The Nightmare Nativity: The Mercy and Justice Mysteries, #9

By J. R. Mathis and Susan Mathis

Father Tom's medical leave is over, and with the beginning of Advent, he's back at his rightful place back at the altar. Everyone is looking forward to the Living Nativity, complete with animals (including a camel) . . . but not Imperial Storm Troopers, if Miriam can keep her co-director Gladys under control. But other than that, the people of Saint Clare's parish and Myerton can look forward to a joyful holiday season full of peace on earth and good will to men.

 

But unfortunately for Father Tom and Helen, there's not much peace when Miriam breaks her ankle and Helen has to step in to direct the Living Nativity. And the dead body in the barn at the Saint Francis Center has a few words to say about good will to men.

 

The Nightmare Nativity  is the ninth novel in the Mercy and Justice Mysteries, a contemporary small town mystery series. The series is a sequel to the Father Tom Mysteries that began with The Penitent Priest and includes the same cast of characters. It features Father Tom Greer, a Catholic Priest who is also an amateur sleuth in the tradition of Father Brown, and his wife Helen Greer, female Chief of Police and detective in the tradition of Kinsey Millhone.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercy and Justice Mysteries
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201288518

J. R. Mathis

Susan Mathis was born in and grew up in an extremely small town in Alachua County, Florida where her family has lived for more than 100 years. When Susan was still very young, James (J.R) Mathis was born in a somewhat bigger small town about 100 miles south of where she lived. Within a decade, James' small town would become part of Orlando, the biggest tourist destination in the United States. He was not amused. That is how, while Susan was running barefoot, swimming in lakes full of alligators and feeding chickens, James was sitting in his bedroom reading books faster than his father could bring them home from the library. Were James and Susan to write their love story, it would definitely be an enemies-to-lovers trope. They met in the library where he was working. He found her demands for books that he had to pull and bring to her so unreasonable that he actually turned her into the head librarian. She in turn was so anxious to drive him away that when some friends secretly set them up she laid out an entire speech about how miserable her life was (she is typically very upbeat). Little did she suspect that he had a passionate attraction to misery and they were married just over a year later. Fast forward 26 years, three children, four grandchildren and 20 years of James working for the Federal government. He was diagnosed with a highly treatable but still very scary form of cancer. As so often happens, this brush with mortality inspired him to do something he’d always wanted to do, write a novel. After the publication of the second Father Tom Mystery, Susan joined him as coauthor. As far as the Mathises are concerned, writing together is the most fun a couple can have sitting at a computer.

Book preview

Prologue: Tom

I wake up on Sunday morning to find Helen standing by the bed, holding a large white box tied with a big red bow. It takes me a moment to piece together what’s going on.

Helen, I say hesitantly, I know what a fan of the holidays you are, but this is only the first day of Advent. Isn’t it a little early for Christmas gifts?

Not this one, she says with a big grin as she shoves the box toward me. In fact, it is very nearly too late.

I am intrigued by her answer and open the box to find a set of elegant purple silk vestments trimmed with intricate embroidery.

Helen, I say, searching for words, you didn’t.

In fact, I did, she says, taking the chasuble from the box and holding it up to me, and I loved every minute.

But when did you find time to make this? And more importantly, where did you find the space? I haven’t seen so much as a stray thread around here.

Oh, really, Tom, like you’d notice if I’d left a whole bolt of fabric on your desk. This only came into this house this morning. It has spent most of its life in my office, though I did do some of the major sewing at Anna’s. The rest, I did during breaks or when I had to work overnight.

Well, I love it, I say, taking her in my arms for a grateful kiss.

A moment later, she pushes me away. OK, Father, you need to get dressed and I need to make breakfast. Otherwise, you’ll be late on your first full week back.

One: Tom

Wearing my brand-new vestments and holding aloft the silver-bound book of the Gospels, I walk up the steps to the pulpit and look over the people gathered for 10:30 Mass.

As the last Alleluia dies away, I take a deep breath and say in a loud voice, The Lord be with you.

From the congregation–with more than a sprinkling of cries from infants and chatter from toddlers–comes the response, And with your spirit.

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.

Glory to you, O Lord.

I turn and take the smoking thurible from Dominic Trent’s hands and cense the book, the fragrant incense rising to the ceiling as a symbol of the prayers of the people assembled. I then read the words of Jesus, fortelling that his second coming would come upon the unsuspecting world like the flood in Noah’s time. It’s a call to be always prepared for the coming of the Son of Man, because we never know when it will happen.

The reading done, I hold the book aloft and say, The Gospel of the Lord.

Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ, the congregation responds. There’s a shuffling as people sit down, with parents wrestling toddlers into their seats and trying–and, if I’m honest, mostly failing–to quiet infants whose job this morning is to compete with their priest for attention.

I know there are priests who would find the cacophony of Saint Clare’s disturbing.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

I look at the text of my homily and begin, "As most of you know, this First Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of a new year for the Church. I, for one, like that it comes just over a month before the secular New Year, since it gives me a chance to make a few resolutions and weed out the ones that I’m really not going to keep anyway before I get to January 1.

So, what kind of resolutions can we make, indeed, should we make when we begin a new church year? The most obvious ones are those of a spiritual nature. There are, of course, for all of us, many things we could improve on. It might be for some families to say Morning Prayer together. For other people, it might be just saying a decade of the Rosary. But if the best you can do is say, ‘I’m going to try to remember to say a Hail Mary at some point in time during each day,’ then that glorifies God as much as when a priest says an entire Mass. We are all in such different places in our vocations, and as much as I want to trouble the comfortable–that is to say, encourage everyone to try to do a little bit better–I also want to comfort the troubled. I want to say to those who are trying: God is honored by that. He is just as happy when you say that one Rosary as you are when your kid brings you that dandelion. It’s a gift of love and any gift given with love honors God.

My first homily of Advent concluded, I return my seat, thankful that this new church year is finding me back to serving full-time in my vocation as a priest.

The past two months have been trying in many ways. But by far, the hardest part has been being away from the altar. I sit for a moment, meditating and also allowing my congregation to do so, before standing for the Nicene Creed and the reading of the prayers for the world. Moments later, I am at the altar, doing the one thing in my life, the one thing in my vocation, that is more important than any other: bringing the people Jesus.

Obviously, this moment in the Mass takes my full focus and consumes me entirely, so I never know what’s going on around me. But when I was still recovering and got to sit among the people during Mass while Father Wayne was celebrating, I would sometimes hear mothers or fathers say quietly to their very tiny children at the moment of the elevation, Jesus is here, Jesus is here, Jesus is here. It is in this most sacred moment that I can lift up our Lord for all the world to see.

Just moments later, I share His very body with those coming forward for communion.

There’s Tim and Amy Cooper, a young couple carrying one child and dragging another. Tim is able to kneel, but Amy just reaches out for the Eucharist as I present to her  the body of Christ that she longs to consume and at the same time wants to keep out of the hands of her grasping toddler.

Helen, my own wife, comes before me, followed by Anna Luckgold, my secretary and the mother of my first wife. Both of them kneel and lift their faces up to receive our Lord, the greatest gift that anyone can receive.

I can’t help but notice that Mae Maycord has begun to waddle a little bit, her short frame now expanding around the middle with her first child, due within weeks. Her husband Martin, his Aunt Louise, and his three adopted nieces shuffle along behind, the girls in matching red print dresses with green ribbons in their hair.

Others come forward, the young with their babies, the older adults often helping frail parents. They come to the altar, they come to our Lord.

As always, the Conways are near the end of the line. Miriam looks a little more tired than usual but this is a busy time for her. Catherine is, as always, leading her brothers along. She’s the only one old enough to receive communion, but I remember seeing the twins’ names on the list for the coming year. Dan brings up the rear, holding my goddaughter Helen Joan.

I don’t see Steve and Bridget Austin, which doesn’t surprise me. Steve mentioned to me a few days ago that right after helping with the Community Thanksgiving Dinner, they were leaving to visit her family. He asked me for prayers so that it would go well, since it’s the first time he’s meeting them.

The Mass ends and I say, "Please be seated for a few moments. It will not surprise you at all to know that we will have more announcements than usual, since this is the First Sunday in Advent. First, a reminder that the Saint Francis Center is hosting an Advent wreath making and pizza party this afternoon beginning at 4 o’clock. This is a great opportunity to make your advent wreaths and enjoy some fellowship with other families. All proceeds, as always, benefit the Saint Francis Center. I will be there to enjoy some pizza and to bless all the wreaths.

It is not too late to sign up to participate in the Living Nativity. However, this week's rehearsal, which will be held on Tuesday evening at 5 o’clock, is your last chance to join in the fun. This year's Nativity promises to be bigger and better than ever, with the Acutis Society members and other young adults providing the main speaking characters and our precious children providing the choirs of angels, herds of shepherds and gaggles of townspeople. Oh, and we will have live animals, including sheep, a donkey for Mary and Joseph, and even a camel. The program will be held on the Saturday night before Christmas Eve on the grounds of the Saint Francis Center. For more information, you can see either Miriam Conway or Gladys Finkelstein Rodriguez.

I go on to mention that the Knights of Columbus are still taking orders through today for fresh Christmas wreaths that they will deliver to homes in the area by the middle of the month. I also remind people that the Ladies of Charity are collecting new toys for the less fortunate children in town, and they are also accepting donations towards making gift baskets for the elderly shut-ins in the parish. I like this latter idea, as I think it’s a wonderful opportunity to minister to those who can so often be forgotten at this otherwise family-oriented time of year.

I finish my announcements by saying, Finally, our resident doctor and head of the Emergency Department at Myerton General, Dr. Martin Maycord, reminds everyone to get their flu shots this year, lest there be another outbreak like there was last year. I can’t help but notice as I make this announcement that while Martin is smiling appreciatively at me, his in-laws across the aisle are scowling, and I remember that they have always been somewhat dubious of vaccines.

With the announcements concluded, our choir master, Meshach Jackson, leads the congregation in the final hymn and the servers and I recess to the front of the church. Helen meets me by the door, her hands warm as she grabs mine briefly before we begin to shake hands and greet our departing parishioners.

Just as the Conways are always the last in the communion line, they are always the first in the exit line, with Miriam making each little child stop and shake hands as they go out. Helen and I, as always, have to make a particular fuss over our goddaughter Helen Joan, now approaching her first birthday.

Father Tom, Miriam says urgently, would it be possible for me to meet with you about the Living Nativity sometime Tuesday? I have some . . . concerns, let’s say, about the direction Gladys wants to take this year‘s production.

She hasn’t backed down? Helen says.

Miriam shakes her head. Not one inch.

Feeling I’m missing something, I say, Of course, Miriam. I don’t have the schedule in front of me, but call Anna and tell her I said to work you in.

Thank you, Father Tom, she says. We really need to get out in front of this or there’s going to be a problem.

I look into her wide brown eyes, so much like her daughters’, and see her urgency. So I say, Of course. I’m sure we can get everything worked out.

There’s a small break in the line and I whisper under my breath to Helen, Do you know what that was about?

I might, she says briefly. I’ll tell you later.

We continue shaking hands, stooping slightly to give our surrogate daughter, Gladys Finkelstein Rodriguez, a new bride of only three months, a kiss on the cheek.

She pauses her wheelchair for just a moment as she says, Dad, Mom, I need to talk to you as soon as we can about the Living Nativity. I have some great ideas, but I’m having a problem getting them past Miriam.

I manage not to sigh as Helen says with a big smile, Why don’t you and Nate come over this afternoon? I’ve made a pound cake, and we can have some hot chocolate while we talk about what’s going on.

That sounds great, Mom, she says. What time?

How does around 4 sound?

Perfect, Gladys replies. We’re going over to Martin and Mae’s for lunch. We’ll–

We’re interrupted by a scream followed by the sound of someone tumbling down the church steps. We turn to see Miriam Conway laying on the steps with her right foot twisted between the railing and one of the columns.

I start down, yelling to Helen, Call 911. Is Martin still here?

They left already, Nate says.

I hear Helen behind me, telling the 911 operator to dispatch an ambulance to Saint Clare’s as I rush over to Miriam.

Damn, damn, she’s saying, wincing in pain and crying at the same time.

Tom, do you think it’s broken? Helen asks.

For various reasons, I keep up with certification as a first responder. I take one look at it and say, Yeah, it’s broken. Miriam, I know it hurts, but try not to move.

Dan, she whimpers. I need Dan.

I look around and see him with the other kids. To Helen, I say, You stay with her, I’ll go get him.

I hurry to him, calling, Dan! Miriam’s hurt!

He turns around and looks at me. What are you–oh, my God! he exclaims when he sees her.

I’ll stay here with the kids, I say. You go.

He practically tosses Helen Joan to me and dashes to his wife’s side. When he gets there, Helen hurries to where I am and takes Helen Joan from me. You go back to her, she says. I’ll take the kids to the Rectory and call her mom.

Helen gathers up the kids and, along with the oldest sister Catherine, manages to herd them away. By the time I get back to Miriam, Dan is holding her in his arms–he, such a big bear of a man, and her, so petite, almost like a China doll.

The fire department arrives and I’m surprised to see that Tony is on duty, since I know he rarely works Sundays. But then I remember it’s a holiday weekend and figure he probably gave the men under him the weekend off. David Asher, the paramedic, takes one look at Miriam‘s foot and says Tony, we need to get this rail off here.

Then he turns to Miriam and says, Have you ever had any negative reaction to morphine?

Through gritted teeth, she says, I’ve had five children and never had anything stronger than Tylenol. But I’ll take anything you’ve got right now.

David kneels down beside her and starts pulling out a plastic pouch as he says, Look, I’m gonna go ahead and start an IV because I’m pretty sure you’re gonna need one at the hospital, and I’m really good at it. He then shoots her a grin that I suspect would lessen any woman’s pain.

I’ve never really seen Dan with Miriam like this, and it is a stunning sight. In this moment, it’s like nothing exists but them. He has his arms around her and he’s whispering softly in her ear things that I cannot hear. It’s abundantly clear that just him holding her is making her foot hurt less.

David takes her hand and, as promised, starts an IV to which he quickly adds a shot of what I presume is the promised morphine. Tony’s back by now with a screwdriver. Looking at me he says, I’m going to try to get this off without breaking it Tom, but I’m making no promises.

Do what you need to do. We can get another rail, I assure him, even as he begins to unscrew the hundred plus year old metal rail from its place against the column. Fortunately everything comes off in one piece, including Miriam‘s foot, at least to a certain extent.

David and the other paramedic soon have her on a gurney and are rushing her to the ambulance. Helen has taken all the little Conways to the Rectory, where she is no doubt filling them with hot chocolate and cookies to soothe their shattered nerves. The ambulance is pulling away when Miriam’s mom arrives.

Two: Helen

I have managed to get all the little Conways into the Rectory and seated around the dining room table. They are gobbling down cookies and drinking mugs of hot chocolate when Tom walks in with Miriam’s mother on his heels.

Helen, he says, Mrs. Rumstead is here.

All the children jump from their seats–except of course for Helen Joan, who I have firmly in my lap–and run across the room to hug her.

GamGam, you came to get us, little Andrew shouts.

GamGam, Mommy fell down the stairs and they had to take her to the hospital in the ambulance but I don’t think she’s going to die, one of the twins, either Max or JP says loudly.

Do you think she’s going to die? the other twin yells.

Before Mrs. Rumstead can answer any of the comments, Catherine says  calmly, Boys, I told you Mommy is going to be just fine. I heard Daddy say that it was probably a broken ankle. I broke my arm, and I was only in the hospital a couple of days. So stop worrying. She then joins the rest of them in hugging their grandmother, an attractive woman in her early sixties.

From the floor where she’s kneeling down to gather all the children around her, she says, Father Tom, please, call me Stella. I’m really not that much older than you are. It’s just that all these little blessings make it seem that I am.

I have to admit that, while not everything I’ve heard from Dan about Miriam’s side of the family has been enthusiastic, he has always spoken very fondly of his mother-in-law and I can understand why. Let me help you get them out to the car, Tom says as I grab Helen Joan’s diaper bag and hand it to him.

I would appreciate that, Father, Stella says. I have car seats for everyone but it’s always easier to have some help getting them buckled.

Little Andrew pops up and says, I can buckle now, GamGam. I really can. I’ll show you, before running out to the car.

Tom rushes out behind him. I help Stella get the other four out to her van and we’ve soon got everyone safely on their way.

Well, I say after we’re back inside, I’ll get lunch ready.

Helen, just make me a sandwich please, Tom says. I’m going to go on over to the hospital and check on Miriam.

In that case, I’ll make sandwiches for both of us and we’ll go together, I say, turning towards the refrigerator.

You don’t have to, he says. It’s simply a pastoral visit.

I turn to him. No, it’s not, Tom. Dan and Miriam are not only members of your parish. They’re part of the department family, as well. Besides, they’re our friends. Of course I’m going with you.

He smiles and says, Then we’d better make those sandwiches.

Tom goes to the bread box and I get out some paper towels. Together, we rustle up enough sustenance to keep body and soul together until we get back and are soon on our way to the hospital.

Once we’ve parked in the clergy spot–Tom insisted we take his car, since he’s had few opportunities since The Incident to drive the priestmobile–we go in through the emergency room entrance. Together, we walk up to the nurse’s station, today staffed by one of the nurses we recognize from our frequent visits.

Father and Chief Greer, Nurse Stetson says, you’re here to see Mrs. Conway?

How did you guess? Tom asks.

Well, I know they’re members of your church, and Mr. Conway’s on the police force. It was pretty easy to figure out.

Can we go back and see her? I ask.

She hesitates for a moment. Well, usually there’s a limit of two people back there, and her husband is with her. I’ll let both of you go but don’t get me in trouble with the boss. She’s back in Exam 2.

She grins as she says this, obviously aware that Tom will be baptizing her boss’ first child sometime in the coming year. We make our way back through the maze of rooms and curtained off areas to Exam Room 2. Tom knocks lightly at the door.

From inside, Dan’s baritone voice says quietly, Come in.

Miriam is still on the gurney, her foot propped up now with a temporary cast around it. She doesn’t appear to be in a lot of pain, probably because of the drugs. Dan is obviously concerned as he sits holding her hand. He stands and offers me his chair, which I refuse.

We were hoping you were Martin, he says, resuming his place by his wife. He was by earlier and ordered some bloodwork and an x-ray. We’d hoped he’d be back by now.

What was he saying? Tom asks, as I take a seat by Miriam and take her other hand, careful not to bump the IV.

Pretty much what we were probably both thinking. It’s almost certainly broken. The x-ray is mainly to find out how bad. He says she’ll likely need surgery, and if so, he wants to get an orthopedic surgeon for it. Apparently he’s already paged the guy and told him to stand-by.

As if summoned by someone speaking his name, there’s a light knock at the door and Martin comes in. He glances at Tom and me and says with a grin, You know there’s only supposed to be one of you back here at a time, right?

Yes, I say, matching his grin, but Tom is her spiritual adviser. I am here to make sure she doesn’t commit any crimes. I think you’re gonna have to live with it.

He laughs and turns to Miriam. The x-ray tech will be coming any moment to take you and to have some pictures done. But Dr. Ruiz is already on his way. I sent him some photographs of your ankle and he’s convinced enough to head here. I’m scrubbing in with him just to be an extra pair of hands. He then pauses and says, Is there anything else I need to know about your condition medically, Miriam, before we go forward?

She shakes her head and Martin’s grin gets bigger as he says, Well, in that case I’ve got a little news about your medical condition for you. Miriam, Dan, I’m delighted to tell you that there is another little Conway on the way.

After a moment or two of going pale, Dan immediately turns to Miriam and gives her a big hug saying, Number six! Girl, you are the best!

His wife is more