A Song for Issy Bradley (34 page)

Several months later Ian was shopping with Mum and they saw Bishop Davie. Of course, he wasn’t “Bishop Davie” anymore, but Ian didn’t know his first name and couldn’t think of him as anything else.

Mum grabbed his arm. “Quick,” she said. “He might see us.” Ian was supposed to turn round but he couldn’t help staring at Bishop Davie. He’d grown a beard in the months since he’d been released and he looked tired. When she thought Bishop Davie wasn’t looking, Mum tried to march Ian away, but it was too late.

“Sister Bradley!”

Mum had to stop. She pretended to be surprised. “Ah,
Keith,”
she said, which sounded all wrong. “We haven’t seen you for ages.”

“I’m still around and about, Sister Bradley.”

“We’ve—we’ve missed you at church.” Mum kept glancing at Bishop Davie’s cart as if she was expecting to find something awful in it, so Ian stared too. It was full of normal things. He couldn’t see any coffee, tea, or beer—nothing that gave a clue as to why Bishop Davie had been released.

“Well, we still live in the same house, Sister Bradley. There’s no need to miss us. I think Sister Davie might appreciate—you’re always welcome to visit.”

Mum said they were late for something and pulled Ian away. In the car on the way home she told him
Keith
was an adulterer. There’d been a woman at work—that was the problem with having women in the workplace.
Keith
had confessed to the Stake President immediately, which went in his favor, of course. There’d been a Church court. Mum knew this because Dad was on the High Council. Sister Davie had begged for leniency because she didn’t want
anyone to know. She said if
she
could forgive her husband, it was no one else’s business. But
Keith’s
punishment was excommunication. Mum explained that
Keith
wasn’t a member of the Church anymore, he wasn’t married for Eternity or sealed to his family, and he couldn’t serve in the Church until he had repented properly and been rebaptized. That was why he had to be released as Bishop.

Ian stops the car and then reverses into the driveway.

Bishop Davie’s release is the only early release he’s encountered. He pulls the handbrake up. Whatever happens, no matter how sad Claire is,
he
can’t be released early, especially while Mum and Dad are away. They would be horribly disappointed at his failure to lead the family through a crisis.
“No other success can compensate for failure in the home”
—that’s what Mum would say, and she’s right. Heavenly Father must have already known what was going to happen when He inspired President Carmichael to put Ian’s name forward as the next Bishop, therefore there must be some greater purpose, some special lesson in all this.

When he walks through the front door, Jacob is sitting on the stairs.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll just get my boots. You fetch your coat and we’ll get going.”

“It’s all right, Dad. I’m just going to stay here.”

“Oh, it’s not too late. If we go now we can have a good walk and a bit of a splash-about before it gets dark.”

Jacob has got a coloring book balanced on his knee and Issy’s pink pencil case sits on the stair beside him. “No thank you,” he says. “I’m just going to stay here.”

“But you wanted to go. You always go to the beach with Mum in the holidays.”

“Mum’s in bed.”

“And she’ll get up as soon as she feels better. In the meantime you’ll have to put up with me.” He pulls a funny face and when that doesn’t work he bends down and starts to unlace his shoes.

“I just want to stay here, Dad.”

Ian steps out of his shoes and pads up the stairs. He lifts Issy’s pencil case and sits down next to Jacob. “What’s so good about sitting here, then?” he asks.

“I can see through the glass in the door. I can see who’s coming.”

“Well, I’m here now. You don’t have to watch out for me anymore.” How sad that Jacob has been waiting for him like this. He’d like to say something to make it better, but he has already apologized. He puts his arm around Jacob and squeezes. “Shall we go upstairs and ask Zipporah what she’s going to make for dinner?” he asks.

“You ask her, Dad. Then you can come and tell me if you like.”

“Oh, all right.” Ian stands. He feels humored. “I’ll just check with your sister, then, shall I?” he says.

Jacob resumes his coloring. He doesn’t reply.

T
HEY HAVE PASTA
mixed with tins of tuna and mushroom soup for dinner. Pasta in one form or another is all Zipporah seems able to cook.

“Can we have something different tomorrow?” Alma asks.

“Yeah, if you want to cook it.”

“Why don’t they teach you how to cook at Youth? It’d be better than dressing up and pretending to get married.”

“Why don’t they teach
you
how to cook?”

“Stop it,” Ian says. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

“That’ll render Alma mute for the rest of his life.”

“I said stop it. Fetch Mum’s plate and take it upstairs.”

“There’s no point.”

“There’s every point.”

Zipporah disappears with the plate and they hear her sighs and huffs as she trudges up the stairs. Alma smirks and continues eating, barely chewing before he swallows. Jacob picks at his food. Ian knows he should ask Jacob what’s wrong but what if it’s something unfixable?

Zipporah is on her way back down the stairs when the doorbell rings and Ian decides to leave it to her. He hopes it’s a double-glazed window salesman or a Jehovah’s Witness—someone she can get rid of without his help.

There are voices in the hall, then Zipporah calls, “Dad, it’s President Carmichael and Brother Stevens.”

Ian gets up from the table and rubs his face hard with both hands, trying to arrange it into a welcoming expression. “Come on,” he says to Jacob and Alma. “Come and say hello.”

The three of them spill out into the hall, where President Carmichael greets them.

“Good evening, Bradleys! How are you? Brother Stevens and I just wanted to come and see if you’re all right.”

Ian swallows and glances at the stairs. “Come in and sit down,” he says, pointing to the living room. “Make yourselves at home.” He grabs Zipporah’s hand as she passes. “See if Mum will come,” he whispers. “Tell her I said please.”

She shakes her head at him. “She won’t.”

“She has to. Do you want people to think there’s something
wrong
with her?”

He watches Zipporah head back up the stairs and then joins the others in the living room. President Carmichael and Brother Stevens are wearing their suits, which means they have come on official Church business. They have arranged this. He wonders whether they did it on the phone or in person, whether they met to discuss him, whether his name is on a meeting agenda under a list of
concerns
. “What can I do for you both?” he asks.

“We just wanted to make sure everything’s OK.”

“Well, it is!”

“That’s good to know.” President Carmichael clasps his hands together. “Are you having family prayer and daily scripture study? It’s important not to let these things slide when you’re facing trials.”

“I, well—we try.” Family prayer and scripture study have always
been Claire’s responsibility. “Could do better, must try harder,” he jokes feebly.

“Brother Stevens has brought the Visiting Teaching Message with him, for Claire. Sister Stevens made it, specially.”

Brother Stevens holds up a homemade card. It has a pink ribbon glued to it and there is writing on the front.

Ian stretches out his arm, but Brother Stevens doesn’t pass it over. “What does it say?” He hasn’t read any of the
Ensign
this month. “What’s the Visiting Teaching Message for October? I haven’t got that far yet.”

“Bless you, Bishop, for
ever
reading the Visiting Teaching Message since it’s just for the sisters—trust you to go the extra mile! This month’s message is
‘Do Not Doubt.’
Sister Stevens has written a quote from it right here: ‘Women who recognize that their strength comes from the Lord’s atonement do not give up during difficult and discouraging times.’ ”

Ian’s stomach swoops. He needs to tell Zipporah to keep Claire upstairs. What on Earth was he thinking?

“That is so true,” he says. “Excuse me, I just need to—”

“Dad, wait, watch this—can you do the elephant song, Brother Stevens?” Jacob asks. “Go on, please!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I—” Brother Stevens is bashful, his round cheeks pink.

“Please!”

Jacob’s pleading moves Ian. Here is something Jacob wants, something that might make him feel a little bit better. “I’d like to see this elephant song too,” he says and settles back into his seat.

“Oh, Bishop!” Brother Stevens laughs. “I do it with the kids if I’m helping out in Primary. It’s just me kidding around. I kinda—”

“Please!”

“OK, OK!”

Brother Stevens gets up and hunches over. He lifts one arm out in front of him, like a trunk, and starts to sing in a deep, tuneless
voice. “One elephant began to play upon a spider’s web one day.” He lollops around the middle of the room in an awkward loop. “He found it such enormous fun that he called for another elephant to come.”

“Pick me, pick me,” Jacob calls.

Brother Stevens lumbers up to Jacob and tickles him with his elephant trunk. Jacob giggles, gets to his feet, and joins in the song.

“Two elephants began to play upon a spider’s web one day …”

President Carmichael leans around the lumbering elephants. “Where’s Claire?” he asks.

“She’s in bed. She’s still not well. In fact, I should check on her.”

“She isn’t in bed, Dad.”

Alma points to the doorway and Ian hardly dares to look. The singing stops and he turns in his chair. Claire is standing in front of Zipporah. She looks startled and slightly mad, hair askew, her nightie grubby and scrunched like an old tissue.

President Carmichael stands. He extends his hand toward Claire but she doesn’t step forward to shake it.

Jacob rushes up and hugs her. “Mum,” he shouts as if he hasn’t seen her for months.

Claire pats him, absently. Her legs poke out of the bottom of her nightie like dolls’ legs: shiny and improbably white. Zipporah is standing behind her, mouth flat, throat bobbing. It looks like her hand may be resting on Claire’s back, and Claire’s fixed expression reminds Ian of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Brother Stevens steps forward with the card. “Here, Sister Bradley. Ashlee made it specially for you. It’s the Visiting Teaching Message.”

Claire doesn’t say thank you, she just holds the card and stares at it, as if she can’t remember how to read.

Ian hurries to the doorway. “Let’s get you back to bed,” he says. He puts his arm around her but it’s as if she’s frozen to the spot and he almost has to push her along the hall. When they reach the stairs he pulls the Visiting Teaching card out of her hand. Then
he tugs her and she shuffles after him, like a toddler. As he reaches the top of the staircase he hears President Carmichael say, “Your mum looks terrible, Zipporah. What on Earth’s wrong?”

When they get to Issy’s room Claire’s steps become more purposeful and Ian stands on the landing and watches as she crosses the room and crawls back into the bottom bunk. He waits until she pulls the covers over her head, then he folds the card in two and slides it into his trouser pocket.

“Mum’s not lazy,” Jacob is saying as Ian approaches the living room. Zipporah is still standing in the doorway and he has to squeeze past her in order to sit down.

“Of course not,” Brother Stevens replies in his loud, emphatic American voice. “Your mom is kinda sick right now, huh? And I’m guessing you guys could use some help.”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Ian says.

“Aw, come on, Bishop. We’re here on behalf of the Lord, as His servants, and I’m sure He’d want you to know that accepting service is as important as giving it. How about I tell Sister Stevens to organize some more Relief Society meals?”

“Yes!” Alma thumps the air with both fists.

Brother Stevens grins at Alma and they high-five each other.

“How long do you think you need, Bishop? Has Sister Bradley had a blessing? Do you think a blessing might make her feel better?” Brother Stevens’s voice drops to a whisper, which Ian assumes is for the sake of the children, though they can still hear. “Is she, do you think—she seems kinda
depressed?”

Ian looks at the children, at President Carmichael, and finally at Brother Stevens.
“Are you honest in your dealings with your fellow men?”
—the question pops into his head as he tries to think of a reply. What
is
wrong with Claire? She’s not grieving properly. She isn’t behaving like a pioneer. She’s lying down on a shoulder of her life’s path and he doesn’t know how to make her get up again. He can’t say any of that.

“She’s so … tired,” he says. “She can’t—she can’t sleep.”

“Aha.” Brother Stevens is pleased with the answer. He nods his head. “Sleep deprivation—it’s been used as a kind of torture, hasn’t it?”

“She’ll be a lot better when she can sleep properly.” Ian is aware of Alma’s hard gaze and the anxious bunching of Jacob’s brow. He doesn’t even look at Zipporah.

“There’s great purpose in the struggle of life,” President Carmichael says.

Brother Stevens nods and Ian forces himself to join in.

“I’ll tell Ashlee about the food as soon as I get home,” Brother Stevens promises. “Can we have a prayer with you before we go, Bishop?”

W
HEN
A
LMA AND
Jacob are in bed, Zipporah approaches him.

“Dad,” she says, and he knows what it’s going to be.

“What?”

“I think Mum should go to the doctor’s.”

He bristles, has to stop himself from saying it’s none of her business.

“I told her you said she had to get up. I asked her to get dressed and she didn’t—she wasn’t listening properly, it was like she couldn’t even hear what I was saying. I tried to stop her from coming downstairs like that, but I couldn’t.”

“Things will get better.”

“How?”

“It’s time for you to go bed.”