by J B Hawker
Schramm trotted across the street and hailed the old guy.
“Excuse me!”
“Yeah?” Josiah Watkins responded.
“I’m looking for Pastor Scott. I, uh, have an appointment with him.”
“You just missed him, fella. You sure you had an appointment?”
“Yeah, but I think maybe I was supposed to meet him at his house, not here. Say, I forgot to write down the address. Can you give me directions? I sure don’t want to be late. The preacher said he might have a job for me.”
“Sure,” Josiah said. “Just go on up this road here, turn left at the corner where the old Billings barn used to be, travel about one hundred and fifty yards ‘til you hit the little rise where the Miller’s car broke down during the snowy winter of ’87, turn right by the blighted oak tree, keep going ‘til you see the house, you can’t miss it, it’s a big old two-story with green trim.”
“Hold on, I’ll never remember all that. I don’t suppose you can just write down the address for me?”
Josiah pulled a small lined tablet from his jacket pocket, along with a stub of a carpenter’s pencil, scribbled a few lines and ripped out the sheet of paper.
“Here you go, sonny. Can you read plain writing any better than you can remember simple directions?”
Schramm fought the urge to flatten Watkins for his snarky comment. He swallowed his rage, took the paper and thanked the old man, instead.
Josiah merely waved his hand, dismissively, and began spreading mulch in the flowerbed, mumbling under his breath about tattoo ink killing brain cells.
Carver followed the scrawled directions and soon found himself outside the Davidsons’ home, where he settled down in the shrubbery across the street to wait for the leading lady in his erotic daydreams to make an appearance.
When wandering over the hills and through the woods on his way to the church earlier, Schramm passed an obviously empty house, one with a crooked and faded For Sale sign in the yard.
It was set back from the roadway on the edge of town. There were no near neighbors and no traffic on the rutted gravel lane leading to the house. There were stacks of building supplies and a cement mixer in the yard with weeds growing through its wheels, as though remodeling work had been started, then abandoned some time ago.
Schramm checked the place out, breaking the flimsy lock on the back door.
A quick look around had convinced him this was the perfect location to act out all his lurid fantasies.
*
Naidenne sat in her car in the medical clinic parking lot. After sliding the prescription slips into her handbag, she tried to come to grips with the results of her exam.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Davidson,” the physician’s assistant had said, reading from her notes.
Naidenne was still trying to take in the news. She was so sure her recent symptoms were either early onset menopause, or something really dire, she was having trouble accepting what she was being told.
“You mean I’m pregnant? Are you sure?”
“Oh yes, it’s definite. I’d say you are about four months along. I’m going to write prescriptions for you, both prenatal vitamins and something for the nausea and we’ll want to see you again in a month.”
It was simply incredible.
Scott was going to be over the moon.
He didn’t talk about it much, but Naidenne knew he still grieved for his first wife and little daughter who’d died together in an automobile accident a few years before he’d accepted the call to the church in Bannoch.
This new life now growing inside her could never replace the child he’d lost, but it would do much to ease his pain.
Naidenne, who had resigned herself to childlessness, was in a mild state of shock.
She suddenly laughed, remembering how the PA referred to her as an “elderly primipara.” At thirty-nine, she didn’t consider herself elderly, but she had to admit it was a bit late in the day to be having her first child.
In only five months, she and Scott would be parents. Their lives would be forever changed. It was a daunting thought, but they would travel this new path together and try to wring every ounce of joy from the adventure as it unfolded.
Resolving to see only the joy and none of the fear of the experiences to come, she started the car and began the drive home, her mind filled with baby names, nursery decorations and the myriad delights to come.
*
Scott was frustrated. He had driven all the way to Cannon Beach to see Miss Dot, only to find her cabin empty. He kicked himself for assuming the elderly lady would be home, rather than calling ahead. He had driven to her neighbor’s too, but no one was home next door, either. Finally checking his appointment calendar, he saw his notation of Miss Dot’s request for prayers while she was in Seattle this week at a quilter’s expo.
He must be getting absent-minded, not to have even looked at the calendar before starting out. Now, he would be late getting back to Bannoch and he’d accomplished nothing.
*
Naidenne stopped at the big discount store to stock up on non-perishables on the way home. She was eager to get back and share her exciting news with Scott, but she still couldn’t resist dawdling in the baby section, dreaming.
With her shopping done, she pulled back onto the highway, her mind filled with the anticipation of Scott’s reaction to learning they were going to have a baby.
Once home, she pulled into the driveway and walked up to the house carrying two bags of groceries, fumbling with her door key as she walked.
“Excuse me, ma’am!”
Naidenne did not see Schramm standing in the shadows. His greeting startled her, and she dropped her keys.
“Here, let me get those,” he picked up the keys and handed them to her, saying, “I didn’t mean to scare you. My car’s broke down and I wondered if I could come in and use your phone to call my auto club.”
Carver thought mentioning an auto club would lend his request more respectability and was proud he’d thought to add that bit.
“My cell phone is still in the car. Just let me put these bags down and I’ll come back out and get it for you,” Naidenne replied.
She didn’t like the rough look of this man. She doubted his story about the auto club but was willing to let him make a call and offer him a cold drink.
“Wait here,” she said, as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Setting her bags down on the kitchen table, she turned to go get her phone and almost crashed into Schramm, standing right behind her.
He grabbed her in a bear hug, making it hard to breath.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Just taking you for a little ride. You and me are going to have some fun.”
Naidenne shouted for help and kicked at his legs, struggling to get free.
Schramm punched her on the side of the head, knocking Naidenne down and startling her into silence.
“That’s enough of that. You’ve been coming into my dreams and teasing me since I was a kid. You’ve driven me mad with all your temptations and you aren’t going to cheat me out of everything, now that I’ve finally found you.”
Naidenne was confused and even more frightened by Carver’s senseless rambling.
What was she going to do?
Schramm pulled her roughly to her feet.
He snatched Rosamund’s aprons from a hook behind the door and bound Naidenne around the ankles and knees and tied her hands behind her. He stuffed a potholder into her mouth, gagging her, before pushing her onto a chair.
Looking wildly around for a way to escape, her eyes fell on the Scripture calendar on the wall. This month’s verse was Psalm One Hundred Twenty-one, “I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord.”
Reading those words, she was washed over by a wave of peace.
The loving God would never let Scott lose another wife and child. She would get out of this, somehow. She would trus
t in her Lord’s divine deliverance.
Rummaging through Naidenne’s bags of groceries on the table, Schramm pulled out the Sam Adams winter sampler carton of beer she’d impulsively picked up as a treat for Scott, and the bottle of rum for baking fruit cakes.
He stuck the flask-shaped rum bottle into the waistband of his grubby jeans, tucked the beer under one arm and grabbed the car keys off the table. Cramming them into his pocket and clutching a knot of her hair with his free hand, he pulled Naidenne up and shoved her outside where he forced her to shuffle to the car. When she stumbled or tried to pull away, he jerked her up by the hair.
Throwing her to the floor of the back seat, he jumped behind the wheel and quickly drove off, his head filled with the sadistic sexual exploits he had planned for his dream woman.
Lying on her side, wedged on the floor between the seats, Naidenne tried to spit out the gag, but it was jammed into her mouth too tightly. No matter how she pushed with her tongue, it wouldn’t budge. Her mouth was sore and dry, and her scalp was on fire where he’d pulled her hair.
With her ankles and knees bound and her arms pulled behind her back, she was almost immobile, but she continued to test her bonds, twisting and squirming until she was crouching on her knees. A strong push with her legs lifted her onto the backseat, where she pitched over, in an almost fetal position.
She needed to sit up. It was still daylight and they would be driving through town to get away from the parsonage. If she could look out the window, someone might see her and call for help.
In the driver’s seat, Schramm’s head was filled with tantalizing visions; he was having difficulty concentrating on maneuvering the car inconspicuously through the streets.
Looking in the rearview mirror, he noticed Naidenne on the backseat. She was using her shoulders and the leverage from pushing her feet into the back of the front seats to slide her head up the passenger door toward the window.
He reached back to grab her, briefly swerving into the oncoming lane, then quickly swung back onto his side of the road, accompanied by the blare of horns.
Naidenne took advantage of his momentary distraction to press her face against the window, wildly wiggling her eyebrows and shaking her head to indicate her distress to anyone who might be watching.
Schramm again reached over the seat with one brawny arm and grabbed the front of Naidenne’s sweater, flinging her back to the floor.
Assuming a benign expression for the sake of any onlookers, he told her in great detail just what would happen to her, if she tried anything like that again.
*
Scott returned home, tired and frustrated and looking forward to a good meal before going out again to the monthly church Board meeting.
When he didn’t find Naidenne’s car in the driveway, he assumed she was late returning from her appointment in Tillamook.
He stepped inside just long enough to leave a note on their family message board in the entry hall to let her know he was going to grab a bite at the Crab Shack before the meeting.
Scott was disappointed their paths hadn’t crossed before he needed to go out again, but he wasn’t worried.
He liked to have a time of prayer before the deacons and trustees arrived, anyway.
Leaving the porch light on for his wife, in case she got back after dark, he drove off to get some dinner before enduring the dreaded meeting.
Chapter Fifteen
In Reno, at the El Dorado Resort, a door opened into the Spa Tower Suite.
A California king bed with a pop-up forty-two-inch flat screen television built into its footboard dominated the luxury suite, which also featured a small living area and a spacious bathroom with a jetted spa tub and walk-in steam shower.
A uniformed bellhop carried in two small suitcases, set them down and held out his hand toward the couple entering behind him.
“Of course, you can’t carry me! Do you think I went to all this trouble protecting you from harm, just to see you break your back on our wedding night?”
“Oh, Rosie, you wouldn’t hurt me. Why, you’re such a slip of a girl, I could probably carry you with one arm behind my back,” Len responded, with a huge grin.
Rosamund shook the waiting bellboy’s extended hand, ignoring his astonished expression, and firmly ushered him out. She closed the door behind him, getting rid of the unwanted witness to her bridegroom’s silliness.
Turning to Len, her air of no-nonsense slipped away and she melted into his arms, eagerly expressing all the emotions suitable to a new bride on her wedding night.
*
“…and that’s why I move the pastor’s compensation package be reduced by the amount of one thousand dollars per month until the new roof is paid for.”
“I second that!”
“Wait just a minute, now. We haven’t even seen an estimate on the repairs that are needed. What makes you so sure we need a new roof?” Scott asked.
“That roof is too old. No point in putting patches on patches. Just rip ‘er off and get a new one,” Josiah said.
“Yep, that’s just good stewardship, Pastor,” Bill Odem agreed.
“But you can’t honestly expect me to foot the bill for the entire church roof. That’s unreasonable.”
“Oh, I don’t know so much about that, Pastor. I’ve been looking at the budget reports…we all get a copy, nothing private there…and I can’t say as I see much of an increase in income since you got married,” Orville offered.
“What does that have to do with it?” Scott asked.
“Just seems to me, with your wife working and all, there should’ve been a nice little bump in your tithing, and we should’ve seen it in the income reports.”
“Hold on, you’re going too far, now…”
“Not at all, Pastor. You’re our example of how to live, remember, and it says right in the Bible you got to run your household well. I reckon that means seein’ your wife gives the Lord his share,” Bill replied.
“How could you know whether my wife is tithing, just from the monthly report, even if it was any of your business? It is possible the giving didn’t go up because others were giving less, isn’t it?”
“There’s a motion before the floor. I call for the question,” Josiah interrupted, bringing the discussion to an end.
Lucy Metzger, the church moderator and Bill Odem’s sister, called for the vote.
“All in favor of the motion to deduct one thousand dollars per month from the pastor’s compensation to pay for a new roof, say aye…opposed, nay…put your hand down Pastor, you know you can’t vote. It’s unanimous, the ayes have it.”
“You forgot to say when we start taking the money in your motion, Josiah,” Bill said.
“I move we start takin’ the money with the next paycheck, then.”
“I second,” Bill stated.
“This is ridiculous!” Scott said as he scooted his chair back.
He stood beside the table staring at his church board, with his mouth opening and closing, too furious to speak.
When Scott looked around the table, the members of the board became absorbed in the papers on the table in front of them, unable to meet his eye.
Scott shook his head. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and left the room, feeling nauseated and shaken.
He knew he had to pray. He knew all the encouraging Bible verses he should be reciting to keep his faith strong, but filled as he was with dismay and anger, he was in no fit state to receive comfort.
Surely this too would work for good, but, right at that moment, he couldn’t see it and he was unable to bring himself to speak to God when he had no charity in his heart for the men and women he’d just left in the meeting room.
What was he going to tell Naidenne? What would she think of her church family, now?
Scott stopped at his office on his way out and printed the listing of open pulpits he’d downloaded earlier in the week. After the breakfast meeting when t
he Trustees hatched this harebrained scheme, just downloading the list made him feel better and he hadn’t felt the need to follow up on any of the openings.
Tonight’s meeting made it abundantly clear it was now time for him to seek another pastorate.
Driving home, he thought about how upset his sister would be to have to move and leave Len. Would she be willing to relocate? She might decide to stay in Bannoch, but how could she continue to worship with people who’d treated her brother like this?
Scott wanted to talk to Rosamund. Where the heck was she, and when was she coming home?
He needed the comfort of his family tonight. He yearned for Naidenne to hold him in her arms and make this whole evening go away, for at least a little while.
He was surprised her car wasn’t in the driveway when he arrived home. The only light in the house was the one he’d left on earlier.
Scott parked his car and pulled out his phone to call Naidenne, but his call went straight to voicemail.
Beginning to become a concerned, Scott called Shirley to see if Naidenne had gone to visit her friend.
Shirley’s husband answered.
“Hi, Jack. My wandering wife isn’t at your place, by any chance, is she?”
“Sorry, Scott. I haven’t even got my own wife here, tonight. Silly woman took it into her head to take a yoga class at the high school. Did you ever hear anything like it? Maybe she talked Naidenne into going with her.”
“Maybe. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”
Before driving over to the high school and embarrassing Naidenne by barging in on her yoga class, he called a couple of her other friends, but no one had seen her since the First Ladies Club meeting.
At the high school, women were coming out of their class when Scott drove up.
“Hey, Shirley!” he called, as she walked by.
“Hi Scott. What’s up?”
“Was Naidenne in your class tonight?”
“No. I invited her, but she was going to be in Tillamook all afternoon and didn’t want to be out tonight, too. Isn’t she home, yet?”
