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Show 6 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 leamt 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 it'd gone farther than it ought. She'd been a hellion then, she said, of the variety that thought she knew the world better than did her parents or even the Prophet's word. She used to have dreams about doing something bad to the ward house, nothing particular, just something horrible, like spray painting naughty words in the chapel, or setting it on fire. "You must think I'm a monster!" she kept saying through her fingers, but I couldn't see reason for embarrassment. I knew from experience bad thoughts to be common for a troubled youth, and told her so. She'd believed in her sweetheart, and he'd let her down, something the church had never done. Seeing now her world crumbled for love of a false hero she returned post-haste to the Lord's plan for eternal salvation, never to doubt again, and never to look |