Eyes (22 page)

CHAPTER 25

Connie glanced at the address she'd written on her notepad. Harold Woodard's home was supposed to be located at 225 Hiawatha Lane, but she must have written it down wrong. The entire two hundred block of Hiawatha Lane consisted of two buildings. One was a single-family dwelling, a nice, unpretentious residence that appeared to be in excellent repair. The other was a huge church with a spire and a bell tower. A breezeway connected to an addition that housed classrooms.

There was a frown on Connie's face as she checked the numbers on the front of the house. If her address was correct, this was definitely Harold Woodard's home. But his wife had said that he was working in his office next door, and the only adjacent building was the church.

Connie drove around the block and slowed in front of the church. There was a sign on the snow-covered lawn. She stopped at the curb to read it: O
UR
S
AVIOR
E
VANGELICAL
C
HURCH.
Beneath this, in italics, the sign read
With God's help, all things are possible.
In smaller letters, under the quotation, was additional information: Sunday Services at 9
A.M.
& 11
A.M.
Reverend H. Woodard, Pastor.

“Oh, no!” Connie sighed in utter defeat. Harold Woodard had seemed so perfect. He had Alan's heart, he'd recovered completely from his transplant, and he had four children. But he was a minister.

“I'm sorry.” Connie reached into the tote bag on the passenger seat and pulled out Alan's picture. “Harold Woodard's a minister. There's no way he'll father our baby.”

The picture seemed to frown, and Connie held it close. Alan was arguing with her. He urged her to read the quote again and take it to heart.

“All right, Alan. It says, ‘With God's help, all things are possible.' But do you really think God will help me to seduce a minister?”

Connie listened for a moment, then laughed. “You're absolutely right, darling. ‘God helps those who help themselves. ' But how am I going to help myself to Reverend Harold Woodard?”

Again, Connie listened. It took several minutes for Alan to explain, but when he finished she started smile. Alan was a genius, and he'd come up with a perfect way for her to achieve their goal.

* * *

“Oh, my! The poor dear!” Miriam Woodard set the tuna casserole on the table and sat down in her chair. “Do you think you can help her?”

Reverend Woodard nodded. He'd just told his wife about the young woman who'd come to ask for his help. “I counseled her for over an hour this afternoon, and I don't believe she's suicidal any longer. It's a pity to see a young woman so depressed.”

“Did you find out why she's so down?” Miriam passed her husband the bread.

“Yes, I did.” Reverend Woodard suddenly noticed how quiet it was. “Where are the children, Miriam? I don't want to discuss the details in front of them.”

Miriam frowned slightly. “They're gone, Harold. I told you this morning. They're spending some time with your parents.”

“Without us?”

“Yes, dear.” Miriam smiled at her husband. “They're going to an ice-skating party. I really didn't think you'd be interested.”

Reverend Woodard nodded. “You're right. The last time I put on skates, I almost broke my neck. So . . . we have an evening alone?”

“Only until ten. Tell me about this woman, Harold. She sounds very interesting.”

“It's a sad story. She was married on Thanksgiving Day to a man she thought was a God-fearing Christian . . . but she found out otherwise.”

“Oh, my!” Miriam raised her eyebrows. “How?”

“He asked her to do certain things she thought were immoral.”

“Like what?”

Miriam leaned forward, her breasts brushing the edge of the table. She was clearly intrigued, and Reverend Woodard patted her hand. Perhaps, if they went upstairs early, they could have some time alone before the children came home. “He wanted her to share their bed with another woman.”

Miriam was so shocked, her mouth dropped open. “Dear heavens, Harold! That's horrible! What did the poor thing do?”

“She refused, of course.” Reverend Woodard managed to hide his amusement. He'd seen some of the wilder side of life before he'd taken his vows. He'd even attended several parties at a friend's fraternity house and tasted the fruits of forbidden lust. But Miriam was the daughter of a minister, and she'd always been sheltered. The concept of a threesome had probably never occurred to her.

“And
that's
why he left her?”

His wife was clearly outraged, and Reverend Woodard took her hand. “Calm down. She's better off without him, wouldn't you say?”

“I certainly would!” Miriam nodded quickly. “He didn't hurt her physically, did he?”

“No, but there's definitely a case for mental cruelty. He accused her of being a bad wife because she wouldn't obey him. Then he left her on the day before Christmas.”

Miriam set her fork down on her plate with a clatter. “How terrible! That man ought to be drawn and quartered!”

“I tend to agree with you. He destroyed her self-confidence, and now she feels she has nothing to offer to any man. She actually asked me if she should have done what her husband wanted.”

“The poor dear must be horribly confused.” Miriam sighed. “And you told her she'd done the right thing by refusing him?”

“Of course. But I'm afraid my opinion doesn't count for much. After all, I'm a minister. I'm supposed to say that.”

Miriam looked thoughtful. “Do you think it would help if she talked to another woman? I could—”

“No, dear.” Reverend Woodard interrupted his wife. “You see, she's terribly embarrassed about what happened, and she asked me not to tell anyone. I'm sharing this with you in the strictest confidence.”

Miriam nodded. “You know you can trust me not to talk about it. But what can you do for her, Harold?”

“I don't know. That's one of the reasons I told you about her. You're a woman, and you're a wife. I thought you might have some suggestions for me.”

“Is she . . . attractive?” Miriam looked thoughtful.

“I think so. I'm no judge of that, but she looks a bit like Mrs. Hampton.”

“Mrs. Lester Hampton?” Miriam seemed surprised. “She's a beautiful woman, Harold!”

Reverend Woodard shrugged. “If you say so. I've always been attracted to women with dark hair and full figures . . . like you, dear.”

“Why, thank you, Harold.” Miriam was clearly flattered.

“That's beside the point. Now that you know what she looks like, do you think I should try to introduce her to some of the single men in the church?”

“No.” Miriam shook her head emphatically. “If she's vulnerable, you shouldn't try to push her into a new relationship. She needs to build up her confidence first.”

Reverend Woodard reached across the table to take his wife's hand. “You are an amazing woman, Miriam. So wise. And so very beautiful.”

“That was a lovely thing to say, Harold!”

“It comes from the heart.” Reverend Woodard got up from his chair to give his wife a hug. “Let's go upstairs, Miriam. We don't have much time alone anymore.”

“But the casserole—”

Reverend Woodard laughed. “It can be reheated . . . Can't it, Miriam?”

“Well . . .” She considered for a moment, and then she nodded. “Tuna casserole is very good reheated. Some say it's even better that way.”

There was a smile on Reverend Woodard's face as he led his wife up the stairs. Miriam was a good woman. She never refused him. Of course, he didn't ask her to do anything that would offend her sensibilities, as that poor woman's husband had done.

Their bedroom was dark, and Reverend Woodard couldn't help but think of the woman he'd counseled and how attractive she'd been. Without even thinking, he pushed Miriam down on the bed and reached out for her breasts.

“Why . . . Harold!” Miriam gave a startled gasp. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

“I'm not sure. Perhaps it's because you looked so pretty when I came home tonight. You're irresistible, and I love you very much.”

As Reverend Harold Woodard entered the body of his wife, he wasn't thinking about her or their successful but frequently boring marriage. He was thinking about the beautiful woman who'd come into his office that afternoon and pretending that she was beneath him on the bed. Although it would be sinful of him to even consider such a thing, it would be one way to build up her self-confidence!

* * *

Jill sat on a swivel chair in one corner of the examination room. Dr. Varney was checking Neil's eyes, and he'd told them that this would be a very important test. Her fingers were crossed in an attempt to bring good luck. If she'd brought a rabbit's foot, she would have rubbed it. Or she'd gladly have thrown salt over her shoulder or clutched a four-leaf clover. Neil just had to be all right!

“Follow the light.” Dr. Varney moved the circle of light from the left to the right. “All right. Now close your left eye.”

Jill took a deep breath and prayed for good news. Dr. Varney had darkened the room and turned off the overhead lights. The space seemed small and terribly stuffy, but perhaps that was because she was so anxious.

“Hmmm. All right, Neil. Close your right eye and follow the light.”

It seemed to take forever to finish the examination, but at last Dr. Varney opened the drapes. Jill blinked as he turned on the overhead lights, and she turned to him with a question in her eyes.

“It went well.”

“How well?” She didn't uncross her fingers.

“Very well.” Dr. Varney scribbled some numbers on Neil's chart. “There's a thirty percent improvement in your peripheral vision, Neil. It's too early to say for certain, but the therapy appears to be working.”

Jill clapped her hands. “That's great! Neil told me he thought he was seeing a little more clearly.”

“You were right.” Dr. Varney patted Neil on the back. “I want you to continue with the exercises, and I'll see you in four weeks.”

Neil nodded. “I will, but I've got a question. Do you think I can go back to work?”

“I don't see any problem with that, as long as you keep the reading down to an hour a day. You won't be able to drive, of course.”

Neil looked very excited. “That's no problem. I can find someone to drive me, and I can hire a student reader. I can still lecture and give oral exams, right?”

“Right.” Dr. Varney scribbled another note on the chart. Then he looked up to smile at Neil. “Getting a little stir-crazy?”

Neil laughed. “You could say that. And Jill can tell you, I'm going through that list of companions like wildfire. I think it's because I feel cooped up.”

“That could be.” Dr. Varney winked at Jill. “What do you think? Is he ready to go back to work?”

She nodded. “It's that or a straitjacket. Neil's been like a caged bear the last couple of weeks. I think it'll do him good to get out.”

“It's settled then.” Dr. Varney turned to Neil. “I'm going to prescribe a pair of sun-sensitive lenses. They'll lighten automatically when you're in the classroom and darken when you're exposed to bright light. Put them on when you leave the house in the morning, and don't take them off until you come home at night. And don't forget to do your exercises. They're critical to your full recovery.”

“Full recovery?” Jill leaned forward. Dr. Varney hadn't mentioned a full recovery since she'd first spoken to him in the hospital.

“It may be a bit early to hope for perfect vision, but given the improvement I've seen today, Neil's prognosis is excellent.”

“Hey . . . that's great!” Neil's face lit up in a smile. “You can thank Jill for the improvement. I was slacking off on my exercises before, but she convinced me to buckle down and do everything you said.” Jill was surprised. “I did?”

“Sure. You gave me a perfect incentive, honey. I want to be able to see my baby when he's born in September.”

“September?” Dr. Varney glanced down at Neil's chart again. “Yes . . . That should be possible. If you keep on improving at the rate I've seen today, you may not even need corrective lenses by then.”

Jill was grinning as they made another appointment, took the prescription for the sun-sensitive lenses, and walked out into the parking lot. The sun was shining brightly, and she felt happy. Neil could hardly wait to see their baby. He'd even told Dr. Varney about it. What she'd thought was bad timing when she'd discovered she was pregnant had turned out to be the perfect way to save their marriage.

CHAPTER 26

“Yes, Reverend. I do believe that birth control is a sin.” Connie hid a smile as she answered Woodard. She'd studied the catechism he'd given her and gone in for counseling once a day for the past three weeks. If she answered his questions correctly, and if the reverend believed she was worthy, she'd be baptized and become a member of the Evangelical Church this afternoon.

It was all going according to Alan's plan, and Connie knew exactly what she had to do. Since the Evangelical Church believed in total immersion in the natural state, she'd be wearing only a thin white sheet for modesty. Connie had insisted on a private baptism, claiming that she was much too shy to appear in church before all the parishioners. She and the reverend would be alone in the baptismal pool behind the altar. And by the time Woodard knew what had hit him, she'd be pregnant with Alan's baby.

“Yes, Reverend. I accept the tenets of the church and the glory and power of the Almighty and His Son, Jesus.” Connie bowed her head and clasped her hands together as the reverend began to recite a lengthy prayer for the salvation of her soul. His hand was on her head, and she could feel his fingers trembling slightly. Would he back out at the last minute, ask someone else to be a witness? Connie didn't think so. Reverend Woodard was a man of his word, and he'd promised her a completely private baptism.

The prayer seemed to go on forever, but at last Reverend Woodard ended with the traditional “Amen.” Then he stood up and extended his hand. “Come, my child. You must change to your robes of glory.”

“Yes, Reverend.” Connie managed to look demure as Woodard led her to a dressing room at the side of the altar. There were two, one for men and one for women. Since Reverend Woodard would be wearing a robe of glory just like Connie's, he went to the dressing room at the other side of the altar.

“It's almost time, Alan.” Connie whispered the words as she took off her clothes and hung them on the hooks inside the dressing room. There were no mirrors. She hadn't expected any. The Evangelical Church believed that vanity was a sin. It also insisted on strict modesty. The human body was to be hidden from view to everyone except a spouse.

Connie slipped the gown over her head and bit back a giggle. It was terribly unbecoming with its high round neck that fastened with a button so that no extra skin would be exposed. Floor-length, the gown had sleeves of a raglan cut that came all the way down to the tips of Connie's fingers. With the exception of her head, the robe of glory covered her like a shroud.

“What do you think, Alan?” She twirled around so he could see. She hadn't brought his picture, but she knew that he was with her and that there was an amused smile on his face. “What was that? Say it again, darling. I didn't quite hear you.”

Connie listened carefully as Alan whispered in her ear. “Yes. I'll take it with me. It's the only way I'll be able to get this silly robe off in the water.”

The knife was in the pocket of her dress, and she held it in the palm of her hand. The sleeve of the robe covered it completely; Reverend Woodard wouldn't even know that she had it. After she'd slashed open her robe and pretended to drown, he'd carry her back to his office. She'd drop the knife there and retrieve it later, after she had succeeded in seducing him.

* * *

“In the name of the Father . . .”

Connie gasped as Reverend Woodard pushed her under the water. Thank God the baptismal pool was heated! He lifted her up again, and she grinned as she saw that his eyes were closed. He always closed his eyes when he prayed. That would give her plenty of time to slash open her robe.

“. . . and the Son . . .”

Connie was wise enough to hold her breath this time. She even had time to snap open the blade of the knife before he pulled her up again.

“. . . and the Holy Ghost . . .”

The moment she was under the surface, Connie slashed open her robe. Then she closed the knife, crumpled to the bottom of the baptismal pool, and waited for Reverend Woodard to reach for her. It took several moments, but at last she felt arms lift her up to the surface. She took a stealthy breath and held it so he'd think she wasn't breathing.

“Oh, my God!”

Connie resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Was the reverend swearing or praying? She took another furtive breath and made herself go completely limp in his arms.”

“Sister? Are you all right, Sister?”

Connie didn't move a muscle or say a word. He knew CPR. She'd seen the certificate on his office wall. He'd give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and, gradually, she would revive enough to kiss him. She'd act confused and frightened, and he wouldn't be able to resist the sight of her naked in his arms. It would be exactly the way Alan had told her. Reverend Woodard was a minister, but he was also a man. He'd seize this opportunity and take full advantage of her.

He was carrying her, and Connie opened her eyes slightly. He was taking her to his office. She felt a smooth cushioned surface beneath her bare body and knew she was on his old leather couch. And then his mouth came down on hers, forcing the breath of life into her body.

It was agony to lie there immobile when she wanted to get on with the action. She forced herself to count to thirty before she took a small breath on her own. Then, with her eyes still closed, she reached up and pulled him down, fastening her lips to his in a kiss that would scorch his propriety away and make him her slave.

He was kissing her back! Connie squirmed beneath him and managed to push up his wet robe. Then she smiled a secret smile as she felt the extent of his arousal.

It was working. He was going to do it. She opened her legs and gave him access to everything he so clearly wanted. But at the last moment, he pulled back with a hoarse, anguished cry.

“Sister! You don't know what you're doing!”

Connie made her voice low and seductive. “Yes, I do. Let's not think about anything except us and how much we want each other.”

“No! You were baptized, Sister! You're a child of God now, and I must protect you from yourself!”

She reached for him again, but he was gone and her eyes opened with a snap. He was running from his office as if the dogs of hell were chasing him.

“Shit!” Connie whispered the word, even though she felt like shouting it. Their plan had failed. Reverend Woodard had resisted temptation.

“What should I do, Alan?” She sat up and shivered slightly. The church was cold, she was dripping wet, and she felt utterly defeated. “Do you think I should try again?”

She listened to the faint voice in her head and then nodded. Alan was right. Reverend Woodard wouldn't father their child. It was a waste of their time to even consider it. He'd be on his guard around her from this day forward, and he'd certainly refuse to see her alone.

“Do you think he might tell someone?” Connie shivered with anxiety as she heard Alan's answer. When she looked down at the knife in her hand, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

“Oh, Great and Heavenly Father. I am but a poor, miserable sinner, seeking the solace of Thy blessed forgiveness. I am not worthy to look upon Thy holy face, and I beseech Thee to cleanse my mind of impure thoughts so that I may again be cast in Thy image.”

Reverend Woodard's voice was hoarse with emotion, and he had to stop to wipe his eyes. Just thinking about what had almost happened made him quake with fright like the shepherds of old. If the new Sister had been sent here by the devil to tempt him, he had come much too close to succumbing.

It was time for him to do penance, to prove to his Holy Father that he was truly sorry. Reverend Woodard's brow was furrowed with thought as he tried to devise an adequate act of contrition. He wanted to atone for his unclean thoughts, but what sort of restitution would his Creator accept?

The moment he thought of it, he knew it was right. He would become celibate. The priests had been celibate, and so had The Almighty's beloved Son. From this day forth, he would not touch a woman, not even his wife.

Part of Reverend Woodard's mind objected to his hasty conclusion. Did The Almighty really want such a sacrifice? Perhaps he could come to some sort of middle ground, some promise that wouldn't be so difficult to live with.

“Reverend?”

Reverend Woodard whirled around as he heard a soft voice. The newest Sister was standing directly behind him and there was a strange and terrible expression on her face. “Please leave me now, Sister. I'm praying to God for our forgiveness.”

“A lot of good that'll do.”

Reverend Woodard started to frown. The Sister was obviously ridden with guilt. What other reason would she have for the hysterical laughter that poured from her lips? “Please listen to me, Sister. I know your actions were not deliberate. I intend to intercede for your soul, and I assure you that our Heavenly Father will forgive you.”

“But will He forgive
you
?”

“Yes.” Reverend Woodard reached out for the Sister's hand. “Our Savior is merciful and kind. He will look into our hearts and see that we love Him and are willing to obey His laws.”

“Speak for yourself, Reverend. You weren't so ready to obey those laws a couple of minutes ago.”

Reverend Woodard stared at the Sister with alarm. Her face was set in an expression he'd never seen before. She looked hard and dangerous and evil. Had her near brush with death unhinged her mind? Or was there some truth to the ancient stories of devils that could take on human form to tempt holy men of the cloth?

There was a knife in her hand! But that could be an illusion, a figment of his imagination. Reverend Woodard struggled to his feet and made the sign of the cross. “Devil! Get thee behind me Satan!”

“Very good, Reverend.”

The smile on her face made the blood drain from Reverend Woodard's. Then her knife slashed down and he was no longer capable of thought or reason or life itself.