The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(56)

She nodded. “I love him, too. I wish—” She cut herself off, though I wanted very much to know what she wished.

“Things are going to be all right,” I told her.

She jerked her head up to look at me. “How do you know?” she asked.

“I don’t know anything about the details,” I said, meeting her eyes. “I just mean that I believe God loves us and that whatever He asks us to suffer, we can find meaning in it. I hope that doesn’t sound glib.”

“I’ll think about that,” Gwen said slowly. “I’ve heard people say that God never gives us more than we can handle, but there are days—”

I interrupted her. “I hate that saying, as if God is playing some game with us, or as if we are making too much out of little things. I believe that God weeps with us, the way that a parent weeps with a child over a lost friend. He may know that we will recover, but that doesn’t make our losses any less.”

After a moment, I realized my words had affected Gwen deeply. She was staring at me as if there was light streaming around me. What a thought. I wasn’t any holier than anyone else. If anything, less so. But once again, there was a marvelous sense of power in helping others, in being the tool in God’s hands.

“I never thought of Him weeping with us,” she said.

“Most important scripture of all time: Jesus wept,” I said.

“Sometimes I feel so selfish, getting upset over little stupid things,” Gwen said, her gaze dropping again. “They aren’t the things Jesus should have to weep with me about.”

“If we’re weeping over it, then it’s not little to us,” I said.

Cheri Tate called me from the kitchen, and I went to her. I ended up spending most of the rest of the afternoon running back and forth and I didn’t have a chance to see Gwen Ferris again. She must have left as soon as the luncheon was served.

Cheri and I stayed late cleaning up. Kurt made sure Anna got home with her sons and then had to go back to the office to get some things done. I called Samuel at seven to make sure he was all right and could find himself dinner with leftovers in the fridge, then I helped Cheri until we locked up at about nine.

We had to get all the garbage out to the dumpster, turn off every light, vacuum all the floors, and clean the bathrooms. And that was after we had finished in the kitchen, washing every dish by hand because there was no dishwasher, and then drying them and placing them back in the cupboards. Wiping down every counter, and then mopping the floors, cleaning out the refrigerator, scrubbing the stove tops and inside the oven. There was a long list laminated on the back door of the kitchen that detailed every chore to be done before we could lock up.

“How are Perdita and Jonathan?” I asked Cheri as we walked out to her car.

“They seem very happy,” said Cheri, as if she were surprised.

“I’m glad,” I said, and walked home despite Cheri’s offer of a ride. I was glad to breathe the fresh spring air and I didn’t even mind the hill that led to the Torstensen house. The lights were on inside and I was tempted to stop in, but Anna and I had both had a long day. I’d talk to her tomorrow, and I’d get out of my head all thoughts of hammers, blood, and bodies buried in gardens.





CHAPTER 20




On the Monday after Tobias Torstensen’s funeral, the brief thaw ended and snow began to fall again. In the midst of it, Jared Helm went in to talk to the police in a formal interview. His father went with him, along with a lawyer his father had hired. To my delight, I was asked to watch Kelly while Jared and his father were gone.

It was nearly lunchtime, so I made Kelly peanut butter sandwiches and apple slices, which she ate eagerly.

“Grandpa Alex says I should eat grown-up food,” said Kelly, when I cut off the crust of her sandwiches. “He said Mommy treated me like a baby.”

How dare that man say such a thing to such a vulnerable, hurting child? “I see,” I said, trying to speak with care and not frighten her. “It sounds like your grandpa, Alex, and your mother didn’t get along very well.”

Kelly shook her head solemnly. “Mommy and Grandpa Alex used to shout at each other.”

“Did they frighten you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Daddy kept me safe.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Jared Helm was good for something, it seemed.

I got Kelly a glass of lemonade and watched her make a face each time she took a sip.

“Sour,” she said when I asked her if she didn’t like it.

“Do you want me to make you something else instead?” I asked, thinking I should have made grape juice.

She looked at me steadily. “I like sour,” she said, but she kept making the same face and shivering when she took a sip. It was adorable and a little heartbreaking, to see a little girl who seemed to think shivering like that meant she liked it.

But when I told her it was time to clean up lunch, she spilled lemonade on her shirt hurrying to drink it down. So I took her upstairs and asked her to show me what she wanted to change into. “Grandpa Alex will be mad,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“He does the laundry. He doesn’t like to do extra laundry,” she said.

“Oh, then I’ll do a load before he gets back. He’ll never know.”