by J B Hawker
“Is that another sermon topic, Aunt Merri?” Ryan teased.
“Could be,” she replied. “Or maybe I’ll speak about the care and feeding of the modern teen-age boy and use you for all my examples.”
“You wouldn’t, not really. Would you?”
“Of course not. It always makes me cringe to hear a pastor sharing private incidents from his family life. I know some pastors get their family’s permission, but not all of them do,” Merrill said.
After having their offer to help clean up politely refused by the Lums, Merrill and Ryan left for home filled with good food and fellowship.
“That was nice,” Ryan said on the drive home. “I like the Lums.”
“Me too. They were among the first folks to make me feel welcome in Bannoch.”
“The church is growing, isn’t it?”
“God has been blessing us with new people almost every week.”
“So, they must like you as the pastor.”
“I hope so. Why?”
“Oh, just something I overheard in the hallway after Sunday School.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Merrill asked, pulling into her parking slot.
“Nah, it’s not important,” Ryan decided not to mention the things he’d heard Mr. Ortello saying. “Can I go hang out at the mall?”
“I suppose so, if your homework is all done, but change out of your church clothes, first,” Merrill replied.
“Great. Thanks!”
Ryan grabbed the door key from his aunt and ran ahead to get changed.
Merrill followed at a more leisurely pace, with a contented smile on her face.
Shortly after Merrill, too, changed into casual clothes, there was a knock on the door.
Merrill was surprised to see Peter standing on the step.
When she didn’t see him in church that morning, she supposed he was out of town doing his investigative journalist thing.
“Come in,” she said with a smile.
Peter stepped in and kissed her gently on the lips.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I wanted to get that in, in case you become annoyed with me and I don’t get a good-bye kiss when I leave,” Peter said with a grin.
“Are you planning to do something to annoy me, then?”
“I hope not,” he replied, plopping down on the sofa and patting the cushion beside him.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Merrill asked, after taking the seat he’d indicated.
“Do you have any beer?” Peter asked.
“I’m afraid not. I can offer you lemonade, though.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“What have you been up to the past few days?” Merrill asked.
“Lots of things. I went to see Ariadne Bostwich, for one.”
“Oh, Peter, no! You didn’t tell her what you discovered about Peri’s mother,” Merrill protested.
“I’m afraid so. I told her everything.”
“How did she take it?” Merrill asked.
“Like the elegant, well-bred lady she is, but she was shaken, I’m afraid. I felt like a cad.”
“As you should,” Merrill stated. “Did you tell Peri, too?”
“Nope. That’s one reason I came by,” Peter said.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with destroying that young man’s fantasies. If you are going to do such a horrible thing, you can do it alone.”
“Calm down. After speaking with Ariadne, I realized you are right. No good would come from telling anyone else what I know. Ariadne and her husband did a generous thing when they convinced Peri’s mother to give him up. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I thought I should set your mind at ease. I know you don’t really trust me, yet,” Peter said.
Merrill looked down with a sheepish expression before responding.
“It isn’t that I don’t trust you, exactly. I, well, I don’t really know you very well. And you did threaten to sacrifice Peri’s happiness on the altar of Free-Speech-above-all,” she said.
“I suppose I came across as a tad self-righteous, at that. Thanks for reminding me of the possible emotional fallout. I think you are a good influence on me.”
“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for easing my mind, too. I’m relieved and not annoyed, even a little. So, I guess you didn’t need to kiss me before, after all,” Merrill said, her cheeks turning red as she spoke.
“Oh, maybe I didn’t need to, but I wanted to,” he said, as he slid his arm around her and kissed her, again.
The door opened and Merrill jumped up, as though bitten.
“Ryan! Welcome home. I thought you’d be later. Uh, Peter’s here. He came by to tell me something. Did you have fun at the arcade?” she babbled before winding down.
“Hi, Peter,” Ryan said, laughing.
“How’s your tennis coming along?” Peter asked, chuckling too.
The two guys continued making nonchalant conversation, with the occasional eye-rolling conspiratorial grin, while Merrill pulled herself together.
“Are you hungry, Ryan? Can I fix you something?” she finally said.
“No thanks, Aunt Merri. I had a coke and fries at the arcade. Guess I’ll go to my room, now, and study for Monday’s History test. Good to see you, Peter,” he said with a wink, then went to his room and closed the door.
“Do you think he saw?” Merrill asked.
“Yes, dear. I think he did,” Peter replied, holding back a snicker.
“It’s not funny! What will he think of me, acting like a teenager?”
“From what I could tell, he thought you were hilarious,” Peter said, unable to contain his laughter.
Merrill sputtered furiously until, still chuckling, Peter stood, gathered her into his arms and held her. When he felt the anger seep from her muscles, he tipped up her chin and kissed her again, more deeply than before, the laughter forgotten.
Chapter 27
“Have a good day!” Merrill called to Ryan as he left for school, then stepped back inside and answered the demanding ring of the church phone line.
“First Baptist Church, Pastor Merrill speaking.”
“Pastor, this is Manota Addison. I need to speak with you on a very important matter.”
“Of course, what is it?” Merrill replied.
“Not on the phone. What I have to say is personal and confidential. We need to meet face-to-face.”
“I’ll be in my office from nine to noon this morning, if you’d like to make an appointment.”
“No, this can’t wait. I need to see you right away.”
“I can be in my office in ten minutes.”
“Not at the church. Too many folks wandering in and out, now,” Manota insisted.
“Where would you like to meet?”
“Do you know the little sheltered beach below the church? That one a few hundred yards up the highway?”
“Yes, I’ve been there. It’s our favorite picnic spot,” Merrill said.
“I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Come alone. My business is private,” Manota said, then hung up.
“Oh, what a bother. Now, I’ll need to change into hiking togs and, when she’s through sharing her secret important business, I’ll have to change again for the office,” Merrill grumbled as she climbed back up to her bedroom to change.
*
Olivette Vernon was out for an early morning walk when she spied Judy Falls working in her garden.
“Good morning!” she sang out, walking over to the garden gate. “This is the sweetest little gate. What gave you the idea to make a gate from an old iron crib?”
Judy threw a handful of weeds onto her compost pile and walked over.
“I found the crib all bent and rusty when I was in the woods looking for herbs. The headboard section was intact and it simply cried out to be repurposed,” she said.
Elizabeth rode up on her bicycle, hopped off, and joined her friends beside the gate.
“
Hi, Liz. Out for an early morning ride?” Judy asked.
“I was going to borrow another book from Merrill, but she was out. I’ll try later. Guess I should have called first,” Elizabeth said.
“That reminds me,” Olivette piped up. “The other day we were talking about local Bannoch history, remember, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, you inspired me to go to the library and do some research. You had me wondering if the founding families still had descendants living in Bannoch.”
“That’s right, we were talking about the people who donated the library, the hospital and even the First Baptist Church,” Elizabeth explained to Judy.
“What did you find out about them, Olivette?” Judy asked.
“I traced the Addison family, they were the benefactors you just mentioned, Elizabeth, and there is a direct descendant right here in town.”
“Really? Is it anyone we know?” Judy asked.
“You remember the odd little woman from Merrill’s church? I think Merrill called her ‘irascible’ when she mentioned her. Anyway, she’s the descendant. Last name’s still Addison, but it’s an odd first name. I wrote it down, so I wouldn’t forget it, but wouldn’t you know, I misplaced the paper I wrote it on…it was something like Mendotta, Modetta, or Marolla, maybe, but I can’t remember.”
“It doesn’t matter, Olivette,” Judy said.
“Getting old is a privilege, but sometimes it is also frustrating,” Olivette laughed.
“I wonder if any of the family fortune remained by the time this Addison woman came along,” Elizabeth said.
*
The beach was empty when Merrill climbed down the sandy bank from the highway.
“I don’t know why I bothered to rush. She’s not even here, yet.” she grumbled, then was startled as Manota stepped from behind a cluster of boulders near the water’s edge.
“Come around here, Pastor. There’s a nice private place to sit.”
Merrill followed Manota behind the rocky outcropping.
“You were wise to bring that walking stick out here, Manota,” Merrill said. “It would be easy to lose your footing in this sand.”
Manota settled on one large rock and indicated for Merrill to sit on one nearby.
Once seated, Merrill suspected the rock Manota selected for herself was far more comfortable than her own rough perch.
Manota sat quietly contemplating her walking stick. It seemed to have been made from an old ax handle and looked very sturdy.
For many moments the silence was broken only by the sounds of the surf, the seagulls and the cars speeding by on the highway above the beach.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Manota?” Merrill asked, trying not to sound impatient.
“I’ve got a bit of a confession to make, Pastor,” Manota began, before lapsing again into silence.
“Oh?” Merrill prompted.
“I didn’t vote for you, you know,” Manota said.
“Well, that doesn’t matter now,” Merrill began.
“I didn’t vote for you because I don’t like lady preachers,” Manota interrupted.
Merrill waited for Manota to continue. If she wanted to get this off her chest and clear the air, it might mean they would have a chance to start over.
*
Sitting on the edge of the unmade bed in his motel room, Peter ended a call and returned his phone to his pocket. He wasn’t sure what to do next.
Ariadne Bostwich had confirmed what his research had suggested: Manota Addison was the last direct descendant of the Addison family and the presumed heir to the land trust.
It seemed so unlikely, considering her shabby clothes and general air of poverty. Either she was an eccentric who hoarded her money, or the property being used by the church was all that was left of the family fortune.
Peter wondered if Manota was aware of the terms of the trust. If so, it had to rankle every time she walked through the door at a service, knowing the land could belong to her, if not for the church.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced Peter became that Manota must be the illusive ‘Mildred Pierce’ who’d contacted the Portland realtors for an appraisal on the property. She wouldn’t want any locals to learn of her interest in the land.
But how did that connect to the deaths and vandalism?
He pulled out his phone again and called Merrill.
When she didn’t answer either her cell phone or the church number, he punched in the number for the sheriff’s office in Tillamook.
Maybe the detective could make sense of this new information.
*
Merrill’s patience was wearing thin. Manota’s pattern of disjointed sentences interspersed with long silences was getting on her nerves.
She chided herself inwardly for having ever prayed for patience.
It is a common joke among Christians that if you pray for wisdom or patience, God will give you plenty of memorable learning experiences in answering those prayers.
This conversation with Manota seemed to be just such an exercise.
“I don’t have much, as you know,” Manota was saying. “But I come from one of the richest families in this area. My people were big shots in the lumber and fishing trades. They donated lots of land and many community buildings here in Bannoch.”
“So, you are a member of those Addison’s. I’ve heard of them,” Merrill said. “You’ve never been married?”
“What’s that got to do with anything? I could’ve been married, if I could have afforded to go to college, or if I had decent clothes to wear, like all the other girls. Instead, I was stuck in this burg working like a slave in the diner, until I hurt my back and had to go on disability.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your back. Does it hurt much?” Merrill asked.
“Of course, it does! I’m still on disability, aren’t I?” Manota snapped.
Merrill murmured an apology. She couldn’t seem to say the right thing, so she remained silent.
“I thought I’d missed my chance at a better life. Thought I’d die exactly the way I lived, with nothing to show for it,” Manota continued, eventually.
She looked down at her hands lying limply in her lap and seemed to be talking to herself.
Lifting her head, she looked hard at Merrill.
“And then, when I finally got a chance to change things, you came along,” Manota said with a hostile glare.
The bitterness in her voice made Merrill uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” Merrill said.
Rather than replying, Manota again lapsed into silent contemplation.
The sun was high in the sky by this time, eliminating the shade from the boulders, and Merrill was becoming too warm.
She took out her phone to check the time and Manota sprang to life, grabbing the phone and flinging it into the surf.
“Why did you do that?” Merrill cried, hopping to her feet.
Manota swung her walking stick viciously, hitting Merrill’s shin with a loud crack.
Merrill collapsed onto the sand, moaning and clutching her leg, overwhelmed by shock and pain.
“Are you crazy?” she gasped.
“Don’t ever say that,” Manota growled, standing over her fallen pastor and waving the walking stick.
Merrill was terrified by the insane look in her assailant’s eyes, but she tried to remain calm.
“Why did you hit me?” she gasped. “I think my leg is broken.”
“Good. Then you’ll sit still and listen for a change,” Manota replied, resuming her seat on the rock and brandishing her stick menacingly.
“Please, Manota, call for help. I don’t understand why you are doing this.”
“Oh, you will understand soon enough. Keep your mouth shut while I tell you, or I’ll break your other leg,” Manota said.
Biting her lips from the pain, and praying inwardly, Merrill did as she was told.
*
/> “Hi, Ryan. What are you doing home?” Peter asked when Ryan responded to his knock on the apartment door.
“We got out early today for a teacher in-service. Say, do you know where my aunt is? I thought she’d be here when I got home.”
“Isn’t Merrill here? I stopped by to take her to lunch,” Peter said.
“No, she’s not here or in her office. She didn’t leave a note, either, and she’s totally into leaving each other a note when we go out. I tried to call her, but she’s not answering. At first it went to voicemail, like when she’s counseling someone, but the last time there was nothing.”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up, soon. It isn’t like Merrill to stand a guy up,” Peter said with a grin, trying to reassure the boy…and himself.
This wasn’t like Merrill at all.
“I noticed she got her car back from the shop, but it is still parked out front. Did she happen to mention anything she was planning to do today?” Peter asked.
“No. Maybe one of her friends picked her up. I guess we could call around,” Ryan suggested. “I’ll call Paisley and see if her mom knows where Aunt Merri is.”
Peter came inside and waited while Ryan stepped into his room to make the call.
“Paisley’s mom was home, but she said she hasn’t talked to Aunt Merri today,” he said when he came back into the kitchen.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but let’s make a few more calls and see if we can track her down. I don’t want to miss my lunch, you know,” Peter said.
They divided the calls, Ryan calling the Ladies Club members from the phone list on the refrigerator, and Peter calling Manny Lum and Merrill’s friends from her church.
Manny suggested they look at Merrill’s appointment book, but the only entry for the day was for lunch with Peter.
Her laptop was still on the kitchen table, so they checked her on-line calendar, too, with similar results.
“You’re going to have to tell Merrill to password protect her laptop. It shouldn’t be so easy for us to get into her files,” Peter said.
“Yeah, sure. Like I can tell her what to do. You tell her. She’ll listen to you,” Ryan said. “She likes you a lot, you know.”