Mrs. Miracle Page 0,69

One didn't go about confronting people about sin. That was a minister's job. While it was true that some less-than-charitable Christians might find it their duty, Harriett most certainly did not.

"Surely you're not suggesting that I speak to Ruth about this? Why...I couldn't. It wouldn't be right."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. It might surprise you to learn that matters are not always what they seem." Although Pastor Lovelace's eyes were kind, his words carried a sharp edge. "You might learn something."

"There's a link between the two, isn't there?" Harriett had suspected as much from the first.

"I believe you're right about that."

"Aha!" She raised her index finger toward the ceiling.

Pastor Lovelace laughed outright and then had the good grace to look repentant. "I want you to promise me that you'll discuss your concerns with Ruth Darling yourself."

It was unthinkable. "I...I don't know that I can."

"It's my feeling that if any of us has a question about one of our brethren, instead of asking others, we go directly to that person."

Harriett didn't like what she was hearing. It was the last thing she'd expected the good pastor to suggest. "Surely you don't condone Ruth's behavior?"

"It isn't for me to condone or condemn."

Harriett couldn't believe her ears. The woman was flirting with the worst form of sin. Surely Pastor Lovelace recognized as much.

The pastor stood, indicating their time together was at an end. "You'll do as I ask?"

Harriett's mouth opened and closed a number of times. "If you're sure...if you think I should."

"I do."

He seemed to be waiting for her to leave. Harriett fumbled in her purse for another slip of paper. "There are two others whom I'd like to report..." Flustered now, she unfolded the sheet. "Barbara Newton and Oliva Sanchez, and - "

"Have you spoken directly to them?" he interrupted.

"Ah, no, but I assumed...I thought you'd want to do that yourself." That he suggested she would was nothing short of shocking.

"As I said, it's been my experience that whenever one hears something unkind or negative about another person, the best course is to ask that person." He paused and seemed to wait for Harriett to respond.

"But..."

"I know that you have a kind and generous heart for the people of this church."

Harriett relaxed. "Indeed I do. I care deeply about the spiritual welfare of every soul who walks through these doors."

"I felt you must. I know that you'd be the last person to want to create gossip."

She planted her hand over her heart. "Never. That's why I came directly to you with these matters."

"All I'm saying is that perhaps it would be best to talk to these individuals yourself, in a spirit of love, naturally."

"Naturally."

"Ask if there's any way you could be of help. Offer them your friendship."

She had so few real friends, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Her shyness was a problem, and she'd had Abigail, but now that both her sister and her husband were gone, it felt as if the entire world had shriveled up and died. For the first time in her life she was truly lonely. No one wanted to be friends with her. No one invited her to their homes. She was good enough to play the organ for all their special functions, but not good enough to be a friend. Never that.

"Thank you for seeing me," Harriett mumbled on her way out the door. She had achieved nothing. Her visit to Pastor Lovelace had failed. Ruth Darling would continue her flirtation with Lyle Fawcett and all the church would look on with horror as another family was destroyed.

Trapped in her musings, Harriett walked outside the church without watching her step. When she stepped on a thin patch of ice in the church parking lot, her feet went out from under her. Arms flailing, she let out a bloodcurdling scream that was loud enough to hail the Second Coming.

From her peripheral vision, she saw Joanne Lawton's face wide with shock and horror from the office window overlooking the parking lot.

The next thing she knew the pavement was rushing up to greet her. She closed her eyes and prayed for mercy.

She must have blacked out because when she opened her eyes, she saw two men leaning over her. Both wore the familiar uniform of paramedics. Carefully they placed her on a mat and wheeled her toward the aid car. It was difficult to focus on which part of her body hurt the worst. Her head felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Her