Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife

Chapter 1

The Pastor’s Parsonage

WHEN CASSANDRA MARTIN first moved to Maple Grove, the silence in the middle of the night seemed eerie. The only sounds were the occasional hum of a slow moving automobile or the rustling wind blowing through the maple trees that line the main street of the village.

Main Street. This is where Cassie lives in a little white house built just after World War II. It is surrounded by red tulips in the spring and yellow roses in the summer. Despite the flowers, the well-cared-for home is rather stark and common-looking. Of course, a white picket fence encloses it, which lends to a feeling of privacy.

It is the perfect pastor’s parsonage, or so the people of Maple Avenue Community Church think. On the other hand, the majestic brick church building that sits next to the house on the corner of Main Street and Maple Avenue is adorned with exquisite multi-colored stained-glass windows and hand-carved woodwork. It is anything but plain.

Initially, the village’s fascination with maple trees both amused and irritated Cassie. On their first day there, her new neighbor, Pauline Alana, welcomed her with a hot apple pie while sharing the story of the red maple. With the aroma of the freshly baked pie filling the parsonage, she felt compelled to listen politely to her neighbor’s tree lesson.

“There are many varieties of maples, with the red, silver and sugar maple being common throughout Ohio,” explained Pauline, a forty-something registered nurse by profession. “The red maple is known for the crimson autumn foliage that our village of about 3,500 residents became famous for. During the fall, tourists drive from all over just to see the breathtaking panorama of blazing red leaves. Mrs. Martin, you’re going to love the fall here…”

“Please, call me Cassie. All my friends do,” interrupted the exhausted pastor’s wife. But, what Cassie Martin was thinking was, What I would really love is for you to leave, so I can unpack some more boxes. She was thankful Pauline couldn’t read her mind, since a minister’s spouse wasn’t ever supposed to be unkind, but she was only human.

Besides, the poor pastor’s wife had experienced a terrible shock just minutes earlier. She’d been going through a box of books when she’d happened to pick up her high school copy of the famous novel, The Great Gatsby. Feeling nostalgic, she’d opened it, and an old photograph fell to the floor. She had no idea she had kept it.

Instantly, she’d been flooded with agonizing memories that brought tears to her eyes. Compulsively, she’d torn the photo into tiny pieces then thrown them in the trash, making sure they were at the bottom. Cassie had been in the bathroom staring blankly into the mirror when she’d heard the knock.

She hadn’t had time to compose herself, but she’d thought she had better answer it. Quickly, Cassie dabbed at her eyes with some toilet paper ripped from the roll that the church ladies had graciously placed in the bathroom. She’d taken a deep breath and headed for her new front door, opening it to a smiling stranger with a heavenly-smelling pie in her hand.

It was uncharacteristic for Cassie Martin not to be welcoming and compassionate with people. This was her strength in ministry, the strength her husband could count on. Even though she was shy, few folks knew it, because the attractive brunette would take great effort to reach out to those who were hurting. If someone lost a family member, struggled with an illness, or dealt with any kind of heartbreak, Cassie tried to comfort them. The way she did this was by taking the time to listen.

Cassie wouldn’t have reacted so negatively to Pauline either, but instead of asking if she could help with the unpacking, her new neighbor had plopped down in the only available chair and settled in for a visit. A weary Cassie sensed that her history lesson had just started, and she was both tired and hungry from moving all day. Add to that the distress of being haunted by old secrets that never seemed to go away, no matter how many times she moved.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Cassie managed to pull herself together. “Please, forgive me. I’m a bit tired.”

Instead of picking up on the exhausted woman’s subtle hint, Pauline forged ahead. “I totally understand. I was talking about the maple trees, Cassie. Besides naming the town, the church, the school, and a street after the tree, there is also the Maple Grove Inn, the Maple Crest Restaurant, and the Maple View Theatre.” Without taking a breath, she continued, “The Maple Grove Inn isn’t a resort hotel, but rather an old Victorian house with three upper bedrooms that are rented out by the night, week, or month.” Pauline chuckled to herself. “Actually, there are two bedrooms available, as Billy Joe Horton, the town drunk, lives in one of the rooms year-round. Jolene Sanders and her teenage daughter, Missy, stay in another bedroom when her husband acts up. Some say the poor man has a heroin habit. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.” Pauline glanced at Cassie with a conspiratorial look that said, “Would you like me to tell you more about the Sanders family?”

She had hit a nerve. Cassie hated gossip, because the pastor’s wife knew what it felt like to be the one gossiped about. Acting naïve, she quickly changed the subject and seemed sincere when she asked Pauline to tell her more of the town history.