Chapter 17
chapter seventeen
The soft glow of the smartboard cast long, cool shadows across the room, adjusting automatically to the dim, early-morning light filtering through the windows.
The air smelled faintly of old fabric from the chairs, dry-erase markers, and the lingering trace of whatever processed sugar bomb Parker inhaled before class.
Oakland couldn’t resist the urge to recheck the time. Fifteen more minutes.
She tapped at a glass console on her desk, and a scripture projection materialized onto the board, flickering softly. The words adjusted for clarity as the system scanned its environment, shifting into perfect focus for the students.
Oakland swiped at the screen, bringing up the verse she’d chosen. It spoke of a woman, her sins forgiven, called and chosen, set apart as an “elect lady.” Someone ordained to teach, to uplift, to lead. Not just included, but entrusted. Empowered.
Ordained to lead my people.
The language was clear. The message even clearer.
A few students squinted at the board, eyes still thick with sleep. Others didn’t look up at all. Some were thoroughly checked out, while one or two were blatantly asleep. The only sound was the faint creak of a chair as someone shifted.
Then, Parker, half-melted into his seat, lifted his head just enough to glance at the screen, blinking like he’d just emerged from hibernation.
“So… what are we supposed to do with that?”
Oakland crossed her arms and perched on the edge of her desk. She tapped her fingers on the surface, eyebrows raised.
“You read it. You think deeply. You have an epiphany. You share it. I bask in how brilliant you all are.”
A few kids snorted.
Parker sighed like it physically pained him. Sadie, head down on her desk, lazily raised a hand.
“I’m having an epiphany that I should’ve stayed in bed.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Oakland smirked, letting it land, but not letting them off the hook.
“Alright, scholars, who’s this about?”
Kate, half-swallowed by her hoodie, mumbled, “Emma Smith.”
“Yes, Kate! And what’s happening here?”
Sadie peeled her face off her forearm and squinted at the text. “‘Ordained’? Why does it say she was ordained?”
Oakland drummed her fingernails on the desk and gave a sly grin. “Excellent question.”
A few kids stirred. Someone clicked their pen, interest piqued.
Parker twisted his stylus between his fingers. “Okay, but ‘ordained’ doesn’t always mean, like, priesthood. It could just mean a blessing or whatever.”
Sadie sat up, eyebrows raised. “Oh, so when a man gets ordained, it’s priesthood. But when a woman gets ordained, it’s… like a warm high five from God?”
A few students choked on laughter. Someone muttered, “Brutal.”
Oakland raised a hand. “Let’s stick to the text. If Emma Smith was ordained to lead and expound scripture, what does that say about women’s roles in the early Church?”
A pause.
“That they had more authority?”
“That some stuff used to exist, and now it doesn’t?”
Sadie tilted her head. “Wait. Didn’t women used to give blessings?”
Oakland pushed off the desk. “They did. Women anointed the sick, laid hands on each other, and blessed people for healing. Joseph Smith supported it.”
That garnered the tiniest flicker of interest. A few students straightened.
Sadie tapped her stylus thoughtfully. “So what happened?”
Parker shrugged. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to last.”
Kate stretched her legs under the desk. “But why? If it was fine, then why stop it?”
Oakland shrugged, letting the silence sit long enough for them to feel the question settle.
“…That’s a great question.”
Parker rolled his eyes. “Maybe because men and women have different roles now. Women don’t need the priesthood.”
Sadie groaned and dramatically flopped across her desk. “If I hear ‘different roles’ one more time…”
Parker smirked. “Hey, you girls already run the home. You want the Church too? Guys are just better at some stuff. It’s biology.”
Some kids laughed—but it was tentative.
Sadie didn’t miss a beat. Her voice cut clean through the room.
“Right. Because men are clearly crushing it in every other area.”
Parker leaned back. “I mean, let’s be real—if women were in charge, we’d get a new doctrine every time one of you got your feelings hurt.”
Silence.
Not the funny kind. The sharp, brittle kind.
Sadie sat up slowly. “Excuse me?”
Parker shrugged. “Just saying, maybe there’s a reason men lead. You girls get emotional over everything. Imagine one of you running the Church. Next thing you know, doctrine’s changing because someone’s on her period.”
A few nervous chuckles. Mostly discomfort.
Oakland tilted her head at Parker, calm but cutting. “Wow. That was a genuinely terrible thing to say, Parker.”
Parker shifted. “It was just a joke.”
Oakland stood straight. “Cool. Well, if you’re already uncomfortable, imagine hearing that joke your whole life. If you’re gonna bomb in front of an audience, at least be funny.”
Sadie grinned. “Preach.”
Oakland checked the clock. Eight minutes left.
She tapped the console, and the scripture faded from the screen with a soft chime.
She clapped once, loudly. “Alright. Are we done with the gender war, or do I need to start assigning carpet squares?”
A beat of silence.
A single cough.
“Excellent. Moving on.”
She turned back to the console, dragging a finger across the interface to pull up the morning’s recap, resisting the urge to sigh.
This job should come with hazard pay.
* * *
By the time class ended, Oakland was fried. Every nerve felt stretched thin, every ounce of patience wrung dry. But she would have to spend the rest of the morning at the clinic, so there was no collapsing into bed yet—no escape, no reprieve.
Her phone buzzed.
Christine
So here’s the thing, Gruit’s been asking for you.
He sighs like he’s in a Victorian novel and stares out the window like he’s waiting for your ship to return from sea.
Ok. I just caught him listening to sad cello music. It’s getting dark.
A breath of laughter slipped out before she could stop it.
Lately, their texts had become somewhat frequent: half-serious debates, bad memes, and late-night confessions that felt too easy to share through a screen.
Arguments over music, over movies, over whether pancakes or waffles were the superior breakfast. The kind of conversations that started light but always seemed to dig just a little deeper.
Oakland
Was just thinking about you too.
Christine
Can u talk?
The classroom was empty. She had time. She tapped Christine’s name, pressing the phone to her ear.
Christine picked up on the second ring, voice like silk. “Figured I’d better pass along his request before he started shredding furniture in protest.”
“Oh, so now you’re his translator?” Oakland teased, smiling despite herself.
“I’m just the messenger. He’s very persuasive.”
That tone. Lazy, knowing. Like Christine already had her backed against the wall, breath shallow, fingers curled into fabric?—
Oakland stood up straighter, shaking the thought loose. Dangerous.
“Well, I do miss him,” she said instead. “And you, I guess.”
Christine hummed, low and thoughtful. “That’s good because I have an idea. My sister has a hockey game today, and I thought since the clinic closes at noon…” A pause, just long enough to make Oakland’s pulse stutter. “Thought maybe you’d want to come with me.”
Oakland replayed the plan in her head. That was public-public.
“It’s at the university?” Oakland asked, stalling.
“Yep. I can ping you the ticket since you’ll probably be late.”
Smug. Certain. Like she already knew Oakland was going to say yes. And, annoyingly, she was right.
“Okay,” Oakland murmured. Ice rinks were cold. Maybe they’d have an excuse to sit a little closer—for warmth, obviously.
Christine chuckled, low and pleased. “Can’t wait.”
A sharp knock at the door made Oakland’s stomach drop.
She turned, pulse spiking as her father stepped into the classroom.
Every muscle in her body went taut.
“I have to go,” she whispered, hanging up before Christine could respond.
Her father stepped fully inside, studying her like he could see something on her. “Who was that?”
Oakland kept her face blank. “A client. Her dog is a patient.” Not a lie. Not really.
He let the silence stretch before finally nodding. “I heard there was an incident in class today.”
Of course he heard.
“Parker Thatcher’s father just called me,” he continued, arms folding across his chest.
Oakland rolled her eyes. “That was fast.”
“What happened with Parker?” The question was direct. Pointed.
“He decided to announce to the whole class that women can’t hold the priesthood because of our periods. So, you know… classic, casual chauvinism.”
Her father sighed through his nose. “Oakland…”
“No.” She shoved her tablet into her bag, fast and sharp. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?” His voice cooled. Controlled.
“Having this argument again. You tell me I need to be softer, and I pretend to agree, and then we both act like I’m gonna change.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. “You could’ve used it as a teaching moment.”
“I did teach him something.” Oakland’s voice was like steel. “I taught him to treat his female classmates with respect.”
His jaw ticked. “You’re a representative of the Church. People expect?—”
“Oh, I know what people expect.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, the weight grounding her. “And I’m sick of twisting myself into knots to make everyone comfortable. Parker was inappropriate.”
“Why did you choose that lesson anyway?” He challenged.
Oakland didn’t answer. Why did she choose that lesson?
The silence was thick and charged. She was not in the mood for this shit today.
Then, as if nothing happened, he pivoted. “Your mom is making her famous lasagna tonight.”
“I have plans.”
His hand landed on her shoulder—steady, not harsh, but heavy enough to make a point. “What plans?”
Oakland turned, meeting his gaze head-on. “A hockey game at the university.”
His frown deepened. “Since when do you go to hockey games?”
Since when is it your business? She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the words.
Tension crackled, hot, and suffocating. His grip on her shoulder didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either.
Then, finally, he let go. Smoothing the fabric of her blouse like it was some fatherly gesture instead of a power play. “Just come after the game. I have some… news.”
He turned and walked away before she could argue. Before she could force the word no past her lips.
Oakland didn’t bother chasing it.
She just stood there, pulse steady, shoulders loose, watching him go. This was going to be a long day.
?