Page 6 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)

The most well-known sect is The Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or FLDS, which is a group that still practices polygamy and has had documentaries made about them.

The group Pam and John joined is called the Remnant Movement.

I don’t know what exactly they believe because I haven’t done my research.

My dad has three sisters who live close by—Anna, Sheila, and Lisa—so they’re here, too, along with my grandparents on both sides.

I sit next to Izzy while we eat, trying to avoid my grandpa’s questions about my divorce. We chat about my work, her boyfriend, Luke, and her plans after graduation in a little less than two months.

“Luke and I both got into Utah Tech, Utah Valley, and The University of Texas at Austin and San Antonio. It’s just a matter of where we want to live.

The plus side of me going to UVU is in-state tuition and being able to live at home, but I don’t know if I want to do that with everything that’s happened.

If I move to Texas, I could probably live with Elli and commute, which isn’t ideal.

But it might be worth it to get away from here. ”

“If Wes is on the road, Elli might need someone to stay at her apartment anyway, so that might work out. It’s cool you guys will be going somewhere together, though,” I say, feeling a bit jealous of her.

I wish I could move away from here and start over.

Before Izzy can respond, my dad announces Jake is going to be opening his mission call now, and the chatter in the room stops.

I pull my phone out of my dress pocket to record and notice an unread text.

Morgan: Happy Sunday, Hannah. I hope it’s relaxing and fun!

I can’t help the smile on my face, it’s nice to have a friend even if I have no idea who she is.

Hannah: Happy Sunday to you, too. Relaxing? Not so much. Fun? Eeeehhhh. It’s alright. How is your Sunday going?

Morgan: Do you have work or something? It’s been very relaxing. I’ve been reading and lounging around with my cat.

Hannah : No work, just unpleasant activities. That sounds lovely. What book are you reading? What’s your cat’s name?

Morgan: That’s no fun! I’m reading Pride and Prejudice. His name is Bagel.

Morgan sends me a picture of a well worn copy of the book sitting against a gray striped cat curled into a ball.

Hannah: Awwww, cute kitty! That’s a good book! And it looks well-loved. Have you read it before?

Morgan : Bagel is the sweetest, unlike his asshole brother. It’s my go-to when I want an easy read. Helps calm me down, you know?

Morgan: And besides, who doesn’t want to swoon over Mr. Darcy? Book boyfriends never disappoint.

I hold in my laugh because Jake is reading his mission call, and people are recording. I tune back in just in time to hear him say “...called to serve in the Cape Verde Praia Mission, Portuguese speaking.”

The whole room erupts into cheers and sounds of wonder.

I have very strong—negative—opinions on missions, so I don’t cheer or “ooo” and “ahh” for my brother. I give him a thumbs up and a forced smile when he looks at me.

Hannah: Amen to that. I’d take a book boyfriend over a real one any day. Why is his brother an asshole?

Morgan : Bean hates me. And despises anything on the counter. Or the shelves. Or the coffee table.

Hannah : Maybe he’s just misunderstood?

Morgan: No, he’s not misunderstood. He’s just an asshole. I rescued him from an alley, and he repays me by biting my nipple if I’m shirtless.

Hannah: LOL stop.

The chuckle slips out this time, and Izzy nudges my arm. “Who’s got you laughing?”

“Oh, just someone telling me about their cats.” I shrug, putting my phone in the pocket of my dress.

“A boooy?” Izzy waggles her eyebrows, always the chaos stirrer.

“Ew, no. A girl. She texted the wrong number, and we kind of hit it off as friends.”

“Hmmm. Interesting how things work out.” Izzy shrugs, then goes back to texting.

I’m about to do the same, but her mom comes to sit by me instead.

“Hannah.” Louise gives me a curt nod. I swear her face is always in a permanent frown.

“Aunt Louise. How is Spencer doing?” I ask, knowing the topic of her son on his mission is safe territory.

“Oh, just wonderful,” she gushes, her lips tipping in a rare smile, happy to talk about her favorite child.

“He’s a zone leader now and has baptized ten people in the last two months!

We couldn’t be more proud of him and the work he’s doing.

How firm he is in the gospel.” Her eyes dart to Izzy disapprovingly. “Have you heard from Elliana recently?”

I internally groan. I knew this would happen, yet I’m still surprised.

I plaster on my best smile. “We chat occasionally. Wes’s stop in Salt Lake is next month, so it’ll be good to see them.”

Her nose wrinkles like Wes’s name smells bad. “She never mentioned stopping in Salt Lake.”

“You haven't talked to her since Spencer left so how would you know?” Izzy murmurs, still looking at her phone.

Aunt Louise’s face turns a shade of red, but instead of responding to Izzy, she excuses herself and walks away .

“She really hasn’t spoken to Elli in almost nine months?” I whisper to Izzy once her mom’s out of earshot.

Izzy looks at me and shakes her head sadly. “Every time I bring Elli up, or try to get my mom to talk to her, she shuts me down or pretends she doesn’t hear me. It’s like Elli doesn’t exist. She’s too stubborn and hard-headed to apologize, and Elli’s set a clear boundary.”

“That sucks, Izzy. I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. I—”

“Isabelle. Time to go,” Louise barks, interrupting Izzy.

Izzy’s posture stiffens, and the light playfulness that usually surrounds her dims.

“See you later, Han,” Izzy says, leaning in for a hug.

I squeeze her tight and whisper in her ear, “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Izzy nods once before she leaves, and my heart breaks a little bit for her. I wish I could do something to help her, but I wouldn’t know how. I only hope she can escape before the light in her dims completely.

The rest of the party goes on as it usually does with people congratulating Jake and saying how proud they are of him.

I’m proud of him, too, but not because he’s going to be playing white savior to the people of Cape Verde. I’m proud of how hard he’s worked in school and how kind he is to everyone.

Mormon missions are nothing but a waste of time and money for those who go.

My Grandpa Walter, the patriarch of the Monson family, hobbles over to me and wraps me in a hug that’s surprisingly strong for such a frail, old man. He always smells like pine and cedar—the nostalgic smells of working in his workshop.

“How are you holding up, my dear?” His voice always has a bit of a melodic lilt to it, like at any minute, he’s about to burst into song—which wouldn’t be surprising in the least.

I plaster on my best fake smile and look at him as best I can seeing as he hasn’t released me from his vice grip. “I’m hanging in there. Thanks, Grandpa.”

He hums, then steps back to put a hand on my shoulder and look me in the eyes.

Sometimes, I swear he can see straight through to my soul.

He’s what people call a “spiritual giant.” He and my grandma, Eileen, have been mission presidents twice.

He’s currently a stake patriarch—a Mormon version of a fortune teller—and a temple sealer.

He’s known for his words of wisdom, musical talents, and storytelling abilities.

“Liam was but a bump in the road to an extraordinary love, my dear Hannah. You’ll find someone whose dreams and values match your own, just as long as you remain true to who you are and never falter.

Live for truth, and the right man will see the way you shine. ” He ends his speech with a solemn nod.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I whisper, tears brimming my eyes for many reasons.

I know he means what he says, but he doesn't know my truths don’t align with his own anymore.

He wouldn’t tell me to live for truth if he knew I didn’t live, breathe, eat, sleep, and shit the gospel anymore.

If he knew my thoughts about Joseph Smith being a pedophile con artist who made his money by telling elaborate stories.

If he ever finds out, he’ll be extremely disappointed.

It’s a big reason why I haven’t publicly left, why I keep up the ruse.

“I love you, Hannah. Don’t hesitate to come visit. The garden will need tending soon, and I know how much you love weeding.” He gives me a playful nudge that evokes a genuine laugh.

I do love his garden. It’s gotten significantly smaller in recent years because he can’t keep up with it. When I was with Liam, we lived on the other side of town from my grandparents, and I’d spend my random days off helping in the garden and doing yard work when I could.

“I love you, too. Don’t hurt yourself trying to do it alone. You call if you need help.”

He scoffs. “I’m spry as a spring chicken. I still have many years left in me.”

I don’t believe him. His knees are both terrible, though he never uses his cane, but I don’t say that or point it out.

They’re the last to leave, and I help my mom clean up the remaining food, trash, and put the extra chairs and table leaf away. Then, I make my way down to my room to recharge my social battery before I work tomorrow.

I didn’t respond to Morgan’s last text—I wasn’t looking for a lecture from my mom about being glued to my phone—so I’m surprised to see another text from her.

Morgan: What do you do for work?

Morgan: Also, sorry if I’m bothering you. I could use some friends, and you seem to be pretty chill, but please tell me to fuck off if you need me to lol.

Hannah: You’re not bothering me :) I could use a friend, too. Sorry I didn’t respond, I was at a family gathering lol.

Hannah: I’m a librarian. What about you?

Morgan: That’s cool! I own a flower shop.

Hannah: Really? That’s fun! What’s your shop name? How did you get into that?

Morgan: Fowler’s Flowers. Original, I know. I’ve always thought plants were cool, and I worked at a flower shop in high school. I like the language of flowers and wanted to be part of that.

Hannah: That’s very cute lol. The language of flowers?

Morgan: Thank you! Oh, yeah. Like red camellias are for romance, pink ones mean the person is longing for the other, and white means that person thinks you’re adorable.

Hannah: Wow. Who knew flowers could mean something other than “sorry I forgot our anniversary two days ago?”

Morgan: Has that… happened a lot?

Hannah: My ex only bought me flowers when he thought he messed up. And he always got me red roses because he thought they were my favorite.

Morgan: At least he chose one that means love, I guess. If those aren’t your favorite, then what are?

Hannah: Sunflowers and daffodils.

Morgan: Ah, excellent choices. Sunflowers represent a long life and lasting happiness, and daffodils represent rebirth and new beginnings.

Hannah: Hm. Maybe if he’d gotten me sunflowers our relationship would have been happy, rather than depressing as fuck.

Morgan: lol maybe. I hope the next person you date brings you flowers you actually like.

Hannah: Thank you.

Morgan: It’s been good talking with you, Hannah. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so I’m going to go to sleep. Sweet dreams

I glance over at the clock and realize it’s almost ten. I’m usually asleep by now because I have the early shift at the library on Mondays.

Hannah: Thank you. You, too!

After I send the text, I put my phone on “do not disturb” and settle under the covers. I hope this friendship doesn’t fizzle out.