Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morning came much too early for Hannah. They’d sat at Bertanelli’s for an hour unwinding, and then she’d come home to an answering machine flashing with the message light. When she’d played the message, she’d expected to hear her own voice giving the fake message to Norman, but the message had been from Norman himself, saying that he’d been planning to come over, but something had come up and he’d try to contact her tomorrow. That was it. No I love you, no I’m sorry, no I miss you. Nothing of a personal nature whatsoever.
Bleary-eyed and definitely not bushy-tailed, Hannah wrapped herself in her old robe. She turned to look for her live-in feline, but Moishe wasn’t moving. He was nestled in the center of the expensive down-filled pillow she’d bought to keep him from stealing hers, and his tail didn’t even flicker when she called his name.
“Lazy,” Hannah said to the cat who was snoring softly, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Then she padded down the carpeted hallway, too tired to look for her slippers. She couldn’t blame Moishe for staying in bed. No one should have to get up when it was still dark outside. When she reached the kitchen, she reached out to flick on the lights, but the lights were already on.
There was Michelle, sitting at her kitchen table, looking much more awake and pretty than anyone had the right to look at this hour of the morning. Hannah couldn’t help it. She growled.
“What was that?” Michelle asked.
“Jealousy. Is there coffee?”
“Yes, but you’re not getting any. Go back to bed and I’ll reset the pot. Lisa doesn’t want you to come in before ten this morning. She says you have to get some sleep so your mind’s a steel trap.”
“But…how will you get to The Cookie Jar?”
“I’ve got Mother’s car, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Hannah vaguely remembered Delores saying that Michelle could use her car as long as she returned the costume to the shop at the mall.
“Go back to bed before you wake up,” Michelle said, standing up, turning Hannah around, and giving her a gentle shove in the right direction. “Moishe’s waiting for you.”
Hannah went back to bed. She crawled in next to her softly snoring cat and shut her eyes. And she didn’t open them again until the bright sun streaming in her bedroom window woke her at nine-fifteen.
Sleep was a wonder drug. Hannah was convinced. She even hummed a little tune as she loaded the shelves of her industrial oven with cookies. She set the timer, sat down at the workstation, and sipped her coffee gratefully. Lisa was the best partner in the world.
“Oh, good!” Lisa said, coming in through the swinging door from the coffee shop. “You made Molasses Crackles.”
“Plus Almond Kisses, Lisa’s Pieces, and Red Velvet Cookies. I’m making Mocha Nut Butterballs next.”
“Perfect,” Lisa refilled the empty display cookie jar she was holding from the cookies on the baker’s rack and turned to go. “How about a couple of pans of Blonde Brownies? Do you have time to make those?”
“I’ve got nothing but time. Thanks to you, I got enough sleep and now …” Hannah stopped speaking as the phone rang. “I’ll get it.”
Lisa left and Hannah grabbed the wall phone. “The Cookie Jar. This is Hannah speaking,” she answered.
“Hannah! I’m so glad you answered!”
“Grandma Knudson?” Hannah asked, recognizing her friend’s voice despite the fact that it was quavering. “Is there something wrong?”
“Yes! I just don’t know what to do, Hannah. I’m filled with doubt.”
Hannah went on red alert. Grandma Knudson, usually an extremely competent and self-confident person, sounded very unsure of herself. “Does your doubt have to do with your faith?” she asked, hoping that wasn’t the case. She really wasn’t sure how to deal with anyone who was having a crisis of faith.
“Oh no, dear. My faith is as strong as ever. It’s just…if you can, I’d like to see you, Hannah. I really need to talk to someone who’ll understand.”
“Understand what, Grandma Knudson?”
“I’m afraid I’m having some kind of breakdown. I’m beginning to doubt my own mind!”
The moment she stepped into the parsonage kitchen, Hannah knew something was drastically wrong. There was no coffee, and the pot was stone cold.
“Grandma Knudson?” she called out, carrying the box of cookie bars she’d hastily packed. They were Chocolate Euphoria Cookie Bars made with the substitute for sweetened condensed milk.
“I’m here. In my…my sitting room,” Grandma Knudson replied, and to Hannah’s ears, she sounded frail and confused.
“I’ll be right there,” Hannah said, heading down the hallway without stopping to put on a fresh pot of coffee or even unpacking the cookie bars she’d brought. If Grandma Knudson was ill, she’d call Doc Knight right away.
When Hannah entered the sitting room, she found Grandma Knudson in her favorite chair, an open Bible on her lap. “What’s wrong, Grandma Knudson?” she asked.
“It’s Matthew. But I don’t think he is Matthew. That’s the problem. And if I tell you, you’re going to think I’m a senile old woman!”
“Never!” Hannah replied immediately, opening the bakery box and gesturing toward the bar cookies. “Have one. They’re Chocolate Euphoria Cookie Bars made with the substitute for sweetened condensed milk that I sent you.”
Grandma Knudson perked up a bit. “The one with powdered milk and butter?”
“No, the one without any milk at all. Try one and tell me if it’s almost as good as the real ones.”
Grandma Knudson reached for a bar and took a bite. She chewed for a moment and then she nodded. “Different, but just as good. And much cheaper. I had Clara and Marguerite pick me up a couple of cans of sweetened, condensed milk, and they were almost three dollars and fifty cents apiece!”
“I didn’t realize it had gotten that expensive,” Hannah said, wondering if she should remind Grandma Knudson why she was here, or leave well enough alone. The little discussion about baking and ingredient prices seemed to have settled her down.
“Sit down, Hannah,” Grandma Knudson said, gesturing toward the awful pink davenport. “I want to tell you why I called you. And then you can decide whether I’ve gone ‘round the bend, or not.”
Hannah’s heart sank as she sat down on the uncomfortable davenport. It seemed she didn’t have to remind Grandma Knudson of anything. The matriarch of the Lake Eden Holy Redeemer Lutheran Church had an agenda, and she was sticking to it.
“Remember when I thought the fake Matthew wasn’t Matthew for all the wrong reasons?”
“Yes, I do,” Hannah said, nodding quickly. “And you turned out to be right.”
“I don’t think so now. Now I think this Reverend Matthew is a fake. As a matter of fact, I’m sure of it. And I’m afraid that makes me into a confused old lady who doesn’t know up from down.”
Hannah wasn’t about to touch that one. It did sound crazy. Instead of commenting, she decided to ask a question. “What makes you think this minister isn’t Reverend Matthew?”
“That’s just it, Hannah. I’m beginning to think the first Reverend Matthew was the real one. And I don’t think this one is a minister at all. He did something that no real minister would do, and that’s what convinced me.”
“What did he do?” Hannah asked, beginning to get a little confused with names and pronouns herself. “The current Reverend Matthew, I mean.”
“He stood on the Bible.”
Now Hannah really was confused. “Is that like standing up for Jesus?”
“No. I mean standing, with his feet, right on top of the holy scriptures! That’s something a real minister would never do, Hannah. It’s disrespectful!”
“I can understand that,” Hannah said quickly. “It would be like having a tea party with the communion glasses.”
“My little sister did that,” Grandma Knudson confided, “and everyone was horrified. But she was just a little child who didn’t know any better. She saw the small cups and thought they were doll size. This is different, Hannah. A real minister, an adult who’s gone through the seminary and been ordained, would never treat the Bible that way.”
“Where was…the current Matthew when he did this?”
“In the church office no more than fifteen minutes ago. I called you right after I saw him. He said he was too busy to come to the parsonage for tea, so I decided to bring him a tray. I found him standing on a little pile of books so that he could look at the top of the tallest bookcase. There’s nothing up there, Hannah. I don’t know why he was doing that.”
“And you think one of the books he stood on was the Bible?”
“I know it was. I knocked on the open door, and he stepped down right away. And then he came to meet me and took the tray. He said it was sweet of me to bring him tea and he appreciated it. And then he said he was doing research for next Sunday’s sermon. And that’s when I saw that the top book on the pile, the one he’d been standing on, was the Bible. I just wish I knew what he was looking for on that top shelf.”
“Maybe he was doing research and he needed a book that was there for reference?”
Grandma Knudson shook her head. “Impossible. The only books on the top shelf are the old hymnals that Bob takes down for Vacation Bible School. The kids love to use real hymnals, but they’re hard on them so he uses the old ones. There’s nothing in there that’s not in the new hymnals, and there are at least a dozen of those on the shelf below. He was looking for something, Hannah. But I can’t figure out what it could be.”
“Is he still in the church office?” Hannah asked.
“No, he’s visiting the sick at the hospital. I didn’t call you until he left. I was afraid he’d hear me.”
“That’s good,” Hannah praised her for her caution. “As long as he’s gone, I’m going to go over to the church office to have a look.”
“Then you think he was searching for something?”
“I don’t know what else to think, unless he had a dust rag in his hand. He didn’t, did he?”
Grandma Knudson smiled for the first time. “No. He’s not as neat as the first Matthew, the one I think was real. This one leaves his clothes on the floor, just like Paul used to …” Grandma Knudson stopped and began to frown. “It can’t be!”
“It could be,” Hannah said. “Norman printed out some pictures of Matthew and Paul when they were in high school, and they looked a lot alike.”
“That’s true. Then you think this fake minister is Paul?”
“I don’t know what to think, but it’s a distinct possibility. I’m going over to search the church office. Do I need a key?”
“I don’t know if he locked it, but take mine.” Grandma Knudson reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a key on a key chain with a little bell charm attached.
“That’s cute,” Hannah commented.
“My husband gave it to me. I used to ring the church bell for him before Sunday services. What should I do if Paul or whoever he is comes back?”
“I’ll probably hear his car drive in, but if you see him turn into the lot, call me at the church office.”
“I will. Don’t let him catch you, Hannah. I have the terrible feeling that he killed Matthew.”
“I have that feeling, too. Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll search as fast as I can and be right back.”