CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (25 page)

Water Temp:
tepid

Bottom Time:
all afternoon

Comments:

As I drive home from Aunty’ Jaz’s and all the next day while I’m diving, I keep thinking about what Leesie told me. To become a Mormon I have to believe in Jesus Christ. Not just that he was a great man who taught stuff that changed the world—for good or ill—depending on your point of view. I have to believe He’s God’s son—a God himself—my brother. And He came to save me. From what I’m not sure. I need to ask Leesie.

Leesie says God and Jesus aren’t some indescribable divine force. Joseph Smith saw them. They have physical bodies. What about the Holy Spirit? How does He fit in?

And there’s this huge hole in Leesie’s logic. If God is literally the father of our spirits, don’t we need a mother up there, too? Is that supposed to be Mary? But how could she be Jesus’s mother on earth while she was being a mother in heaven? That’s kind of a heavy load for one, young Jewish chick.

I only have to work the morning. After I unload the dive boat, I grab a sandwich and head out. When I get to Aunty Jaz’s, Leesie’s in the front clipping the giant bougainvilleas that overwhelm the shack.

“Ouch.” She yells and drops the clippers. “These things have thorns!” She shoves her thumb in her mouth.

“Yeah. You need gloves.”

She kicks at the clippers. “And better clippers.”

“Want me to help?” I look at the mess she’s making. “We used to have these in Phoenix.”

“I don’t know.” She takes a few steps back and surveys her progress. “It seems hopeless.”

I slide my arm around her waist. “We can do it together.” I kiss her, and she squirms.

“Gross. I’m all sweaty.”

I kiss her again. “I like sweaty.”

She claps her hands over her ears and starts humming a tune that sounds like something they sang in church Sunday.

I laugh and release her. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

“Really?” She slaps at a mosquito on my arm. “We need more bug spray, too.”

Leesie washes up quick while I take cover from the mosquitoes with Aunty Jaz on the screened porch.

“That girl doesn’t stop—does she?”

I sit beside Aunty Jaz. “Not when she gets her mind set on something.”

Aunty Jaz looks back to make sure Leesie’s still inside, leans over and whispers, “She’s been busy at that computer late at night and early in the morning. She won’t read any of it to me, though.”

“Me, neither.” It’s good to hear Leesie’s working on her poetry. She’s progressing faster than I expected. We still haven’t had a chance to talk more about the accident—too busy with all this God stuff. It’ll come. The right time.

“How are you doing with that Book of Mormon?”

I lower my voice. “I got stuck. Leesie’s helping me. Is that allowed?”

Aunty Jaz’s face splits wide with a smile. “Of course. So that’s why she gave me that big kiss last night.”

I give her a big kiss on the cheek, too.

Leesie catches us. “Are you trying to steal my fiancé?”

Aunty Jaz slaps my back. “I’ve turned his head, sweetie. I have that affect.”

Leesie takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Mind if I try to win him back?”

“You can try.” She winks at me.

Leesie winds her fingers through mine. “We’ll be back in a couple hours. You’ll be okay?”

“My nurse arrives shortly.”

“We can stay until she comes.”

Aunty Jaz shoos us with both hands. “Get along.”

As soon as we’re on the road driving towards Georgetown, Leesie bites her lower lip and folds her hands in her lap. “You have questions?”

“Yeah.” I swallow. My thoughts are in a jumble. “First, how does the Holy—”

“—Ghost?”

“—fit in?”

“He’s the third member of the Godhead.”

“With God and Jesus?” I glance over at her. She nods. I look back at the road. “Why do you call him a ghost? That’s weird.”

“He doesn’t have a physical body like Jesus and Heavenly Father so He can communicate with our spirits.”

“Okay. Whatever. You know, this whole Heavenly Father thing has a big problem. Who’s the mother?”

“We don’t know.”

“You need a goddess up there. Think about it, babe. Maybe we should check out a goddess church next?”

“No need. We do believe there’s a mother in heaven.”

“I got it—Mary.”

“No. She’s Jesus earthly mother.”

“And Joseph’s his father—so how is he different than everyone else?”

“Check your Bible stories, hon. Joseph wasn’t his father.

Mary was a virgin, remember?”

Not really. Never read the stuff. “So it was like magic?”

“Miraculous. God’s power. Not Magic. You read the scriptures about it yesterday. The spirit overshadowed Mary and then she was pregnant. Mary says ‘great things’ were done to her.”

“You’re saying she slept with God?”

“I’m saying we don’t know the details. But she’s called a handmaid of the Lord. In the Old Testament handmaids bore children for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They became wives.”

“Wives?” I frown, confused. “You think God’s a polygamist? I have to believe that?”

“No. I’m guessing here. God made the rules. His relationship with Mary wasn’t based on sin. All you have to believe is Jesus was His son.”

“Not a fast-talking Jewish girl’s bas—”

“Don’t say that.” She grabs my arm. “It hurts.” She presses her hand to her heart.

“I’m sorry.” We drive in silence a couple miles, reach the outskirts of Georgetown, and traffic slows up. We get stopped at a red light. I turn to her. “You believe all this stuff—literally?”

“Yes.” She meets my searching gaze.

I shake my head. “I’ve never heard you pray to a
Mother
in Heaven.”

“No. We pray to the Father in the Son’s name.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jesus takes our prayers to the Father and pleads for us.”

“And what does the mother do?”

“We don’t know for sure. I think she’s there, part of everything—sharing like parents do.”

“Are you making this up?”

Leesie’s voice takes on an intense tone. “It’s very sacred doctrine.”

“So we were one big happy God family?” Sounds more like sci-fi than religion.

“In heaven? Before we came to earth? Very big. Mostly happy.”

I lean back and shake my head. “How could perfect, allpowerful God-parents make their children live in such a horrible place? Suffer like—” Me. And her.

“We chose to come here. Fought for the privilege.”

“Fought? Who?”

“Our other brother.”

We’re at the store, so the question I have about that gets lost in buying mega-clippers, two pairs of thick gloves, six different types of mosquito killer, and a giant bag of potato chips.

Leesie naps on the drive back to Aunty Jaz’s, so we don’t get back to our private discussion until late that night when Leesie kisses me goodnight and whispers, “Did I freak you earlier today with the Heavenly Mother stuff?”

“Nope.” I smooth my hand over her furry head. “It’s no stranger than everything else.”

“It’s why the temple is so important.” She can see I’m not following. “The family is a divine entity. The heart of everything in heaven and earth.”

“So you need to stick them together?” I stroke her cheek.

“Seal them.” She presses her lips into my palm.

I hug her close. “Why isn’t it automatic?” It should be. People who love each other should be together forever if they want to be.

“Nothing’s automatic.” She leans her face onto my hand. “God’s too good of a teacher to go for that.”

“He’s God.” I crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “He could cut us some slack.”

“If this is a test”—she touches her nose to mine—“he’s got to make it hard enough for us to grow.” She kisses me and retreats to the doorway. “Have you prayed?”

I shake my head.

She blows me a kiss. “Try.”

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #98, I CAN?

I blew it.

I blew it.

I’m sure that I blew it.

Too much, too fast,

too little, too slow.

I bungled it all

in a mixed up jumble.

He thinks it’s crazy.

I wish he’d let me

call in the elders.

They could stop by

tomorrow to help

with the yard.

Service Project.

He’d see through that

and never speak to me

again.

Maybe he already won’t speak

to me. Did I really bring up

Heavenly intimacy?

I pull my hide-a-bed out of the couch,

hit my knees beside it,

weary the Lord with my whining.

“He says he wants me to teach him

like he taught me,

but, but, but—”

You can do this.

“I’m not a missionary.

I don’t know what I’m supposed

to teach him first or second.

What if I get something wrong?”

Just open your mouth.

“Really?”

A glorious, hopeful peace

blooms from my heart

and wafts warmth

to the panicked

doubt in my brain.

I crawl into bed,

curl under the sheet,

kick it off—get up,

readjust the fan,

sit on the edge

of my flimsy mattress,

staring at the black room

and chant,

“I think I can.

I think I can.

I can.

I can.

I can.”

Chapter 28

REALITIES

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie, then solo

Date:
06/30

Dive #:
--

Location:
Grand Cayman

Dive Site:
Jaz’s then the blow holes

Weather Condition:
clear

Water Condition:
decent breakers

Depth:
just beneath the surface

Visibility:
shining

Water Temp:
refreshing

Bottom Time:
hours with Leesie, a few minutes alone

Comments:

Long day. I teach pool and classroom sessions in the morning, and I’m out on the boat with the students all afternoon. I’m stuck filling bottles and fixing a reg after that while everyone else disappears.

I don’t make it to Aunty Jaz’s until after 9 PM. Leesie’s got the front outdoor lights blazing—she’s still clipping. She meets me at my car door. She’s all over me before I can even get all the way out. Doesn’t seem to care that she’s sweaty tonight. Not that I’m complaining.

I get my lips free for a minute, wipe a streak of dirt from her cheek. “Hey—this is sweet. What gives?”

“I waited and waited.” Her arms are scratched up from her long struggle with stubborn bougainvillea vines. “I thought maybe I’d come on too strong yesterday, and you’d flown off somewhere.”