The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(9)

I turned off the water and got a paper towel for my hands. Then I sat there in the nursing mothers’ chair, wiping at them for a long time to avoid going back to class.

Gwen came out of the stall and started washing her hands. She had thin, faintly curly dark hair and a perfectly heart-shaped face that made her pale, large eyes stand out even without makeup. She looked up at her reflection and seemed to consider the puffiness around her eyes. She turned to get a paper towel and then she saw me.

Her eyes immediately fell. “Excuse me,” she said. She pulled off a towel, dipped it in the cold water, and pressed it onto her eyes. After a moment, she looked back at herself, and then at me.

“Am I in your way?” she asked, and stepped back from the sink.

I stood up and threw the ripped and worn paper towel away. “Not at all,” I said. “I just wondered—if there was anything I could do to help. You seem upset. Was it something in the lesson?”

“I’m fine,” said Gwen. She still hadn’t met my eyes.

“Is it about women and the priesthood?” I asked. “Because—” I don’t know what I was going to say, but Gwen interrupted me.

“No, not that. It’s—everyone always talking about how it’s a woman’s true calling to be a mother. About how children are such a blessing. And that’s just—some days it really gets to me.”

I stared at her, cut at the reminder. Fertility problems can be very painful in a church that still believes in the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth and still promotes the idea that a woman’s place is in the home. Gwen had a good job and she was moving up the corporate ladder, as far as I knew. Until now, I had assumed that was what she wanted.

“I’m sorry.”

Gwen finally looked me in the eye. “It’s not your fault.”

I put an arm around her and felt rather awkward patting her nearly skeletal form.

“Thank you,” she said afterward. The bell had rung, and soon there were going to be Primary children in here, with their curious eyes and ears.

“You can talk to me anytime,” I said. “I don’t mind.”

“You must be so busy,” she said.

“Maybe we were meant to see each other in here,” I said. “Maybe you have as much to teach me as I have to teach you.”

She ducked her head, and I couldn’t tell if that meant she would talk to me again or not.

I had done what I could, I tried to tell myself.

Of course there was no way Jared Helm could know about the conversation I had had with Gwen Ferris, but as if to rub salt in the wound, he raised his hand in Sunday School to answer a question about Adam and Eve. His voice shaking, he talked about the importance of eternal marriage and having children.

“There is no reason to put off having children, not for financial reasons or for emotional ones. God will bless you if you follow His commandments. We need to rely on Him more to support us through whatever difficulties may come as we obey His every word,” he said.

I looked back and saw Gwen Ferris get up again and leave the room, her husband looking after her, but not following.

I stayed where I was and made a note to talk to Kurt about the Ferrises.

It was Fast Sunday, a monthly Mormon tradition of going without food for twenty-four hours (or less for younger people and pregnant women) and then giving the money saved from not eating to the poor. It is also thought to be a way to gain spiritual closeness to God through denying the body and seeking spiritual strength instead. The fasting ends with a group meeting where people share their experiences either about the fasting or other things that happened during the month. People simply stand to give testimony as “moved on by the Spirit.” Though occasionally bishops have to step in and ask people to sit down, or are prompted to remind members of the guidelines that testimonies are to be largely focused on Christ.

Brother Rhodes got up to bear his testimony after a few other speakers. He tended to be long-winded, and I didn’t know if I was glad about that or not. Sometimes, instead of Brother Rhodes we have a line of small children whose “testimonies” are whispered into their ears by older children. I disapprove of this practice, and there are times when church leaders send letters out to wards also discouraging it, but it never seems to stop for long. Parents are too enthused about the cuteness of young children on the stand, their testimony “as pure as the angels.”

Finally, Brother Rhodes sat down, and I thought that would be the end of today’s fast and testimony meeting. But little Kelly Helm leaped out of her seat and streaked to the front of the chapel before Kurt could close the meeting and announce the final song and prayer.

She grabbed the stool that was off to the side and jumped onto it. I stared at Kurt, wondering if he was afraid she would say something about her mother leaving, announcing private information to the whole ward. But how long was it going to stay private?

I tensed as she began to speak. It was an ordinary child’s testimony, full of thanks for her many blessings, her food and her house, to be a member of the church, and to have the Book of Mormon. Then she got to her family. “I’m thankful for my daddy and my grandpa. And I’m thankful that my mommy is my mommy forever and that she will love me forever and that God will make us be together forever. Amen.”

I muttered an “Amen,” not sure if that was agreement or simply relief that Kelly was on her way back to her father’s place in the congregation.