by R D Hathaway
Worthy squinted at Matthias.
Matthias continued with confidence. “I’m a small-town college professor. My study of old texts has given a flavorful taste to my understanding of who God calls us to be. But I must admit I have not lived up to that obedience to which you refer. I do not know who can fully obey the totality of rules in any system, especially religious ones. They focus on the failings of the people who are expected to abide by them. If it were not for grace, perhaps the ultimate gift, it would be easier to just give it all up and devote oneself to the world, as so many do.”
Worthy finally relaxed against the back of his chair.
“If I may just add one thing to my stumbling thoughts,” Matthias said. “We can become excessively complex in how we approach God. Jesus said what He said, and if we allow that to enter our hearts and minds, I’m not sure what else we really need.”
“Well said,” Worthy responded.
Matthias nodded in appreciation. “My dereliction of faith is to have become complacent in learning Scripture, and to have become focused on the so-called meaning of the individual words. It is easy for one to get into the facts of the words and to lose sight of the intention of the text. I admire those whose faith is personal versus simply intellectual, as mine may be.”
Lady Jane tilted toward Matthias. “Professor, the record of your scholarship is impressive. Complacency would have led you down an indifferent and unfertile path.”
Archbishop Worthy stroked his forehead. “My Lady, once again you offer the generous and considerate view most appropriate for our discussion. Thank you for your most generous hosting of this luncheon.”
“I thank you as well,” Matthias added with an eager look.
Her nod of approval to the men was greeted by another comment from Reverend Worthy.
“Professor,” he hissed, “a thought has just struck me. You mentioned the personal relationship of faith. What if you allowed yourself to more fully experience that personal relationship versus what you described as a presumptuous knowledge of faith? How would your life change if you had an encounter with God and not simply with the mechanics of His Word?”
Matthias felt bewildered. He looked at Worthy. “Your question is both marvelous and frightening. I can only imagine that the meaning of my life would be clearer and everything else would be less important. I’m not sure what I would do, but I know that little else would have value than the message I receive from Him.”
Worthy responded, “History has demonstrated that people who have what you call a personal faith become dangerous to themselves and maybe even to the Church. We must protect the Church at all costs.”
PART FOUR
Indianola, Iowa
Simpson College
IV - 1
Mrs. Knoche rumbled into the Simpson College library and made her way to the counter. Dabbing at her temples and cheeks with a handkerchief, she waved at a student worker who came to the counter from the room behind.
“Excuse me, is Miss McGrady here?”
“No, ma’am, she won’t be in until about 9:30. She had other business this morning.”
“Is that reporter from the Record working here today? Have you seen her recently?”
“I don’t know. Do you know what she’s researching?”
“I think she’s working on some archival materials relating to Professor Justus.”
The student removed a three-ring binder from the shelf. She looked through a few pages, ran her finger down the list, and looked up at Mrs. Knoche. “Would that be a Ms. Haran? H-A-R-A-N? Des Moines Record?”
“Yes, that’s it. Is there contact information for her?”
“No ma’am. There is no phone number.”
“Would you leave a note for Ms. McGrady, please? Just tell her that Mrs. Knoche was here, K-N-O-C-H-E, from Administration, and that I have the last name of the woman who was here in 1935. She will understand. Tell her there was another woman from England who came years later.”
The student made a quick note. “Okay, anything else?”
“Yes. Please ask Miss McGrady to call me. Do you know when Miss Haran will return to the work room?”
“No, but she has a key to the room.”
Mrs. Knoche was lighter on her feet as she left the library. Her arms swung smoothly as she strolled across campus. She felt refreshed. Her life had a purpose again.
***
Angie marched into the library, turned past the end of the counter and entered her office. She opened a drawer of her desk and set her purse inside. Standing behind her desk, she looked through a stack of memos, letters, and file folders.
A student worker peeked into the room. “Miss McGrady, Mrs. Knoche from Administration was here to see you. She said something about knowing the name of a lady from 1935 and another one sometime later. She also asked about the woman from the Des Moines Record. She asked you to call her.”
“Were there any calls for me?”
“Yes, a man called. He said he was with the library association. He wanted to talk to you about a committee meeting.”
Dropping the slips of paper on her desk, Angie dialed the extension for Mrs. Knoche and left a message. She then called Rennie’s office and got her voice mail.
“Hi, Rennie, thanks again for last night. Mrs. Knoche from Administration stopped by this morning and left a message. It was about some woman from 1935. There was also information on a woman who came later. I’m not sure what it’s all about, but good luck.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. Knoche was on the phone with Angie. She told her she had found some of the distant family of Professor Justus and wanted to get the information to Ms. Haran. The family found a note in an old bible that was from the woman who visited in 1935. Her name was Mrs. MacDonald. Mrs. Knoche wondered if Angie was helping research the case.
Angie offered to forward the information.
Mrs. Knoche’s tone was upbeat.
“Also tell her that another woman from England came here years later and asked about Professor Justus. Evelyn, my predecessor, had mentioned it. She said the woman didn’t seem to know much about him but did ask about his letters, for some reason. I remember it like it was yesterday. Evelyn thought she’d never have to hear about him again. Miss McGrady, I don’t know if you’re interested in helping Miss Haran, but I thought some of your library contacts in London might be able to assist her with the research.”
“That’s a nice thought Mrs. Knoche. I’ll consider that and I’ll pass along this information to Rennie.”
Angie was bewildered with the old woman’s eagerness to assist and her cheerful attitude. She gathered the file folders from her desk and noticed the message from her library association contact. She set it in front of her and stared at it, then dialed the number.
“Hi, Bob. Angie McGrady from Simpson. Yeah, it’s been a long time. So, what’s happening? Yeah, that date for the next meeting will work for me. Can you e-mail an agenda to me? Good, we’ll see you then. Oh, would you happen to know if we have any association members in London, at any of the local colleges or universities? Something came up here, an old research issue, and I wondered if someone in London would be available to check out a missing piece of it. Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later.”
Twenty minutes later Rennie called. They joked about the previous night. Then, Rennie asked about Mrs. Knoche’s message.
“Yes,” Angie said, “she had a name. It was a Mrs. MacDonald.”
“That’s not a name I’ve read before,” Rennie responded. “Are you sure it was MacDonald?”
“Exactly, at least that’s what some distant family member told Mrs. Knoche. It was on a note or a letter in an old family bible. Also, she said that another woman came here to ask about him years later. Your professor was some lover boy, huh?”
“Well,” Rennie paused, “he got someth
ing going over there. I guess I’d better get back to the work room and finish things up. By the way, has your boyfriend called?”
“No, and that’s okay with me. See you later.”
***
About an hour later, Angie spun around as Rennie yelled “hey!” Rennie gave her a thumb’s up signal then hurried up the stairs.
Opening the door to the work room, she turned on the light and saw that everything remained as she had left it the night before. She had begun to develop a personal sense about the mystery professor and felt a strong but subtle drive to find his story. He seemed so close and yet, far away.
Rennie approached his black, leather attaché case lying at the end of the table. She realized she had been looking through the files but never examined his case. Tentatively, she put her index finger on the brass clasp that held the strap to the case and gave it a flip. The end jerked a little and slipped out of its retainer.
She pressed on the case and realized for the first time that there was something hard inside. Lifting the strap and the cover of the case, she looked in. She reached in and removed a decorative, tin box.
The metal box was wrapped many times with a strong, string-like cord, and beneath the cords was a handwritten note that simply said, “letters home.” She lifted it and gave it a slight shake. It felt heavy. As she set it down, she looked at the imprinted name of “Harrods.”
Further in the case, she found two silver pens, an envelope and some writing papers. Rennie put on the cotton gloves and removed the envelope. Inside it was a folded sheet of paper. It read, “Thank you Holy God, for this incredible gift of your amazing love. No other discovery in all of human history will ever compare with this.”
Rennie looked up at the wall. “What the …?”
She studied the paper. It was unfinished. Assuming it was the beginning of a love letter, she slipped the letter into the envelope and returned it to the case. Then, she replaced the box back in the attaché case.
As she was about to close the cover on the case, she noticed something in a bottom corner. Delicately, her fingers removed a small, white linen handkerchief on which the letter “S” had been stitched in purple thread. She lifted the handkerchief to her nose and took in a breath. A heavy fragrance was on the handkerchief of leather, musk and something feminine as well. She made a clicking sound in her mouth and winked as she put the handkerchief into the case. “Alright, Professor!”
She latched the strap and sat down in front of her notes, two file folders from the archives, and the journal she had been reading the night before.
Indianola, Iowa
Simpson College
IV - 2
Nearly three hours later, there was a tap at the door. Rennie looked up.
“Come in.”
The door opened a little, and Angie looked in. “So, how are you doing? Did you find that name?”
“Come in. No, I haven’t found it, yet. It’s a bit of a mystery, but this is good stuff!”
Angie stepped in and placed her hands on the back of one of the chairs. “Really?”
Rennie removed her gloves, placed a paper marker in the journal and closed it. She pushed away from the table and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know where to begin. He truly was on an adventure. I just don’t see how he got into trouble. Everyone seemed to like him, and he got along alright with the powers that be.”
She looked at the cover of the journal. “He’s pretty hot on two women, and they seem to be hot on him. There’s a young woman that he works with, her name is Priscilla Shefford, oh wait, that’s an ‘S.’ She’s kind of an assistant, and their relationship has developed very nicely, thank you.”
Angie tilted her head. “Like what?”
“Let me read this for you.”
“Priscilla and I have had several opportunities to have lunch together. She is a truly amazing young woman. I must admit, I have grown fond of her. I struggle with the emotion since it seems it so recently that my own darling wife, my Hope left me to be with God. Priscilla is, in a way, a new hope but with a small H.”
Rennie looked up at Angie and said, “Isn’t that cool?”
She looked back at the journal and continued to read.
“I will also admit that Lady Jane intrigues me as well. She is quite a tease and yet, she remains aloof. I am not quite sure what to read from her behavior. It is only on rare occasions that I get to see her alone for a few moments. Most of the time when I see her, Reverend Worthy is with us. He is an interesting fellow, but he could be described, as my mother might say, as a feisty one. He is prone to argument, but even that is delightful since our topics are of scholarship and of faith. It has been very rare for me to have another with whom I can engage in such targeted ‘mental gymnastics,’ as my dad used to say. Besides, there is no need to get serious on matters when I am only here for a few months.”
Rennie gave Angie a big grin. “Oh my gosh, you know what? Lady Jane’s last name is Sotterfeld-Gris. That begins with an S, also! I found a woman’s handkerchief in his attaché case, and it has an ‘S’ on it.”
Angie saw the black case at the end of the table. Rennie followed her look with an eager anticipation.
“Don’t you get it?” Rennie asked. “One of those ladies became his, well we don’t know what she became, but considering the close quarters they all were in, there could have been sparks flying. That could have created the sort of tensions that might get someone killed.”
Angie’s skeptical look did not please Rennie. “Since you’re doing the research and I haven’t read the journals, I’ll have to leave the intrigue to you, the reporter.”
Rennie slouched in her chair and took a deep breath. “Maybe, I got a little ahead of myself. There’s probably more to it than a simple love triangle. The Museum does sound a little creepy for me, full of so-called treasures they dig up. Hey, maybe it’s the curse of the mummy.”
They both laughed.
“I need to push on,” Rennie said. “Bud, my boss, is on my tail about this. For some reason, our editor keeps calling him about this story. Maybe, she wants me to get back to the local issues. It’s the usual municipal power play stuff. The public is such a flock of sheep. If they knew what was going on, we’d probably have public stoning become acceptable again; and it would start with the attorneys!”
“I have one in mind,” Angie offered. “By the way, it’s funny you should say ‘stoning.’ I recall hearing a weird news story about the British Museum. Someone was killed with a stone. It was gruesome. A clerk or someone who worked at the museum was murdered with a stone jammed down his throat. They thought it was a cult thing. There had been reports over the years of people at the Vatican Library and some museum in Germany dying the same way. Pretty ugly, huh? I noticed it because of my connection with archives people.”
Rennie’s face wrinkled in disgust. “Gross! So, how’s it going with you and the lawyer? Are you planning a stoning?”
Angie stared at a blank space on the table. “Well right now, I’d like to say no news is good news, but I’m not sure.”
She looked up at Rennie. “But, I’m not necessarily against that stoning thing. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Rennie opened the journal and found her place.
“Oh, by the way,” Angie added, “I’d appreciate it if you would wear the gloves. We have a certain protocol to follow. I’m responsible for these things.”
“Right. Sorry.”
The moment the door closed, Rennie slipped on the gloves and proceeded through the pages. She often stopped to write a comment in her notebook. She set aside her pen when she came to his commentary in late July.
“Although I have been intrigued by Lady Jane, I find that I have little remaining energy for her elusive enchantment. She flutters through life as a butterfly in a breeze, and I never know wh
ether her intentions demonstrate an interest or if they come from some momentary gust of indifferent fancy.
Her advanced degree from Oxford, in ancient Near Eastern peoples, though extraordinary and having required exceptional focus and dedication, is considered by her as simply another dalliance. Her heart is unmistakably good and generous, yet it is generous and good for every new thing that strikes her interest. It would seem that commitment is not a part of her world, except for her momentary fascination.
In no way does this impugn the quality of her soul; it is simply a lifestyle to which I am not accustomed. Perhaps, it befits her class and not my own. She would probably be a good friend, and I hope that is the path on which we are proceeding. There is great value in that.
I wonder if that is how things have worked out between her and Reverend Worthy. Their relationship may be the model to which she aspires. It is interesting, lacks intimacy, respectful, yet engaging. As we have come to know one another, she has not been shy about sharing with me her amusement about the good Archbishop. She is amused with what he calls his dreadful life in a 30 year marriage with a woman whom Lady Jane says is youthful and delightful. She said rumors have it they only share a dedication to a daughter that is being raised in a most strict manner.
Lady Jane has hinted that this cleric’s interests may be more directed to a certain gentleman with whom he has traveled. Although I offer no judgment on that, the number of awkward moments he and I have shared prompted me to such suspicion before Lady Jane teased the thought.
Worthy is a complex man with great energy for the world and all that is in it. It is actually quite a gift that he has, to give all his attention to whatever is in his presence for the moment. That can also be most awkward for those who cannot tolerate that level of interest.
I have observed on many occasions how Priscilla nearly shuts down when Reverend Worthy enters her environment. More than once I have asked her about my observation, and she is clear that it is not a matter for discussion. I have the impression that the Archbishop was instrumental in her being at the British Museum, yet she holds something akin to fear in her heart whenever he is present.”
