Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(58)

Pastor Lovelace waited silently, and Harriett plunged right in. “As you’re probably aware, I’ve been a member of this congregation for well over twenty years.”

“It seems longer.”

“My husband’s family was one of the founding members of this congregation.” She bowed her head out of reverence for the dead. “May God rest his soul.”

“You’ve served our church community with great vigor,” Pastor Lovelace admitted graciously.

Harriett had always been fond of the man. He showed a keen insight into the many personal sacrifices others had made on behalf of the church.

“Tell me, how is the pageant coming along? Have you enjoyed working with Reba Maxwell?”

“Well,” Harriett said with a heavy sigh, and scooted closer to the edge of the cushion. “I understand that when Milly’s husband was transferred, the church was in something of a bind, but personally—”

“From all indications,” Pastor Lovelace interrupted, “Miss Maxwell is doing an excellent job, working long hours, and putting a great deal of time and energy into the project.”

“Yes,” Harriett admitted reluctantly. The Maxwell woman had done everything he said, but the church had taken a risk by allowing a woman, one with spotty attendance at best, to step in at the last minute. Luckily there hadn’t been too many problems.

“I apologize, Mrs. Foster, I’ve sidetracked you.”

Harriett cleared her throat. “As I was saying earlier, I’ve attended this church for several years now and am familiar with many of the families.”

Pastor Lovelace relaxed on his chair.

“It’s because I know the parishioners as well as I do that I feel I can speak freely about their concerns.”

“As you see them?”

“Yes.” There were things she could tell him that would turn his hair prematurely gray. If he showed any indication of wanting to know the levels of depravity some of the upstanding members of this very church had shown, she’d be happy to tell him. Only as a matter of prayer, of course.

“There appear to be a number of areas of deep concern,” she said, meeting and holding his gaze.

He arched his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“First off, let’s discuss Emily Merkle.” She could tell by his blank look that he hadn’t placed the name. “Seth Webster’s new housekeeper.”

“Ah, yes.” A smile quivered at the edges of his mouth.

Harriett wondered what he found so amusing. “The woman’s a busybody.” And an old biddy besides, but she feared Pastor Lovelace would find her words unkind She didn’t want to alienate him before she zeroed in on the real reason for her visit.

“I find Mrs. Miracle…I mean, Merkle…to be a woman of unique faith.”

“Perhaps.” Harriett was willing to grant the woman that much. “She certainly has found a way to ingratiate herself with the women of this church in short order.” Harriett, however, wasn’t as easily taken in by a smooth tongue and slick manners. The woman was trouble with a capital T. Baking cookies for the women’s bazaar and contributing the recipe for winter fruit dip. Why, it was pure indulgence, that’s what it was. Pure indulgence.

“Don’t you agree?” Pastor’s gaze narrowed as he looked at her. “Mrs. Merkle is a woman of unique faith.”

“Faith, perhaps, but I see very little religion in her.”

“How do you mean?” the young minister pressed. Something in his attitude changed; she noticed it in his eyes and believed he was keen to hear her response.

“Well, it’s difficult to explain…with words. It’s as if the woman isn’t quite like the rest of us, if you catch my drift.”

“You mean she isn’t of this world?”

“Something like that,” Harriett agreed. “When she looks at me I’m left with the feeling that…” She didn’t dare voice the truth, not with the opposite sex. The fact was, she’d been left feeling exposed, as if Emily Merkle had the power to know things she had no business knowing.

Once several years ago, shortly after her husband had passed on, Harriett had purchased a pair of silk underpants. She attributed the minor decline in common sense to her overwhelming loss and grief. She’d worn them only once and had hidden them in the back of her drawer ever since. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Harriett felt Emily Merkle knew about those black silk panties.

“The feeling that…,” he prompted.

“Frankly, Pastor, I’m not here to talk about the Websters’ housekeeper. It’s Ruth Darling who concerns me.”

“Ruth Darling?” He sounded surprised. “Ruth’s the delicate matter you wish to discuss?”

Harriett sat up on the chair, stiffening her spine. She was so close to the edge of the cushion that she was in danger of falling butt first onto the floor.

She didn’t expect this to be a comfortable conversation, but she considered it her Christian duty. If she could save one lost lamb from stumbling into the den of wolves and being trapped in iniquity, then she’d completed her task.

“What I say must stay in this office,” she warned, glancing over her shoulder to be certain the door was completely closed. She didn’t know Joanne Lawton well, but she wouldn’t put it past the church secretary to listen in on conversations that were meant to be private.