CHURCH LADY P.I.: Part # 15 (Waking)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 15

(WAKING)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)

Even before I opened my eyes I was conscious of a presence. When I did eventually open them I was looking into a face of deep compassion from which two of the bluest eyes were shining. I wondered how long he had been there watching over me, even while I was unaware of it. His name came to my muddled brain and since to speak his name was to make him smile, I did just that.

"Bert."

And then he was gone.

I remember when I was a small child I had a big old 'Tom' cat. He followed me everywhere. He always had to be near me, but he never displayed any emotions for me one way or another. One day I fell off my tricycle, hit my head and lost consciousness. When I woke up I discovered my cat was nudging me over and over with his nose, licking my face all over and mewing at the top of his lungs. He had been too small to move me or help me in any way, but he had never left my side as I lay there and when he saw me start to move he was so over joyed that he just couldn't contain his emotions.

In Marc's case ... same reaction; just different species.

But as pleasant as it was to have Marc making such a fuss over me, I was in a lot of pain and when I let out a gasp, he started yelling for a nurse. I'd never seen him so undone before, nor so expressive in public. When a nurse didn't immediately respond he ran out of the room to grab one.

My breathing was shallow and I longed to take a deep breath, but when I tried to do just that, pain like I'd never known before snatched away the little breath I had and I actually saw stars swim before my eyes. By the time Marc returned with two nurses and a doctor, from wherever he had abducted them from, my mind was clearing "thanks" to all that pain and the first thing I said was, "Sarah?!" and  instinctively started to rise from my bed.

It was a nurse who put a restraining arm on me as the doctor started doing things to me with his hands and a little light. Marc's face came back into focus and he said gently and reassuringly, "She's fine. Sarah's fine. Don't worry."

The doctor asked me about my scale of pain and ordered the nurses to "up" my dosage of this and that. When they scampered out of the room to do the doctor's bidding, with Bert on their heels, and the doctor finally took his leave as well, Marc was sitting in a chair right next to my bed and holding my hand. That's when I noticed how awful he looked and knew that the vigil he had held next to me had been both intense and lengthy. But he waited for me to speak first.

"Did the cabin blow up?" I asked with a raspy voice.

"Yes."

"Mr. Harker?"

Marc just shook his head.

"But Sarah's okay?" I rushed to ask.

"Yes. She wasn't in the cabin anymore and was actually quite a distance away when it exploded. Yet she still did receive some injuries."

My eyes widened. He continued quickly, "The explosion splintered the old wood logs the cabin was made of and some pieces of it have been found as far away as three miles from the campground. But you're the only one who received life threatening injuries."

"Did you get hurt anywhere?" I asked anxiously.

"Me? No. I'm indestructible." He teased.

"Actually," Marc continued, "because I was luring the sentries as far away from the cabin as possible, it saved all three of our lives. Coach Fabre is now one of us. Or should I say, 'one with us'."

I knew what he meant. This Coach Fabre had given his life over to Jesus ... completely. Now he was no longer an 'enemy' to us or to Jesus. And it brought back to my mind some of the final conversation I had had with Mr. Harker, but only in a partial and jumbled way.

I had quoted partly from the book of Romans, chapter 5. "But God demonstrated his love for us that while we were sinners and God's enemies, Christ died for us."  I knew it wasn't exactly that, but something like it.
            { Romans 5:8-11 }

By having his life spared, the coach had been confronted by the ultimate evidence of Jesus' love for us, that he died not just for his "friends" but his "enemies" as well, so that one day we might all be members of His "family".

LINK to Next Part # 16 "Epilogue: Case Facts"




"FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." from Laura-Lee Was Here Blog (Companion Post)

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction




Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Part # 17 (Epilogue Facts & Life)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 17

(EPILOGUE: FACTS & LIFE)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)



After learning about Ginnette, Sarah was brought to me within the hour. We held each other for a very long time. There didn't seem to be anything else to do. Marc stayed with us for a while but then ultimately left the two of us alone. She crawled into my hospital bed and fell asleep in my arms.

The details of the case made newspaper headlines all across the country. In fact, as you've been reading these events they may have seemed vaguely familiar to you.

Bert had gotten to the police station in record time, but convincing them to drive out to the old Mount Zion Christian Camp in the middle of the night took a bit of doing because the local police were quite familiar with Bert and his conspiracy theories. So Bert decided to approach it differently and tell them that it was my "investigation" that had led us to the camp. But since my theories involved "stuffed bunnies" that didn't help him much. Finally I think the police started driving towards the camp simply because they didn't like the idea of us poking around there in the middle of the night. But when they saw the explosion and a "piece of the camp" actually landed in the road directly in front of one of their vehicles, they decided to make some haste. However their delay in believing Bert may have actually saved their lives, because in the very last tally, parts of the camp were actually found on the outskirts of the town itself.

It didn't take long for the FBI to show up and take over. Then, second only to God's ultimate Judgement Day, the real investigators arrived. The "Internal Revenue Service" descended from "on high" and "books were opened". And everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) who had more than two nickels to rub together were investigated and audited. But it wasn't actually that many people. Do you remember how I stated that it seemed the town was lacking a "middle class"? There were actually very few rich people in this town at all. And those who did have money were actually involved in the "Bunny Shop", as the press dubbed it.

When the explosion hit, the two 'sentries'  that were chasing Marc around had just gone for a dunking into a river that ran through a small but deep valley, which kept them from all harm. Although, it did cause High School coach Fabre to re-examine his life and come to the conclusion that God had shown him much more mercy than he had coming to him. 
The other man, the one Marc wasn't familiar with, ended up being a relative new comer to this small town. As an interesting side note, do you remember me mentioning that during my first service at the "Cathedral" church I noticed "two men who were both fidgeting fiercely" in their seats? It was the exact same two men. I suppose what I had witnessed was their consciences bothering them while they sat in church. 

They were both given jail sentences worthy of kidnapping a little girl. But while my new found Christian brother, Douglas Fabre, was in the middle of his trial he decided to "come clean" completely and admitted to abusing several of the young boys that had been on the basketball team through the years. (Bert and his "High school prostitution ring" was right again). It increased the Coach's jail time considerably, but it began to set free several of the young men who had been entrusted to him to coach and instead had suffered greatly by his actions. He's now the unofficial but very busy Chaplain at the prison which will remain his home throughout his earthly lifetime. And, although I've never heard him preach, I'm told nobody can talk about God's forgiveness and the power it has to change a life as earnestly as he can.

As to the "good" Reverend Wright, one minute his name was everywhere and then it was nowhere. After he and his church were investigated by the FBI and audited by the IRS he looked destined for jail. Then he was suddenly nowhere to be found. The rumors were that the CIA became involved and the Reverend had some interesting information about national and international weapons smuggling he was willing to trade. But with a rumor who can know?

As to Mrs. Wright, the only thing she seemed to be guilty of was a "love of money", which is actually no little thing. The ultimate irony being that while she was taking offense that someone would suggest that her precious diamonds were cubic zirconia, they ended up being worth even less. Except for a couple pieces of jewelry received from Reverend Wright when they were courting, the rest of her jewels contained more paste than you will find in the toy box of a thousand kindergartners.

Without her husband and with no job and no money, Mrs. Wright fell back on her training as a nurse (which nobody even knew she had). I heard she became a missionary, sold the few jewels that were actually real and used them to purchase clean water wells for poor people in a village in Africa, before returning to Marc's small town to eventually get remarried and settle down with 7 children she adopted from that same village. But as I said, who can believe a rumor? People can invent the silliest things. 
For example, it's also rumored she is so paranoid about her past with Reverend Wright that she has a "high tech artificial intelligence" that guards her home and her children. Her neighbors assure me they've see lights going on and off at all sorts of strange hours of the day and night and her front door opens "automatically" with only a coded knock. But I've actually been to her house and I've seen no artificial intelligence there.

They postponed Ginnette's "Celebration of Life" until after I got out of the hospital and I was the one who gave her eulogy. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But I recounted the last brief words we exchanged that night at the campground:

"I don't know how I'll ever thank all of you."

"Thank us when we are all home safe and celebrating because your precious daughter is back in your arms again."

 "Oh, and what a celebration that's 'gonna' be!"

Yes. What a celebration when we are all safely Home and Parent and precious child are reunited!

Then people started spontaneously singing the "Mount Zion" song that Ginnette had played over and over in church as a secret code and I knew it was Jesus redeeming that wonderful hymn directly out of the hands of evil men and using it for His glory once again.

LINK to Next Part # 18 "Epilogue: Love"



FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I. from Laura-Lee Was Here Blog (Companion Post)

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction






Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Part # 16 (Epilogue Case Facts)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 16

(EPILOGUE: CASE FACTS)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)



I was very weak that first moment I awoke so I didn't learn all the facts of what happened that night at the Mount Zion Christian Camp or about the facts of the entire case until later. Soon after that first conversation with Marc a nurse came back in, gave me a shot and I was promptly falling back asleep and very grateful to do it. But not before I got Marc to promise he'd go and get some rest for himself as well.

Apparently, I had been very badly wounded although everyone kept saying with amazement that considering my proximity to the blast I should be dead.  My main and most grievous injury had been a large piece of wood that had ripped through my left shoulder and had punctured my left lung as well. It had missed my heart by a "fraction of a fraction of an inch" or else I would have been "fish food", as Bert told me. Repeatedly. They had reconstructed my left shoulder as best they could, but that arm would never work properly again.

Sarah wasn't mortally wounded in any way, but she would have to live the remainder of her life with a prosthetic right hand. I longed to see Sarah and reassure myself that she was okay, but when a week had passed and still nobody had brought her to see me I deduced that something was being kept from me. So as my meal tray was cleared away and Bert (who had taken it upon himself to keep watch over me, especially whenever Marc wasn't present) followed the 'tray lady' out of the room, I turned to where Marc was seated.

The two of us were just looking at each other. We had grown so close that it seemed that even in silent moments we could communicate. Perhaps that's when we communicated best.
His smile darkened and he looked at his hands.

"Now." I began,
 "Tell me what it is you've all been sparing me from."

He looked up at me and gave a firm nod and without any preamble he said, "Ginnette didn't make it. She died."

As an investigator, "the facts" of something had always been a priority, with  emotions always having to wait. But at that moment, even though I didn't know what had happened to her, "the facts" seemed secondary. And, for the second time, I just started to cry bitterly and let the sobs shake me. Marc rose from his chair, came over, wrapped his arms around me and there we remained. Sharing our first truly deep sorrow together.

I suppose in physical weakness my mind had pushed most of the events of that night at "Mount Zion" camp out of my mind, but now my final conversation with Mr. Harker and all that surrounded it came rushing back to me.

Somehow I had come to the conclusion that Harker had been actually wearing the bomb that caused the explosion. Just like a suicide bomber. But in truth, the four of us had bumbled into a camp filled with evil. The bomb was rigged to the bed that Sarah was laying on. It was armed and needed a constant pressure of the weight about the equivalent of a small child to keep it from going off. If Sarah left the bed, or moved around too much it would go off.

When Mr. Harker left the room and was busy with me at the front door, Ginnette crawled into the back bedroom of the cabin through the window. Sarah was not asleep, as Marc had supposed, and quickly told her mother what was happening. Ginnette got into bed with Sarah to add her weight to the bed and sent Sarah out the window, telling her that she would soon follow after she found something that "weighed enough" to put onto the bed.

As for my conversation with Harker, the Bible says Christians are "Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us."
           { 2 Corinthians 5:20 }

Even though at the time it was going on I didn't understand exactly what  was happening, I fully believe that Mr. Harker did. He knew it wasn't me standing there and saying those things to him, but Jesus speaking through me. Pleading for Harker's life, even after Harker had given up on himself.

What did Jesus say to Mr. Harker that night?

 "That he longed to gather him ..."

"That he could give him abundant life ..."

"That he was not just the 'way out' but the Way completely ..."

And ultimately, Romans chapter 5 and verse 8,
"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

And for those of you who have trouble accepting this explanation, remember this, I called Mr. Harker "Joseph", even though I didn't know what his first name was. In fact, I couldn't find anyone who knew what his first name was until several weeks later. But, in spite of Christ's pleas, Joseph Harker still shut the door ... and locked it shut ... from the inside. Could I have witnessed any greater tragedy than that?

Yet, there is still the hope that our God who "so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life"  {  John 3:16 }  was able to convince Mr. Harker to yield his life in the fraction of a second it took for the explosion to rip from the back bedroom to the front room. When Jesus is involved, a person can go from death to life that quickly.

If you seriously consider it, how long does it actually take for a human heart to surrender and be reunited to it's Creator?

LINK to Next Part # 17 "Epilogue: Facts & Life"




FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I. from Laura-Lee Was Here Blog (Companion Post)

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction






Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Part # 18 (Epilogue Love)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 18

(EPILOGUE: LOVE)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)


One week after that "Celebration of Life", there was a "Celebration of Love" and I became Marc's wife. 
He told me he always knew I would marry him eventually. Then I remembered how Bert had been upset with Marc for revealing to me their "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT" knocking code and Marc had defended himself by saying, "She's going to be my wife, Bert. Plus, she's an investigator. How long do you think I could have kept it from her?"

I asked him what had made him so sure I would eventually marry him.

"Well," he started slowly and pensively,
 "your decision to not marry me was coming from your fears surrounding me being younger than you. I suppose I had enough faith in you and in God that ultimately you wouldn't let fear be the deciding factor. Remember, 'There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear. '  
               { 1 John 4:18 }
And even though my love isn't perfect. Jesus' love is."

"I certainly did make you wait though." I responded, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"Yes. But when love is real, it's also patient." Marc concluded.

  Then he ran his hand down my left cheek, and let it rest on my left shoulder, which was still bandaged. A gesture that garnered some attention from the other people in the bakery where we stood,
 "And some people are really worth the wait."

I don't suppose I have to tell you that it was not the perfect wedding though. Apparently, the person who put the icing on our wedding cake was new at their job and didn't realize they were using the wrong kind of icing. They were using a type that had to be kept refrigerated. So on the morning of the wedding, when we arrived at the bakery to pick up our 4 tier wedding cake, the icing was a large white puddle on the floor.

Also, the Groom was so nervous he had to make numerous and unrehearsed trips to the washroom during the ceremony. Not to mention the Minister's allergic reaction to the Bride's bouquet of carnations, which caused him to have a violent attack of sneezing. When I realized what was going on I didn't just "toss the bouquet", I heaved it as far away as I could. It landed in the lap of Marc's 84 year old great-Uncle Max who was seated in the second to last row of the church. Three days before the wedding Uncle Max had walked into Susan's house, sat down to supper with the rest of us and asked someone to "pass the peas" like he'd just stepped outside, instead of having been missing for almost 25 years. Nobody had the courage to ask him where he had been all these years. Susan responded by passing her Uncle the peas, shrugging her shoulders and saying, "It's okay, we have a good investigator in the family now."

Of course, what other people would consider "imperfection" were actually "perfect" moments. Like when my flower girl/ring bearer/new daughter came in carrying our rings on a small pink, satin pillow grasped partly in her brand new prosthetic hand.

 Then, right after the Minister pronounced us as "Husband and Wife", the Best Man made a pronouncement of his own:

         "FINALLY!"

("Thank you, Bert.")

We held the Reception at the Old Town Hall (since there is no "new" town hall I never did get an explanation why it is called that) and it didn't take long for the "wedding crashers" to start arriving. Almost all of them were bearing casseroles and various sweets, until our reception turned into a huge "potluck" supper with the entire town in attendance.  I think after what everyone had been through people wanted, even needed, to share in our joy.

And even as poor as most of the people in the town are, we got heaps of truly wonderful wedding presents. But my favorite (and Marc agrees) came in the odd packaging of two small boxes wrapped beautifully, even daintily in matching paper and ribbons and then taped together with silver duct tape. They contained matching wrist watches.

But my favorite part of the ceremony was when, for the very first time, I was introduced by my new married name and at last I was rid of the ridiculous "Mai Breeze" forever.

The minister declared, " I now present to you 'Mr. & Mrs. Marc and Mai ... La Fleur' "!

I'm told the music you pick for your wedding is extremely important and it must be so, because in just the few days we had to plan our wedding I received many, many suggestions for songs. Especially for that all important "first dance" as husband and wife. Since Marc had so many firm beliefs and opinions about how demonstrative a man and woman should be in public, I left the entire thing in his hands. I even told him that if he wished to dispense with dancing altogether it would be fine with me.
Many Christians don't believe in dancing at all and there had even been some serious debating about the issue within Marc's family. He said he thought it was alright if we had "some dancing",  but beyond that I had no idea what to expect.  But since during the entire first two years of our courtship Marc never even held my hand in public, I felt confident whatever he chose would be appropriate, conservative and above all moral. Especially that first dance which is supposed to be the musical reflection of the couple itself.

Going down the aisle it was the traditional "Wedding March".

But what did Marc chose for that all important "first dance" as husband and wife?

Was it a Wedding Standard?

"At Last"
"The Way You Look Tonight"
"This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)"
"Forever and Ever, (Amen)"
"Through the Years"

Perhaps a Classical Song?

"Cannon in D"
"Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"
"The Blue Danube"

Or maybe a Christian song?

" I Will Be There"
"Perfect Union"
"Wedding Song (There is Love)"
"The Prayer"


So what did Marc ultimately chose?

"Finally"

Yup. By CeCe Peniston.

The  "Marc Remix"

My Marc. Full of surprises.

And oh, did we DANCE!
 Because, when all is said and done, nobody understands the joy of a long-awaited wedding like a Christian does.


"Finally! It's happened to me. Right in front of my face. My poor lips can't describe it."

"YEAH, YEAH. OW!


LINK "FINALLY" by CeCe Peniston

BTW "La Fleur" is the French word for "FLOWER". So I went from being Mai Breeze to being Mai Flower. 😄


LINK to Next Part # 19 "Epilogue: Epilogue"



"FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." from Laura-Lee Was Here Blog (Companion Post)


CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction




Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Part # 14 (Plans and Pleas)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 14

(PLANS AND PLEAS)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I.". There are clues everywhere. (LR)


We gave Ginnette about 5 minutes to get into her position next to the crate by the bedroom window. While we were waiting, Bert insisted that we "synchronize our watches". Since neither Marc nor I were actually wearing a watch, Bert ended up just being disappointed. I heard him say under his breath, "What kind of people don't wear watches?" 

I was wondering if Bert had even heard of a thing called a "cell phone". But for all the good mine was doing me since I had come to this tiny town, it probably would have been better if I did have just a regular watch.

Marc slapped him on the back with an "Off you go, Buddy. See you on the flip-side."

Bert simply nodded and ran off at full speed down the hill towards the woods by "Lower Zion" where he had left his truck. I turned to look at Marc when he suddenly scooped me into his arms and gave me the most intense kiss I had ever encountered in my life.

When we finally pulled apart he actually had to steady me on my feet before letting go of me. I looked up at him with mock anger and whispered, "That's not very nice."

He looked at me puzzled, "It wasn't? I thought it was pretty darn nice."

"No." I corrected him, "I mean it's not nice to steal my breath away when I'm going to need it in a couple minutes!" I said, barely audibly.

He had already started jogging backwards away from me saying, "Tit for tat, My Lady. Tit for tat." Then he turned and raced off into the night at his full speed, but in the opposite direction from Bert, heading up towards the heights of the "Mount Zion" hill.

I started walking with slow, purposeful steps towards the Director's cabin thinking about how I was going to tease Marc later for saying the word, "Tit". Twice! I was pretty sure I could get a full on blush from him when I reminded him of it.

Then I suddenly heard Marc's voice yell out, "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y, NIGHT!!" just once and was amazed that it seemed to be coming from almost half way up the hill already. I heard the voice of each sentry respond (with words I cannot repeat) and I knew Marc would be 'treating' them to a night they would not soon forget.

I was still steadily approaching the dilapidated front porch of the former Camp Director's Cottage when the silly urge to knock and announce, "Avon calling" took me over and I almost giggled out loud.
I decided I had better get serious fast, but as I was picturing Bert in his truck, Marc running around in the night with those two evil men deserving whatever he had planned for them and Ginnette being reunited with her daughter and stealing her out the back window, while I had a "chat" with Mr. Harkins at this end, it all seemed remarkably ridiculous to me.

That is, until I saw the cabin door open a crack and heard the voice of Mr. Harker whisper loudly "Who's out there?" 
Suddenly, all merry-making was thrown off in a split second and a spirit of heaviness fell, as if someone had just thrown a robe of chains across my shoulders.

If Fear had a tangible voice, it would have been Mr. Harker's at that time and that place.

I simply froze in my tracks before the bottom step of the porch. Harker saw me there and I heard him growl in a low, intense voice,
"You! What are you doing here?!"

The door, which he had opened only a crack, he now opened wider to get a better look around. He seemed surprised to see that I was all by myself. Just standing there.

Again, he demanded in a gruff voice, "What are you doing here?"

I simply didn't know what to say. So I just stood there and said nothing. But not only did I say nothing, I didn't seem able to think anything either. And until that moment, I thought it was an impossibility for a person to "think" nothing. But it felt as if someone had just hit my "off" button.

Then one verse from the Bible shot through my mind and I grabbed  hold of it. At least it was a thought. It was something. Although it didn't exactly spur me on to great action:

"As a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth." { Isaiah 53:7 }

And so I just stood there. Saying nothing as that one verse replayed over and over in my head.

Mr. Harker stared at me for what seemed a long while. He listened to the night. Heard nothing. Then he eventually came furtively out of the cabin, constantly scanning around. With a big frown on his face he walked tentatively towards me, looking as if he would "duck and cover" at any moment.

He asked me other questions too like, "Who sent you?", "Where are the others?", "Why are you just standing here all alone?", "How did you get here?"

As he was shooting these questions at me, he made his way out of the cabin and searched me. (For weapons I assume) Then he slowly backed away from me again towards the door of the cabin, but now I realized he had a rifle pointed at me. Still I said nothing.

Then, without any warning at all, I began to cry. Bitterly.

Oh, the depth of sorrow I felt at that precise moment! Even now it's hard to describe. But it felt like every misery in the world had been given to me and I had been overwhelmed by them. As if every heart in the world that knew grief and pain and suffering was beating in my chest. Or maybe I wasn't feeling every heart in the world but rather the suffering of just one heart, but a whole lifetime's worth. What else could I do but stand there and sob?

Mr. Harker's frown had left his face and it had been replaced by what I took to be no emotion at all. He stood there and merely watched as the tears coursed down my cheeks.

When the tears were still flowing, but I had stopped sobbing, I noticed Mr. Harker had gone back into the cabin and was standing just inside the doorway, holding onto the door knob as if for support. His rifle was no longer pointing at me, but resting in the crook of his arm and facing towards the ground. Through the door way, which was wide open, he was still watching me.

He asked, not without some kindness, "What do you want?"


I responded with these words,


"Oh, how I have longed to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you would not have me." {Matt 23:38} and I felt the longing and tragedy of those words.

Mr. Harker's eyes widened in surprise, but he eventually shook his head and said, "It's too late for that. It's over for me now."

I responded,

 "I have come that you would have abundant grace and life."
        { John 10:10; Romans 5:17 }

Again, he was shaking his head as he said,
"I wish it could be that way, but for me, there's no way out. Maybe there was at one time, but not any more."

I saw his shoulders physically slump.

I responded with,

" You were redeemed from your empty way of life and not with silver and gold, but with my own blood. 
     I am the Way and the Truth and the Life."          
         { 1 Peter 1:18; John 14:6 }

 I paused briefly before adding one more thing, with emotion deeper than I thought myself capable of,

"I love you, Joseph. And while you are still in your sins I have died for you."
                         { Romans 5:8 }

I watched him shake his head over and over and then gently,
 without another word, 
            he pushed the door shut. 
                 I heard a bolt slide into place as he locked it, 
                              from the inside. 

I stood there mere seconds before I turned and started walking away.

Before I had walked another 20 paces I saw a blinding light that filled and overtook everything. It lit up that dark, dark night around me, as if I was suddenly standing on the surface of the sun. I felt my feet leave the ground just before I lost consciousness.

LINK to Next Part # 15 "Waking"






FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I. from "Laura-Lee Was Here" Blog (COMPANION POST)


CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction





Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 5 Under the Willow

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 5

Under the Willow

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. due to the fact clues are everywhere. (L-L)

  When Ginnette finally got off the phone Sarah was still sitting on my lap but she was no longer crying or emotional. I wanted to question her more, but I felt the Lord prompting me to leave. So I said my “good-byes”, but before I left, Ginnette took me into the bedroom and offered me $20 “for my troubles”. Of course I declined and the desire to spit out the words, “Save it for buying more bunnies when you can’t be bothered to find out what’s troubling your daughter.” came over me. But I kept my mouth shut.

A couple hours later I was at the town bus depot where I had arrived only 4 long days ago. This time to welcome the “reason” I was in town. My “gentleman caller” (which is the word that we older ladies use for “boyfriend”) got off the bus and I swept him into a big hug. He doesn’t believe in public displays of affection, but he must of missed me because when I tried to disengage myself from his arms he held me tight for an extra couple of heart beats. 

This is the town where my Marc had grown up and I was here to meet the only remaining family he still had left, an Aunt and Uncle, their 3 children and their families. I hadn’t contacted them since I got into town (basically because I was too afraid to face them alone), but with Marc here my courage reappeared as suddenly as one of Sarah’s bunnies. Marc and I had been “keeping company” for several years and I know that the “meeting of the family” signals a shift towards marriage, but the idea of marrying Marc made me very nervous. Yet he convinced me that he merely wanted all the people he loved to get to know each other and he was not going to pressure me into something I wasn’t ready for (although at my age you think I’d be more than ready for it). Added to his persuasive argument to come here were  his big, brown, pleading, puppy dog eyes, so it was inevitable that I would eventually give in and come to this small town that I had never even heard of before I met him.

I gussied myself up the best I could and met his family, all 11 of whom had come to town just to see me. As a group they possess the same qualities that Marc possesses singularly, so after a couple tense moments meeting everyone in the front hallway, I slipped into my place in that family as effortlessly as I slipped into my chair at the dining room table. Perhaps it was so easy because Marc was behind me holding out my chair, both literally and metaphorically.

After supper Marc and I took a stroll and I related to him the events of the past few days. He remained silent and thoughtful as I talked, nodding his head occasionally. When I was finished, he asked a couple questions to clarify my story and then settled back into his usual quietness. We walked side by side and hand in hand for several minutes (apparently the “public‘s” opinion of our hand holding wasn‘t foremost on his mind at that moment).

Marc eventually broke the silence by asking me what “little church” I was referring to. I told him the one I meant and he responded with, 
“Oh. That’s why I couldn’t figure out which one you were talking about. We call it ‘the Cathedral’ ”.

“Why ‘the Cathedral’? It’s not very cathedral like.”

“Well it was at one time.” he responded. And I could sense he was about to tell one of his “Oh-so-rare” stories. I was right and he continued.

“The Cathedral has been in this town almost since the beginning. This place originally started as a boom town. It sprung up fast and grew rapidly. And everyone was making money. It was back at the end of the 1930’s and the beginning of the 1940’s.”

“During World War II?” I interjected.

“Exactly. Back at that time, almost everyone attended church and the town’s founding members wanted to show that they were prosperous not only financially, but spiritually as well. With a great edifice, they could display to the world that Jesus had blessed them in every way and on every level.”

“Really humble” I remarked sarcastically

I waited for Marc to say more, but he didn’t. I finally could stand it no longer and burst out with, 
“Well! Don’t leave me hanging. What happened next?”

A smile split his face as he looked down at me and said tenderly, “Immediate Mai.” which is his nickname for me because patience is not one of my biggest virtues.

“Did you notice that big empty field not too far from the church you attended?” 
I nodded in affirmation.

“Well, that was once a big ammunition factory. During the war it made all sorts of guns and ammunition, but when the war was over it was converted into a Fireworks factory. Some people thought it should be a canning factory because they were morally uncomfortable that their blessed, spiritual town could be responsible for the death of a lot of people, even if they were 'just a bunch of  Nazi’s and Japs'. But money talked the loudest and in the end we could make more money with fireworks than canning. They modified the factory to make fireworks and only 4 days into full production the entire thing blew up. It killed everyone that worked there except for 5 people who were in the washrooms at the time. Although the Cathedral was some distance from the factory, the wind was blowing in that direction and the Cathedral caught fire as well. There are no traces of the factory left, just that empty field. It was obliterated. As for the Cathedral, only a portion was saved. The part left standing was where the Sunday School took place. The remains stood vacant for years but in the mid-80’s it was renovated into the building it is now. But those of us who grew up here still refer to it as ’the Cathedral’. Many people think the factory explosion and subsequent burning of the Cathedral was God’s judgement on the town because we made ’instruments of death’ during the war. People still debate it to this day.”

We walked in silence for a while longer, passing small houses, each one with a flower garden, until we ended up near the edge of town in a small meadow forested on two sides and peppered with various species of trees. I stopped walking to take in the view and then asked Marc,
“So exactly what Christian denomination occupies that church right now?”

“To tell you the truth.” he responded, “I don’t really know. Not many of us ‘lifers’ have anything to do with it.”

“Why not? Does everyone think it’s still under God’s judgement?”

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I haven’t attended it myself, but several of my friends that live here have gone for awhile and then just stopped. My friend Bert, you’ll meet him soon, he thinks they’re a front for selling babies because their nursery is always so full.”

“Do you think that’s possible?“ I asked attentively, while scanning Marc’s face.

“Not really. Bert thought our high school was the head quarters for a teen-age prostitution ring. So I don’t take all of what he says completely serious. But he’s got a big heart. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“Can’t wait to meet him.” I said rather absent mindedly.

Suddenly Marc chuckled and I raised my eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

Marc said, “I was just remembering another conspiracy theory that Bert had. When a new store opened in the 70's that sold special herbal teas, Bert thought they were putting something in the teas that chemically lobotomized the drinker and as a side effect made men impotent.”

“He sounds like a real character”

“Oh that he is. That he is.”

We continued walking and Marc took my hand again. He took a big breath, which he usually does when he’s about to draw a conclusion.

“I don’t think the people who attend the Cathedral are into anything criminal. The consensus in town seems to be that they are just a little weird. But who isn’t?”

At the word “weird” I stopped walking for a moment. Marc turned and looked at me. All sorts of things were running through my head, but I didn’t want to get into them at that moment, so I just started walking again. We approached an ancient old willow tree and both of us instinctively ducked under it’s cascading branches and leaves that fell to the ground. We both relaxed our backs against the trunk and Sarah came to my mind. I was wondering how she was doing. I was wondering how I would proceed with the investigation into these stuffed bunnies. I knew caution and cunning were called for, but I usually don’t investigate things secretly. When I am looking for someone or something, I walk up to people and ask questions. But this was different. There might be subterfuge and deception going on and if I went blundering into it like a bull in a china shop, I could put Sarah or maybe even Ginnette at risk.

I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, “Oh Lord. Don’t let me make things worse. I don’t know what I’ve stumbled upon, but I know you do. Just don’t let me make things worse or get someone hurt.”

I sighed my “Amen” and opened my eyes when I realized Marc was near. I saw that he was leaning on the tree with his left arm resting on the trunk just above my head. He was watching my face very intently. He must have been doing it while I was praying.

“Having a talk with the Lord, are you?”

I nodded my yes.

“Good.” he said matter-of-factly. “Because you’re keeping some things from me and Somebody should know what you’re up to. Or maybe you could just tell me more.”

“No. Not yet. I’ve got to sort out more of my thoughts.”

“Is it about the little girl with the stuffed bunny?”

I nodded again, then reassured him, 
“But it’ll keep for awhile. There’s nothing to be done right now, and I’m too old to not appreciate a peaceful, perfect moment like this”

I was studying Marc’s face too: his bright brown eyes and that smile that is never very big, but almost always present, his animated eyebrows that rise in surprise, lower in concern and wiggle to make me laugh and his eternally tussled hair whipping around in the wind.

Suddenly rain began to fall and I was grateful for the tree that sheltered us, the love of someone who would stand by me, for the Lord who knows me better than I know myself (and loves me still) and a Bible verse came to my mind, so I spoke it out loud.

“I will be a shelter and shade from the heat of day and a refuge and hiding place from the rain.” 

We lingered under that old willow for another 10 minutes or so until the rain abated and since it was growing dark, we decided to walk a quicker pace to get back to Marc’s Uncle and Aunt’s home. Marc was fussing over me, trying to get me to button my sweater because of the “night chill”, so I agreed. He was also telling me that there would probably be hot chocolate and cookies waiting for us when we got back to the family, so I made a joke about maybe running instead of just walking faster.

He grabbed my hand again and we started across the meadow, walking with a purpose. Thinking about Marc’s family and friends and the hot chocolate I suddenly asked him, “What store did your Aunt get the cocoa from?”

He turned to me, “What?”

I smirked, “It wasn’t the same one as the lobotomy tea is from, is it?”

Marc actually laughed out loud.

“I don’t think so.”, he said as we were marching through the tall grass. “She’s been shopping from ‘Kendall’s Grocery’ for 30 years, so I don’t think we have to worry. If Mr. Kendall wanted to poison us, he would have done it a long time ago.”

We turned to each other and smiled.

“But if Bert’s right," Marc added,  "I’d stay away from ‘Harker’s Dry Goods’.”

I froze in my tracks.

Marc also stopped and looked at me.

I looked up into his face, “I am anxious to meet your friend Bert. Very anxious. Do you think we could stop in on him tonight?”

LINK to Next Part # 6 "Seeing Bert"





Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR