The next week DeAnne substituted for a Primary teacher-the Primary president's husband was one of the basses, and apparently when the Primary president was fretting about a teacher who was out of town, he must have said, "Why not ask the new sister to fill in? Sister-Fletcher, I think." And the following week Step substituted in gospel doctrine class. He had spoken up a couple of times in class the first two weeks, and word was getting around that he had a doctorate in history, which gave him great prestige in a mostly blue-collar ward, so it was only natural they gave him a try as teacher of the adult Sunday school class.

During the next week, the bishop called DeAnne and set up an appointment for her and Step to come see him. Saturday was the only day she could count on Step being home at any reasonable hour before Sunday came, and so Saturday it was. Sure enough, she was called to be a Primary teacher-the usual calling for a woman new in a ward-and Step was called to teach the gospel doctrine class. Step was elated. He loved to teach and hated administrative callings-he had not really enjoyed being elders quorum president back in Vigor.

Besides, gospel doctrine class was a Sunday-only calling; there'd be no meetings during the week, and that meant that there'd be no conflict between his job and his calling.

DeAnne bided her time, however. She was a good Primary teache r and loved working with the little children, but she knew that she would not be in Primary very long-something would open up in Relief Society and she would be brought in. She knew this because the Relief Society president, Ruby Bigelow, had made a point of sitting beside her the second Sunday they went to choir practice, and when the singing was done, they had chatted like old friends for a quarter of an hour, before the kids made it clear that they were hungry enough to start eating the pews. Sister Bige low already knew that DeAnne had been education counselor in the Relief Society in Vigor-Jenny Cowper had told her-and they swapped stories about disastrous homemaking meetings they had lived through. "I hope I get a chance to know you better," Sister Bigelow had said after that first conversation.

It happened the last Tuesday night in April. A phone call from the bishop. He wanted to speak to Step first.

Step talked for only a few moments, said, "Sure, of course, no problem," and then called DeAnne back to the phone. That told her at once that the bishop had a new calling for her, and had checked with her husband first-she didn't mind the custom; she only wished that they'd do the same when the shoe was on the other foot, and check with the wife before calling the husband to a new position.

"Hi, Sister Fletcher," said the bishop.

"Hi again," said DeAnne.

"I hate doing this on the phone, but I have to catch a plane in an hour and I won't be back before Sunday and Sister Bigelow would have my hide on the wall if I didn't get you called so you could be sustained this Sunday."

So it was going to be a Relief Society calling. She was almost relieved about that; because of her good experience in Vigor, she still thought of herself as a Relief Society person. And she liked Sister Bigelow. It would be good to work with her, and good to be with the women of the ward.

"Sister Mansard has just been called to the state Relief Society board, and that leaves the ward without a spiritual living teacher. Sister Bigelow and I both think that you're the one the Lord wants in that position. Will you do it?"

Of course she would do it, though she was astonished that she was being given spiritual living. That was far and away the most prestigious of the four Relief Society teaching positions. In her most ambitious moments DeAnne might have hoped to teach cultural refinement. Sister Bigelow must have an amazing amount of confidence in a newcomer.

Thus it was that, almost exactly two months after they arrived in Steuben, DeAnne finally knew what her career in this place was going to be. She was relieved; she was delighted. Like Step, she would be a teacher, in the organization she loved best and with the assignment she valued most.

"When you think about it," said Step, "you and I have probably the two most influential teaching positions you can have. If the Lord brought us to Steuben to make a difference in this ward he couldn't have put us into better callings to accomplish it. DeAnne could only agree. It felt good to have those callings, as the Lord was reassuring them that this move was the right thin to do, that they were in the place where he wanted them to be.

If only Stevie could get that same confidence in where he was in what he was doing. But it was harder for a child, even one bright and mature for his age as Stevie. He hadn't yet had enough experience with life to be patient, to know even when things were unpleasant and hard that it all had a purpose, even fear, even pain that it would end up preparing him to be a fine man who would understand the suffering and loneliness of others.

There was plenty of time, though. That was the nice thing, that in a couple years she could say to Stevie, "Do you remember how hard it was for you when we first moved here? Why, you even had imaginary friends that you played with, you were so determined to be lonely And now look at you, with all these friends, and doing so well school!" If only she could skip over the next few years, and take him to that place right now, so that he could see that this crisis his life would pass.

In the meantime, she had her career in this place, and so did Step. Actually, Step had two careers, so while he hated working with some of those strange people at Eight Bits Inc., he had the relief of Sundays, a chance to talk to people who understood the way he saw the world, to be a servant of the Lord instead of a servant of Ray Keene.

For Step, of course, teaching the gospel doctrine class was easy. He didn't think about it during the week, didn't even prepare it until sacrament meeting, usually. He'd read a couple of chapters in the Old Testament while the speakers droned on, jot some notes, and then a few minutes after sacrament meeting ended he'd stand up in front of the class and dazzle them. In a way he'd been preparing all his life to teach a class like this-all it took was a few moments of thought and he could draw out of his memory enough insights into the scriptures to keep the class members pondering and exploring for a week.

For DeAnne, though, teaching was a much more involving task. For one thing, women in Relief Society expected far more preparation from their teachers. There had to be visual aids, and sometimes handouts, and sometimes treats, which meant that DeAnne had to plan each lesson for days, for weeks. For another thing, DeAnne soon found that Sister Bigelow apparently relied on her teachers to be part of the leadership of the Relief Society. She was often on the phone to DeAnne, asking her to help with this or that-to call a list of sisters, for instance, and ask them to take food over to so-and-so's house because her mother had been in the hospital and she shouldn't have to worry about cooking. "I'm so sorry to put all these things on you," Sister Bigelow said, "but our compassionate service leader isn't-well, isn't always able to do what's needed."

DeAnne understood perfectly-the compassionate service leader was no doubt one of those who were given callings that they weren't really capable of doing yet, to help them grow. In the meantime, others had to take up the slack and get the job done while the sister with the calling was learning how to get her act together.

DeAnne took on all these assignments gladly and fulfilled them at once. After all, this was her career. To make those phone calls while Robbie and Elizabeth were down for their naps, to cut out visual aids for her lesson while Elizabeth colored beside her and Robbie practiced his letters-that was how life was supposed to be lived, connecting always with her children, and always with the sisters of the ward.