Immaculate Deception

by Hannah Weston Price

  “James!” Charlotte snapped. “Excuse us, Vicar. I’m going to go find something for this man to put in his mouth besides his foot.”

  “I promise that as soon as I’m settled, I’ll make an appointment.” Reggie said with a laugh. There was something about the ease between them that made her feel almost giddy.

  “Ah, Reverend,” Another voice called, and she and Sarah turned to see a very tall, very handsome man closing in, followed by an equally stunning woman.

  “Mr. Blackwell,” Sarah said. “I was just wondering if you were here. Meet the new Vicar, Reggie. Reggie, meet our local MP, Marcus Blackwell.”

  “Regina Watson, yes I received a letter about you.” Marcus’s handshake was firm and practiced as was his smile. “You come highly recommended.”

  “Thank you.” Reggie noticed that his handshake lasted a little longer than was strictly necessary and when she tried to pull her hand back, he tightened his, that smile widening slightly.

  “We really are so happy to have you with us, Regina,” he said.

  “Yes, we did love Father Ben,” the stunning woman at his side added, with a smile that didn’t even come close to meeting her eyes as she curled her hands protectively around Marcus’s arm. “But it will be nice to have a new priest.” She emphasized that last word, turning to him as she said it.

  The difference between this couple and Dr. and Mrs. Manning was striking. For one thing, Reggie had the distinct feeling that Marcus was flirting with her, and his lady friend was clearly warning her off much like a cat might protect her territory. Neither boded well.

  “And this is Vivian Dutton,” Sarah said after it became clear that Marcus wouldn’t be making the introduction. She and Mr. Blackwell just recently announced their engagement.”

  “What wonderful news,” Reggie used her delight as an excuse to wrench her hand from the man’s grasp and shake hands with Vivian. “Have you set a date, you’ll have the wedding here, won’t you?”

  At this Vivian’s eyes seemed to darken as she shot Marcus a quick look before smiling that brilliant plastic smile again. “We haven’t set a date yet.”

  Reggie stifled a grimace. five minutes in and she’d swiped at a sore spot. “Well there’s plenty of time for all that.”

  “Yes,” Marcus agreed. “No rush what so ever. Everyone is so impatient these days. Want everything now, now, now.”

  Vivian didn’t flinch, she also didn’t change her expression even to take a breath or blink. Reggie was kind of impressed. The woman was clearly the perfect wife for a politician.

  Next Reggie was pulled towards three much younger and decidedly happier people. They were introduced as Elsa Murphy, Summer Moore, and John Harrison.

  Summer was the prettier woman, her dark hair cut in a stylish bob and her makeup tirelessly applied. On the other hand, Elsa was bubbly with bobbing blond curls Framing a slightly rounded face and eyes that sparkled when she smiled. John, neatly dressed and cleanly shaved just looked happy to be with them and what young man wouldn’t.

  “I teach the Sunday school and run a family playgroup twice a week,” Elsa said.

  Reggie shook hands with each of the three before turning back to Elsa. “I’m sure you have lots of suggestions for other ways we can help our parish, so we must meet and have a chat soon.”

  “I have so many ideas!” Elsa gushed, and Summer and John echoed her words in almost robotic tones, laughing when she threw them playful glares.

  “Elsa had to fight and beg just to keep the playgroup open,” Summer said. “We were hoping you’d be a little more open to working in the community.”

  “I certainly am!” Reggie agreed. “I’m just so glad to see so many people eager to help.”

  Elsa looked like she was about to reply but she suddenly became very pale and her hand moved to her mouth as though she might be ill.

  “Elsa?” Reggie reached out a hand to steady her and almost flinched at how cold the girl’s arm was.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Summer rubbed Elsa’s back. “Are you feeling ill again?”

  “Just a little,” Elsa managed. “It’ll pass, it always does.”

  “Why don’t we slip into the bathroom for a bit,” Reggie said holding out a hand to the younger woman. “I’m sure I have some aspirin and some ginger pills, I use them when I feel travel sick.”

  “I won’t hear of that, Vicar!” Mrs. Manning was suddenly at their side and taking Elsa under her wing. “I’ll take care of Elsa, you go enjoy your welcome party.”

  Reggie watched with concern as Mrs. Manning led Elsa out of the hall, leaving John and Summer strangely uprooted and alone.

  It was Summer who finally broke the awkward silence. “She’ll be fine, she’s just come down with something over the last week.” She patted John’s arm, an easy gesture that only came from years of friendship. “Come on, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, but Reggie couldn’t help feeling a little drained after the long day drive and the restless night in the Cozy Clown Motel. Seriously, who in their right mind would think that was a good name for a rest stop? She’d planned to take a shower before bed, but visions of Norman Bates dressed in a blue wig and a red nose made even looking at the shower stall almost impossible.

  What she really needed was a hot bath and a nap.

  “Have some cake, Vicar.” Vivian held out a plate of the single most sinful looking cake Reggie had ever seen. Chocolate, cherries, and what smelt like coffee cream. Reggie took one bite and nearly melted.

  She couldn’t help noticing that the woman continued to nurse the same black tea she had been holding earlier. No cake for the future wife of an MP, Reggie supposed. Still what was the point of being married to a rich powerful man if you never got to eat cake?

  She knew it wasn’t very priest-like, but she couldn’t help a smug little smile as she slid her fork smoothly into the rich smelling Black Forest Cake and took a bite.

  “Mmm! This is incredible.” She took another, bigger forkful and moaned again. “I swear whoever made this is absolved of all sin till the end of time.”

  “If only it were that simple,” Headmistress Wilcox said her expression slightly disapproving but it softened slightly as she watched Reggie devour the cake. “I’m glad you like it. Old family recipe.”

  “I haven’t had Black Forest cake in well over ten years,” Reggie said, scraping the last of the cream up with the edge of her fork. “These are fresh cherries, yes? And something else too, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s got a real zing.”

  Ms. Wilcox looked impressed and more than a little pleased. “That’s the secret part.”

  “Here, have another piece,” Vivian said, taking Reggie’s plate.

  “No, don’t you dare. A healthy stomach is like a happy audience. You should always leave them wanting.”

  After another cup of tea and more pleasant conversation, Reggie decided that she had been social long enough.

  Honesty, she’d found, was the best policy when making new friends and earning trust.

  “I hope you don’t think me rude,” she started. “It’s been lovely to meet you all and I can’t thank you enough for the lovely welcome…”

  “Of course, you must be exhausted after your long trip,” Sarah said. “I assume you’d like to see your new parsonage.”

  “Oh yes please.”

  “I did some shopping earlier and filled your fridge and pantry with some staples to keep you going while you settle in,” Sarah said. “Why don’t I help you move your things in then we’ll leave you be, so you can get settled.”

  “That would be lovely.” The wave of relief and thankfulness brought tears to her eyes. “You’ve all been so kind and welcoming.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Sarah said, taking Reggie’s cup and saucer and guiding her towards the door. “And you must let us know if there’s anything you need.”

  “I will,” she said. “But I think all I need is a wash and a good
night’s sleep.”

  “And a mechanic to fix that tail light,” Detective Thornton said, seeming to appear from nowhere again.

  “Oh, Harry!” Sarah slapped his arm with a laugh. “Don’t be such a pedantic so-and-so. For sure, hers wouldn’t be the only cracked tail light in town. Will you arrest all of us?”

  “I’ll have it fixed for you by morning,” Another voice came from behind Sarah and Reggie leaned to the side to peer at a slightly grubby looking man sporting a serious mustache. “Sorry I’m late. I’d have been a shame if I’d missed ya.”

  He reached between the Sarah and Detective Thornton to shake Reggie’s hand. Grease stained as he was, his smile was genuine.

  “I’m Bernard Carter, Bernie to my friends. Best mechanic in town. First one’s on the house, seeing as you’re the new vicar and all.”

  Later, finally left alone in her little two-story parsonage, she sank down onto the old, surprisingly comfy sofa.

  The overwhelming emotion was gratitude for the comfortable home and friendly, kind parishioners. But underneath, at the edge of her conscience there was a sharp pinch of guilt.

  These people deserved a real vicar.

  Chapter Three

  Next morning, the first knock came to the door just as Reggie was washing her bowl and spoon and considering a second cup of coffee.

  “Come in, it’s unlocked,” she called and turned just in time to see a smiling Sarah poking her head around the door.

  “Ready for a proper tour of the church?”

  “Oh I’m not just ready, I’m ready-Freddy. Fancy a cup of coffee first?”

  As they sat at the table, Reggie felt a little self-conscious serving coffee and biscuits that Sarah had brought her.

  “So what kind of numbers does the church service usually pull on a Sunday?”

  “Ah.” Sarah made a face.

  “That few?”

  She held up a hand and made a so-so gesture. “You have to understand, Father Ben was a kindly man, but in his later years he had become a bit…”

  “Dull?” Reggie ventured.

  “A bit, yeah. And in the last few months he pretty much just read random passages between hymns.”

  “I’m surprised the church didn’t send him a deacon to help with that sort of thing.”

  This time Sarah giggled. “They sent him three, but he rejected them all. I think they made him feel old.”

  “It was good of you to keep him on. The inner-city parishes, where I was trained, would not have been so patient or forgiving.”

  Sarah waved her off. “He was part of our family and he devoted his life to us. A couple of years of boring sermons and grouchiness wasn’t so much to endure in exchange.”

  “You’re a good woman, Sarah Smith.” Reggie smiled at the younger woman. “For my first sermon I wanted to honor Father Ben, give thanks for his time and service. Do you think that would be alright?”

  “Sounds lovely,” she replied.

  They set out up the cobblestone path to the old stone church. Reggie had been too nervous to really observe the ancient structure yesterday, but it was not lost on her today.

  Old and rustic, sturdy and beautiful, this was the kind of church every clerical student imagined when they considered a Parish in the country. And out in front, guarding the entrance path stood the welcoming grey statue of its namesake.

  “Of all the churches that I could have been sent,” Reggie murmured, then to Sarah, “Do you know who Saint Germaine was?”

  “My father said she was a French woman.”

  That earned an amused smile. “She was that, indeed.”

  The statue depicted a beautiful young woman standing with arms out stretched in welcome as two lambs rested at her feet.

  “Her name was Germaine Cousin. Some say she was born cursed as she had a deformed hand and some pretty nasty diseases, and her mother died soon after. Her stepmother was a monster. Made her sleep in the barn with the animals and she was left to scrounge for food from whatever was given to the sheep and pigs.” Reggie reached up to cup the side of the statue’s youthful face. “The villages only ever saw her as she led the sheep out to graze and coming home again, most avoided her since she was probably quite a sad sight to see, all covered in sores and bruises.”

  “That’s horrible! Surely someone could have helped her.”

  “Those were hard times.” Reggie shrugged. “I think everyone had their own problems and fears. The story goes that when she wasn’t doing chores or hiding from her stepmother’s temper, she spent her time in silent prayer. She would leave her flock near wolf infested woods to attend church services and return to find them all alive and well.”

  Sarah stared up at the statue with new eyes. “That’s so horrible, and yet beautiful and poetic at the same time. Was that all? The wolf thing?”

  “Oh no, that’s just the one story. I can tell you more later if you like, but maybe later.”

  “Oh yes please!” Sarah replied. “But not just to me, you should tell us in a sermon. I don’t think anyone really knows much about her.”

  “Not sure some of the older parishioners will approve of that,” Reggie said then added in a whisper, “She was technically Catholic.”

  Sarah made a rude sound followed by a giggle at Reggie’s shocked expression. “Believe me, those people are going to disapprove no matter what you talk about. I don’t think there’s ever been a discussion that didn’t devolve into quite nasty bickering and threats over whether we should be focusing on the new or old Testament or which we should read more from, Mark, Paul, or John.”

  “What, no Mathew or Luke?”

  “Don’t you start!”

  The two giggled as Sarah opened the doors and held them open for Reggie to enter her new church.

  ***

  The first day passed quickly. After a proper tour of the church they spent the remainder of the day meeting with parishioners who hadn’t been able to attend the welcome party.

  Much tea was drunk and cake was eaten as well as a small child’s weight in biscuits. Reggie joked that Sarah may need to add rolling the new vicar to her duties if this continued.

  “Perhaps we could start a walking group,” Reggie suggested. “Healthy bodies, healthy minds and all that?”

  Sarah nodded. “I was going to suggest that very thing. There are some beautiful walks around the town, you’ll soon burn off those cakes.”

  The sun was just starting to set when Sarah left Reggie to tend to her own business. Sadly, that left Reggie alone with herself. Rarely a good thing.

  The small-town church was somehow cozier than those she’d become accustomed. In the city there were speakers hooked up everywhere, microphones, sometimes screens with sparkling displays. God forbid anyone become bored for even a second.

  Not that she wanted people to be bored, far from it, but all the constant entertainment made everything feel silly and meaningless.

  She blew out a breath, puffing out her cheeks. What was she doing here?

  Her lapse in faith had been going on for months now. She had even considered leaving the church all together when her request for a small parish church finally came through.

  It was what she’d been dreaming of for so long, she couldn’t possibly turn it down.

  Another twinge of guilt.

  The world was full of doctors and teachers and coffee shop attendants that had lost their passion for the work or never had it in the first place, why should she think herself so special as to feel differently in her work?

  Being a Vicar isn’t like other jobs. It’s a calling, not a vocation. Reverend Granger’s stern words rang in her mind from that first time Reggie approached the much-respected vicar about her own wish to work in the church.

  Oh, she wished she could talk to her now. Reverend Granger was one of the few people in Reggie’s life who could talk her down from her more outlandish decisions and fears. She was always just so disciplined, calming, genuine.

  Would she be disap
pointed? Had Reverend Granger ever felt like this in her calling to the church?

  All questions Reggie never had the chance to ask.

  She was just finishing up the first draft of her sermon and considering some dinner when she distinctly heard the church door open.

  Her back stiffened but she forced herself to relax. She wasn’t in the city any more. There was no need to be afraid of intruders here. She was in Patchwork Hill now, where people left their doors. So, she’d better just get used to it.

  She popped her head around the office door and smiled when she saw that it was the lady from the party yesterday, the one who’d become ill.

  “Oh hi!” Reggie said in greeting. “Elsa, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, those blond curls bobbing around her face as she beamed. The last of the sunlight shimmered through the painted glass window seeming to make the girl glow. Behind her the image on the window depicted the scene of Mary Magdalene sobbing as Jesus’s body was carried into the cave by two clearly grieving disciples.

  “Well I can see you’re feeling better,” Reggie said coming down the three steps to take her hands. “I’m glad. I planned to stop in and check on you but didn’t get the chance.”

  “I am feeling better, though I’ll probably be sick again soon.” She said this with the kind of glee one might announce having won an award. At Reggie’s concerned expression Elsa just laughed. “You think me mad! But it’s wonderful, a miracle.”

  And just like that Reggie understood. Elsa was pregnant. “Oh!”

  Elsa sobered slightly. “You’re not shocked are you? I’m not married.” She blushed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Every child is a blessing and from what I hear nobody is more ready or fitted to motherhood than our Sunday school teacher.”

  It was so refreshing to see a woman actually happy with the prospect of motherhood. In her city parish, Reggie had more than once overheard a woman praying to not be pregnant or for forgiveness after a visit to the clinic.