Carla Kelly (20 page)

“Give it a week. A fortnight, if you need more time.”

His expression was kindly now, which made her throat constrict. She stood up. “I'll think.” She gestured with the handkerchief. “I'll return this next week,” she said and hurried out.

She didn't waste a moment leaving the meetinghouse. Thankfully there was a back door by the bishop's office, so she didn't have to face anyone in the corridor. She wiped her eyes, tying to stop her tears, but they fell anyway. Only the greatest force of will kept her from sobbing out loud. “You're a bully, Owen Davis, and I just can't face you,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried to Mabli Reese's house, which she knew was thankfully empty right now.

Inside the house, she slammed the door to her room. It wasn't loud enough, so she opened it and slammed it again, then threw herself on the bed, the one the dirty bird had carved so beautifully. She couldn't think of a time when she had been this angry, or maybe a time when she had felt able to express such anger. She wasn't sure which, only that her mind was in a jumble. She closed her eyes in utter sadness and slept.

Della wasn't certain how long she slept. The room was light, so she didn't think it was much past noon. She opened her eyes, relieved that she had left the meetinghouse so no one had to see her behave like a baby. With any luck, no one would ever know what a fool she had made of herself in the bishop's office. She knew Bishop Parmley would never say anything about her childish behavior; he was a bishop, after all.
I could probably tell him anything
, she thought suddenly.
For that matter, I could probably have told my bishop in Salt Lake anything too. Was I more a fool then or now?

It took more time, but she willed herself to calmness. Maybe by two o'clock she would have the courage to go to sacrament meeting. She didn't have to tell anyone why she had left Sunday School. It was between her and the bishop, and he had given her two weeks to think about the most stupid calling any bishop had ever issued.

She lay still, composing her mind, thinking of school to start tomorrow. Soon she would be busy with pupils and teaching, and there was the library three nights a week. She closed her eyes in agony.
Oh, please let Owen Davis not want to read the newspaper!
She knew she would have no trouble in school, separating Angharad from her father. That sweet child would never know how badly her teacher had been bullied; if Della had learned anything at university, it was to maintain a professional attitude.
I have to settle my mind and think through this calling
, she told herself.
It's going to take at least two weeks to work up the gall to turn down a calling from my new bishop
.

She heard Mabli's front door open; Sunday School must be out. She had promised Mabli she would help in the boardinghouse kitchen. But those weren't Mabli's light footsteps. Della felt her stomach tense. The footsteps paused outside her door.

“I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened, but forgive me.”

Never
, she thought.
Not ever
. Silence. He walked away, and the front door closed quietly behind him.

It took every ounce of courage Della possessed to walk to sacrament meeting at two o'clock.

The choir was sitting on the stand for sacrament meeting. Della sat with Mabli on one side of her and Sister Parmley and her family on the other.
I can do this,
she thought. She closed her eyes during the sacrament prayer, concentrating and hoping the Lord wasn't too displeased with her. This time, a soprano sang, her voice so achingly lovely that Della sighed with the beauty of it. She thought about not taking the sacrament, but she knew with all her heart just how badly she needed it. Besides, she wasn't angry at Owen Davis any more, just sad and discouraged. She couldn't blame him for what he didn't know, but she also knew she had better not see him or think about him for a long while. If that unaccepted calling had to hang over her head like a wet sheet, so be it.

He made no move to talk to her after church, which relieved her further. Back from the morning's emergency, Emil Isgreen was kind enough to walk her home. As they strolled along, he told her about the little boy with the broken arm.

“They had taken him to the sauna,” he told her. “I've never been in one before.”

“Was it steamy?” she asked, curious.

“Oh, no. Just cool and so clean. It was an easy break. I could have fixed it anywhere, but they wanted the cleanest place, I guess.” He nudged her shoulder. “He'll be one of your students, I think. He's seven.”

“Yes, one of mine.”

When they passed the school, she looked up at her classroom windows, with their construction-paper leaves. Soon there would be more. She felt her anticipation returning, until she saw Miss Clayson looking at her.

I could ignore her
, Della thought. She waved instead. She couldn't be certain, but she thought the principal moved one hand just a bit. Ah, well. She had nine months to try to sweeten up a prickly woman.
And is that prickly woman her or me?
Della asked herself, not even sure where that thought came from.

“Have the first day jitters?” Emil asked, when she was silent.

“Not at all,” she told him. “I'm ready.”

They walked in companionable silence the rest of the way to Mabli's. He agreed to come in for chocolate cake, downing two pieces before she had finished even one. Mabli watched him eat, her eyes bright.

Mabli put another slice in a pasteboard box. “Take this with you. It's a long way to the canyon mouth!”

Della walked the doctor outside. He paused on the step and gave her that half-friend, half-physician look she was already familiar with. “I guess you didn't realize it, but you made it all the way from the meetinghouse to Mabli's without needing to stop and gasp your lungs out. I'm about to pronounce you cured of altitude-itis. You're an official Winter Quarters resident now.”

Della curtsied playfully.

“We could celebrate with dinner next Saturday night,” he said. “Interested?”

A second date. Time to nip this in the bud. She shook her head. “Not right now. Let me get a week or two of school behind me, and then I'll know if there is life after three o'clock every day.”

Emil nodded. “I'm harmless.”

“I know that,” she said quietly. “I just need a little time.”

When she returned to the house, Mabli was putting on her hat again. She picked up the rest of the cake. “Speak now or hold your peace,” she said.

Della shook her head. “It was lovely, and my clothes still fit.”

Mabli stopped at the front door. “I invited Owen and Angharad over to help us finish it, but he mumbled something about a sore throat. He doesn't lie any better than he cooks, but I said I'd take it to him. Want to come with me?”

It was Della's turn to mumble something, so Mabli shrugged and said good-bye.

Della stared at the closed door for a long time, a sinking feeling in her heart. “I'm making a mess of this. I never intended to,” she said out loud, then went to her room and quietly closed the door on a Sunday she wanted to forget.

She sat on her bed, feeling that unwelcome numbness she remembered from earlier days in Salt Lake. Maybe she couldn't run away from it after all. Maybe she wasn't trying hard enough.

Someone knocked on the door, and she sighed, put upon. Mabli had gone to her brother-in-law's house, so it wasn't Owen. She went to the outside door and stood there, her hand on the knob but so unsure. “Yes?”

“Andrew Hood, your Sunday School superintendent. My son Milton wanted me to ask you something.”

Della opened the door. “Come in, please. Do have a seat.”

“No Mabli?”

“She took some cake to Owen and Angharad.” Della sat down so he would sit down too. “Milton. Let's see, I believe he is six and this is his first year of school.”

“Exactly so. That's probably why I'm here.”

He didn't speak for a moment, and she began to wonder what errand a six-year-old could send his father on the day before school started.

She had to smile. “Please tell Milton that he might be afraid, but I
still
expect to see him tomorrow! Please assure him that we will have fun. I believe in fun.”

That was all it took to break the ice. Brother Hood laughed. “Here it is, miss,” he began in his forthright way. “Every year I give my children a father's blessing before school starts.”

“What a wonderful thing to do,” Della murmured, thinking of the years when she could have used precisely such a priesthood gift.

“I imagine most of the fathers in this canyon do that. Well, my dear, I gave Milton his very first before-school blessing. When I barely had my hands off his wee head, ‘Papa,’ says he, ‘I don't think Miss Anders has a papa here. Do you think she is nervous? Maybe she needs a blessing.’ ”

“What a kind child,” Della said, touched.

“He is that. Takes after his mum,” Brother Hood said. “He kept after me, and then so did Rupert—he's in your class too. I promised them I'd ask if you wanted a blessing before the start of school. Well?”

“My goodness,” she said, her voice soft.
I could say no and continue to ruin what is already a dreadful day
, she told herself.
Or I can say yes and begin again
. “I would like that more than anything, Brother Hood,” she told him.

“Well, then,” he said. “Your full name, my dear?”

“Della Olympia Anders,” she said, barely able to speak as the whole force of what he was about to do settled gently down on every pain she had felt all day, sweeping them away.

“A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

She closed her eyes as he put his hands on her head and gave her the father's blessing she had craved for years with all her heart, without even knowing what it was she wanted until it was happening to her right there. She listened closely as he blessed her with good health all year and an understanding of her students, many of whom came from so many different places in the world. He prayed for the Lord to keep her and her loved ones safe that year.

I have no loved ones
, she thought, but as he said it, she wondered if that was really true. Maybe she would find some this year. She could already count Mabli, if she wanted to, and Angharad. As he gave her a priesthood blessing, everything suddenly seemed possible.

He paused then, and she almost wished him to continue, even though he must be done. Or maybe he wasn't. His hands, already firm on her head, seemed to press with more strength.

“Bless this dear child of thine, Father. Let her be more brave than she has ever been, and more kind too.”

He took his hands off her head. Della stood up and held out her hand, but it wasn't enough. He held open his arms, and she was in them in a moment, letting him hold her as he probably held his own children, this generous man.

“Brother Hood, I don't know what to say, except thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she told him. “You can give Milton and Rupert a good report.”

“Aye, lass, I will.” He went to the door and let himself out as quietly as he had entered.

n Monday morning, as Della stood at the window and watched the children, she wondered if she would ever anticipate the beginning of a new school year without enthusiasm. Maybe if she ever did, then that would be the time to find a new career.