In June 2014 Charles Mol came to Santo Island from Gaua Island on Church business.  Charles was Gaua Branch clerk.  I became acquainted with him, was impressed with him, and learned that he was a 30-year-old returned missionary.

“Do you have a family?”  I asked.

“No got.”

This was upsetting to me.  Such a nice young man, and he wasn’t married.

I turned to the district president and said, “Charles is a few months too old to be a Young Single Adult, but don’t you think he ought to come to our YSA conference in August?”

“Yes!” the president answered emphatically.

I turned back to Charles and said, “You must come to the YSA conference and find your wife.”

This stoical, proper, always-in-control man melted before my eyes.  He doubled over in embarrassment.  I’d never seen a Black man blush before.  But he agreed to attend the conference.

“This man needs help,” I thought to myself.  I determined to take photos of three girls that I knew, and send them to Charles as possibilities that might bear further investigation.

Before I could put my plan into effect, I had a middle-of-the-night thought that probably came from the Holy Ghost.  The thought was that Charles and Mary Tivles would be a perfect match.  Hers was the only photo that I needed to send to Charles.

The next time I went to Mary’s village, I made her pose for a picture.  She was embarrassed, but she and I were good friends, so she submitted.  In the pickup later, I told the district president and Mary’s cousin what I was planning to do.  The district president heartily approved.  We pledged the cousin to secrecy.

That evening I received a text message from Mary on my telephone:  “Good night, Elda Kerns.  This is Mary.  I want to know what you going to do with my picture.”

I don’t think Mary would have thought to ask such a question unless her cousin had said something.  I can imagine him teasing her with a taunting statement such as, “I know what Elder Kerns is going to do with your picture!”

I was trapped, so I texted back, “Well, if you must know, I’m going to send your picture to a man and tell him that I think you would make the perfect wife for him.”

Mary texted right back, “Who is this man?”

“I can’t tell you his name.  I didn’t tell him your name, either.”

“Elda Kerns, I want a picture of that man.”

“I can’t do that.  We’ll just have to leave everything as it is, and let the Lord take care of things.”

“OK,” she said reluctantly.  “Good night, Elda Kerns.”

I put two photos of Mary into an envelope and sent it to Charles by way of a missionary going to Gaua.  Two silent months passed.  Charles arrived at the Santo airport two days before the conference.  He called me to pick him up, and to take him to the district president’s house where he’d be staying.  He had another meltdown when I mentioned the photos.  I determined that I’d best not say anything more.

I watched Charles and Mary during the conference.  Not once did I see them anywhere near one another.  I had asked him to be a group leader for an activity, and had an effective plan for getting Mary into his group; but he became one of seven people who became sick from food that was served, and missed the activity altogether.  When he recovered I observed that he bolted for the door at the beginning of the dances.  I concluded, there’s no hope.

However, the district president reported later that he had seen Mary ask Charles to dance.  I couldn’t believe it, but it was a glimmer of hope.  Based upon that glimmer, at the end of the conference, I cast my mind about for some way that we still might get Charles and Mary together.  I asked Charles, “Did you find any girls at the conference that you might be interested in?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Which one?”

“The one you sent me a picture of.”

How to get them together, my wife and I wondered.  We needed an excuse to arrange a double date.  We found it in the fact that Mary’s cousin—the one who had teased her about the picture—was leaving on his mission the next day.  I called Mary and told her that Charles Mol was the man to whom I’d sent her picture.  I told her that he had said that he was interested, and suggested that if she was interested, we would drive up to Narango with Charles, and bring her down to the airport to see her cousin off on his mission.  She agreed.

“He’s awfully shy, Mary.  Good luck.  You’re going to need it.”

Charles agreed to the double date.  Mary’s house was an hour’s drive up into the bush.  At Narango Mary asked if her cousin’s sister could also come to see her brother off.  Another young man climbed into the back seat, too.  Our double date had grown to six people.

The hour’s drive to the airport was pretty silent, but at least Charles and Mary were sitting side by side.  We saw the missionary off, and then went to lunch—all six of us.

Marjorie observed the next glimmer of hope.  I missed that glimmer, too.  I saw none.  As we waited at the table for lunch to be served, Mary casually put her hand over next to Charles.  He took the bait, and briefly grabbed her fingers.

The ride back up to Narango was better than the ride down because our other two passengers elected to ride in the back end rather than be squeezed into the cab.  Charles and Mary were thus alone in the back seat, and actually exchanged a few bursts of short conversation.

The next day I took Charles to the airport for his own flight home.  Marjorie told me to give him Mary’s phone number, and to instruct him to call her every Sunday.  I did so, but I was almost positive that nothing would happen.

One month passed.  Yesterday I went to district presidency meeting.  At the end of the meeting the district president said, “Oh!  I have some big news.  Charles Mol and Mary Tivles are engaged!”

I was dumbfounded.  How could that be?  “He calls her, or she calls him, every day.  His uncle is here, and tomorrow we must go to Narango to talk to Mary’s papa.  It’s the uncle’s duty to do that.”

The “uncle” was actually Charles’ second cousin.  But today the uncle, the district president, and I drove up to Narango and had a visit with Mary’s father.  Mary knew nothing about our mission.  Her father was surprised.  He didn’t know things had progressed to this point.  As comprehension dawned upon him, he looked at me, and asked, “Is this the man that Elder Kerns…?”

“Yes, that’s the man.  His name is Charles Mol,” the president explained.

“I don’t know him,” the papa answered, but I want my daughter to marry a good member of the Church.  If she’s willing, and if he’s willing, then they have my support.  I just wish you could find a good man in the Church for my firstborn daughter.”

Mary’s papa agreed to the proposal even though he wasn’t told the rest of the story.  Charles actually has a house.  Charles has a plantation.  Charles has seven bullock (cows).  Charles has saved up the requisite 80,000 vatu ($800) bride payment.  Charles is a man of substance, and will be very good to, and good for, Mary.

To be continued.