be my father again,” said Liam, “until he read the newspaper the next day, and he had to go out to his garden.” He paused for a long moment. “Many people thought my father spent too much time in the garden. They might have wondered if he was neglecting us. But Tomas and I always knew. The garden was his place to be angry. And when he came back to us, he was finished with that. When the flowers grew, and when we picked the tomatoes fresh, they were what my father did with his anger. He felt more than most men, and he didn’t try to stop feeling. But he found a way to use even his anger to make the world a more beautiful place.”