Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (4 page)

He found Susan in their bedroom staring dreamily into the vanity mirror. He noticed she’d changed out of her blue jeans and denim blouse into a soft peach colored knit dress. She’d also applied some makeup—not that she needed it. Susan was a natural beauty, with long, thick hair the color of spun golden silk. She had large violet eyes that seemed to draw people to her like magnets. Her complexion was flawless, and always had been since he could remember. Put simply, she was a gorgeous woman.

He’d often heard people comment about what a striking couple they made. At a little over six feet tall, Jerry had managed to keep his robust frame without adding any fat. His thick dark brown hair remained lustrous. His mother used to tell him that his best features, however, were his sapphire blue eyes.
They’re like jewels, beautiful jewels
, she’d often said.

He had a pang as he thought about his parents, killed several years ago in a fiery auto accident on Interstate 75 while they were vacationing in Florida.

Jerry walked up behind Susan, putting his hands on her shoulders. He felt her body tense up. Immediately he drew back, his face flushing with sudden anger.

“What is it Susan? What’s going on?” he demanded.

She turned to face him. “I need to go. I’ll be late for choir practice.” She got up and walked past him.

Reaching out, he grabbed her arm, halting her in mid-stride. “Since when do you dress up so much for choir practice?”

She sighed, pulling her arm from his grasp. “Since when do you care how I dress?”

She strode out of the room then down the stairs. Jerry followed.

As she opened the coat closet door to grab her faux fur, he said, “We need to have a talk, Susan.”

Ignoring him, she flung open the front door, stepping out onto the wraparound porch. Jerry wasn’t far behind.

“Don’t walk away from me, Susan. I know there’s something going on between you and some other man at the church!”

Susan looked stunned as she turned to face him. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

Jerry’s voice rose. “It’s the preacher, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way Doug Underwood looks at you and the way you act when he’s around! I’m not a fool, nor am I blind!”

Susan yelled back, “You’re so busy with business or whatever else you have on your mind I’m surprised you notice I’m even alive, let alone who is looking at me!”

“Is that what this is all about, me not paying enough attention to you?” He toned down his voice as the importance of what she said sunk in. Had he been neglecting her? It was so easy to fall into a routine and forget to show appreciation to those we love.

“I have to go. Don’t wait up!” Susan hurried down the steps to her Honda Accord waiting at the curb.

Her last comment brought his anger back full force. “This conversation isn’t over, Susan! If it is Underwood, I’ll make sure he pays!”

Jerry waited until she made a right turn onto Buckeye Street. Once she was out of sight, he quickly went inside to grab his coat and car keys. Moments later he was in his red Monte Carlo heading for the church. He had to find out if Susan was really going to choir practice or if she was meeting another man on the sly. If she was at the church, he’d sneak in so he could watch what she was doing and who she was doing it with.

* * * *

Ethel Henshaw stood in the shadows of her front porch observing as Jerry Hatfield drove away. She’d been returning from the market when her next door neighbors erupted outside arguing with each other. Somewhat shocked by what she was hearing, Ethel just stood there with her hand on the doorknob.

Suddenly her front door opened, making her jump. “Why are you standing out here in the cold?” her husband Carl asked.

Ethel stepped into the wide foyer, quickly shutting the door. “I just heard the strangest argument between Susan and Jerry Hatfield.” She moved through a small hallway into the kitchen of the spacious home that had been in her family for generations. Although the rest of the three-story house was furnished in period pieces, the kitchen was completely modern. Ethel loved to cook, but she had no desire to do those things on outdated, antiquated appliances.

Carl took the grocery bag from her. “What kind of an argument?” he asked as he began putting the items away.

Sometimes Carl really exasperated her. “How many kinds of arguments
are
there, Carl?” She looked at the tall lanky man with the close cropped gray hair and dark blue eyes, whom she’d loved from the moment she laid eyes on him in first grade. Of course they didn’t really become an item until junior year. Back then girls didn’t begin dating as early as they did now.

“No need to get snippy, Ethel. Just tell me what you heard.” He folded the cloth grocery bag neatly before storing it under the counter.

“It was about Susan being a little too involved with Reverend Underwood.”

Carl’s eyes widened. “You must have heard wrong.”

Ethel huffed. “I did not. There is nothing the matter with my hearing, Carl.” She lifted the tea kettle off the stove, filled it with water then put it back on the ceramic cook top. After selecting the appropriate heat setting, she turned toward her husband. “Something fishy is going on with that woman. I’ve noticed how distracted she’s been lately.”

Carl’s expression turned pensive. “Now that you mention it, Jerry has been acting a little strange for the past couple of weeks. I just figured it had something to do with business.”

Carl and Jerry were the two members of the church finance committee who counted the offering money each Monday morning in the church parlor, after which Jerry would make the deposit at the local savings and loan on his way to the insurance office. “He hasn’t said anything to you while you’re counting the money?”

Carl shook his head. “Not a word that would indicate he suspected Susan of having an affair.”

“Does that mean he’s mentioned something else?” Sometimes she had to drag information out of Carl.

“I just know that he’s a little worried because giving is down some.”

“That’s to be expected, what with so many members out of work.”

“I told him that. You know, Ethel, if there is something going on between the preacher and Susan Hatfield, those of us on the Staff-Parish Committee will have to deal with it.”

In the United Methodist Church, church members made up the Staff-Parish Relations Committee who addressed issues concerning the paid church personnel, including the minister. Parishioner complaints against staff members and
moral
-code violations ended up on their doorstep.

Since his forced retirement from L&C, where he’d been a line foreman, Carl had been able to devote even more time to his church and community activities. He was now serving his third term as mayor of Crescent Falls. Recently he’d been chosen as chairman of the church’s Staff-Parish Relations Committee. He was also membership chairman of the United Methodist Men. Ethel was so glad he had outside activities to keep him out of the house for periods of time. She loved him dearly, but having a man underfoot all day long was just too much.

“He followed her tonight. I watched him. There’s trouble brewing, Carl, mark my words,” Ethel predicted just as the tea kettle began to whistle.

* * * *

“End it now, with whoever she is, or I swear, I’ll go to the District Superintendent,” Fran Underwood told her husband.

Standing in the doorway, Reverend Douglas Underwood eyed his wife’s reflection in the bathroom mirror where she stood smearing cold cream on her face. She was a rather dowdy woman of fifty, making her two years his senior. Her light brown hair was cut in a medium length bob but lacked the thickness that would have made that style attractive. Her pale green eyes met his gaze in the mirror. “I mean it, Douglas. No more of this!”

“I told you a thousand times, Fran, there is nothing going on between me and another woman.” It was a lie, of course. He checked his watch. Choir practice would begin in half an hour. If he wanted to spend time alone with Susan, he’d have to hurry to the church.

Fran glared at him. “I see you looking at your watch. You’re not leaving this house tonight. Forget it.”

He walked through their bedroom out into the hallway. The United Methodist parsonage was a single story brick ranch-style house that had been built in the mid-1960s. While it was well maintained, it was beginning to show its age. At the time he’d been hired, Douglas told the Staff-Parish Relations Committee he’d like to see them begin looking for a more suitable living accommodation for him and Fran. The reply was not what he wanted to hear. So, he’d struck a bargain with them—if he could increase membership by twenty-five percent as well as bring in enough money to do the needed church repairs they, in turn, would honor his request. Once the deal was made, Douglas accepted the pastorate.

“Don’t leave, Douglas. We need to talk about this,” Fran pleaded, following him into the living room where the artificial Christmas tree stood undecorated. Boxes of ornaments littered the floor.

“I need to go to the church, Fran. I have a counseling session in ten minutes.” He put on his topcoat and headed for the front door.

She snapped, “You never schedule counseling sessions on Thursday nights because of choir practice.”

“It’s a special case. Urgent. Can’t wait.”

She clung to his coat sleeve. “Please, Douglas…please!”

He patted her hand then kissed her on the forehead. “You’ve been a good wife to me, Fran. Probably better than I deserve. I know you didn’t really want to marry a minister. It’s awful sometimes, the fishbowl we live in isn’t it? I forget too often the effect it can have on you.”

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I’ve never regretted marrying you, Douglas. I just wish…” Her voice cracked.

“We’ll talk, Fran, I promise you. Now I have to go,” he told her gently.

As he shut the door, he heard her soft sobs on the other side.

* * * *

Choir practice at the Crescent Falls United Methodist Church was held every Thursday evening from seven PM till eight-thirty PM in the sanctuary. The choir director was a slightly built man named Jeremy Kruger, who besides being a paid part-time employee of the church was also the music teacher at the high school.

Tonight, while the other choir members milled around in the sanctuary awaiting Jeremy’s arrival, Susan Hatfield slipped out into the main hallway then turned right into a small hallway leading to restrooms on one side and the pastor’s study on the other. She knocked discreetly on the door of the study. Momentarily she heard the lock click.

The aroma of his musky aftershave hit her full force as she ducked inside the room, and her pulse quickened. He always made her feel flushed, almost breathless.

He locked the door behind her then pulled her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. She gave herself over to the feel of his lean, athletic body against hers. When he finally released her she felt almost dizzy.

“I’ve missed you the past few days. I swear, Susan, I can’t go on like this.” He led her by the hand to the floral-print loveseat sitting along one wall. The study was dimly lit tonight, the only illumination coming from a green banker’s lamp on the teakwood desk. They sat down.

“I’m as miserable as you are, Doug, believe me. I had a terrible fight with Jerry. He suspects something is going on between us.” She looked at his handsome face, taking in those amazing hazel eyes.

“Fran knows I’m seeing someone, too. I see no reason to keep up the pretense any longer, Susan. We love each other. I’ll do whatever it takes for us to be together.” He held her hand tightly.

Susan felt a moment of panic. “What are you talking about? We can’t go public with this!”

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Why not? Obviously our spouses realize what is going on. It’s only a matter of time before members of the congregation catch on. We need to jump out in front of this. I’ll ask Fran for a divorce. After the dust settles from that, you can leave Jerry.”

She pulled her hand away, jumping to her feet. “Are you crazy? I can’t leave Jerry!”

He gazed up at her, a perplexed look on his face. “Come on, Susan. Divorce doesn’t have the stigma it once had, not even in the clergy.”

“I’d lose everything. Jerry was furious tonight. He will never allow me to waltz off with half of our holdings. He’ll hire the best lawyer in the state. I’ll end up with nothing!”

Getting up, Douglas took hold of her arms. “That’s nonsense, Susan. This is a no-fault, community property state. You’re entitled to half.”

She shook herself free. “You don’t know Jerry. He can be ruthless, spiteful. No, I can’t do that.” She felt tears forming in her eyes.

His expression softened. “Then what are we going to do, Susan? We need to be together. I need to be with you.” He buried his face in her hair. She could feel his warm breath against her neck.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, heading for the door. “I have to get to practice.” She turned the key in the old-fashioned lock.

He stepped around her, placing a hand on the door to keep it from opening. “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll never ask this of you again.”

She met his gaze. “Of course I love you. But there are just too many obstacles. This could ruin your career. People still have a narrow mind when it comes to divorced ministers, especially ones who then marry a parishioner. Tongues wag enough in this small town.”

“Then what are we to do?” He caressed her cheek with his free hand.

“I don’t know. If only…” She couldn’t finish that sentence. She wasn’t about to put into words what she was thinking.

As she stepped out into the hallway, her hand still touching Douglas’s, she almost collided with Dora Carmody, diner owner and choir soprano, as she exited the women’s restroom.

Susan watched as Dora’s gaze shifted from her to Doug. Susan drew her hand back from her lover’s but not soon enough she feared.

“There you are, Susan. We were all wondering where you’d gotten to,” Dora said.

Susan saw her cast a meaningful glance Doug’s way. She felt her cheeks grow hot. “We’d better get into the sanctuary. You know how Jeremy hates it when we’re late.”