Comfortable. And blessings.

After he hung up the phone, I asked him what he wanted to do. We were just getting back into Pleasant Grove after a milestone trip to Colorado, and even though he obviously wanted to go help Rob, the trip over the Rockies and back seemed to have magnetized us to each other.

"I want to go to the hospital if we make it in time. We can stop by the house first and see if my parents are still there. I'm sure you can come with us." He turned onto the exit for Pleasant Grove Blvd. and we took the meandering roads to his house.

"So the baby has jaundice?" I asked it comfortably, sincerely concerned for his family more than I had been three days ago.

"Seems like it. I'm hoping my dad will still be home so we can catch them before they leave."

We nearly collided with his mom and dad as they were walking out the door, his dad suited up for the situation and his mom comfortable with a pale orange sweater hanging on her thin shoulders. They hugged Billy and welcomed us home. Despite the threatening health concern of Sarah's baby for which they were preparing, they couldn't stop smiling at us.

"So you gonna come with us?" Billy's dad seemed to always ask questions like that, comfortably, evenly. Seems the best word to describe his actions was comfortable. "Krista can come along and sit with mom in the lobby."

Billy said he wanted to come and they told us they would meet us at the Cafe Rio parking lot in American Fork so we could drive to the hospital together. I waited for Billy to put on his suit, feeling a little self-conscious about my casual travel clothes.

"You'll be ok," Billy said, grabbing my hand as we walked out the door. "I'm sure Sarah doesn't want anyone in that room besides me and Dad anyway."

He was right. At the hospital we took the elevator up to the fourth floor because Billy's dad hadn't been feeling good enough that week for stairs--our arrival and subsequent rush to the hospital had left us no time to hear about the blessing from Grandpa Hiatt or how Billy's dad was feeling now, but it didn't seem to matter. He was serving now, he the one giving the blessing. Again, comfortable. And so they left us in the lobby to wait.

I looked around. I looked up. I looked down. I looked at the light-up structure adorning the hospital lobby, from red to blue to green then back to red again. Then finally I looked at his mom.

"So you guys had fun in Colorado?" She asked it merrily, a huge smile spreading across her face. Huge, I thought, at the time. I just hadn't seen her other smiles then.

You have no idea, I thought. Or maybe you do. You are smiling really big. "It was so fun! There was a big fire that started on the mountains, so a lot of our plans got cancelled, but we still had such a good time."

"I heard about that fire! I was wondering if it was near you..." the conversation carried on. Colorado. Parents. Billy. Rob. The family fast. The completion blessing.

"Well, see, he got run over by a tractor when he was younger. He received a blessing from his dad then, and Grandpa Hiatt thought maybe giving him a blessing now would complete the healing process." She crossed her legs and looked at me, the smile still there. But smaller.

"Billy said something like that. So, is the tractor incident the reason why he had the heart attack in the first place?" Comfortable was leaving. I was not sure if this was a casual conversation topic acceptable to have while waiting for the blessing in the next room to end.

"The doctor we just recently started visiting has traced part of it back to that. And I go to school for another part of it, the emotional side," she wasn't done talking. But I started watching her while she did.

The pale orange rim of her glasses matched her light freckles matched her well-set hair matched her sweater matched her aura of rosy confidence and comfortableness. Her dimples bounced in and out of her cheeks with every syllable. She twirled her fingers around while elaborating on this part of "the process" and how it related to the Atonement and how everyone needed to do it. She smiled and spoke clearly and trilled her r's when there weren't even any in the word she was saying. She was merry. She was comfortable. Not until Colorado did I know for sure, but she was to be my mother-in-law.

I don't know if I had the right response. I tried to be enthusiastic. I certainly wanted to be able to bond with her. My mother-in-law. The lady who birthed Billy. The mother of the family who would adopt me. Orange. And comfortable.