The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(72)

I had no interest in arguing with the man at this point, so I walked home in the rain.


JOSEPH CALLED ME that night to tell me that Willow was expecting in early September. I should have been over the moon. I tried to act it, enthusiastically offering congratulations and all the help I could. Was she sick? Did they need meals? Did they need any help with housework while she was in the early stages? Could I help take her to doctor’s appointments?

Joseph declined all my offers and said that they were just fine for now.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” I asked.

“Not yet, Mom. We’re going in for an ultrasound in about three weeks and they think they will be able to tell.”

In three weeks, I would find out if I was going to have a granddaughter. The thought terrified me. How could I protect a girl in this world? Somehow it didn’t seem the right time for the next generation to start being born. We hadn’t figured out this generation yet.





CHAPTER 25




Kurt was as proud of the coming baby as if he were the father. Samuel was thrilled at the idea of being an uncle. Unlike me, neither of them seemed to worry about whether it was a boy or a girl. But we still had to deal with the funeral for Carrie Helm. I am sure that people all over the world have already noticed that births and deaths happen at the same time, but it still seems like a strange thing to me. In the end, I focused on the list of things to get done. Despite the funeral in the afternoon, I spent the morning shopping for a gender-neutral gift for Joseph and Willow and the grandbaby-to-be.

I wrapped the present and put it on the sideboard in the kitchen, so that it would be visible when we had our next family dinner. That was when Kurt came over and put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.

“A present? How could that be a bad idea?” I asked.

“It just seems a little soon. Willow is only—what—three months along? A lot of things could happen between now and six months from now.”

Was he suggesting that the baby wouldn’t survive? “Kurt, that is the last thought that I should be having right now.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt,” said Kurt with a sad little shrug.

He was always trying to protect me when I wouldn’t protect myself. “The only way to not get hurt would be never to hope for anything and never to love. Is that what you really want?” I asked him.

“No,” he admitted. Then he put on his tie, kissed me, and went to the church to prepare for Carrie Weston Helm’s funeral.

I came a little afterward, dressed in a wool skirt and sensible shoes. I hadn’t volunteered to help Cheri Tate with this one, though maybe I should have, considering the fraught circumstances.

The funeral was more than a bit schizophrenic. There were flowers everywhere, but they seemed like two completely different sets: one loudly pink and big and feminine, the other more matronly and subdued in color and size. The chapel was also divided clearly. The center section and the right were for the ward. The left was for Carrie’s high school friends, women who were her age, some struggling with young children, others standing alone in clothing that seemed not quite appropriate for a funeral, a little too revealing and not nearly black enough. I hated that I thought that, but I did. I shuddered to think it was what Alex Helm would have said.

Kurt had insisted that the news cameras stay outdoors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t reporters there, in disguise. Or some not so much in disguise. I saw several notebooks flip out when Kurt began his talk. I don’t know what they were scribbling down so feverishly. Kurt’s talk was largely standard funeral fare. He talked about Christ’s atonement covering all sins, even the sins that we think are the worst. Pedophiles, murderers, and adulteresses. He read Christ’s response to the Pharisees about the woman caught in adultery. He didn’t specifically talk about Carrie being an adulteress but he did look out at the audience and ask quite directly who here was so clean of sin that they could cast the first stone.

I felt a little chill run down my spine at that, and was sure everyone else felt something similar. I thought how good Kurt had become at speaking in just a year. His first week as bishop, he could never have imagined this kind of emotional response from the audience.

After Kurt finished, Judy Weston got up. She had brought props with her for her speech. Normally, Kurt might have disapproved, but I was glad to see that he had no reaction to this. Judy showed the mourners a photo of Carrie’s high school graduation. She had also brought one of Carrie’s favorite books, Bridge to Terabithia, and read a passage.

Then Judy brought out Carrie’s prom dress, which was pale pink with just a little lace at the bodice. She talked about Carrie’s love of laughter and comedies, and her piano playing, for which she had won awards in high school. I was shocked to realize I’d had no idea Carrie Helm played the piano. No wonder Kelly had seemed to sit so naturally when she sat on my lap. There was no piano in the Helm house, but Carrie must have taught her daughter about music.

“Carrie loved her daughter beyond anything,” Judy went on. “I’m going to read from a letter that Carrie wrote about Kelly, a letter I did not see until recently.”

I went stiff at this. Was this one of the letters that was to be used in the trial against Jared Helm for abuse? I looked at Kurt and saw that he was holding tightly to the arms of the chair. He didn’t want to ask Judy Weston to sit down, but he might have to.