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Show All the Variables & Other Love Storiesl30 mulched, and fertilized, the flowerbeds weeded and checked for pests, and sometimes the trees needed pruning. The Bishop said not to bother watering-he'd do that himself-but there was wood chips to throw and a pool to clean and so forth, and by the time it was all on accounts I was fairly smote. ' "Toward summer's end you'll mind the young fruit trees. If the fruit gets too heavy it'll break the branches," The Bishop told me. "Only don't eat them. They're not ripe yet, and you'll get sick if you do." Come summertime Sister Hearthway laid on a lawn chair next to the pool sun tanning the whole while I did the job. She brought lotions and oils and sunglasses, sometimes the Top 40 station on a small radio, sometimes homemaker magazines. She wore a classy one-piece swimsuit striped red and white like a peppermint, and smiled at me politely but never said a word. She'd just bake to a nice color on the front, flip over and bake the back, and when she heard me gathering the equipment to clean the pool she'd take her things in the house. Most times I forgot she was there. Of an afternoon she called to me where I crouched weeding high up the terrace. She'd brought out sun-tea with sugar and asked for company. She asked me about Mom and Dad, how I got in trouble, how I liked it with Aunt Davina and Uncle Boss, did I enjoy what I learnt at school, how was summer vacation, did I like the ward, and so forth. She said she admired the courage it took to make like the prodigal son, humble and ready to be cleansed in the gospel's love. We had something in common since she'd gone through the same thing when she was a few years older than I. She'd had a sweetheart, and if d gone farther than it ought. She'd been a hellion then, she said, of the variety that thought she knew the world better |