Green Haven wasn’t Florida, & it wasn’t Alabama. It was Deep South, Florabama—a world of its own. When the Mormons came, it finally became our home.
David looked at his sparkling water glass as though the answers to all of life’s quandaries were there—as unmuddied as the glass.
We three celebrated our conversion, but Caitlin was not with us. I didn’t know it then, but that night was a foreshadowing of our family’s future.
David had gotten baptized to be close to Mother, I, to Elder Roberts. How lucky Caitlin was to be a child—to love no one that deeply.
We lifted our glasses, clinking them, the sound rippling through the room in endless echoes, signaling the beginning of the life to come.
Tony Schafer followed the admonition of St. Paul, that it was “better to marry than to burn with passion,” even as Brigham Young said any unmarried man over 25 was a “menace to society.”
Sister Wiley spied me over her punch cup as I brought Elder Roberts a slice of cake as an offering—not of peace, but of mortal love.
He called me his Katryn, but I believed that even after we married, he would always be Elder Roberts to me.
I’d met Elder Roberts at the right time, but in the wrong place; I couldn’t see him anywhere but here, where I would still be close to David.