Simon turned slowly to James. His eyes were hard and his face was a complete mask.
He turned back to Sally before James could say anything. “I need to talk to you and your husband, Sally. Let’s go find him.”
Ben came into the room just then as if on cue, shuffling one foot in front of the other, his usually bright face looking tired and old. His balding head had beads of sweat on it.
“Hello, Ben,” Simon said without turning around as Ben came up behind the couch. “Please tell the Reverend that this dinner is just for us and he needs to go, won’t you?”
“Ben?” Sally said to him, with worry in her voice at the sight of her husband’s blank face.
“Reverend Buchman,” Ben said in the same disinterested tone that Sally had used when she first opened the door. “I’m afraid I have to ask you—”
“To stay?” James said loudly, hoping he could break the spell Ben seemed to be under. “You want to ask me to stay?”
Ben blinked.
For a moment it had worked, he had beaten Simon at his own game and everything was going to be all right again and—
“There really isn’t enough,” Ben said flatly. “We’re busy with our new guest. I need to ask you to leave, Reverend Buchman.”
The words were like a punch in the gut.
Simon crossed his feet on the coffee table—a blatant act of defiance to Sally—and smirked at James. “It’s easier with certain people, Reverend. Their minds are weaker.” He waved a hand in front of Ben’s face. “Old Jedi mind trick, you know.”
Sally wasn’t having any of it. “Ben, what is wrong with you?” She stepped around the couch ignoring Simon’s glare and walked right up to Ben. She took his face in her hands. “Ben, look at me now. Look at me.”
As Ben looked into the eyes of his wife, James saw him blinking in recognition. “Sally?” Ben asked in a small croak. “What . . . what’s happening?”
“Mr. Paradis was just telling us that he has to go,” Sally said, turning to glower at Simon.
Simon jumped to his feet, knocking a candy dish on the coffee table to the floor. He pointed a bony finger at James and said resentfully, “He’s the one that needs to go!”
James stared at the finger Simon pointed in his direction. It was just a finger. Nothing scary about it. Nothing more than the outstretched pointer finger of a man of nondescript looks and an indeterminate age. It held no power.
All the power in the room was in the hands of Sally, being wielded by her love for Ben, a love granted by God.
“You heard the lady,” James said to Simon with a sudden confidence buoyed by the sight of Ben and Sally hugging each other tightly. “It’s time for you to go. Not just from this house but from this town.”
“I like it here,” Simon growled.
“Well, we don’t like you here, Mr. Paradis,” Sally said to him. “What on earth possessed us to say we’d rent you a room is beyond me. Shoo, now. Go on with you.”
Simon didn’t turn to her. His look of hatred and frustration was reserved exclusively for James. He kicked the corner of the coffee table and shoved it out of his way. As he walked past James, he paused to whisper, “Don’t think this is over, Reverend. We’ll see each other again.”
James knew that they would.
“Now, Reverend,” Sally said, Ben still holding her in his arms and blinking every few seconds. “We made that hateful man a dinner, but I think we’d be much happier with your company. Would you like to join us?”
James smiled and tipped his head. “I’d like that a lot Sally. How are you feeling? Ben, how are you?”
Ben still looked a bit confused. “We’re alright, I suppose.”
Sally winked at him. “We’re just right as rain Reverend, thank you for asking.”
* * *
From outside, a man in a tattered overcoat watched through the window as Sally, Ben, and James sat down to dinner. Simon Paradis, or rather the form that Satan had assumed for this little visit, was pleased. Things were progressing nicely.
Just as he had planned.
“Let the fun and games begin!” he said with a grin.
Chapter Fourteen
ALL THROUGH THE REST of the week, James kept an eye out for Simon every day, expecting the man to pop up at any moment in that ratty old coat. He tried to find out where Simon was living, but no one seemed to know. Everyone knew of the charismatic, eccentric man who had just moved into town. Most people had at least a few kind words to say about him. But no one seemed to really know where he came from or where he was living now.
As a new week began, James was exhausted. As a pastor, he was prepared for his days to be full. Harmony might not have the big city rush that he remembered from his childhood growing up in San Diego, but there were still a number of demands on his time here.
There were his usual duties of preparing for and performing services at the church, and driving around to visit and check on the members of his community who were elderly or ill.
There were several charities that always needed help such as the Veterans Assistance Association and the Animal Shelter. Add to that the actual business of running a church and the hundred or so other little things he did from day to day—his life was already full and now it was getting fuller.
The primary issue now was that there were a lot more sick people to tend to. A number of people in Harmony were bedridden with a nasty flu bug, so many that the school had closed its doors last Thursday to give the kids a four-day weekend. The idea was to give everyone time to get over their illness before they brought it to school and spread it to others.
The COPs were out in full force. They were bringing soup and performing little errands for those who couldn’t make it out of bed to do it themselves. James tried to go to a few houses every day where he knew people had contracted this virus. But even with the added help of Branson and the volunteers from his church, it was becoming harder and harder to keep up with it.
Something else had been nagging at James, too. Something that Simon told him—about that little town of St. Joseph in Florida. Simon had said it was gone, and implied he had something to do with it. At first James had just assumed it was an outright lie meant to scare him, the creation of a sick or drug-addled mind. But James had seen the way Simon seemed to manipulate people’s minds, and that gave him cause to think there might be something to it.
There was one way to find out. And then James could get his focus back on the good people of this town, and off of the twisted fantasies of Simon Paradis.
Chapter Fifteen
IN THE MIDDLE OF a busy Tuesday morning, James found a little time to stop at Harmony’s library. It was a stout red brick building with tall, narrow windows, white trim, and flowers in neat plots outside. It was a cheery place in the middle of a typical fall day.
Sitting down at one of the four desktop computers available for the patrons of the library to use, James ran his hands through his hair impatiently. He usually used a computer to do paperwork and accounting for the church but little else. He preferred human interaction to cyber interaction and the simplicity and feel of paper to the jarring contrast of a computer monitor, but there was no faster way to do this sort of research. Logging on to the Internet, James typed into the search engine, St. Joseph Florida.
A list came up almost immediately, filled with church websites, and Wikipedia pages about Saint Joseph and Florida. More than ninety million results. Less than helpful!
He sat tapping the keyboard with a finger in thought and he barely noticed when Amy came in and sat at the computer across the table from him. When she cleared her throat, he looked up, startled.
“Oh, Amy. Hi. I didn’t see you come in.” James kept his voice to a whisper even though there was no one else in the library.
She smiled at him in the way that women have for showing patience when a man says something foolish. She was in casual clothes, blue jeans, and a comfortable blouse top. Her hair was out of its ponytail, long auburn tres
ses falling in gentle waves down her neck. He’d noticed, several times before, how pretty she was. He noticed it again, now.
He looked into her eyes, still embarrassed about his mental stumble last week. He was unsure of what to say next.
Funny, he could stand up in front of the entire congregation and give a lengthy sermon full of instruction and gentle criticism, but looking into Amy’s eyes now James could hardly find the words.
The moment stretched and became awkward.
“How are things with Rick?” He settled on.
Her smile faded.
After a few moments, she started, “Rick and I . . .” There she stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. “I’ve finally decided that Rick and I are done for good. I just can’t see myself being friends with somebody who can be that possessive. He only wants one thing. I can’t take his pushing me to be what I’m not. I’m tired of his manipulations. The guilt trips. All of it. You were right. You were so, so right. All those times you told me that I should hold fast to who I was and cut it off entirely with him.”
“Amy, I never said you should end your friendship with Rick.” His words sounded lame to his own ears. “I said you shouldn’t give up your beliefs for someone else, true. I did say that.”
“I know you didn’t actually tell me to, but it was there for me to see, and you led me to it. You were right.”
Had he been a little more persuasive than he had realized all those times he had talked to her? It had certainly been hard to not encourage her to leave Rick with the way he treated her. He couldn’t say he was sorry to hear she had left him.
“Amy, I’m so sorry,” was what he said. He was sorry for her, in a way. It hurt to end a friendship, no matter how bad that relationship was.
She shrugged and the smile returned. “It’s for the best. I let him know that we couldn’t have anything more to do with each other.”
“How’d he take it?”
She snorted. “Not well. There were . . . things said that I wish I could un-hear. But he’s out of my life now and I’m glad.”
He reached out to put a hand over hers to offer her his comfort. Maybe, as a bit more than just her pastor.
She moved to tap at the keyboard in front of her, shifting her hand just out of reach. “Enough about Rick,” she said. “What are you up to today, Reverend?”
James tapped the fingers of the hand he had reached toward Amy, wondering how to explain what he was doing without giving too much away. “I’m researching a small town in Florida. Well, a historical town, I guess. It’s not on the maps anymore.”
“Hmm. Sounds interesting,” she said, pushing her computer keyboard aside to lean her elbows on the tabletop. “Having any luck?”
“Actually, no. I just started and I’m not really good at this sort of thing . . .”
“Okay. So . . . you’re looking into the history of Florida?”
James returned his gaze to the computer screen and tapped a few keys. “Not the whole state. I’m just trying to find out about a little town that was called St. Joseph.”
She came around to stand behind him. “I’m pretty good with computers. Maybe I can help.”
He leaned to one side so that she could see the monitor in front of him. “See?” he said, pointing to the volume of information on the screen. “If it’s there I can’t find it for all of this other stuff.”
“Have you tried doing an exact search?”
“An exact search?”
“Yeah. Let’s try St. Joseph Florida in quotes.” She leaned forward and typed in the search. “This should narrow your results.”
Amy’s hair brushed his cheek and James caught a whiff of her perfume, subtle and vaguely sweet.
“Is this what you were looking for?” she asked.
He forced his attention back to the search results. The first few websites listed were still of no use. One was a travel agency offering trips to scenic places in the state of Florida. Then, about halfway down the list was a link that read The Mystery of St. Joseph.
“Yes, I think so. I think that’s it.” He clicked on the link and the page loaded.
Tragedy Strikes! screamed the headline of a scanned newspaper from 1841. He read through the article slowly. The story was grim.
Four years before the area that would become Florida had been granted statehood, a plague had struck the port town of St. Joseph. Dozens of people died suddenly of a sickness that no one had ever seen the likes of before. Without warning, people began screaming in the streets. They bled from their mouths, noses, and ears. Taken home to rest, they went into fever and convulsions and then died within hours. No one was safe as the disease hit all ages, the frail, the strong, men, women and children. There was no known cure. Within weeks, the newspaper reported, more than half the town’s population had died. Many people had packed up and left, but the writer of the article said he feared for the safety of the rest of the territory if those individuals carried the plague with them.
The tragedy continued as a hurricane hit later that year, leveling the church and most residences. Those who dared to rebuild were devastated weeks later when a fire swept through the town, burning every remaining house to the ground.
The article included horrific artist renderings of the town burning.
“Those poor people,” Amy breathed.
Below was another drawing from further back in time. It was labeled The Founding of St. Joseph and consisted of six men standing in an open field, shovels in hand, about to break ground for a building. They looked happy. They seemed full of life. They looked—
James stared. One of the men was tall, with long dark hair to his shoulders and a full beard.
Even in the grainy etching it was easy to recognize those familiar facial features.
Simon Paradis. Impossible, but there he was!
Aghast, James couldn’t help but worry that the devil had something similar planned for Harmony.
Amy was squinting at the photo now. “That guy there looks familiar.” She leaned in closer. “You know who he looks like?”
“Simon Paradis,” James finished her thought.
“Weird. I wonder if he’s related?” she said. Then she saw the look on James’ face. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? That was a question with a thousand different answers, all of which would only lead to more questions. Branson’s admonition to not tell anyone about Simon’s claim to be the devil came to mind. James didn’t want to burden Amy with this. For now, he should keep this burden for himself.
“Nothing,” he said, forcing a smile. “It’s just weird. How do I print this?” he asked, hoping that would close the subject.
Amy leaned past him once more and typed the print command.
“Thank you for your help Amy. I couldn’t have done this without you,” James said, retrieving the pages from the printer.
“You’re welcome, James. You know, the Internet isn’t really that scary of a place . . .”
“You have no idea,” he said, meaning every word.
Spontaneously, Amy reached out and hugged him.
James hugged her back, holding her for a moment longer than he needed to. A sense of strength flooded his body. He’d never felt that from any person before, certainly not from any of the girls he’d dated in college, not even Susannah, who he’d wanted to marry. This was something new. Something he knew was right.
She stepped back from him with a little smile and curled her hair back behind her ear.
“I should be going now,” he said nervously. “I have a few more people to check on.”
“I understand. A pastor’s work is never done.”
Not with the devil living in Harmony!
Chapter Sixteen
AFTER CHECKING ON A few parishioners, James stopped at Ed’s Diner for a late breakfast.
Ed’s was an old-fashioned, mom-and-pop diner owned by Henry Caringi and his wife Pamela. Henry named the restaurant after his grandfather, a short order cook. They
were famous for their home-cooked meals, American greasy spoon goodness, as James called them—a little taste of home. Inside, the atmosphere was reminiscent of the 1950’s, with its black and white tile floor, long chrome-lined counter, round red leather cushioned stools, and booths that lined the walls.
James sat in a corner booth and read over the printouts from the library. He had more questions than answers and was beginning to feel a tinge of guilt. It really wasn’t very Christian of him to be so suspicious of a newcomer in their community. Branson had a point—why, of all places on this earth, would the devil choose to walk around as a man in the little town of Harmony in upstate New York? It was much more likely that this man was mentally ill. Charming, manipulative and mentally ill.
“Reverend Buchman?”
James looked up to find Daniel Lapinski standing there, smiling.
“Daniel, good to see,” James said, pushing the printouts into a neat stack. “Please sit down and join me!”
Daniel slid into the booth seat across from James. “Thank you, Reverend.”
Just then, the waitress arrived with James’ meal.
“Would you like something to eat?” James offered.
“Oh, no. I was just passing by and saw your car outside . . . I wanted to speak with you for a minute. Uncle Samuel says to tell you hello.”
“Well, you tell him hello right back. He’s been doing very well since you moved in to help him.”
Daniel sat silent.
“So, what can I do for you?” James finally said.
“Actually, I was hoping I could maybe help you out. I’ve been doing odd jobs all around town.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. You come highly recommended by my parishioners.”
“It was great for the first week, but now it seems a lot of that work has dried up. I thought maybe the church could use a handyman? Or maybe you know someone in need of help? I don’t ask for much in return, sir, just enough to get by on.”
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