The Promise

“Is this the Mormon class?”

All 19 of us in that early-morning seminary class turned and stared at the guy in the doorway. I smelled traces of cigarettes. He was wearing a pair of loose-fitting black Levi’s, high-tops, and a Chicago Bulls T-shirt. His light-brown hair was trimmed and cut short, but he sported what looked like a three-day growth of beard.

Sister Batson, our new seminary teacher, nodded and asked, “Are you looking for someone?”

The guy coughed nervously. He was handsome in a rough kind of way. “Can just anybody show up here?”

Sister Batson glanced at the rest of us. “Do you want to come in?” He hesitated, then took a couple of cautious steps into our small, cramped classroom.

“You can sit next to Brookley Reeves,” she invited, pointing to me. He peered at me and then looked quickly away when I smiled a silent greeting. He dropped into the desk next to mine. “We’re just finishing introductions,” Sister Batson said with a smile. “I guess you’re next.”

A long, tense ten-second silence followed, during which time no one moved and Sister Batson struggled to maintain her smile. “Wade,” he finally spoke. “Jarom Wade.”

“Jarom?” Sister Batson asked, surprised. “A Book of Mormon name.”

Jarom coughed, his cheeks coloring. “My mom named me after a Mormon missionary,” he muttered.

Jarom didn’t speak again during class. However, moments after Sister Batson started her lesson, he put his head down and went to sleep, causing a flicker of irritation to smolder inside me. We already had one of the rowdiest seminary classes in the whole Church. Rhett Torbett and his two buddies Randy Blaine and Tony Baze made sure of that.

The next day Jarom was absent. I was glad because I didn’t think Sister Batson needed him snoring while the others disrupted. “Where’s the new kid?” Rhett called out between the devotional hymn and the prayer.

“He’s in my seventh-hour weight lifting class,” Marvin Drake volunteered from across the room. “I don’t know why he showed up here yesterday.”

“Is he any good?” Rhett questioned.

“I think he smokes,” Tony volunteered, snickering and shaking his head.

“Gentlemen,” Sister Batson interrupted, “Carla’s ready to pray.”

“Not that kind of good,” Rhett grumbled. “In weights.”

“He wants to break Stan Brady’s bench-press record,” Marvin grinned.

“Not a chance,” Rhett returned doubtfully. “Brady’s record’s been on the board seven years.”

“Yesterday Wade was only 15 pounds from it.”

“Do you guys mind?” I snapped, fuming at their blatant rudeness. “We’re trying to pray.”

Rhett glared back at me but did quiet down.

Monday morning as Sister Batson struggled to start class, competing against Rhett, I caught the distinct odor of cigarettes. About then Rhett blurted out, “All right, who’s got the smokes and isn’t passing them around?”

As soon as the words were out, Jarom dropped into the desk next to me, his cheeks burning. I wanted to say something, anything, to take the sting out of Rhett’s thoughtless accusation. But my mind went blank. A moment later, Jarom put his head down and mentally checked out of class.

At the end of the period, I casually bumped my history book, and it thudded loudly on the floor. Jarom stirred and lifted his head.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jarom look in my direction. “Thanks,” he said unexpectedly. He took a quick breath and let it out in a laugh. “I would have slept clear through first and second hours. That’s what happens when you work late.”

I stood up and together we started the two blocks to the high school. For the first little while we didn’t say anything. I felt a little stupid walking with somebody and not talking, so I tried to make conversation. “I’m glad you’re in our class.”

Jarom laughed. “Yeah, I got that impression when I first walked in. But I don’t smoke,” he added indifferently. “My aunt gave me a ride this morning and she does.”

“Rhett wasn’t trying to be mean or anything,” I said without conviction. “It’s just that it’s so strange to smell smoke in the church and …” I felt myself stuffing my foot in my mouth so I cut myself off.

“After last Monday I decided not to go back to your Mormon class.” I looked over at him. “But I made a promise a while back.” He shrugged. “So I guess I’ll keep going.” He smiled and looked over at me. “But you’ll have to keep your book ready so I make it to first hour on time.”

“Why don’t you just stay awake? You might learn something.”

“I don’t know anything about you Mormons. And I don’t figure it’s going to do me much good to start cramming now.”

“What do you mean, you Mormons. Aren’t you Mormon?”

Jarom laughed out loud. “Heck no!” Nodding his head back toward the church, he remarked, “That’s the first Mormon meeting I’ve ever been to.”

“But your name. And the missionary that taught your mom.”

“It’s a long story.”

The next morning in seminary Jarom’s head went down before the opening prayer was over. But at the end of class, he and I walked to school together, something we did from then on.

Two or three weeks later, as we walked to school, I decided to be bold and ask Jarom something that had been bothering me. “Could I ask you something?” He glanced at me. “Promise you won’t get mad?”

He chuckled. “You’re the one who wants to ask the question. I don’t have to promise anything. But I doubt I’ll get mad,” he added cheerfully.

“Why do you always sleep in seminary?”

Looking away, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and pushed his hands into his back pockets. “What makes you think I always sleep?”

“The snoring’s a dead giveaway,” I teased him. “At least you don’t drool.”

“Actually I listen. Sometimes.” He grinned. I mean, I’m not hanging on every word or anything like that. Half the time I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.”

“Then why do you come?” I burst out, exasperated. I caught myself. “I didn’t mean it that way. I like you to come.”

He seemed genuinely surprised. “I thought you were interested in Rhett Torbett, not some guy who stumbles in off the street.”

I laughed. “He’s only interested in really gorgeous girls. I don’t qualify.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he mused playfully, nudging me with his elbow.

I could feel a pink shade of embarrassment warm my cheeks. I looked away. “Why do you come to seminary? Seriously.”

He thought for a long time. “It’s the last thing I promised my mom,” he said softly. “She was dying, and I didn’t even know what I was promising her.” Without looking at me, he asked, “Does that sound dumb?” Before I could respond, he added, “She wasn’t Mormon but had wanted to be. That was right after she married my dad. He didn’t want her to. She regretted that.”

“And she named you after one of the missionaries?”

He nodded. “Mom and Dad got divorced when I was seven. I don’t know where he is. He just took off.” He shrugged. “Mom used to talk about the Mormons. She said she felt something with the missionaries. She probably figured I’d feel something in seminary.” He shook his head. “I haven’t. I can’t even get a good sleep.”

“Don’t judge the Church on our seminary class. What Sister Batson is teaching is true. Listen instead of sleeping. It’ll make a difference.”

Even before class started the next day, Rhett was cracking jokes and cutting other students down. Jarom leaned over, smiled wryly, and whispered, “This isn’t the day that’s going to make a difference.” He put his head down.

“It’d make a difference if you did something too. That’s why your mom made you promise,” I retorted warmly.

That day the class was a disaster. Rhett and Randy both sang loudly off key during the devotional hymn. Rhett muttered wisecracks through Cindy Mason’s spiritual thought while Randy snickered his approval. They even laughed in the prayer. It didn’t matter how Sister Batson pleaded and reasoned with them; they wouldn’t cooperate. Halfway through the lesson the two of them started laughing out loud after making a rude comment. I wanted to walk over and slap them both.

“Torbett,” a voice barked, “shut up or get out.” Startled, I turned to see Jarom glowering at Rhett.

Rhett’s laughter faded. “What’s it to you, Wade?” he sneered. “Did we wake you up from your morning nap?”

Slowly Jarom pushed up from his desk and strolled stiffly to where Rhett sat. Rhett stood up, prepared for the challenge while Sister Batson and the rest of us held our breath. “If you don’t want to listen,” Jarom said in a low, cold, cutting voice, “get out so somebody else can.”

“All you do is sleep, Wade. Isn’t that rude? Have you been listening?”

Jarom considered the accusation. “All right, I won’t sleep and you shut up.” They glared at each other. Jarom returned to his desk, sitting up in his chair. The rest of the period was quiet.

“Thanks for what you did back there,” I ventured as we left the church. I bit down on my lower lip. “I’m sorry what I said about your promise.”

He shrugged. “It was true. Rhett was right too.” He grinned. “Now I’ve promised Rhett I’ll stay awake.” He looked at me. “Why do you Mormons have to do this seminary thing so early in the morning?”

“You Mormons?” I asked. “You’re Mormon but don’t know it yet.”

“Fat chance.”

Seminary changed after that. A few days later Rhett started to get out of hand. Jarom grumbled from the back, “I’m still awake, Torbett.”

I don’t know when I started liking Jarom as more than just a friend. Maybe the first day. But the more I was around Jarom, the more I liked him. I didn’t date much, so it was nice to have someone to hang around with. One lunch hour he asked me to the Iron Man’s Ball, a dance sponsored by the school’s weight lifting club.

After I accepted, I began to wonder how I’d explain Jarom to Mom and Dad. They’d always taught me to date LDS guys. I decided on a subtle strategy.

“Do you ever go to church?” I asked him one day.

“Not that I remember. Why?”

“Why don’t you?” I quickly added. “You’d like it.”

He grinned. “I don’t think I’d fit in.”

“Come to a fireside. There’s one Sunday.”

“Fireside? What the heck’s a fireside?”

I laughed and explained it to him. “My dad’s our bishop, and he’s giving the talk. He’d be impressed if you showed up.”

Sunday evening I was nervous, not sure how Jarom would come dressed. He showed up in a pair of white Levi’s, a pale blue dress shirt, and a tie. And he had shaved.

“Mom and Dad, this is Jarom Wade.”

Dad shook his hand warmly. “Jarom’s a good Book of Mormon name.”

Before Dad could ask him anything else, I explained, “Jarom’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who settled our seminary class down.”

Before Mom and Dad could ask any personal questions, I hurried Jarom out of the house. But things started unraveling at the fireside. Dad spoke about the last thing I wanted Jarom to hear—dating! And he managed to say all the wrong things, talking hard about not dating before you’re 16, not dating nonmembers, no steady dating, and on and on. It’s not that I disagreed with Dad. I just didn’t know if Jarom would understand.

After the fireside Jarom drove me home. As he helped me out of the car, he asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

We were both quiet for the first half block. Jarom was the first to speak. “Your dad made sense tonight.” He chuckled. “I finally understood something that a Mormon was teaching.”

“He says what he thinks,” I said, blushing in the darkness.

Jarom didn’t answer right away. “He doesn’t know I’m not Mormon, does he? I guess my name and my going to seminary threw him off.” I stared ahead, suddenly nervous. “But you knew it would, didn’t you?”

“I haven’t lied about you, Jarom,” I came back defensively.

“But he’s thinking one thing, and I’m thinking something else.” He hunched his shoulders. “I shouldn’t take you to the Iron Man’s Ball.”

“Jarom, Dad didn’t say that,” I spoke out, feeling hurt.

“I want to go,” Jarom said softly. “You’re probably the first girl I’ve really wanted to go with. But I have to be fair to your dad too.” He pondered a moment. “I don’t have much, Brookley. Mom’s gone. I don’t know where Dad is. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I don’t have much money. But I can still say I’m honest. I can still make a promise and have it mean something. Mom taught me that. That’s why I get up every morning and sit through your Mormon seminary. Because of a promise.”

When we walked back to the house, Dad was just pulling into the driveway. He jumped out of the car, spotted us, and invited us into the house so we could get out of the heat. We sat in the living room and talked with Mom and Dad while some of the younger kids hung around a bit. I could tell Jarom felt awkward and wanted to speak but wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Mr. Reeves,” Jarom finally said, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs, “I liked your speech tonight.” He shifted uneasily on the sofa.

“Bishop Haroldson probably gives you the same speech in your ward.”

Jarom glanced at me, then at Dad. “I don’t know Bishop Haroldson. I’m not Mormon.” I could tell Mom and Dad were surprised. “With a name like Jarom, you probably figured I was. And I go to seminary.” He looked at his hands and explained briefly how he’d ended up in seminary and how he’d agreed with Rhett to stay awake and listen. “I know how you feel about Brookley going out with guys like me.”

The room was quiet while Dad thought. “A promise means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Jarom nodded. “Do you believe what you hear in seminary?”

“I haven’t had a chance to really process all of it. It’s still pretty new. I don’t disbelieve it.”

“Will you make another promise?”

“Depends on the promise.”

“Keep listening to Sister Batson. With your heart and your ears.”

Jarom considered the request. “I don’t know that I’ve ever listened with my heart. I’m not sure I know how.”

Dad smiled. “I don’t think somebody makes promises like you’ve made without listening to his heart.”

Jarom considered that a moment and then nodded once. “You have my word then.” He took a deep breath and stood up. He held his hand out to Dad, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now I guess I better head home and get to bed or I’m going to have a hard time staying awake in seminary tomorrow.”