Jolly Dead St. Nicholas Read Online Free PDF Page B

began to whistle.
     
    * * * *
     
    “End it now, with whoever she is, or I swear, I’ll go to the District Superintendent,” Fran Underwood told her husband.
    Standing in the doorway, Reverend Douglas Underwood eyed his wife’s reflection in the bathroom mirror where she stood smearing cold cream on her face. She was a rather dowdy woman of fifty, making her two years his senior. Her light brown hair was cut in a medium length bob but lacked the thickness that would have made that style attractive. Her pale green eyes met his gaze in the mirror. “I mean it, Douglas. No more of this!”
    “I told you a thousand times, Fran, there is nothing going on between me and another woman.” It was a lie, of course. He checked his watch. Choir practice would begin in half an hour. If he wanted to spend time alone with Susan, he’d have to hurry to the church.
    Fran glared at him. “I see you looking at your watch. You’re not leaving this house tonight. Forget it.”
    He walked through their bedroom out into the hallway. The United Methodist parsonage was a single story brick ranch-style house that had been built in the mid-1960s. While it was well maintained, it was beginning to show its age. At the time he’d been hired, Douglas told the Staff-Parish Relations Committee he’d like to see them begin looking for a more suitable living accommodation for him and Fran. The reply was not what he wanted to hear. So, he’d struck a bargain with them—if he could increase membership by twenty-five percent as well as bring in enough money to do the needed church repairs they, in turn, would honor his request. Once the deal was made, Douglas accepted the pastorate.
    “Don’t leave, Douglas. We need to talk about this,” Fran pleaded, following him into the living room where the artificial Christmas tree stood undecorated. Boxes of ornaments littered the floor.
    “I need to go to the church, Fran. I have a counseling session in ten minutes.” He put on his topcoat and headed for the front door.
    She snapped, “You never schedule counseling sessions on Thursday nights because of choir practice.”
    “It’s a special case. Urgent. Can’t wait.”
    She clung to his coat sleeve. “Please, Douglas…please!”
    He patted her hand then kissed her on the forehead. “You’ve been a good wife to me, Fran. Probably better than I deserve. I know you didn’t really want to marry a minister. It’s awful sometimes, the fishbowl we live in isn’t it? I forget too often the effect it can have on you.”
    She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I’ve never regretted marrying you, Douglas. I just wish…” Her voice cracked.
    “We’ll talk, Fran, I promise you. Now I have to go,” he told her gently.
    As he shut the door, he heard her soft sobs on the other side.
     
    * * * *
     
    Choir practice at the Crescent Falls United Methodist Church was held every Thursday evening from seven PM till eight-thirty PM in the sanctuary. The choir director was a slightly built man named Jeremy Kruger, who besides being a paid part-time employee of the church was also the music teacher at the high school.
    Tonight, while the other choir members milled around in the sanctuary awaiting Jeremy’s arrival, Susan Hatfield slipped out into the main hallway then turned right into a small hallway leading to restrooms on one side and the pastor’s study on the other. She knocked discreetly on the door of the study. Momentarily she heard the lock click.
    The aroma of his musky aftershave hit her full force as she ducked inside the room, and her pulse quickened. He always made her feel flushed, almost breathless.
    He locked the door behind her then pulled her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. She gave herself over to the feel of his lean, athletic body against hers. When he finally released her she felt almost dizzy.
    “I’ve missed you the past few days. I swear, Susan, I can’t go on like this.” He led her by the hand to the floral-print