In the pew beside me, Emily stirred. “I’ll need to be praying about that myself,” she said.
“The concern isn’t over what Eva did, it’s what she didn’t do,” her father said. “Some of our parishioners feel betrayed. In spite of the advice Eva got from the bishop, the congregation should have been informed about Roger’s, um, proclivities.”
“And he certainly should have registered with Maryland’s sex offender registry,” Emily reminded us. “Pastor Eva should have made sure that was done.”
Dante scurried in from delivering the children to Sunday school, just in time to join in the opening hymn. With so few people in the congregation, Dante’s fine tenor was a standout. I caught Emily looking up at him with pride as he soared into the upper reaches of “Crown Him with Many Crowns,” and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Perhaps their marriage was on the mend after all.
The service was what I expected, being the Sunday following Ascension. A reading from John. Full-blown Easter hymns. It’s that time in the liturgical year where Jesus has gone up to heaven, but the Holy Spirit hasn’t arrived. Humankind is adrift, so to speak, and Eva had told me that under the circumstances, she thought it’d be the perfect time to preach about feeling alone, when we’re not actually alone.
So I was shocked and surprised when in place of the usual sermon, Eva announced she was leaving St. Cat’s, removing herself from the midst of the devastating conflict so that the church she so loved could begin to heal. She’d requested, and the bishop had granted, six months of “spiritual renewal” leave. An interim would fill in during her absense.
I saw her after the service at coffee hour, of course, but she was mobbed, so I didn’t get to ask her about it until the following day, when I simply showed up at St. Cat’s, uninvited.
I found Eva sitting in the sterile wreck of what had once been her office. Packing boxes, large and small, were scattered everywhere, some already sealed with packing tape and marked STORAGE.
“Eva, at services yesterday, you didn’t say where you were going.”
“Until this morning, I hadn’t really decided.”
“I’d like to stay in touch while you’re away.”
“It won’t be easy.” She smiled wanly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand the solitude of my own, rather sorry company, but I inherited a cabin from my parents some years ago, up in the Sawtooth Range of Idaho. No phone, no TV, and back then, no electricity, either, although I’m happy to say that particular deficiency was remedied a few years back. We’ve got indoor plumbing now, too.”
“What about Roger?” I asked.
“I sent his body back to Medina, Ohio,” she said. “He’ll be buried there in the family plot.”
“No service?”
She shook her head. “Roger didn’t want any service. He felt he didn’t deserve it, after all the wicked things he’d done.”
Eva put the books she was holding into a box, nestling them along the sides among some embroidered cushions that had once sat out on the window seat in her office. I’d often seen her sitting there, watching the birds. “I did hear from Roger, you know.”
“You did? I’m so glad.”
“He mailed me a letter, confessing to everything. You know Roger’s handwriting.”
I smiled, although I didn’t have a clue what Roger’s handwriting looked like.
“The post office couldn’t read one of the numbers, so they first sent it to the wrong zip code. It didn’t find me until yesterday.”
I was dying to know what the letter said, but unless Eva volunteered the information, I would respect my friend’s privacy.
“The letter came in one of those videotape boxes,” Eva added. “Do you know what else was in the box?”
I shook my head.
“Roger’s gun.” She smiled ruefully. “He wrote that he didn’t have the courage to use it.”
Eva wrapped a ceramic pencil cup holder in newspaper and placed it carefully in the box. “It was good to see Dante and Emily at church yesterday. How are things going with them?”
I had no secrets from Eva. “On the mend. I’m taking the children for a week so that Emily and Dante can have some time to themselves.” I paused. “Besides, it will give me time to take Chloe in hand and teach her a little bit about Internet security. Do you know what I found out?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“That little scamp, and her best friend, Samantha, had profiles on Myspace.com. It’s a social networking website,” I added before Eva could ask me. “Thanks to Sam’s older sister, who’s all of fourteen, anybody in the world could see a picture of Chloe, know her name, what zip code she’s from, and that she likes to go to Ben and Jerry’s. Hello?
“I made sure she erased her profile,” I added.
“And that woman who kidnapped Timmy?”
“Awaiting trial,” I said. “God only knows when. Connie was slated to get the reward money, you know.”
Eva smiled. “I didn’t know, but how wonderful.”
“She turned it down. Told Phyllis to give it all to NCMEC. So she did.”
“I can’t think of a better place for it.”
Eva walked to the wall, took down two of the crosses, wrapped them in newspaper and tucked them into the packing box along with the pencil holder. “I saw that psychic on CNN again this morning.”
“You did?” If Montana Martin had been on TV, I was surprised nobody had told us about it.
“You won’t believe what she was saying.”
I handed Eva a couple more books. “Try me.”
“It seems she’s added the Timothy Shemansky case to her portfolio of cases solved.”
“I don’t believe it! Montana’s predictions about Timmy’s whereabouts didn’t even come close.”
Eva dumped the books I’d handed her unceremoniously into the box. “She predicted ‘on or near water,’ right?”
I nodded.
“Did you notice the decorative fountain near Barnhorst’s apartment complex?”
I groaned. “That fake Victorian monstrosity? Okay. I’ll give her points for that. But she also said that Japanese people had taken him.”
“Chinese,” Eva corrected. “Isn’t the Joy Luck Restaurant right across the street?”
“This is seriously spooky.” I stared at my friend. “Maybe my mother really did want me to have her emerald ring.”
“Maybe we need to perform an exorcism,” Eva joked. “But let’s wait until your father gets back and you’ve had time to ask him about the ring.”
“Oh, Eva,” I cried, leaping to my feet and giving her a bear hug. “I am going to miss you so much!”
After I’d let her go, Eva rattled on, changing the subject. “I’ve got an ATV I can drive in Idaho. That way I won’t have to hoof it up and down the mountain when I need to get into town.”
“Do they have Internet cafés in your Idaho town?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Never thought to look, but if they do, I’ll be sure to e-mail you from time to time.”
“I’d really like that, Eva.”
Eva closed the box she was packing. I held the flaps closed with both hands while she sealed it with tape. “Would you like some tea?” she asked after we had finished with the box. “I’ve got a kettle on in the church kitchen.”
“That would be nice.”
“I’ll be back in a minute, then.”
I helped Eva stack several boxes on a rolling library cart and watched as she pushed the cart down the hall in the direction of the storage closet.
While I waited for Eva to come back with the tea, I puttered. Picking up a book here, a stray piece of paper there. As I moved to toss a dried-up tea bag into the trash, I noticed a tiny, shapely leg sticking out of the jumble of items in Eva’s trash can. I bent over and plucked it out. It was Eva’s Barbie doll. She’d been thrust down, head first, into a pile of crumpled-up sermons.