*****007:

Okay.

This was it.

I was exhausted. Utterly beat.

The patio was full--- and Kell—the Disruptor was the center of attention.

Outside this fine May night was balmy, beautiful, dusky rose, and the sunset had faded to eternal softness, stars and airplanes twinkled, and the glorious sounds of the waves permeated my senses like a gentle susurrus of consistency.

I sat on my lounge chair, my feet up, Rafe behind me, his legs framing mine, and his hands rubbing my belly so tenderly and comfortingly. Ben had Rein, asleep in his arms, and he looked contented for the first time in months. Lance had his kids all around him, and he too looked absolutely satisfied. And the rest of the kids were scattered around, and all--- I repeat all--- not one was breathing a disrespectful or bored self-involved whisper-hiss to anyone else. Kell had them enthralled.

He'd started with a game that led to a hunt that led to a story that led now to a puppet show. His presentation was about grief.

He and Maille owned as one of their many side businesses a final care facility in Salt Lake City. It was a hospice care center for terminally ill children. They understood grief. They lived it, breathed it, worked with it.

And it ended with us all singing As I Have Loved You Love One Another, with Josh offering a closing prayer.

The kids did not jump right up. They seemed stuck in aesthetic aftereffect.

And I was too languid to care.

Maille, my lovely sister, began to rally her troops. With infant in arms she shooed them all away, hugs and kisses all around. Abbie and Jeremy in soft, safe, security and understanding moved our kids and Lance's off toward their beds, signaling that this was perfectly fine for them, while Lance pulled his chair closer and Ben adjusted Rein's sleepy weight, reluctant to give him up. Nothing like cuddling a sleeping toddler when you're heart sore. Especially if your arm is comfortably propped up.

"He is one amazing actor." Ben whistled low, giving a slow nod, his longer tawny hair brushing his shoulders and Rein's face. I could see the outline of guy muscles, under the tightly pulled t-shirt. Ben was a good looking man--- attractive, interesting, compassionate and talented. Why hadn't he been able to find a girl?

Rafe chuckled. "He's refined in ways I never will understand. Where did he get all that empathy?"

I leaned my head against his arm, and looked upside down into his eyes.

"It comes with true conviction. He is one hundred percent committed to his course, and everything he does keeps that in mind."

"And what course is that?" Ben asked.

"God, His Wife, His family, the church. In that order." Rafe said for me. Not that we'd talked exactly about that, but it was obvious if you understood Kell.

Ben was shaking his head. "Yeah, but how did he get there? He has a woman."

That was true, and Kell would be the first to admit it. No one had anything to say to that. This church, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ was for everyone, but no one disputed that it was easier to live if you had a companion.

"You know--- I've forgotten so much about the church." Lance said. "And this lesson wasn't about the church a whole lot, mostly about coping with grief, and I really got a lot out of it, it was so timely and inspired, I feel like he was genuinely inspired and the kids--- well, all of us, really needed to hear it." We could all hear the but, in his tone. So we waited. Lance ran a hand through his short close-cropped black hair, around his facial scruff, and down his throat, as if scratching an annoying itch. "That said: I am curious about something. Can anyone tell me who the freak is Joseph Smith? I don't mean to be rude or sound stupid, I know he's a big part of your church, but I'd rather hear it from you guys, and I've literally forgotten."

I blinked slowly, seeing as he was looking right at me, as if the church were my exclusive domain, even though all four of us were members.

Rafe wriggled behind me. "You know Moses?"

"Yeah. Red Sea dude."

"And say, Noah?"

"Yeah, rained forty days dude."

"And say--- Abraham?"

"Yes, Rafe, I know all of them. Old Testament prophets."

"Look this up on your phone, Old Testament dude."

"Look up what?"

"Amos 3:7."

He waited, yawning, stroking my shoulder, and neck.

Lance located the Bible on his phone and went to the assigned verse. Then he read, "Surely the Lord God will do nothing but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets." He looked up. "You're telling me that Joseph Smith---- Smith--- really?--- was/ is a prophet? Like Moses?"

Rafe nodded against me, not offering much else. He'd answered the question. I could see his tattoos moving against my bare arms in the pale light. His skin was soft, sure, gentle.

"Like Noah." Lance scoffed skeptically.

"Well....." Rafe drawled. "Not like Noah, from what I understand each prophet, in each dispensation or time period in which they live has their own special mission. No other prophet has been asked to part the red sea, or build an ark."

"So, what was Joseph Smith's special mission?"

"To restore the gospel of Jesus Christ that had been lost through apostasy in the dark ages--- to the earth, when the time was right, to usher in the millennium, and the second coming of the Lord." Rafe could remember things by rote so easily, I really envied him.

"Restore the gospel." Lance repeated. "So, you're saying this church, the Mormon church is not a new church, and not a break off of any other religion, and it wasn't established by a scholarly disagreement. You're saying that this guy became a prophet like Noah and Moses, and then God--- the Almighty Omnipotent Supreme being--- revealed----." He choked on the word and couldn't go on.

Rafe's brows rose. "You okay, bro?"

"Yeah, it's just a little hard to swallow. I know a little about religions, how they started, who started them. But none of them that I'm aware of claim to be revealed by God--- rather they were in direct opposition to established doctrine heralding directly out of the original church Jesus set up in Jerusalem. They all believe in Jesus, and they don't agree on points of doctrine."

Rafe shrugged and leaned forward, hunching his chest over my back, his eyes staring imploringly into his brother's. "Dude. Jesus gave his Apostles authority to act in his name before he was crucified. That authority was taken when the last Apostle was killed or died. It had to be restored at some point."

"So God picked a little farm boy in New York to do it?"

"What's so weird about that? Half our population worships little kids like Taylor Swift, and Miley Cyrus, and Justin Beiber. Think how young they were when they started. Think how young we were. Hell, we were babies. And we had a voice. Why not pick a kid? Kids have incredible charisma, incredible opinions and drive. If I were God, I'd pick a kid too."

Lance sat back digesting that. Then he leaned forward and looked directly at me. "Do you believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet?"

I felt pinned to the chair, my heart thudded painfully. Was he going to rip my face off for it? What should I answer? "Yes."

"How do you know?"

I blinked. He knew I'd prayed, he'd seen me pray, heard my testimony on more than one occasion. That's not what he was asking. "By their fruits ye shall know them."

He sat back. "Fine."

"Read Joseph Smith's fruits. The Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, read his life story, find out for yourself, Lance. The Lord said, if any man will do his will he will know of the doctrines, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." I shrugged, not wanting to sound preachy or like a know-it-all. "If you really want to know, you'll have to put out a little effort. Pick a commandment and start doing it, read and study and see for yourself."

"Rafe—have you done that? Studied it out for yourself?"

Rafe shook his head. "No, bro--- I didn't, I haven't. It didn't come like that for me. Aubrey reads to me from the scriptures every night and we read to our kids every morning. And I go to church, and I freaking listen, and I do things, I go help people, and I try to follow Christ. That's how I know. I can feel it, deeper than if anyone had preached it at me. But you gotta do what you gotta do."

Lance bit his lips, his eyes were tortured, because he knew he was up against his own trials and his own personal hell if he truly wanted to find out.

"But if you want my help, Lance, you know I'm here for you. You don't have to go it alone. I'll read with you, I'll pray with you, whatever you want, okay?" This was me, but Rafe was nodding in agreement. Ben sat very still looking at the ground. I could tell something was dreadfully wrong, but it wasn't the time to ask what.

Lance finally looked up. "This has been nice, guys, thanks. I think I'm going to turn in now."

"Do you want to pray?" I asked him.

"No." He said quickly and then softened it with a very real smile. "Not right now, maybe someday, but not right now."

******