The vapor from my breath in the chill air was like a ghost, haunting the space between us.
When I met Mrs. Hobson, I saw in her the kind of mother I had never known yet yearned for deep inside. She was ordinary in an extraordinary way.
When Elders Roberts & Johnson were transferred out, our friendship with the missionaries ceased. Dinner appointments were no more.
Sister Wiley was the elders’ new “missionary mom,” even as Mother became the mother to us she had never been.
It was a curious feeling, knowing we had interrupted something we could not have possibly understood, for the people involved were all wrong.
The elders called themselves “The Stripling Warriors,” we were “The People of Ammon.” “The Crusaders for Christ” was but one voice in the wilderness.
Sister Wiley was the celestial body which the elders of the Green Haven & Pensacola wards revolved around—a thin, aging Ursula Andress.
Sister Wiley was the Mormon Mrs. Robinson, & under her tutelage, confused elders had become confused no more.
I murmured that I was going to tell the Bishop, even though I knew he would never believe me, for I feared he loved her, too.
I knew it not then, but beyond the scope of my understanding, there were things going on that would undo me & the life I was beginning to know.