by Ingrid Thoft
Fina would apply pressure, and she had no doubt that something would give.
• • •
Christa had to rewind the tape three times before she got it right: “Supranasal and superotemporal sclerotomies were performed.” She’d been checking her work carefully the past few days, realizing that she was distracted, her attention wandering off as the ophthalmic terminology spooled past her ears. After one p.m., once the mail was delivered and she knew she’d have to wait until the next day, Christa could focus on the task at hand. Until then, it was a battle.
She pulled off her headphones and refilled her coffee cup in the kitchen. She was stirring in some creamer when she heard the familiar bang and whoosh of the mail coming through the slot. Jogging to the front door, Christa knelt down and gathered the pile onto her lap. She tossed the junk mail aside and was left with a handful of envelopes. One had the return address of the Graymoore School, and it was of medium thickness, which was no help in determining what lay inside. Was it a lengthy rejection? A thin offer of enrollment?
Christa knew she should wait for Paul, but she couldn’t stop herself from tearing open the envelope and scanning the cover letter. The opening sentence said it all: “It gives us great pleasure . . .” She yelped in excitement and flipped through the other pages, the last of which promised a more comprehensive package in the weeks to come.
She was in.
McKenna was in, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Christa felt unadulterated happiness. McKenna would get what she needed, and Christa would get a tiny bit of her life back. She wouldn’t have to fight for her child every day like she did now. This would change everything.
At the table, Christa smoothed the letter down and read through it a second time. Then she looked at the other documents more closely, noting that the financial aid grant was as small as expected. Christa had hoped that Graymoore would magically offer more money and she wouldn’t have to borrow any from Evan, but that was just a fantasy.
They needed Evan’s loan. Without it, McKenna would be stuck where she was, and Christa would never get out from under the crushing responsibilities that were her life.
• • •
Greg sat at his desk behind his computer. Betty occupied the chair across from him.
“I told him that I would have to check with you, Pastor, but you know how insistent Mr. Joyce can be.”
“You did the right thing, Betty. What’s next?”
“I’ve compiled the list for the potluck . . .”
Greg tuned out, letting his mind wander from the particulars of casseroles and baked goods to his most recent conversation with Fina. He knew she was working an angle, but if he could wring some money out of her in the meantime, what was the harm? As long as he stayed one step ahead of her, it would be okay. If she was going to make a nuisance of herself, at least the church should profit.
“Don’t you think?” Betty asked, her pen poised over her notepad.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He smiled to offset his inattention. Greg knew that Betty liked their daily check-ins; it made her feel important.
“I said that I think there should be a couple of additional sides. We’re getting a bit heavy on the sweets, no pun intended.” She giggled at her own joke.
“You know best, Betty. I defer to your wisdom on this particular issue.” Greg didn’t understand leaders who insisted on being involved in every decision affecting their organization. He didn’t care about the dish distribution at the potluck, but Betty did. Allowing her to be in charge of this inconsequential detail made her feel special and valued, and it was one less thing he had to do.
“Pastor, I need to speak with you.” Lucas had appeared in the doorway. He was flustered, his hair a mess and his shirt untucked.
“We’re in the middle of a meeting, Lucas,” Betty said.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but this is important.”
“So is this,” Betty insisted, gesturing with her notebook.
“Betty, you have this well under control. Let me speak with Lucas, and then you and I can finish up,” Greg suggested.
“Of course, Pastor.” She vacated the chair and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Have a seat.”
Lucas dropped into a chair and opened his mouth to speak.
“And take a deep breath,” Greg entreated.
Lucas did as he was told. Then he scooted to the edge of the chair, resting his hands on the edge of Greg’s desk.
Greg inched his chair back just a touch.
“I’ve been praying all the way over here, Pastor, asking for direction.”
“Is it Heather and the kids? Is everything all right?”
“They’re fine. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then what has you in such a state?”
“I had a visit from Fina Ludlow this morning.” He gulped, as if he were short on oxygen.
“Uh-huh.”
“I feel like we’re under siege from this woman, and I fear the damage she can unleash on the church.”
“Slow down, Lucas. What happened exactly? Do you want some water or coffee?”
“Water would be good.”
Greg buzzed out to Betty and asked her to bring in some refreshments. Lucas sat back in the chair and pulled on the hem of his shirt to get airflow through the garment.
Betty came in a minute later with two cups of water and a package of Lorna Doone cookies, the sting of being dismissed clearly affecting her inclination to be a good hostess.
Lucas sipped his water, and Greg nodded that he should open the cookies. Lucas took two from the package, but Greg plucked only one from the plastic sleeve.
“What exactly is troubling you?” he asked his congregant, after taking a small bite of shortbread.
“Not what. Who. Fina Ludlow is troubling me.”
“What did she say that has you so upset?”
“Someone told her that I borrowed antifreeze from the church shop.”
Greg nibbled on his cookie and took a drink of water. “That’s not true?”
“It is true, but she made it sound like I kept it a secret, and that I poisoned Nadine.”
Greg reached over and patted his arm. “Lucas, we all know that’s absurd.”
“I know it’s absurd, but do the police know that?”
“The police will investigate and find the perpetrator. We have to let them do their job.”
“But someone is spreading lies about me.” He grabbed another cookie.
“You just said that it was true; you did borrow the antifreeze.”
“But I didn’t poison Nadine.”
“Is that what this person is claiming?” Pastor Greg asked. “Or is that Fina’s interpretation?”
“Does it matter?” Lucas asked. “If she reached that conclusion other people will, too.”
“You can’t worry about people who gossip.”
Lucas eyed the box of cookies again. His hand moved toward it, but pulled back when he spied Pastor Greg’s half-eaten cookie.
“It’s not just people,” Lucas said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed and blinked slowly. “I think it’s one person who is saying wicked things about me.”
Greg cocked his head to the side.
“But I’m not sure I should tell you,” Lucas continued.
“What does the Holy Spirit tell you?”
“He tells me that you should know the truth.”
The pastor sat back in his seat with his hands folded in his lap. “I’m here to listen, Lucas. Whatever you need to tell me, it’s okay.”
“The person gossiping about me . . . well, it’s Gabby.”
Greg’s head jutted forward like a turtle, and his eyes widened. “My Gabby? Is that what Fina told you?�
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Lucas’s eyes bounced from one corner of the room to another. “Not exactly.”
“Meaning?”
“I guessed that it was Gabby, and she didn’t disagree.”
Greg shook his head and rose from his seat. “Lucas, Lucas.” He walked around to the front of the desk and perched on the edge. “You’re making a serious accusation against another congregant who also happens to be the female spiritual leader of this church and my wife.”
Lucas curled over as if overcome with a stomachache. “I know this is serious, Pastor, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“You truly believe that Gabby told Fina you took the antifreeze and poisoned Nadine?”
“Gabby told her I took the antifreeze and then strongly suggested that I killed Nadine.”
“Why would Gabby say something like that?”
Lucas opened his mouth and shut it without speaking. He looked like a guppy struggling for air.
“Even if Gabby would do such a thing—which I have difficulty believing—why would she want to hurt you?” Greg asked. “Unless she believes in her heart that you hurt Nadine and feels compelled to share what she knows with investigators.”
“But she doesn’t know anything!” Lucas exclaimed. “She’s just gossiping to get me in trouble.”
Greg walked back behind his desk and took a seat. “It could be argued that you’re gossiping, Lucas, in an effort to get her in trouble.”
“I’m doing what I think is right for Covenant Rising. I can’t stand to see our community undermined by outsiders.”
“Nor can I.” Greg clasped his hands tightly on the desk blotter. “But I’m very troubled by this, Lucas.”
“So am I! These past few weeks, it’s been eating away at me. I’ve lost sleep wondering if I should share the burden with you.”
Greg’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean the past few weeks? I thought Fina Ludlow just came to see you today.”
Lucas plucked at the hem of his shirt again. “I just meant in general. I’ve had some concerns, and I didn’t know how to handle them.”
“Concerns about what, Lucas?” Greg couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice. He didn’t want to hear what Lucas had to say, but ignoring a brewing crisis wasn’t wise. Given Lucas’s level of distress, he would probably tell Heather, who would share it with another member, and on and on. Greg needed to nip it in the bud, whatever it was. “I hate to see you suffer like this. You need to unburden yourself. Jesus loves you, no matter what.”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know, Pastor Greg.”
Greg stared at him, trying to convey a mixture of compassion and expectancy.
“There’s been talk that Gabby spends too much time with a certain congregant,” Lucas finally said, the words spilling out in a rush.
Greg gestured for him to continue.
“It’s one of the young men, Casey Andros. I don’t know if it’s true, but people are starting to talk.”
“‘A dishonest man spreads strife, and a whisperer separates close friends,’ Proverbs 16:28,” the pastor warned.
“I’m not spreading gossip,” Lucas insisted. “I haven’t told anyone else. I’m just telling you. What kind of servant of God would I be if I didn’t alert you to the threats in our midst?”
“I wasn’t referring to you, Lucas. I was thinking of the people who are disrespecting Gabby and discussing our marriage as if it were fodder for their gossip mills.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Lucas said, casting his eyes downward.
“You did the right thing. I rely on you. I trust you.”
“So you’re not upset with me?”
“Go forth and pray on all of this,” Greg said, sidestepping the question. “Give it over to God.” He placed his palms on his desk as if summoning some spirit or power. “Can you do that? I need to get back to work, but I need to know that you’re okay.”
Lucas nodded vigorously. “I am. I feel much better, Pastor.”
“Good.”
Lucas rose and went to the door.
“And Lucas?” Greg asked. “Please keep this between the two of us. ‘For lack of wood, the fire goes out.’”
Lucas smiled. “Proverbs 26:20. Of course, Pastor Greg. I won’t say a word.”
Greg watched him leave.
Some days, it would be so much easier to lead the church if it didn’t have any members.
• • •
Fina was sitting in a parking lot, sipping a diet soda and trying to decide what to do next. What she really wanted to do was take a nap at Frank and Peg’s or Patty and Scotty’s, but they’d want to know why she was so tired, and she didn’t want to lie or tell the truth. The night with Cristian had been fun, but hadn’t delivered much quality sleep. Not only because they were busy, but also because she wasn’t used to sharing her bed with someone. Milloy stayed over sometimes, but they’d been hopping in and out of bed since college—she was used to him. She and Cristian had slept together before, but rarely did they spend the whole night together. Her parents had always had a king-sized bed, and Fina was beginning to see the wisdom: the other person was within reach or not, depending upon your mood.
A private caller lit up her phone.
“Hello,” she said.
“Is Ludlow there?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Travis.”
“Yes, this is Fina Ludlow.”
“Dante said you wanted to talk.”
“Yes. Just tell me when and where.”
“It’s going to have to be tonight, probably around ten.”
Fina adjusted her butt in the seat, a physical response to the discomfiting suggestion. “Where?”
“There’s a bar downtown. I’ll call you when I get there, but I won’t be able to hang around. You’re going to have to make it quick.”
“Fine, but you have to give me a little bit of notice. I may not be in the neighborhood already.”
“Whatever.” He disconnected the call.
Fina stared at the phone. It’s not like she was a great conversationalist or Miss Manners, but what was it with these young guys who had barely evolved beyond the Cro-Magnon stage? What were their love lives like? Did they ask women out or just drag them by the hair back to their caves?
TWENTY-EIGHT
There was a car in Evan’s driveway when Fina pulled up. She assumed he was home and pulled the boxes of paperwork out of her trunk and climbed the front steps. She balanced the boxes between her hip and the house while waiting for someone to answer the door.
He appeared a moment later, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“Hi.” He took the top box from the pile.
“Hi. I was nearby so I thought I’d return these.”
“Find anything useful?”
“Maybe. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure. Let me just get Molly settled.”
They stacked the boxes in the front hallway and Fina followed him into the kitchen, where Molly was sitting at the table. She was bent over a coloring book, her nose a few inches from the page.
“Hi, Molly. What are you coloring?” Fina asked.
“A kitty.”
Fina craned her neck to get a better view of the picture. It was a round, puffy puppy with a smile, a breed that Fina doubted existed in real life. Molly had slashed across its fur with purple and blue lines.
“It looks good.”
“We’re getting a kitty,” the girl informed her.
“You are?” She looked at Evan, who was rolling his eyes. “That’s exciting.”
“It’s actually ‘to be decided,’” he said. “Why don’t we go into the living room?”
“So you found something in the paperwork?” he asked when they were seated on the couch.
&nb
sp; “Not a smoking gun, by any means, but I was able to piece together the dates of Nadine’s illness and some of the regular activities in her life.”
“Like?”
“Well, specifically, the leadership committee meetings at the church and the neighborhood association meetings.”
Evan studied her. “You think someone in one of those meetings poisoned her?”
“I don’t know, but the alignment of the dates suggests that the antifreeze could have been administered at either of those gatherings.”
“That can’t be easy, poisoning someone in plain view.”
“You’d be surprised. A slug of antifreeze in her coffee wouldn’t be too tough to pull off. The other option is that someone wants it to look like there’s a pattern with the meetings.”
Evan shook his head. “We’re back to that? You suspecting me?”
Fina smiled. “I never stopped suspecting you, but you’re not the only person on that list.”
“Who else is on it?”
“Well, I’m still having a little trouble buying the ‘one big, happy family’ picture, the one with Paul and Christa.”
Evan tugged on the cuff of his shirt. “I don’t know what more I can say to convince you.”
“Then I guess you won’t be the one to convince me.” Fina stretched her legs in front of her. “I talked to Paul the other day. He said that McKenna might be going to the Graymoore School.”
Evan’s face brightened. “Yeah, she got in. She’s so excited.”
“That’s great. That school has a terrific reputation.”
“I know. I think it’s going to take a huge weight off Christa’s shoulders.”
Fina nodded. “When I was at her house, she was under a pile of paperwork related to McKenna’s current school.”
“McKenna’s lucky to have Christa for a mom, and I’m just glad I could help out.”
Molly came into the room at that moment with her coloring book and a box of crayons. She dropped down at her father’s feet between the coffee table and couch and resumed her coloring.
“You’re helping out?” Fina asked, keeping her tone mild.
“Yeah. Nadine had promised her the money, so I’m just doing what she wanted.”