Dead Man Dancing (6 page)

‘Hannah!' Eva lunged and hugged me so hard that I feared for my ribs.

‘Eva, I can't tell you how good it is to see you,' I said, hugging her back.

Eva shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair, while I waved for the waitress who appeared almost immediately to take our order for two crab melts with French fries.

‘You've let your hair grow, Eva,' I said, handing my menu back to the waitress.

‘And you haven't.' Eva grinned. ‘Honestly, Hannah, you look terrific.'

I patted my curls. ‘Direct your comments to Wally at Bellissima,' I said, referring to the resident hair stylist at Paradiso, the luxury spa that my daughter and her husband had opened out Bay Ridge way last summer. ‘Wally's kinda weird, but a genius with color.'

‘I stopped coloring my hair,' Eva said. ‘Seemed an unnecessary expense with just the wolves, elk and squirrels around to appreciate the effort. And as for styling, what do you think about this?' She turned in her chair so I could see the back of her head. Eva had twisted her longer hair into an untidy rope and secured it to the crown of her head with a tortoiseshell claw clip. A far cry from the neat page boy she used to wear at St Cat's.

‘If you ever get tired . . .' I paused, searching for the appropriate word. ‘Of the elegant simplicity of that hairdo, Wally will take good care of you.'

‘Is that your roundabout way of suggesting that I need a “professional haircut”?'

‘Guilty!'

‘Point taken.' Eva slipped her napkin out from under the silverware, unfolded it and spread it out on her lap. ‘How's the spa doing, then?'

‘Amazingly well. Dante's taking on staff, and they may be putting in tennis courts come spring.'

‘And Emily?'

‘I'm happy to report that she changed her mind about home-schooling the kids, and she's back running Puddle Ducks. You remember, the day care center at Paradiso?'

‘I do. And that's excellent news.'

I had to agree. Emily could be intense. Cooped up with their mother all day, who knew how the kids would turn out. Paul and I had been taking bets: Nobel prize-winning physicists, or ax murderers. Fortunately, after two months' experimentation, Jake and Chloe were back in the capable hands of St Anne's Church School and the Anne Arundel County school system, respectively, working out any renegade personality quirks by participating in dance (Chloe) and the after school soccer program (Jake). As far as I knew, there were no soccer programs for two-year-olds, but even if there had been, Emily would have kept Timmy at Puddle Ducks.

‘After the kidnapping, I bet Emily doesn't let Timmy out of her sight.' Eva was always good at reading my mind.

‘Never, ever. She even set up an intercom so she can monitor the little guy while he's sleeping.'

Just then, the waitress made a timely appearance with Eva's Diet Coke, giving us an excuse to leave that painful topic.

‘So, how are
you,
Hannah?' Eva asked as she slipped the paper off a straw and plunked it into her glass.

With friends like Eva, who knew my medical history, the usual response – ‘fine, fine' – wouldn't cut it. ‘Just had my annual check-up,' I told her truthfully. ‘No lumps or bumps. Mammogram A-OK. CA-125 numbers steady. I'm good to go for another year.'

‘Thank God.'

‘Amen to that.' Now that I'd caught Eva up on news from the Ives household, I stared hard at my friend, wondering where to begin with the long list of questions I had for her.

‘You're probably wondering why I'm here.' Eva again, reading my mind.

‘That's an understatement.'

‘And why I consulted Hutch.'

‘Uh huh.'

‘It's complicated.' Eva paused, twirled her straw. ‘Let me start at the beginning.'

‘Please!'

‘I have a stalker.'

I coughed. I spluttered. Drops of iced tea decorated my placemat. ‘What?'

Eva leaned over, lifted her purse off the floor, and pulled several sheets of paper from an outside pocket. ‘Email can be a blessing, or a curse.' She thumbed through the pages, and handed me one of them. ‘This is his first message.'

My eyes skimmed quickly over the usual To, From and Subject lines to get to the nitty-gritty of the printout in my hand.

Pastor Eva:

I know you will forgive me for intruding on your leave of absence. I'm a fellow Annapolitan and I had the PLEASURE of attending one of your services back in April last year and was I was ‘MOVED' by your prophetic witness!!!! I knew the LORD was calling me to join St Catherines. I once doubted the wisdom of LADIES in orders, but GOD has shown me that I was wrong. Also, you all are easier on the EYE than old Rector BOB (*wink*). Anyway, I was moved in my SOUL about your troubles and was CALLED TO let you hear from a parishoner that you are LOVED and MISSED. God doesn't want you to be in EXILE forever.

HE hates waste.

Yours in Christ,

Jeremy Dunstan

1 Cross + 3 Nails = 4given

I gazed across the table at Eva who was munching calmly on a French fry she'd taken from a platter the waitress must have snuck on to the table while I was busy reading Jeremy Dunstan's email. ‘Who the heck is Jeremy Dunstan?'

‘As he says, a parishioner. Not that he can spell the word.'

I handed the printout back. ‘His email is a bit creepy – what's with all those capital letters, for heaven's sake? – but it doesn't strike me as anything to worry about.'

Eva grimaced. ‘It didn't to me, either, not at first. So I actually responded to the guy, in a pastoral manner, of course.'

She handed me a second printout. ‘I was seduced by his turnabout on the place of women in the priesthood, I suppose.' She scowled. ‘Over the next month, we exchanged a half-dozen emails, and then
this
popped into my mailbox.'

Eva:

I just want to thank you for your thoughts on the Gospel of JOHN. I always read ‘no one comes to the Father except by me' to mean that you have to be a CHRISTIAN to get to heaven. I've never heard your reading – that Jesus just meant he was the gatekeeper and we don't really know what the requirements are. Are you SURE that's the GODLY way of reading that? I think the devil sometimes works to make us think it's all easy.

Anyway, more important is I feel that the LORD is working in our correspondence. I know the SPIRIT is moving us together. I can tell you now that when I saw you preach last year, it wasn't only your godly teaching that moved me but also, your a BEAUTIFUL woman and God can't mean for you to be alone forever. You and I have become good friends but do you think GOD is calling us to MORE? I think of you alone in the WILDERNESS being purified like so many of our great saints, but all those saints had to come back eventually!!!! Write back and let me know your thoughts SOONEST

God Bless,

Jeremy

1 Cross + 3 Nails = 4given

I could feel Saint Eva's eyes boring into me as I read. When I finished, she said, ‘Your mouth is hanging open.'

‘You're surprised?' I laid the printout down on the table. ‘Jiminy Christmas, Eva, what did you do? Write him back, as he said,
soonest
?'

‘Not soonest. I worked on my response for two whole days. Basically, I told him I was flattered by his email, but he shouldn't misinterpret our relationship as anything more than pastor to parishioner, based on our common commitment to God.' She sighed. ‘And then I got this.'

She handed me a third printout.

Darling Eva

I was VERY disappointed to hear your response to my last email and I'm not the ONLY one. God is calling us to be together and you KNOW that. Are you bringing your concerns to HIM or are you relying on WORLDLY friends and thoughts?? I have PRAYED extensively and GOD told me that your unworthy husband was only a CROSS for you to bear on your path to something much BETTER. I was DESTROYED when He took my darling RHONDA last year, BUT I know when the LORD closes a door, he opens a WINDOW. His mercy is GREAT!!! We are nothing – we can't oppose HIS will for us. I just asked him to send me a word about us. I opened the Bible with my eyes closed and pointed to a section and this is what HE sent: Psalm 19:9: ‘The LORD's judgments are true and righteous, every one, more to be desired than gold, pure gold in plenty, sweeter than honey dripping from the comb. It is through them your servant is warned; in obeying them is great reward.' I am ready JOYFULLY to do HIS will and take you into my heart and my arms where you BELONG!!!

Love,

Jeremy

1 Cross + 3 Nails = 4given

‘Oh. My. Gawd. That sounds an awful lot like a proposal of marriage.'

‘Exactly.'

‘So, what did you do?'

‘I concocted an email that looked like an auto-reply. “Rev Haberman is away from her computer and cannot respond to your email at the present time. If this is an emergency, please contact . . .” and then I put in the phone number of the Diocesan Center in Baltimore, closed my eyes, and hit Send.'

‘And?'

‘Nothing. I'm not proud of it, but after talking with the bishop, I decided to ignore Mr Jeremy Dunstan. Mistake, as it turns out.'

‘Why is that?'

‘When Jeremy didn't hear back from me by the end of the week, he called the parish office, and some idiot gave him my mailing address. The next thing I know, Jeremy shows up at the post office in Stanley, Idaho, wanting to know where he could find the owner of Box 293.'

‘Eva, no! Did they tell him?'

‘They?' Eva sniggered. ‘“They” is Michelle, the postmaster. And, no, she didn't, praise God, but Jeremy gave her a difficult time. Michelle had to call the police chief to remove Jeremy from the premises.'

‘Where did Jeremy go?'

‘I don't know. I only heard about the incident when I drove into town for groceries a couple of days later. Jeremy had been staying at the Sawtooth Hotel, but by that time, he'd checked out.'

‘So I went back to the cabin,' she continued, ‘but the whole isolation thing was starting to spook me. Like any moment Jeremy Dunstan was going to pop out of the trees holding an engagement ring in his hand.' She paused. ‘Or, maybe a shotgun.'

It was hard for me to picture Eva being spooked by anything, and I told her so.

‘I locked myself in, Hannah, and every morning I'd find myself staring out the window, looking for fresh footprints in the snow.'

‘Jeremy, Jeremy . . . I'm trying to put a face on this guy.' I'd been one of the faithful at St Cat's since, well since Old Rector Bob, and I couldn't think of anyone in the congregation named Jeremy.

‘He wasn't one of our regulars, Hannah. When he first came, he'd sit in one of the back pews, over near the baptismal font.'

‘What's he look like?'

‘Short, stocky, neckless. From a distance, it looks like Jeremy has an abundant head of hair, but up close, you realize it's the world's worst toupee. Like a small brown animal crawled up top of his head, and died.'

‘Man of my dreams!' I chuckled.

Just then, the waitress arrived with our order. I looked at my plate, thinking I wasn't very hungry, until the irresistible aroma of Old Bay seasoning wafted up, tweaked my nose, and got those digestive juices flowing. ‘Dig in,' I said, ‘before it gets cold.'

‘And then, just to prove there is a God,' Eva continued, waving a fork full of cheesy crab, ‘I got an email from a former parishioner who works at the Maryland Hall of Records.'

I swallowed. ‘And?'

‘Seems there was a church over on the eastern shore that burned down in the mid-1700s. Everyone thought the records perished in the fire, but incredibly, someone just found them in an old trunk down in Dorchester County.' She popped the crab into her mouth, then rolled her eyes appreciatively. ‘Religious records are often the only source of birth and death information, so this collection is a gold mine for researchers and genealogists. Anyway –' Eva dabbed at her mouth with a corner of her napkin – ‘this parishioner remembered that I had a BA in History, so for the two months left on my sabbatical, I've volunteered to help update the
Guide to Maryland Religious Institutions Featuring the Collections of the Maryland State Archives
. How's that for a mouthful?'

‘Footprints in the snow aside, are you going to miss Idaho?' I asked.

‘Living alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere was just what I needed, at least at first. I talked with the bishop, prayed for guidance and direction, and left plenty of room for God to toss back an answer.' She smiled. ‘I wasn't expecting God to throw me a curve, of course.'

‘I've never been to Idaho. All I know is potatoes. What's Stanley like?'

‘Stanley's three blocks long and two blocks wide, with a population of just over one hundred. The main drag is called Ace of Diamonds Avenue. How about that?' she laughed. ‘Summer was perfection. Fall was gorgeous, for the aspens turning golden, if nothing else. But, once November came around . . .' Eva put her knife and fork down, forming an X on her plate. ‘Stanley's at 6200 feet, and in the winter it gets down to thirty below. When I found myself at Williams Motor Sports bundled up to the eyebrows, shivering in my boots, and seriously considering renting a snow mobile, I decided Stanley, Idaho, was a bit too much winter wonderland, even for me. So, in spite of what happened with Roger, I came back. I'm not ready yet, but by the time my sabbatical is over, I fully intend to return to St Cat's.'

‘But isn't this Jeremy guy –' I patted the printout with my hand – ‘I mean, doesn't he live here?'

‘He does. That's why I went to see Hutch. I can't hide out in the mountains forever, so if Jeremy Dunstan finds out I'm back in Annapolis, decides to come mooning after me like a lovesick schoolboy, and can't be made to see reason, I figure I'll need a restraining order.'