Page 51 of His Elder

We moved in silence, gathering our things under Kempton's watchful gaze. My hands shook as I folded my white shirts, as I packed my scriptures and journal. This was it. The moment everything came crashing down.

Fifteen minutes later, we followed Kempton out of the apartment. He walked between us, ensuring we couldn't speak to each other, couldn't even look at each other.

As we descended the stairs into the Barcelona evening, I realized I might never see this apartment again. Never wake up to Eli's alarm. Never sit across from him at the small kitchen table.

Never feel his arms around me in the dark.

I was about to lose everything, and the thought that brokeme—the one I couldn't untangle from the shame—was that I might never sleep beside him again. Not the transgression itself, though that memory was seared into me. But the after. The quiet intimacy of his breath against my shoulder, his warmth against my back, the safety of being held.

I was about to lose everything, and all I could mourn was him.

15

SAMUEL

The mission office sat on Carrer de Balmes, a sleek building that had always felt sterile to me. We'd reported here for interviews, for transfers, for zone conferences. But never like this. Never escorted by an APN like criminals.

Kempton marched us through the glass doors into the lobby. The receptionist—a local member named Sister Roig—glanced up and her welcoming smile faltered when she saw our faces, saw Kempton's rigid posture.

"President Dalton is expecting us," Kempton said.

She nodded, picking up the phone. I couldn't hear the conversation. The blood was rushing too loudly in my ears.

Eli stood three feet away from me, close enough that I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set. He hadn't looked at me since we left the apartment. I wanted to reach for him, to take his hand, to tell him I was sorry. For what, I wasn't entirely sure. For getting caught? For not beingbrave enough to walk away from the Church months ago? For pulling him into this disaster?

The elevator ride to the third floor was silent. Kempton stood between us like a wall. When the doors opened, President Dalton was waiting in the hallway outside his office.

He looked older than I remembered. Tired. His grey hair was neatly combed, his shirt pressed, his tie perfectly knotted. But his eyes—warm, fatherly eyes that had blessed me and set me apart as a missionary—now held something I couldn't read.

"Elder Price. Elder Vance." His voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse. "Thank you, Elder Kempton. I'll take it from here."

Kempton hesitated. "President, I should stay—"

"That won't be necessary." Dalton's tone remained kind but firm. "Please return to your district. I'll contact you when I need you."

Kempton's jaw tightened, but he nodded. He shot one last look at us—contempt for Eli, something almost pitying for me—and then disappeared down the hallway.

President Dalton gestured toward two chairs against the wall. "Please, sit. I'll speak with each of you separately. Elder Price, I'll speak with you first."

I followed him on legs that didn't feel like my own and walked into the office.

The room was exactly as I remembered it. A large desk, neatly organized. Scriptures on the shelf. A painting of Christ in Gethsemane on the wall, his face turned upward in agony. Two chairs sat across from the desk—one for the missionary, one for the president.

President Dalton closed the door and gestured for me to sit. I did, my hands gripping the armrests.

He settled into his chair with a sigh and folded his handson the desk. For a long moment, he simply looked at me. Not with anger or disgust, but with something that looked almost like sorrow.

"Elder Price," he said gently. "Samuel. How are you feeling right now?"

The kindness in his voice broke something inside me. I'd been prepared for anger, for condemnation. Not this.

"I—" My voice cracked. "I don't know."

He nodded. "This must be very difficult for you. I want you to know that I love you. That Heavenly Father loves you. Nothing you say in this room will change that."

Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back.

"I need to ask you some questions," President Dalton continued. "And I need you to answer them honestly. Not for my sake, but for yours. The only way forward—the only way to heal—is through complete honesty and repentance. Do you understand?"