The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  “He grew up in a Baptist church, remember? He probably loves potluck.” Ryan said. “He’s gone, though. He said he had some stuff to do for his grandmother. Has he ever told you about how his mother just dumped him on his grandparents when he was little?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard his very sad story. It seems inconceivable to me for a mother to do such a thing…unless she was protecting her child, like the wild gypsy girl in Peri’s musical fantasy.”

  “Maybe that is what happened…Yeah, maybe Peri is a prince,” Ryan laughed.

  “Do you have homework tonight?” Merrill asked.

  “Not much. I guess I’ll go hit it before dinner, though. Are you about ready to come home?”

  “I won’t be long. I want my message this Sunday to be as special as your music. You take care of your schoolwork and I’ll be in soon.”

  Merrill was surprised when Ryan slipped behind her chair on his way out to give her a quick hug.

  She sat quietly savoring the moment before returning to her notes.

  Having Ryan’s company made her aware of just how lonely she’d been since her husband’s passing.

  *

  Saturday morning, Merrill went into the sanctuary after breakfast to make a final inspection. She wanted to be sure everything was in order for the next day’s service.

  Seeing the freshly polished pews and gleaming floors brought a smile to her lips. It looked like everything was ready. The aisle carpet had been swept and the communion table was ready for the trays of bread and juice.

  After repositioning the stands for the floral arrangements being delivered later, she stood back admiring the effect of everyone’s hard work.

  Her brothers and Ryan had been real troupers moving the extra pews to storage in the basement and helping with the polishing. Not to mention all the repairs.

  Merrill made a mental note to begin filling the now leak-free baptistery in mid-afternoon, so the water would be ready for the next morning’s service.

  She climbed the platform steps and approached the empty baptistery, looking for any detritus left behind from the repair work.

  As she approached, she spied a lump of beige cloth the color of her brother’s jacket in one corner.

  “Silly Sage,” she thought. “He’d forget his…”

  Her thought remained incomplete. On closer inspection, her brother’s work jacket became a man, curled up and sleeping in the dry baptistery.

  Bannoch didn’t have the sort of homeless population she’d experienced in the Bay Area, but occasionally someone did wander into one of the church buildings when people were inside, and the doors were unlocked.

  Merrill supposed Peri must have forgotten to lock up when he left the previous evening, allowing this poor fellow to come in seeking a night’s shelter.

  She hated to wake him, both for his sake and her own. One never knew what to expect when accosting a stranger, especially from a sound sleep.

  Merrill cleared her throat to get the slumbering man’s attention.

  When he failed to stir, she tried again, louder, but still got no response.

  “Sir. Excuse me. Sir!” she spoke, louder still, and stepped nearer.

  The man’s head was canted at an unusual angle and there was an odd, ashen tone to his complexion.

  Leaning into the baptistery to give his shoulder a shake, Merrill noted matted blood above one ear.

  Reluctantly feeling the man’s neck for a pulse, her fingers registered the cold, inanimate quality of his skin.

  Oh dear! The poor fellow must have fallen in and died.

  Merrill’s knees buckled and she sat suddenly on the pulpit chair beside the baptistery.

  This was too much.

  First, a suicide in the belfry and, now, an accidental death in the newly repaired baptistery.

  She tried not to be angry with Peri for letting the man in, or to let her disappointment about a possible delay in her congregation’s return to their sanctuary override concern for the man’s death, but it was hard.

  With a resigned sigh, she got up and went to her office to call emergency services and report the accident.

  What can’t be avoided must be faced head-on to get it over with.

  *

  “Hey, this is weird, Detective Ransom,” Sergeant Tad Baughley said, looking up from his computer monitor in the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Office some days later.

  “What’s that, Sergeant?” Ransom replied.

  “That accidental death, the man who fell into the Bannoch Baptist Church’s baptismal pool the other day? He worked with the lady who hung herself in their belfry a few months ago. What are the odds?”

  “Odds? Not good. Not good, at all. We need to look into this, Baughley. It is simply too much of a coincidence. Get me the suicide’s file and everything you have on this recent death. Something is not kosher at the Bannoch First Baptist Church.”

  *

  Merrill was frustrated as she waited for the deacons to join her for prayer before worship.

  Here they were, back in the church annex, when they should be preparing to worship in the sanctuary.

  Instead, the whole area was roped off again while the Sheriff investigated this most recent death.

  Calls had been made notifying the members of the changed location and a sign was on the church doors directing people to the social hall, but everyone was disappointed.

  Well, perhaps not everyone.

  Merrill couldn’t help noticing how much more cheerful Manota was as she came into the room.

  She seemed almost perky, in a drab sort of way.

  “If we are all here, I guess we should pray. First, I want to say this is only a temporary setback. We will go ahead with our plans, rescheduled for two weeks from today. I’ve spoken to our baptismal candidate and she has chosen to wait for the sanctuary to be available for her baptism. As we pray this morning, let’s remember the family of the man who died,” Merrill said.

  “Don’t you think this second death is a sign? God doesn’t want us back in that sanctuary, I’m sure of it,” Manota said, her sour disposition reasserting itself.

  “Signs and wonders can be real, but, if God wants to give us a sign, there are much simpler methods than having folks drop dead in the church, don’t you think, Manota?” Edgar said.

  “Can anyone think of any biblical reason God would not want us to worship in His house?” Manny asked.

  When no one responded, Merrill began their prayer and the morning worship routine carried on as usual.

  Chapter 14

  “It is just so infuriating! After all the work we did, we still couldn’t use the sanctuary,” Merrill complained on the phone to her brother, Wolf.

  “Do you think that homeless guy died just to annoy you?” he responded.

  “Oh, of course not! And it turns out he wasn’t a homeless person, after all. He was a realtor from Portland. In fact, he worked in the same office as that poor woman who hung herself. Do you suppose they were romantically involved?”

  “So, what are you thinking? He came to see the place where she died and was so heartbroken, he decided to take a swan dive into your empty baptistery?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. None of it makes any sense. Why First Baptist? Why now?” Merrill asked.

  “Well, hang in there, Bluebell. Don’t get all worked up. You are going to be in your sanctuary in a couple of weeks and you’ll have your big Open House, and all this will be just a memory,” Wolf reassured her.

  “We’ve decided to hold the Open House next Saturday, actually. I’ve sent notices around to the other churches to include in their bulletins and announcements. But, whatever happens, I am determined that we are going to worship in our own sanctuary. If anyone else is thoughtless enough to die in our church, we will say a prayer and simply carry on around them,” Merrill said, not entirely in jest.

  After hanging up the phone, Wolf turned to his friend and co-worker, Peter Compton, who had walked up to the desk while he was speaking w
ith Merrill.

  “That’s a funny thing,” Wolf said.

  “What?” Peter asked.

  “I was just talking to my preacher-sister in Oregon. She’s found two dead bodies in her church in the few short months since taking the post.”

  “What? Just lying around among the hymnals? That sounds unlucky and unpleasant, but hardly funny,” Peter said.

  “Yeah, right, but it turns out the two people who died worked together in Portland, miles away from my sister’s town. Weird.”

  “What was the cause of death?” Peter asked, becoming serious.

  “The woman hanged herself in the bell tower. That was months ago. The man just recently turned up… in the baptistery, of all places. Looked like he fell in and banged his head. No idea what either one of them was doing in that church, or even how they got in.”

  “Now, that is odd. I see what you mean. There must be a story behind it.”

  “You investigative reporters see stories everywhere. It’s probably just a bizarre coincidence,” Wolf said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Where is this ill-omened church, anyway? What did you say your sister’s name is?”

  “Are you planning to pursue this non-story all the way down the Oregon coast? Talk about a wild goose chase.”

  “I’m sick of covering nothing but scandals and political controversies. I’ve got some vacation days coming and I’m thinking unexplained deaths in a small town on the Oregon coast might be just the diversion I need. Give me the ‘who, what, when and where’ and maybe I’ll look into your sister’s mysterious ‘why’ while I’m getting a little much needed R & R.”

  “Okay, Pete, but I think I could find a whole lot better way to use up those vacation days,” Wolf replied, shaking his head.

  *

  “Eskaletha! How good of you to come to our Open House,” Merrill cried as she greeted her friend.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Eskaletha replied. “Have you met my husband, Tyrone?”

  “We’ve met at the Ministerial Association meetings, haven’t we, Doctor Bishop?” Tyrone said, reaching for Merrill’s outstretched hand.

  “That’s right. You welcomed me very graciously to the group, Doctor Evans,” Merrill smiled up at Eskaletha’s dignified and handsome husband.

  “So, what do you think of our refurbishment?” Merrill asked the couple.

  “Very nice,” Eskaletha said.

  “I like what you’ve done with this back area. There were rows of pews here before, weren’t there?” Tyrone asked.

  “Yes. Taking them out reduced the empty feeling you can get with a large sanctuary and a small congregation,” Merrill said.

  “It does seem cozier, and this social area nicely accommodates gatherings such as this,” Tyrone said, helping himself to a handful of nuts from a nearby refreshment table.

  “You should suggest doing something similar in our church,” Eskaletha added.

  Merrill spotted a group of newcomers arriving, including Naidenne and Scott Davidson, and excused herself to greet them.

  “So good of you to join us today,” she said as she drew near.

  “Dr. Bishop, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Rosamund, her husband, Len, and my friends, Bunny and Shirley,” Naidenne said.

  After an exchange of handshakes and polite greetings, the new arrivals merged into the growing crowd to check out the sanctuary improvements and the refreshments tables.

  After Merrill had moved off to greet other new arrivals, Rosamund leaned close to Naidenne and gestured with a nod of her head.

  “Who’s the Robert Redford look-alike?” she stage-whispered.

  “Where?” Naidenne asked, looking over the assembly.

  “The ruggedly handsome one next to the coffee urn, over there,” Rosamund said, risking whiplash by jerking her head violently in the man’s direction.

  “Oh. Oh yes, I see who you mean. He is rather handsome. Not as good-looking as Scott, of course,” Naidenne said. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Do you think he could be one of Merrill’s brothers?” Rosamund asked.

  “No. I met Wolf and Sage when they were here working on the repairs.”

  “Maybe a member of her congregation, then?”

  “Why don’t we just ask him?” Naidenne said, striding across the floor toward the beverage table, leaving her sister-in-law standing with her mouth open.

  Naidenne selected a cup from the table and approached the coffee urn. As she dispensed her coffee, she looked over at the attractive stranger and smiled.

  “Doesn’t the sanctuary look nice?” she commented, taking her cup and standing next to the man.

  “Yes. I’ve never been here before, but I understand it was recently restored,” Peter Compton replied.

  “So, you aren’t a member of the congregation, then?” Naidenne asked.

  “No, just a visitor. I take it you are not a member, either?” Peter bounced the conversational ball back into her court with a grin.

  “I’m Naidenne Davidson. My husband pastors the Bannoch Community Fellowship. I’m happy to meet you, Mr...?”

  “Compton, Peter Compton. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Davidson.”

  “Please, call me Naidenne. Are you new in our community, Mr. Compton?”

  “No, I’m just passing through,” Peter replied, then, spying Merrill standing alone, excused himself.

  “Well, what did you find out?” Rosamund asked, as soon as Naidenne returned to her side.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I wasn’t subtle enough. But I learned he’s not from Merrill’s congregation, anyway. His name is Peter Compton and I think maybe he’s a tourist. He probably just wandered in when he saw the festivities.”

  “We’ll have to get Scott to talk to him. He’ll find out all about him by using his preacher’s wiles,” Rosamund said.

  Seeing Scott across the room, she headed his way with Naidenne following close behind.

  Naidenne’s friends from the Community Fellowship, Shirley Griffith and Bunny Elder Banks, had made a circuit of the sanctuary and were filling their plates with a generous sampling of the goodies available.

  “Ooh, I love these! Have you ever made them, Bunny? You spread cream cheese on dried beef, wrap the thin beef slices around a dill pickle and slice it into coins. They look so pretty and taste yummy,” Shirley said, popping one of the bite-sized hors d’oeuvres into her mouth.

  When Bunny only nodded distractedly, Shirley stopped eating.

  “Are you okay, Bunny? You seem sort of moody today. Not like yourself, at all,” Shirley said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was thinking of the strange email I got this morning from my step-daughter, Marki.”

  “You mean Max’s daughter? I didn’t think you were in touch with her since Max died.”

  “We haven’t been. Then today, out of the blue, I got an email from her. She said she was on location for the next season of that TV reality show she’s on. She’s in Borneo or some outlandish place. She said she saw her dad and he’s alive.”

  “But we know that’s not possible. He was on that plane when it exploded. There were no survivors.”

  “They never did recover his body, though,” Bunny said, sounding almost hopeful.

  “That’s because he was vaporized, or something. I don’t mean to be harsh, but Marki is imagining things. She misses her dad, so she thinks she sees him, that’s all.”

  “Yes, of course you’re right. I don’t know why I let her upset me. I will write back and tell her not to let her imagination run away with her,” Bunny said, taking a bite from one of the tidbits on her plate.

  “Say, these pickle things are good,” she added another to her plate and the two friends wandered off to find a place to sit.

  Across the room, Merrill saw Manota Addison going towards the hallway.

  “Well, that is a good sign,” she muttered to herself.

  Since Manota had come to the Open House, she might be getting over her superstitious resist
ance to using the sanctuary.

  Merrill lost her train of thought as Peter Compton walked up to her.

  “You are a friend of my brother? Do you and Wolf work together? I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you,” Merrill said, after Peter introduced himself.

  “I work in the field, mostly, but we try to get together for a drink or a meal whenever I’m in town. He learned I was coming down this way and asked me to look in on you,” Peter said.

  As a reporter, he was comfortable putting his own spin on the facts.

  “Well, that was an uncharacteristically solicitous gesture on his part,” Merrill replied, without thinking.

  She surprised herself by bantering with this stranger, as though he were an old friend.

  Trying for a more appropriate response, she held out her hand.

  “I’m happy to meet you, Peter. What brings you to the Bannoch area?”

  “Just taking a little vacation, seeing the sights along the coast and letting the spirit lead where it will.”

  “If we all let the Spirit lead us, we would be happier people, I’m sure,” Merrill said. “He always knows what’s best for us, after all.”

  “He? Oh, I get you. Good one. You are talking about the Holy Spirit, of course. I almost forgot you are a preacher lady,” Peter said.

  “Don’t you approve of preacher ladies, Mr. Compton?” Merrill asked with an edge in her voice.

  “Now, don’t get on your high horse. I don’t have any right to approve or disapprove. I’m a believer and I believe faith is between a man…or woman…and God. I would never question someone’s call to the ministry.”

  “I’m sorry if I seemed touchy, Peter. I’ve needed to defend my vocation so often; I’m beginning to see slights where none were intended. Forgive me?”

  “If you will forgive me for the ‘preacher lady’ crack,” Peter smiled.

  Merrill tried to get the conversation back onto a more neutral tack.

  “Would you like to see the repairs Wolf and our brother Sage completed? That’s the reason for this Open House, after all. Tomorrow we will finally be worshiping in our sanctuary again. It’s been a frustrating wait.”

  “Oh, did your brothers take a long time with the repairs?” he asked.