Mrs. Miracle (18 page)

Unlike any man she’d met since the broken engagement, Seth had led her to believe he understood. He didn’t. He couldn’t possibly comprehend what he was asking of her.

Reba joined him just as he was finishing up at the checkout stand and helped him carry the bulky purchases back to the car. She smiled, hoping that they could put this matter behind them.

Soon they were on the road again, heading back to Seth’s house. The silence that stretched between them was like the rubber strand of a slingshot. The pressure so strong, it all but vibrated.

“Reba, I know it’s none of my affair, but you’ve got to let go of this bitterness or you’ll pickle in it.”

If he meant to be amusing, he failed miserably. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t live in the past.”

Furious that he of all people would say that to
her, she refused to respond. He was the man hung up on a dead wife, the man who’d buried himself in his grief. Vicki was about to do it to her again: she was going to lose Seth, and all because of her sister.

“You’ve let what Vicki did jade your entire outlook on life. Don’t you think this whole thing has hurt Vicki, too? It probably has and in ways you’ve never imagined. Have you ever really talked it over with her?”

“As I said before, I don’t have anything to say to my sister, and furthermore I’m not willing to listen to anything she has to tell me.” If he thought he was helping, he was wrong. Every time he opened his mouth he made matters worse. Much worse. All he did was repeat what other well-meaning friends and family had said to her. His attitude was one of the sorriest disappointments of her life. She’d expected much more of him.

“But—”

“Seth, don’t,” she pleaded, and closed her eyes. “Please don’t say another word.”

The rest of the drive was completed in dark silence. He parked his car in his driveway. Despite her unhappiness, she had to smile when two small faces appeared in the window. Judd and Jason battled for the best vantage point to check out the Christmas goodies, hoping for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of what presents they’d find under the tree on Christmas morning.

“It looks like we have a welcoming committee,” Seth said.

“So I see.”

“If I know Mrs. Merkle, she’s cooked up a feast to tempt the saints. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

“I can’t stay,” she said, eager to get away. She opened the car door, anxious to make her escape. Anxious to sort through what had happened.

H
arriett Foster decided she couldn’t delay her talk with Pastor Lovelace any longer. This matter with Ruth Darling wasn’t the only problem, either. God had graced her with a knack for details, and she’d noticed a number of other good Christians flirting with sin.

Since she hadn’t been able to accidentally-on-purpose bump into the minister, she scheduled an appointment through the church secretary.

“It’s vitally important I speak with Pastor Lovelace at his earliest convenience,” she’d told Joanne Lawton.

When the church secretary had quizzed her about the purpose of the meeting, Harriett had
been vague. She’d said something along the lines of the matter being a delicate one that in her humble opinion required the attention of the church’s spiritual leader. She must have been convincing because Joanne scheduled her for an appointment first thing Monday morning, three days before Christmas.

Harriett dressed carefully, choosing her best outfit, the one she generally reserved for formal occasions: playing the pipe organ at baptisms and weddings, that sort of thing. Her new black pumps were a tad snug and uncomfortable but would loosen with a bit of wear, she decided.

Generally she avoided studying her reflection in the mirror. She allowed only one small hand mirror in her home; anything larger would be flirting with vanity. And while other Christian women were spiritually comfortable wearing cosmetics, Harriett had never used anything but a light shade of lipstick.

Jewelry was another matter of concern. Her only adornment was a plain gold wedding band and a locket that had once belonged to her grandmother. One day she would pass it along to her niece. To her way of thinking, a woman in the service of God would choose to don only what would enhance a meek and humble spirit. Harriett cringed whenever she saw a woman wearing large, looped earrings. And she’d nearly fainted the first time she’d seen an earring on a teenage
boy
. In his
nose.
The mere thought was enough to cause her to grimace, even now, months later.

She arrived promptly, as always, for her appointment. Cleanliness wasn’t the only personality trait that was next to godliness.

“Pastor Lovelace will see you now,” Joanne said when Harriett entered the office. The other woman led the way into Pastor Lovelace’s private study.

The minister was a good man who preached straight out of the King James version of the Bible. Harriett approved of his choice and had let it be known early on. Although young, he possessed a healthy appreciation for the traditional view of such important matters.

He stood as she entered the room and motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Good morning, Mrs. Foster. I understand you wanted to see me.”

Harriett sat and folded her hands primly in her lap. “It’s a matter of some importance.”

“That’s what I understand.”

He sat down and waited for her to continue. Harriett had hoped to exchange small talk and ease her way into this burden on her heart. She inhaled slowly, thinking the direct approach was probably for the best. A soul couldn’t ease into a discussion about sin.

Pastor Lovelace waited silently, and Harriett plunged right in. “As you’re probably aware, I’ve
been a member of this congregation for well over twenty years.”

“It seems longer.”

“My husband’s family was one of the founding members of this congregation.” She bowed her head out of reverence for the dead. “May God rest his soul.”

“You’ve served our church community with great vigor,” Pastor Lovelace admitted graciously.

Harriett had always been fond of the man. He showed a keen insight into the many personal sacrifices others had made on behalf of the church.

“Tell me, how is the pageant coming along? Have you enjoyed working with Reba Maxwell?”

“Well,” Harriett said with a heavy sigh, and scooted closer to the edge of the cushion. “I understand that when Milly’s husband was transferred, the church was in something of a bind, but personally—”

“From all indications,” Pastor Lovelace interrupted, “Miss Maxwell is doing an excellent job, working long hours, and putting a great deal of time and energy into the project.”

“Yes,” Harriett admitted reluctantly. The Maxwell woman had done everything he said, but the church had taken a risk by allowing a woman, one with spotty attendance at best, to step in at the last minute. Luckily there hadn’t been
too
many problems.

“I apologize, Mrs. Foster, I’ve sidetracked you.”

Harriett cleared her throat. “As I was saying earlier, I’ve attended this church for several years now and am familiar with many of the families.”

Pastor Lovelace relaxed on his chair.

“It’s because I know the parishioners as well as I do that I feel I can speak freely about their concerns.”

“As you see them?”

“Yes.” There were things she could tell him that would turn his hair prematurely gray. If he showed any indication of wanting to know the levels of depravity some of the upstanding members of this very church had shown, she’d be happy to tell him. Only as a matter of prayer, of course.

“There appear to be a number of areas of deep concern,” she said, meeting and holding his gaze.

He arched his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“First off, let’s discuss Emily Merkle.” She could tell by his blank look that he hadn’t placed the name. “Seth Webster’s new housekeeper.”

“Ah, yes.” A smile quivered at the edges of his mouth.

Harriett wondered what he found so amusing. “The woman’s a busybody.” And an old biddy besides, but she feared Pastor Lovelace would find her words unkind She didn’t want to alienate him before she zeroed in on the real reason for her visit.

“I find Mrs. Miracle…I mean, Merkle…to be a woman of unique faith.”

“Perhaps.” Harriett was willing to grant the woman that much. “She certainly has found a way to ingratiate herself with the women of this church in short order.” Harriett, however, wasn’t as easily taken in by a smooth tongue and slick manners. The woman was trouble with a capital T. Baking cookies for the women’s bazaar and contributing the recipe for winter fruit dip. Why, it was pure indulgence, that’s what it was. Pure indulgence.

“Don’t you agree?” Pastor’s gaze narrowed as he looked at her. “Mrs. Merkle is a woman of unique faith.”

“Faith, perhaps, but I see very little religion in her.”

“How do you mean?” the young minister pressed. Something in his attitude changed; she noticed it in his eyes and believed he was keen to hear her response.

“Well, it’s difficult to explain…with words. It’s as if the woman isn’t quite like the rest of us, if you catch my drift.”

“You mean she isn’t of this world?”

“Something like that,” Harriett agreed. “When she looks at me I’m left with the feeling that…” She didn’t dare voice the truth, not with the opposite sex. The fact was, she’d been left feeling exposed, as if Emily Merkle had the power to know things she had no business knowing.

Once several years ago, shortly after her husband had passed on, Harriett had purchased a pair of silk underpants. She attributed the minor decline in common sense to her overwhelming loss and grief. She’d worn them only once and had hidden them in the back of her drawer ever since. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Harriett felt Emily Merkle knew about those black silk panties.

“The feeling that…,” he prompted.

“Frankly, Pastor, I’m not here to talk about the Websters’ housekeeper. It’s Ruth Darling who concerns me.”

“Ruth Darling?” He sounded surprised. “Ruth’s the delicate matter you wish to discuss?”

Harriett sat up on the chair, stiffening her spine. She was so close to the edge of the cushion that she was in danger of falling butt first onto the floor.

She didn’t expect this to be a comfortable conversation, but she considered it her Christian duty. If she could save one lost lamb from stumbling into the den of wolves and being trapped in iniquity, then she’d completed her task.

“What I say must stay in this office,” she warned, glancing over her shoulder to be certain the door was completely closed. She didn’t know Joanne Lawton well, but she wouldn’t put it past the church secretary to listen in on conversations that were meant to be private.

“But of course.”

Once she’d been granted the assurances she needed, Harriett felt free to continue. “I fear for the spiritual well-being of my dear, dear friend.” Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at her clenched hands. “I’ve discovered that…” She closed her eyes, hardly able to voice it. “That my friend has”—she paused for effect—“lusted after another man.”

“Ruth Darling?” Pastor Lovelace leaped to his feet, then quickly sat back down. “I’m sure you’re mistaken,” he continued in a less boisterous manner.

Harriett had feared it would come to something like this. She reached for her purse and withdrew an envelope. “I’ve kept a list of my observances,” she said, wanting it to sound as if the task had been repugnant to her. With a show of reluctance, she handed him the envelope. “You’ll discover that the first occurrence happened several months ago. In September…September seventh, to be exact, and right here in this very church.”

Pastor Lovelace lowered the envelope to his desk without opening it. Harriett had hoped that he’d read the mounting data for himself and save her the necessity of having to spell out what could only be the truth. The evidence was overwhelming, the conclusion simple.

“I’m afraid it’s Lyle Fawcett,” she said. “He’s the man who’s tempted her to this fall from grace.”

“This has to do with Ruth Darling and Lyle Fawcett?” Pastor Lovelace sounded incredulous.

“Why, yes.” His shock was what she’d expected. Apparently she was the only one diligent enough to recognize what was happening. To his credit, Lyle had been an innocent bystander, unaware of the course to sin his presence had wrought.

“It pains me to inform you that Ruth has eyed Lyle like a bird of prey every Sunday for weeks. It’s most disconcerting to find a woman married to a man as good and kind as Fred Darling ogling another man.”

“And you’ve discussed your concerns with Ruth yourself?”

Harriett’s back went ramrod straight. Discuss the situation with Ruth herself? She’d never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. One didn’t go about confronting people about sin. That was a minister’s job. While it was true that some less-than-charitable Christians might find it their duty, Harriett most certainly did not.

“Surely you’re not suggesting that I speak to Ruth about this? Why…I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It might surprise you to learn that matters are not always what they seem.” Although Pastor Lovelace’s eyes were kind, his words carried a sharp edge. “You might learn something.”

“There’s a link between the two, isn’t there?” Harriett had suspected as much from the first.

“I believe you’re right about that.”

“Aha!” She raised her index finger toward the ceiling.

Pastor Lovelace laughed outright and then had the good grace to look repentant. “I want you to promise me that you’ll discuss your concerns with Ruth Darling yourself.”

It was unthinkable. “I…I don’t know that I can.”

“It’s my feeling that if any of us has a question about one of our brethren, instead of asking others, we go directly to that person.”

Harriett didn’t like what she was hearing. It was the last thing she’d expected the good pastor to suggest. “Surely you don’t condone Ruth’s behavior?”

“It isn’t for me to condone or condemn.”

Harriett couldn’t believe her ears. The woman was flirting with the worst form of sin. Surely Pastor Lovelace recognized as much.

The pastor stood, indicating their time together was at an end. “You’ll do as I ask?”

Harriett’s mouth opened and closed a number of times. “If you’re sure…if you think I should.”

“I do.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to leave. Harriett fumbled in her purse for another slip of paper. “There are two others whom I’d like to report…” Flustered now, she unfolded the sheet. “Barbara Newton and Oliva Sanchez, and—”

“Have you spoken directly to them?” he interrupted.

“Ah, no, but I assumed…I thought you’d want to do that yourself.” That he suggested she would was nothing short of shocking.

“As I said, it’s been my experience that whenever one hears something unkind or negative about another person, the best course is to ask that person.” He paused and seemed to wait for Harriett to respond.

“But…”

“I know that you have a kind and generous heart for the people of this church.”

Harriett relaxed. “Indeed I do. I care deeply about the spiritual welfare of every soul who walks through these doors.”

“I felt you must. I know that you’d be the last person to want to create gossip.”

She planted her hand over her heart. “Never. That’s why I came directly to you with these matters.”

“All I’m saying is that perhaps it would be best to talk to these individuals yourself, in a spirit of love, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“Ask if there’s any way you could be of help. Offer them your friendship.”

She had so few real friends, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Her shyness was a problem, and she’d had Abigail, but now that both her sister and her husband were gone, it felt as if the entire
world had shriveled up and died. For the first time in her life she was truly lonely. No one wanted to be friends with her. No one invited her to their homes. She was good enough to play the organ for all their special functions, but not good enough to be a friend. Never that.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Harriett mumbled on her way out the door. She had achieved nothing. Her visit to Pastor Lovelace had failed. Ruth Darling would continue her flirtation with Lyle Fawcett and all the church would look on with horror as another family was destroyed.

Trapped in her musings, Harriett walked outside the church without watching her step. When she stepped on a thin patch of ice in the church parking lot, her feet went out from under her. Arms flailing, she let out a bloodcurdling scream that was loud enough to hail the Second Coming.