Iris Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  Hannah set the trap for the raccoon family and then poked around the eaves until she found where they were getting in and out. She took the key to the apartment back to the lodge house and saw that Knox’s car was gone.

  When she rang the doorbell a different monk answered. This man was tall with cocoa-colored skin and warm, friendly brown eyes. He too wore the camouflage undergarments that seemed so bizarre underneath the orange one-shouldered robe. He backed bowing to the kitchen and Hannah followed. He led her through the kitchen to Theo’s old study where Caroline Eldridge sat staring at a stack of paperwork that looked like contracts.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Hannah said.

  Caroline obviously hadn’t heard her enter the room; she jumped, startled, and quickly covered up the paperwork.

  “No bother at all,” she said.

  Caroline’s eyes darted back and forth from Hannah to the paperwork on the desk. She offered Hannah some herbal tea, and Hannah, whose terminal nosiness compensated for her dislike of healthy food, accepted. As Caroline led her back into the kitchen, she started talking again. Hannah sat down at the kitchen table, plopped her elbows on top, and rested her chin on her hands. She knew she might as well get comfy.

  “I’m hosting the monks because their temple burned down in a California wildfire and their abbot died,” Caroline said. “The woman who’d been taking care of them basically dumped them on my doorstep and ran back to California. She said they did nothing but meditate, chant, eat, and sleep. I thought they would be easy to take care of.”

  “Like a large bowl of Buddhist fish,” Hannah suggested, but Caroline wasn’t listening.

  “The actual amount of work involved is overwhelming,” Caroline said. “I hired staff to take over most of the household work. That’s made a huge difference, but an expensive one. I hate bookkeeping or anything to do with finances, but I finally sat down this morning with a calculator and a stack of bills, and I can’t continue on this way indefinitely. Sacrifices will have to be made.”

  Hannah thought to herself, ‘There goes my grant match.’

  “But what can I give up?” Caroline said as she poured hot water over what looked like a handful of dried sticks and leaves. “I’m not giving up Callie; she’s a vegan chef and prepares all the meals, plus she does all the shopping and cleaning up afterward. I’m not giving up Petula; she cleans the lodge and washes all the sheets and towels, which in itself is a full-time job. And I’m certainly not getting rid of Sven; he takes care of the grounds and keeps all the vehicles running, including the snow blower and the truck with the plow blade. I can’t do this without them.”

  Caroline poured Hannah a cup of tea from a pretty porcelain teapot and sat opposite her at the table. Hannah considered the vegetation floating in her cup and decided not to risk it.

  “I thought you had a big trust fund,” Hannah said. “Didn’t Theo leave you some money?”

  “Theo’s bequest will be tied up in probate for at least a year,” Caroline said. “The majority of my family trust payments are pledged to other charities.”

  “What will you do?” Hannah asked, mustering up her most sympathetic look.

  A quiet rustling sound and a slight stir of the air caused them both to look up, and they saw one of the monks standing in the doorway opposite. He bowed to Caroline and Hannah. Caroline turned, then rose and responded in kind.

  The monk handed Caroline a note, which she read to herself.

  “Fine,” she said, although Hannah detected more than a little irritation in her tone. The man bowed his way back the way he came in.

  “It’s a list of more supplies they need,” Caroline said as she sat back down. “Please excuse me while I say a quick positive affirmation to release the negative feelings I’m having.”

  “Sure,” Hannah said. “Knock yourself out.”

  “I am one with the universe,” Caroline chanted. “Omni padme ohm.”

  She repeated this several times before she opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Feel better?” Hannah said.

  “I expected when I offered to host the group that I’d spend my days meditating and chanting with them,” Caroline said. “Unfortunately there’s more to do than there are hours in a day, and by the time my chores are done I’m too exhausted to meditate without falling asleep.”

  “So kick them out,” Hannah said. “You tried and it didn’t work out. They’re grown men; they should be able to look after themselves.”

  “This is a test,” Caroline said. “I need to let go of my ego’s need to be rewarded in some way for my efforts. I need to be more selfless. I need to let go of my attachment to outcomes.”

  “They need to let go of their attachment to being waited on hand and foot,” Hannah said, “while you pay the bills.”

  “I need to meditate on this,” Caroline said. “My inner guide will tell me what to do.”

  “How do you do that, exactly?” Hannah asked. “Meditate, I mean.”

  “I’ll show you,” Caroline said.

  She kicked off her clogs, retrieved a special cushion, and sat cross-legged on the floor.

  “I clear my mind of my left brain chatter,” she said. “I repeat my mantra, over and over; the first part with each breath in, the second part with each breath out. I picture a pinpoint of light in my solar plexus, and concentrate on growing it with each breath, until I fill my entire body with radiant white light.”

  Caroline narrated her progress as Hannah watched. She described the light radiating out from deep within her rib cage, slowly moving outward, growing brighter and stronger as it spread throughout her body. She’d got only as far as her elbows and knees when she was interrupted again.

  “Excuse me,” someone said.

  Caroline sighed and opened her eyes. The interrupter was Petula, the female half of the tall, blonde Scandinavian husband and wife team who looked after the house and grounds.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but one of the upstairs toilets has overflowed,” she said. “I turned off the water supply at the base, but there’s a huge mess. Sven’s in Rose Hill picking up supplies, Callie’s shopping for groceries, and I have the rest of the bedrooms and bathrooms to clean before they break for lunch. Could you help me?”

  Caroline took a few deep breaths and stretched her neck to each side before she rose and accepted the mop and bucket Petula was holding.

  “Are you angry?” Petula asked her, with real fear in her voice.

  “No,” Caroline said, “of course not. Anger is a poison and an obstacle to enlightenment.”

  “I hated to interrupt,” Petula said, “but if I get off schedule now I’ll never get caught up.”

  “It’s no problem,” Caroline told her with a tight smile. “I appreciate all you do. I am blessed by your work. Namaste.”

  Petula crept out and Hannah offered to help. Caroline seemed sincerely grateful as she accepted the offer.

  As Caroline mopped up the sewage that covered the bathroom floor, Hannah carried the buckets to the nearest working toilet. She could hear Caroline muttering something.

  “What’s that you’re saying?” Hannah said.

  “My loving-kindness mantra,” Caroline replied. “It helps me remember to love myself and have compassion for others.”

  “If I were you I’d be chanting the bus schedule back to wherever they came from,” Hannah said.

  Maggie Fitzpatrick walked across the street from her bookstore to the grocery store to pick up some milk for the cappuccino bar. Inside the small store she was surprised to see Anne Marie Rodefeffer, who had been in a serious car accident back in January. After Anne Marie woke up from her coma and was recovered enough to travel, her husband, Knox, whisked her away on a cruise, which he seemed to keep extending.

  It was no secret Knox had rabid political aspirations. Anne Marie, with her drug problems and penchant for seducing college boys, had been a constant source of embarrassment to her husband. Although he had an airtight alibi, he
was still suspected of arranging for his wife’s accident.

  “Maggie!” Anne Marie called out to her, in a much more friendly tone than she’d ever used before.

  The tall attractive blonde ran over to Maggie and gave her a tight hug, which surprised her. Anne Marie had always snubbed her or looked down her nose at Maggie before her accident.

  “Hi Anne Marie,” Maggie said. “When did you get back?”

  Anne Marie was built like a tall, thin fashion model, and usually dressed like one. Today, however, she wasn’t decked out in designer rags but was casual in jeans, turtleneck, and ski parka. Maggie had never seen her dressed down this much, sans perfect hair and makeup, and gawked a little. Anne Marie’s hair was still streaked blonde, but instead of being arranged in an artfully tousled and shellacked helmet, it was pulled back in a simple pony tail. She wore none of her chunky jewelry or oversized, insignia-encrusted handbags, only a gold crucifix on a chain and a cloth tote bag.

  “I know Knox told everyone I was on a cruise, but since I found the Lord I don’t lie anymore,” Anne Marie said. “I was actually in a rehabilitation facility for my sex, drug, and alcohol addictions, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Maggie heard an inner warning bell go off at the mention of “the Lord,” but she was trapped between Anne Marie and the refrigerated dairy case so she couldn’t escape. She’d heard rumors about Anne Marie going to rehab a few times before, but the transformation she seemed to have undergone this time was striking. Her eyes were sparkling, the color was high in her cheeks, and she was beaming a little too intensely. She was also standing too close and the effect of all her bright energy was somewhat overwhelming.

  “I’m so glad you feel better,” Maggie said. “We were all worried about you after your accident.”

  “You know, I don’t remember a thing about it,” Anne Marie said. “And it’s just as well. I’m a new person now. Like the song says, ‘I was lost and now I’m found.’ The old Anne Marie died and was born again, praise the Lord.”

  “Well, you certainly look different,” Maggie said. “Really well, I mean to say. Healthy.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Maggie,” she responded, grabbing Maggie’s hand and clutching it. “I was headed for Hell, as low as I could go; there was nothing I wouldn’t do. Since I found our Lord Jesus Christ, I only need His love and His word to be fulfilled. I’d love to sit and talk with you about it. I want to share my story, and bring as many other people to the Lord as I can.”

  “Maybe some other time,” Maggie said. “I need to get back to work. We ran out of milk, you see…”

  “You have to take the time, Maggie. It’s more important than anything else you could be doing. You being Catholic, well, you need to know the truth about how dangerously close you are to being banished to the eternal fire pits of Hell for following pagan papist teachings. You have to come to the true Jesus in the right way before it’s too late.”

  Over Anne Marie’s shoulder, Maggie could see Fran, the checkout clerk, making the cuckoo sign.

  “Okay, Anne Marie, that’s all I can take today,” Maggie said. “We’re going to have to respect the right to choose our own religion and practice it without judging each other.”

  “I can’t respect your false idol worship, Maggie. The judgment of your sins will come by fire and all the believers in heathen religions will feel the flames of God’s wrath. Truly this shall come to pass unless they give their lives to Jesus Christ Almighty and serve only Him. It is only by being born again into Jesus’s one true faith that you can be saved and not perish in the eternal flames of damnation.”

  “I’m going to go now, Anne Marie. You take care.”

  Maggie hurriedly paid Fran for her milk and left the store, worried Anne Marie was going to follow. But Anne Marie had already accosted someone else and was busy trying to save that person’s soul.

  Maggie thought she’d seen the last of Anne Marie that day but she was wrong. Less then an hour later Maggie was sitting in her office, up to her neck in invoices that needed to be paid, when Jeanette tapped on the office window. She gestured urgently for Maggie to come out into the store.

  When Maggie came out of her office she saw Anne Marie playing tug of war with a scowling ten-year-old boy. They were pulling so hard on a book that the binding was coming apart. Several other books were splayed out on the floor of the children’s section.

  “It’s for my book report,” the boy said. “My teacher assigned it.”

  “It’s blasphemy!” Anne Marie said. “It’s the work of the devil!”

  Maggie saw red.

  “Stop it!” she yelled at Anne Marie, who dropped her end of the book. The child fell over and Jeanette helped him up.

  “Maggie, we have to start with the children,” Anne Marie said as she came toward her, hands out in a pleading way.

  Her pupils were dilated and Maggie could have sworn she was high. A group of people had gathered to watch and Maggie motioned for Anne Marie to follow her back to her office.

  “Sit!” Maggie commanded, once she had her inside with the door shut.

  “Those books teach witchcraft and black magic,” Anne Marie insisted as she sat down. “Our children are open conduits for Satan. You must be strict in their teaching to save them from becoming tools of the devil.”

  Maggie wanted to say ‘those books encourage children to read and use their imaginations,’ but she knew it was useless to argue with someone who was mentally ill. Instead she held up one finger to indicate Anne Marie should wait, and with the other hand she called the bank and asked for Knox.

  Anne Marie slouched back in her chair and pouted when she heard Maggie ask to speak to her husband.

  “Knox is an unrepentant sinner, a fornicating liar, and he cannot stop me from doing the Lord’s work,” Anne Marie said, but stayed seated.

  “Knox,” Maggie said, when she got him on the line. “Your wife is in my store disrupting my business, and you have exactly two minutes to come get her before I call Scott.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he said, and hung up.

  “Anne Marie,” Maggie said. “What kind of rehab did you go to that you learned all this religious information?”

  “It wasn’t the rehab. Those sinners were as godless as their watered-down talk of a ‘higher power.’ The Lord led me to meet Reverend Cowbell there. He’s a righteous man of God who was forced into treatment. Some evil, soulless children made false accusations against him and practiced their witchcraft on the congregation of his church.”

  “Was he accused of abusing the children?”

  “He was persecuted by their heinous lies. Satan spoke through them when he saw how powerful and righteous Reverend Cowbell had become. Children are more susceptible than we realize. You have to be strict with them, and beat the devil out of them, if necessary. Reverend Cowbell was trying to save the children, not harm them.”

  Maggie thought Reverend Cowbell was lucky the judge chose rehab over prison.

  “How did you get involved with the reverend?”

  “I had a spiritual experience when I was in my coma. I saw Jesus and He spoke to me. No one in our group at rehab would accept that Jesus spoke to me. Not the counselors, not the other sinners; no one but Reverend Cowbell. He realized he’d been sent there to guide me, to help me accomplish what Jesus wants me to do.”

  “What did Jesus tell you to do?”

  “He said it wasn’t my time to go, that I had to come back and help people.”

  “Couldn’t that be interpreted in a lot of ways? Couldn’t you volunteer at the food bank or raise money for cancer research?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Reverend Cowbell was sent by Jesus to guide me. He saw the Jesus light that shines in me. Jesus sent me back to save the world and Reverend Cowbell is going to help me do it.”

  “What does the reverend think you should do?”

  “I’m going to help him start a new church. He wants me to be his con
duit to the Lord’s almighty power. Many may rise up against us, it has been prophesied, but we will persevere. When we die, we will ascend to heaven to be with the Lord!”

  Maggie was beginning to see how someone like the rich and mentally vulnerable Anne Marie might appeal to someone like Reverend Cowbell, with her ability to help him realize his spiritual ambitions while transcending a particularly difficult legal situation.

  “Well, you are special, Anne Marie, there’s no doubt about that. I’m glad you’re off the drugs and feeling good. However, if you come in here again and cause a ruckus, I’m going to have to ban you, and if you cause any problems after that, I’ll have you arrested.”

  Knox appeared at Maggie’s office door, breathless, his face covered in beads of perspiration.

  “I’ll pray for you,” Anne Marie said to Maggie as Knox opened the door. “You’re on the wrong road, asleep at the wheel, and I only hope you’ll awaken before it’s too late.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Knox, his face flushed as much from embarrassment as physical exertion. Maggie was impressed. Knox Rodefeffer was unaccustomed to both aerobic exercise and making apologies.

  “Come along,” he told his wife.

  Anne Marie grabbed Maggie’s hand in an iron grip and squeezed her eyes shut. Maggie tugged but could not get free. Anne Marie moaned some words Maggie could not understand. Knox tried to pry Anne Marie’s hands off Maggie’s but failed. Maggie felt the heat from Anne Marie’s grip increase until it felt unbearably hot. Anne Marie opened her eyes, but Maggie could tell she wasn’t seeing anything in the room.

  “Your sin is pride,” Anne Marie said in a low voice. “You must forgive those who have sinned against you. Beware the serpent that appears as an angel.”

  “Stop it!” Knox hissed at Anne Marie, who looked at him with venomous hatred.

  “Your sins are legion,” she told her husband. “Your corruption makes the angels weep. Your harlot stinks of your rutting lust. I can smell it every time I’m near her.”