The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(6)

“What if they have children?” asked Cheri.

I thought of Kelly Helm. A temple marriage hadn’t saved her parents’ marriage, or her. What was sealed in heaven often didn’t make a damn bit of difference on earth. “Let’s focus on the good things right now,” I said, “not all the bad things that might go wrong in the future. Perdita and Jonathan love each other. They’re going to be happy together. They both have strong testimonies of the church. Do you believe that?”

Cheri nodded, then started to cry again.

“This is their wedding day. You’re supposed to be happy for them,” I reminded her.

She nodded again, and straightened. “You’re right. I can’t indulge myself. I have to put on the face they expect to see. All of them.”

That wasn’t precisely what I had meant, but I guess it would have the desired effect.

She started getting out the tables that were stored under the stage on the north side behind the basketball hoop. We set chairs around the tables, and I found the nice lace tablecloths in the Relief Society closet. Silver and gold horns, jewels, and links went on the center of every table, along with flowers in a silver and gold vase.

Other women came in then, and I excused myself. The plates would have to be set up, and the photographer would show up at some point. There would need to be signs on the through street outside directing people to the right building. In Draper, Utah, there were many Mormon churches, and they all were built on the same plan, so they looked nearly identical.

In the meantime, I went shopping, watched the news while I cleaned the house, and spent some time with a good book of the sort that Joseph Smith was thinking of when he said that “anything that is lovely, of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” I attended the Relief Society monthly book club regularly, and we were frequently giving each other recommendations for books without bad language, bad moral values, or explicit sex.

I hadn’t had a job since I was pregnant with my oldest son, and I kept myself busy. But lately, I had begun to wonder if I ought to be contributing to the world as more than a wife and mother. It wasn’t that we needed the money, but with Samuel about to leave home, I would have more time on my hands.

Being a bishop’s wife wasn’t a full-time job and it certainly didn’t pay. But then again, no calling in the Mormon church does. Bishops, stake presidents, and all the other leadership positions were unpaid. That meant if you were called to go on a mission, you had to pay for it yourself. The prophet and the apostles had their travel expenses paid for and were sometimes given a stipend, but usually not.

Kurt was as an accountant, and would continue to work as one through his years as bishop and whatever came afterward. His life was particularly difficult during tax season, when he had to balance double business hours as well as his church work. We didn’t see him for much of March and April. Kurt had been bishop through one tax season already, and that meant it would likely be four more until he was released as bishop and another man from the ward would take over.


I CAME BACK to the church with Kurt that evening for Perdita and Jonathan’s ceremony. Kurt had put on a clean white shirt and tie and I was wearing one of my best dresses, a shell pink sheath that everyone said looked good on me. It made me slightly uncomfortable because pink had never been a color I liked much, but this was a wedding, and it was not about me being comfortable.

Inside the cultural hall, under the gazebo, Kurt waited for people to arrive (Mormon-standard time meant ten minutes after the wedding was supposed to begin). I sat quietly in the front row, listening to heels tapping and squeaking on hardwood. Tom deRyke and Karl Ashby, the first and second counselors in the bishopric, arrived next with their wives, Verity and Emma. I greeted them with a nod. More people arrived by the ten minute after mark, which was pretty typical of Mormon standard time.

Then Kurt brought the couple up to the front and gave them advice. This was the longest part of any Mormon wedding ceremony, in a church or in the temple.

“Jonathan, you need to think of Perdita as the most important person in your life now. You give her one hundred percent because no marriage works unless both people are giving all they can. And if it feels like Perdita isn’t giving as much as you are, get on your knees right at that moment. Ask God to show you what you aren’t seeing. Because we are all blind. We see what we sacrifice, but we take for granted what other people give up. And that is true nowhere more than in a marriage,” said Kurt.

He turned to Perdita. “Perdita, Jonathan is your top priority now. I don’t mean making him happy or pretending to agree with him.” Kurt’s eyes slid toward mine and I couldn’t repress a slight smile. “I mean, his real well-being. If he is wrong, I don’t want you to think that being a good wife means ignoring that. Being a good wife means telling him the truth as best you can. It means dealing with the hard stuff together. It means having courage to face the world, and having even more courage to face God together.”

I knew very well what Kurt was doing here. He hadn’t said a word about the temple marriage ceremony or the secret endowment ceremony that these two would have gone to if they’d ended up marrying there. But his advice was filled with allusions to temple doctrine. The Adam and Eve story might be about women making the wrong choice in other religions, but in Mormonism, it is all about Eve making the right choice, even if it meant facing difficult consequences. She was the one who reminded Adam that they couldn’t obey the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth unless they ate of the fruit, and Joseph Smith argued that she spent a thousand years thinking over the decision before she finally had the courage to face the consequences of being sent out of the Garden.