The Bishop's Wife (30 page)

The news vans were gone now, though I still felt strangely watched as I walked to the door and rang the bell. I wanted to see Kelly and make sure she was all right. If I did end up testifying for the Westons at the custody trial, I might not have many more chances.

Alex Helm answered the door—of course.

“I wanted to come by and see how you are doing,” I said. “I didn't make it to the graveside service and I'm sorry. I was busy helping with the funeral luncheon.”

“It was very brief,” said Alex. “Your husband said a few words and that was all.”

I nodded. “How is Kelly?”

“She's a strong little personality. She'll move on with her life as soon as she can. I don't know if you heard, but we had news
late last night that the police have decided to drop the charges against Jared. Without Carrie to explain how she got the bruises, which were not Jared's doing, by the way, they have no real evidence against him and are finally admitting it. We are considering a lawsuit against the city for harassment, but it may be best to let it go.”

“Yes, an eye for an eye only makes everyone blind,” I said blandly. But my heart sank at the thought that Jared would get away with what he had done. What message would that send to Kelly about justice?

“I told Jared that Kelly needs a mother, and that is his next responsibility. He needs to find a woman who is more appropriate who can take over the role and make Kelly forget that all of this happened.”

I struggled not to goggle at him. “So soon?” I got out. Carrie had only been dead for a little over a week. And he thought Kelly should forget her mother?

“If she has a good role model, she won't think about this part of her life and the pain in it. If you have any suggestions of single women in the ward who might appreciate a good man's attention, I'm sure Jared would be interested in a phone number or two.”

“I don't think I know anyone who would fit that description,” I said as calmly as I could manage. My heart felt swollen and tender in my chest. “But I would like to see Kelly, if you don't mind.”

He glanced upstairs and his expression seemed genuinely loving. “Poor little girl. She hasn't had a nap all day. We sent her to her room early to sleep for the night, but I can hear she hasn't drifted off yet. Maybe if you went up to tell her she needs to sleep?”

“I will do that,” I said. I was glad I'd had the idea to bring the photo with me.

Upstairs, I found Kelly Helm kicking at her wall. I could see the smudge marks. Poor Kelly. What would Alex Helm do if he saw?

I gently brought Kelly's legs down and then rubbed at the wall
with spit and my finger. Mother's spit cleans everything, haven't you heard?

“How are you doing?” I asked Kelly.

“Fine,” she said, not looking me in the eye.

“Sweetie, no one is fine on the day of her mother's funeral. When my father died, I cried all day,” I said. “And I was thirty-three. You're only five.”

“I don't feel like crying,” said Kelly, her tone defiant. “She's been gone for a long time. I don't miss her anymore.”

I wasn't sure if I believed this or not. If it was true, it was something to be worried about even more than her mother's loss. “Kelly, you can tell me the truth. Your mother loved you and you must be sad that she is gone.”

“Grandpa says that she isn't worth being sad about.”

I realized I was chewing at my lower lip and had almost broken through the skin. “Kelly, I brought you a special picture,” I said and tried not to look around suspiciously to see if anyone was watching.

“Is it a picture of Jesus?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “It's a picture of your mother.” I held it out and smoothed it so she could see it. “This is the photo your grandmother showed at the funeral, when your mom graduated from high school. I noticed that you didn't have any photos of her up anywhere in the house and thought you might like to keep this.” I was preparing myself to talk to her about putting it away whenever her father or grandfather came in, realizing that I was going to ask a five-year-old to lie.

But she shook her head. “I don't want it. She's not my mother anymore.”

“Of course she is, Kelly. She will always be your mother.” What in the world had Alex Helm said to her?

“No, she's not. Daddy's going to find me a better mother.”

I was outraged. “Kelly, I hope your dad does marry again and finds some kind of happiness.” If, as it seemed now, he was not a murderer, then he had the right to marry again—in due time and
maybe after some therapy. “I hope that you have someone in your life who can be your mother, but you can't just erase who your mother is.”

“Grandpa says that God won't make me stay with Mommy. She left us, so she doesn't deserve to have us. She won't have anyone. She'll be all alone in heaven, and I'll be with him and daddy and his new wife.”

“Kelly, please don't say that.” I slowly folded the photo and put it back in my jacket pocket. Maybe she would want it later. Maybe when she was old enough to understand …

“Grandpa says that God killed Mommy,” said Kelly. “Because she wasn't good enough for us. He says that God makes sure people die who don't deserve to live and who only make other people sad.”

I wanted to slap Alex Helm again. And then I wanted to cut out his lying, blasphemous tongue. And then Jared Helm could get in line for doing nothing to counter his poisonous father.

It all sounded so much like the letter the Westons had read from at the first press conference. It made me shiver now, thinking how clearly Carrie had foretold what would happen after her own death.

I read Kelly some “new” stories her grandfather had brought—all of them moral homilies with no fun at all. And then I made my way back downstairs.

Alex Helm was in the kitchen and simply waved to me. Lucky for him he didn't come close enough for me to touch.

I walked home and put the photograph of Carrie Helm in a safe place in my bedroom.

The day after the funeral, the Westons called me to update me on custody proceedings. It seemed that the laws in Utah were not favorable to grandparents in terms of custody, and their lawyer had advised them to drop the case. Aaron Weston was still fasting and praying about it, determined that he would not give up on his granddaughter, but they didn't leave me with much hope for getting Kelly away from the Helms.

In late March, the renters of Anna and Tobias Torstensen's house had a pipe burst. As usual in Utah, it wasn't spring so much as alternating summer and winter. A dangerous time of year for pipes.

A crew came out to fix the pipes and they ended up having to dig up a considerable section of Tobias's garden. And that was when they found the body of Tobias's first wife. At least, they found a human skeleton deep under the dirt and called the police. They weren't sure yet who it was.

As soon as the renters called Kurt, he called me.

“I think all they know at this point is that the body is between twenty and forty years dead, and that it's a woman who was in her twenties.”

“Has anyone called Tomas and Liam?” I asked. I wasn't so sure about Anna. She had begun her cruise and this would only ruin it. And why should she have to come home to deal with this?

“Could you do that?” asked Kurt.

I still had their numbers from before. I had an emergency number for the cruise, too, but I didn't want to use that and interrupt Anna's first chance to get away from problems with Tobias and his first wife. If the police decided to call her to come home, they could do it themselves. Her sons could deal with the rest of the issues here, including the renters' rights.

I tried to call Liam, but he didn't pick up. Then I tried Tomas, and when he answered, I recited the facts as I knew them: the skeleton of a woman had been found in the garden of his father's house.

Tomas was understandably upset. “Well, someone else must have put it there. Though I don't know how Dad never found it, considering the time he spent in that dirt.”

I let him think that through himself. “I just wanted you to know what had happened. Do you want me to call Liam, as well?”

Tomas assured me that he would call Liam.

I felt rather morbid walking over to the house, but I did just that. There were nearly a dozen people in protective suits in the backyard, and yellow police tape had been wrapped around the perimeter. I craned my neck and caught a glimpse of soil samples being taken. The skeleton was already gone, and I was glad about that.

The new renter, Sister Brenda Geary, came out and hurried over to me. She was in her late thirties and her bleached blonde hair stood out all over her head. She looked a little lost.

“They've said we're going to have to find a hotel for the next several nights while they work here. Until they've identified her and what happened, we can't be here. But we spent all our money getting into this place. We thought it would be such a great change for the kids to come to a nice neighborhood.” She and her husband had moved from downtown Salt Lake City, trying to get their teenage son away from a gang. “Don't worry about that,” I assured her. “The ward will pay for a condo for a few nights.” In fact, Kurt was likely to pay for it out of his own pocket, which meant out of my own pocket. When Kurt could not justify using church funds to help people, this was what we did.

I spent some time helping Brenda go through the house and pack a few days' worth of clothes for each child and herself and her husband. Then the police asked her for the key and locked up the place.

I called Kurt and he asked me to arrange things, so I drove her to a condo complex where Kurt sometimes sent women who needed to be away from their husbands for a while before they decided on what their next step would be. It wasn't far from the neighborhood, just down off the highest ridge of the mountain, and I spent most of the afternoon ferrying each child separately, since all three were at different schools and got out at different times.

Finally, I got home myself and found Samuel there, waiting for me in that quiet way of his.

“Mom, can I ask you some questions?”

I sat down next to him at the kitchen counter, staring at the bag of potato chips that he had nearly finished off. “Is this about the body in the Torstensen's yard? I don't think they have an identification on it yet.”

“It's about Kenneth. And the church.”

“Oh,” I said. “When did you two talk?” I felt a pang that I hadn't followed up with Kenneth since Carrie Helm's funeral.

“A little bit last weekend, on the phone,” Samuel said. “But it's not just that one phone call. It's a lot of little comments he's made.”

“Apparently Kenneth is struggling with the church,” I said. I didn't want Samuel to think I was endorsing Kenneth's complaints about the church, but I didn't want to ignore them, either.

“Yeah, I got that already,” said Samuel. “But last week, Dad pulled me aside and told me to be careful not to get too wrapped up with Kenneth's ideas, that it could be dangerous for me. He wants me to focus on preparing for a mission in August.”

Samuel would turn eighteen then, and while he didn't have to go right away, the church encouraged young people to go as early as possible, and not to put off a mission for college or work. The church had even begun to encourage those who hadn't saved enough for their own missions to go anyway, because there were always wealthy donors who would reimburse the church for the monthly $400 bill. Not that Kurt would let that happen with our son.

“Is there anything in particular that Kenneth said that's bothering you?”

Samuel hesitated. “It was about temple marriage. He said that he wasn't sure he wanted to marry someone for eternity. He made a joke about it, but he said that it was hard enough to commit to ‘till death do you part.' ”

“He isn't dating anyone seriously, is he?” I knew that sometimes the parents were the last to know, but I'd always hoped my sons would communicate better with me.

Samuel shrugged. “He dated a few girls a couple of years ago, but I think he's serious about not wanting to get married. He says that there are almost no girls who are interested in dating someone who doesn't want to get married. At least in Utah.”

Suddenly, I worried that Kenneth had other reasons for not dating. I'd always assumed he was just busy. But what if he had concerns about his sexuality? Kurt would be devastated by that, regardless of the new church policy that God ordained some of his children to be born homosexual. The idea that one of his sons might never be allowed to marry in the temple and never have children to be sealed to him eternally would be very hard for him. And no wonder it was confusing to Samuel. “Are you worried about something specific with Kenneth and marriage?” I asked.

“I guess I'm more wondering about people who don't get married and what their place is in the church. I mean, it's all about happy families and families are forever. The singles wards that Kenneth is assigned to right now is all about activities to get people dating, so they can get married, so they can leave the singles ward. But that's not how it works for everyone, is it?”

I could tell that Samuel was genuinely upset about this. His face was flushed and his voice was squeaking like it hadn't since he was fifteen. “I guess we have to figure that everyone has a family of one kind or another.”

Samuel blew out a disgusted breath. “But that's not what I'm
talking about. I'm talking about the fact that you have to be married to be a bishop. Or to have any role of leadership in the church. If you're not, you're always a kind of second-class citizen.”

He was only seventeen, but he saw this so clearly. “I need to talk to Kenneth,” I said. I really did need to. I didn't want to give Samuel the wrong kind of comfort. If Kenneth didn't want to get married right now, that was one thing. If he was gay, that was something else again. I had no trouble with a gay son, but it wasn't an easy situation in the church right now. Proposition 8 in California and the specter of same-sex marriage laws here in Utah had made for some militant anti-gay sentiments even among people who claimed to love everyone.