Katherine Page - Body In The Belfry

“ One! Try twelve or thirteen," snorted Jenny, "Cindy thought she was Scarlett O'Hara or something.”

The movie had been on TV recently. Faith nodded sagely.

“But was there someone particular ? " she asked. Jenny looked evasive and didn 't answer right away. "I think there might have been. But she didn 't talk to me about that stuff much," she said finally.

I'll bet she didn 't, Faith thought, conjuring up a distasteful image of Cindy boasting to little Jenny about her sexual conquests. But why was the girl lying?

“You know it 's not all Cindys and Scarlett O'Haras, ' Faith said.

“Oh, you mean sex, Mrs. Fairchild? I know that. Look at Mom and Dad," replied Jenny.

Faith was surprised. The Moores had always suggested cozy comfort rather than Alex Comfort, but then one never knew. In any case, Jenny was okay and apparently not soured on men, women, and relationships for life despite her close association with Cindy.

“So how did she look anyway ? " Jenny asked after a moment.

“You mean Cindy?"

“Yes. That is, if you don 't mind talking about it." Absolutely no need to worry about Jenny, Faith thought again, and proceeded to give her what she hoped was a satisfactory description of the scene in the belfry. Although Jenny did seem a bit disappointed that there hadn't been more blood.

As they strolled back toward the house, Jenny looked up with a bright face. "They're going to bury her in her wedding gown, just like in the books, only Cindy didn't go mad with unspeakable horror on her wedding night.”

What kind of books was this child reading? Then Faith remembered the rows of turn-of-the-century ladies' novels that lined the Moores' bookshelves mixed in with first editions of T. S. Eliot and Henry James.

“You don 't think that it 's too weird, do you?" Jenny wanted to know. “ The wedding dress ? “

Faith did think it was a little weird. She supposed they had to bury her in something, but a Priscilla of Boston wedding gown did not seem much like a winding sheet, which was what Faith vaguely imagined most people were buried in.

“ I haven 't decided whether I want to be buried or cremated," continued Jenny, " How about you ? “

Faith reached for Jenny's hand. She was reassured. Jenny was definitely fine. Whatever it was that Faith sensed was bothering her had not dulled her normal adolescent ghoulishness.

“Neither, dear," she answered her, "I plan to float gently into the sky at the moment of dissolution only to return to earth as an unforgetable meteor shower." Faith had read this in a novel recently and it sounded good to her.

Jenny giggled. "Does Reverend Fairchild know about this ? "

“Absolutely," assured Faith, "But he doesn't like to talk about it, so don 't mention it, please.”

The girl giggled some more and they went into the house.

Jenny seemed okay, but Faith, returning to the living room, wasn't so sure about her parents. Maybe they were just tired. It was a strain, after all, and, as Jenny had pointed out, they were constantly being bombarded by the media, the police, and everybody else in Aleford with good and bad intentions.

But would that totally account for the deep circles under Patricia's eyes and the new furrows on Robert's forehead ? Robert Moore had been brutally honest about his feelings for Cindy. But was there something he wasn 't saying? Faith felt more puzzled than ever. Even if, by some stretch of the imagination unimaginable, the Moores had killed Cindy, why now ? They were getting rid of her in December. Somehow Faith didn 't see Cindy running home for marital advice or tips on how to make good pie crust. Once she was married, she would have been gone.

The arrangements for the funeral service were complete and the Fairchilds got ready to leave. Faith stood in the large hall looking at some ship paintings on the walls while Tom went with Robert to find their coats.

“Grandfather Martin's ships," Patricia said affectionately, "I've always loved these paintings. They were the last ships under sail that the family had. When we were children, we always called them the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, much to my grandmother 's annoyance. I'm afraid we have always been a bit toocaught up in the past in this family—we were all raised with a heavy dose of quite sinful pride."

“ I don 't think it's a sin to be proud of the accomplishments and personalities of another generation. We are their inheritors, after all—and the fruit on my own family tree makes quite an assortment," Faith commented. She studied the ships again. "We had some seafarers, too, and I wish I had paintings of their vessels. These really are treasures."

“Oh, Faith, as you can see, this is an acquisitive family. Not much ever goes out of here." Patricia was smiling at her genetic foibles. A shadow crossed her face. "I had planned to give Cindy some family things as a wedding present. Now they won't be leaving.”

And a good thing, too, thought Faith.

The next morning Faith sat in church with anticipation.

Tom had been up late the night before writing his sermon, having abandoned the one he had worked on all week. She liked Tom 's sermons, and not just because he was her husband. They were a mixture of good sense, eloquence, devotion, and almost never were boring.

She looked about. Sunday had dawned fair and bright, but no one seemed to have skipped church to rake leaves or go for a drive to see the foliage. The sanctuary was full.

Tom had selected "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" for the opening hymn, and the congregation did it full justice, then worked its way through the service to the responsive reading of Psalm 22. Faith began to have some idea of where Tom was heading when she heard him intone, “ The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble ; the name of the God of Jacob defend thee"; and the congregation's response, "Some trust in chariots, and some in horses : but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.”

It was a time of trouble. The worshipers had entered the church in relative silence, without the usual cheerful Sunday buzz of greetings. There had been a few uneasy glances toward the Moores as well as at other fellow parishioners. It was clear that nobody knew what to do.

The Old Testament lesson was from Job, chapter 24. Faith had predicted that book, and now she congratulated herself on how well she knew her husband.

The New Testament lesson was Matthew 12. “ A house divided against itself shall not stand." Tom spoke the words slowly, with precision, and a note of warning in his voice.

At last it was the sermon. He climbed the stairs to the pulpit, which was raised above the congregation. All eyes were drawn upward. He didn 't waste any time.

“Murder is an abomination against the Lord.

“The murder of one is a murder of all. We have lost a young person of this parish, slain before her maturity and we are slain with her. The task we face now is to comfort the grieving and look to this house. Not with suspicion, but with strength. Not with the gossip that inevitably accompanies such a tragedy and has been such an affliction for her family, but with words of care and concern.

“ It is a time that bewilders us. Which, like Job, tests our faith and poses fundamental questions.

“But like Job we must arrive at the same answer. He cries out, ‘ And if it be not so now, who will make me a liar, and make my speech nothing worth ?'

“Job knew the answer. We know the answer. It is here with us in this place and in all the other places we inhabit. It is God who makes Job a liar and liars of all of us who curse him for the random events of this earthly life.

“ Fear walks among us. I can feel it coming from you today, but our fears must take us closer to God, not away. We must walk with our fears toward God the fortress and make our house endure in his love and justice.