David pulled up in front of the old English Tudor with a squeal of tires. He jumped out of his old Chevy, slamming the door behind him with an ominous squeak. One day it would fall apart completely, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He ran up the sidewalk. He’d thought about Ed Leigh’s warning all the way over. About halfway to the door, a man stepped out of the trees on the side of the house. David stopped short and reached for his phone before recognizing him from the lodge. He couldn’t remember his name. The man waved David on and stepped back into cover.
David ran to the porch and rang the doorbell. Jane had sounded frantic on the phone. He’d gotten her message late, after his last student of the day. He returned her call as soon as he could, but she didn’t want to go into detail on the phone. Not when someone might be listening, she’d said. That had scared him. Now it seemed Ed had posted a guard. He wondered if Jane knew she was being watched over.
Jane opened the door, then stepped out and looked up and down the street. “You didn’t see any other cars, did you? A silver sedan?”
He took in her puffy eyes, her tangled hair. “Jane, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
She pulled him inside and stood in the foyer, hugging herself. She shivered. Winston ran up to him, then circled around and sat next to Jane, his eyes on David’s face. David gently took Jane by the arm and led her to the loveseat in the living room, then wrapped a chenille throw around her. “I’m here now. Tell me what’s happened.”
“They’re kicking me out. And Lois. She’s dead.”
Tears flowed down her face and she swiped at them with her sleeve.
“Who’s Lois?”
“My attorney.”
“Oh.” David frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I’ve never seen anyone get so upset over their lawyer dying.”
Jane laughed in spite of her tears. “She was my best friend. She looked out for me.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn it. I’d stopped crying and now—” a shudder ran through her.
David put his arms around her. Jane buried her head in the safety of his shoulder and wept. He stroked her hair and made soothing noises, waiting for the storm of tears to pass. Winston laid down next to them, his head on Jane’s foot, and the cats jumped on the other loveseat. After a few minutes, her sobs slowed. She lifted her head, took a napkin from a coffee tray that sat on the table and wiped her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said.
Jane sat staring at the carpet, shaking her head from time to time. “I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning.”
“But I don’t know where the beginning is, not really.”
“What happened to your lawyer?”
Jane abstractly pointed toward the library. “Her boss called and said there was a bad car wreck. She died this morning.” Jane shook her head. “Before that, Dreher told me I have to get out.”
“Out of where?” He looked around at the living room and grand piano in the corner. “Here?”
Jane nodded.
“But, I thought . . . . Wait, who’s Dreher?”
“Head of security for the OGMS.”
“What’s that?”
Jane looked at him. “The Order of the Grain of the Mustard Seed.”
“The what?”
“You don’t know about it?”
David shook his head.
Jane squared her shoulders and explained the origins of the OGMS, how the organization had survived in the Carolinas, and perhaps elsewhere, that her family had given the land in trust to the organization, which had built the houses and the church.
“So when Miss Essig died, your family said you could have the house?”
“No, they pulled my name by lot.”
“Lot? Somebody’s still using the lot?
Jane nodded. “You know about it?”
“I’ve heard of it, but the practice was discouraged.”
Jane sat silent for a minute, staring out the window. David touched her hand and she turned to him again. “So why are they making you leave? Can they even do that?”
“Yes, they can. I checked the contract.”
“But why?”
“Because they think I stole the painting.”
“Painting?” He was having trouble keeping up.
“The Blake original down in the—” Jane stopped short and stared at him. “David, you’re not going to believe what I found in the basement.”
David sat back and peered at Jane, worried at this sudden turn in her story. Had the shock affected her mind?
“The basement?” he asked quietly. “Jane, you’re not making sense.”
“No, I swear.”
“What? You swear what?”
“Come with me.” Jane grabbed David’s hand and pulled him off the sofa. She led him down the steps to the cellar and through the laundry room. He thought they’d reached the back wall, but she turned sideways and squeezed through a hidden opening into a back room.
He followed close behind, then rammed his shin into something in the dark and muffled a curse. “Jane, what are we doing down here?”
“It’s right here.” Jane let go of his hand, leaned down and picked something up. A beam of light appeared, illuminating the wall. She walked to the pine paneling and pushed a couple of times until something clicked. The panel opened.
“Oh, my God.” David stepped back in surprise.
“Just wait until you see.” Jane reached for the door handle and tried to turn it. “Oh, shit. I forgot. John said they put in new locks.” She shined the flashlight beam all around. “This is a whole new door.”
David stepped up to the metal security door and jiggled the handle with the same result. “Jane, what are you doing with a secret panel in your house that has a locked metal door behind it?”
“I’m trying to tell you. There’s a secret underground room down here. And more. There’s a hallway and more rooms that I didn’t even see.”
“What’s in the room?”
“That’s the part you wouldn’t believe. It’s a tantric room.”
“A what?”
“You know, a place for sacred sex.”
David stood stock still. Then he looked at her carefully. Her hair was still mussed, but her eyes were steady. At least as far as he could make out in the dim light.
“I know that sounds nuts, but I’m not making it up,” she said. “There was a big painting in there. A William Blake painting.”
David couldn’t remember who Blake was, but now wasn’t the time for minor details.
“Somebody broke in and stole it,” Jane said. “After I discovered it. So they think I took it. Or that I’m in cahoots with the thief. Especially after I took the other originals to New York to get them appraised.”
David shook his head. “How long have you been here? A month? How’d you manage to get yourself into so much trouble in such a short time?”
Jane stared at him for a second, surprised, then started to laugh. “I guess I have a talent for it.”
“Come upstairs.” He walked back toward the passage in the concrete wall and held his hand out for her. “You need to tell me the whole story from the start.”
And she did. David made tea—chamomile—and they settled in the living room. She told him everything, from the first call from Miss Essig, Davis firing her, to her getting the house, the meeting with the lawyers, and the night she’d been awakened by the chanting and found the tantric room.
David shook his head. “Moravians are doing this?”
“I’ve been reading about it,” Jane explained. “They called it the ‘sifting times’. Zinzendorf preached the religion of the heart, that Christ’s crucifixion had purified us if we believed. He saw the human body and all its parts as free of shame.”
“Zinzendorf preached this?”
“Yes, and that intimacy between married couples was a form of liturgy or something.”
“What?” David asked.
“Zinzendorf was way ahead of his time,” Jane said. “He taught that the Holy Spirit was our mother, so the Trinity was Father, Mother and Son. That husband and wife could participate in the sacred marriage, their joining representing coming into unity with Christ. He said that sex didn’t need to be for procreation only.” Jane blushed, a small smile on her lips.
David felt a fierce desire to kiss those lips, but he pulled back from her. Now was not the time.
“They venerated the wounds of Christ as the source of our salvation. They talked about ‘hiding in the side wounds’.”
David made a face. “That’s disgusting.”
Jane jumped up and went to the piano. She opened the lid and played a few chords, then started a hymn. “Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee.”
“Oh, my God. I never realized what that was about.”
“Practically the Baptist national anthem,” she said. “But Zinzendorf’s son, Christian Renatus, I think his name was, had a group in Marienborn who took it too far. At least they thought so at the time. Christian declared that all humans were female, spiritually that is, and Christ was the husband. Some say he claimed the gender of lovers didn’t matter. Some even think they had orgies.”
“You’re kidding?” David said. “Orgies in the eighteenth century?”
“Well, Christian was an aristocrat. And a teenager. You know how rich people behave. Papa Zinzendorf heard about it, though. He was in London and went back to Germany to put a stop to it. Then word got out and leaders of other religious groups condemned the Moravians as sinners and adulterers.”
“Marienborn, did you say?”
“That’s right. Zinzendorf closed the settlement and dispersed the congregation.”
“So, they must have come here,” David said, pointing to the east.
“Huh?”
“The New Marienborn Moravian Church,” he said.
“You’re right.” Jane played a dramatic chord on the piano, then stood up. “Just think, here we kids were taking lessons from the impeccable Miss Essig, and all the while we were sitting on top of a Kabinet. That’s what they called the rooms where husband and wife would meet.” She sat next to him on the couch.
David shook his head. “I wonder what my grandparents would say if they knew.”
Jane leaned back with a sigh. “I wish that was the only mystery. That room seems tame now after Lois has been killed.”
“You really think she was murdered?”
Jane shook her head. “I can’t be sure. But it’s possible. I may have gotten my best friend killed.” She looked up at David, lost, sad, scared.
He yearned to take her in his arms, to comfort her, protect her. He contented himself with taking her hand. “Oh, come on now. You didn’t kill her. And it could have been an accident.”
Jane shook her head. “I still can’t believe it. Dreher said he can’t keep me safe here. Not after the robbery.”
“So he’s just throwing you to the wolves?” He couldn’t believe they’d treat her like this. And that she might disappear again.
“It must have been a group decision. Frank knew before Dreher even told me. He said I could stay with him.” A spark of anger flared in her eyes, but died quickly. “I just got here. What will I do with the animals?” Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks.
“They belonged to Miss Essig. I’m sure someone here will care for them.”
“I don’t want them to. Not after the way they’ve treated me.”
David thought for a minute. “My son can keep them. He has a lot of acreage. Bought an old farm, but he doesn’t work the land. There’s plenty of room and my grandkid loves animals.”
“You’re a granddaddy?” Jane’s smile was wistful.
“I am,” he said. For the first time since he’d gotten there, she started to look a bit hopeful.
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand.
David struggled with himself. He had to tell her about his meeting with Ed Leigh, but keeping lodge secrets was deeply engrained. “So, how do you think original art work got here?”
“You know William Blake?”
David shook his head. “I can’t remember.”
“An English painter, print maker and poet. Turns out his mother was a Moravian. Back when the family lived in Fetter Lane. Miss Essig’s family might have come from there.”
“Now, I have heard about Fetter Lane in Sunday school. Various Protestants had congregations there. I looked it up once. Some of the craftsmen in that area did work for the Templars.”
“As in Knights Templar?” she asked.
“If I remember right.”
“I guess our ancestors were more colorful than I ever imagined.” She leaned down and stroked the bulldog, who leaned heavily against David’s knee.
David watched her for a while. She seemed calmer. “So, you said there were other mysteries.” He picked up a clean mug and poured himself some tea.
Jane wrinkled her forehead, thinking. “Oh, yeah. I got the Masonic tour of Washington, D.C.”
David almost spit out the cold chamomile. “You what?”
“The head of a big company insisted I help him transfer some funds. Lois said he didn’t like how I’d been treated, that he insisted I do the job, but the whole situation was odd. A junior associate could have taken care of it. And he paid me an enormous sum of money.”
“Um, that’s nice.” David thought of his measly pension and adjunct’s salary at the two colleges.
Jane nodded. “When I first got here, I was grateful for a place to live. Now, I could buy this house five times over.”
David sank into the corner of the couch. She was definitely out of his league. But she’d called him. Because he was a friend, he told himself. He’d help his friend. It was the right thing to do.
He steered the conversation in what he hoped was a more comfortable direction. “So this was the same guy who gave you the Masonic tour?”
“Yeah, he took me on a walk on the National Mall. He kept talking about what he called an urban legend.”
“What was the legend?”
“That some people think the National Mall is modeled after the Tree of Life. Not like in Genesis, but the Jewish—is it Kabbalah?”
David paused. This was one of the deeper secrets of the Masons. “Who was this man?”
“His name is Valentin Knight.”
All David could do at first was stare. Finally he asked, “Did you say Valentin Knight?”
“Do you know him?”
“Know of him. He’s only one of the most powerful mystics in the world.”
“Mystics? He’s a business—wait, how do you know this?”
“I joined the Masons after college.” At her look, he hurried to defend himself. “It was a good way to meet people, especially in business. I was looking to feed my family, get a better job. Plus, I’ve always been interested in spiritual teachings.”
“You?” A small frown crossed her face.
His chances were getting worse and worse. They were just friends, he reminded himself firmly.
“Here I always thought they were just a social club,” she said.
“They are that, but the degrees teach you meditation, philosophy, sacred mathematics, that sort of thing. Like I said, for me it was more for business contacts.”
“So, you’re a Mason?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t taken all the degrees. My friend James knows more than me.”
“I thought Moravians didn’t go in for that sort of thing.”
“Actually, that’s not true. Over the years, lots of Moravians have been Masons.”
“That’s what Knight said.”
The time had come. David cleared his throat. “Funny thing, the leader of my own lodge said the same thing to me just the other night.” He studied his hands.
“What did he say?” Jane asked, her voice sharp.
He looked up to find her scrutinizing him, her eyes hooded. “I’m not supposed to divulge lodge secrets, Jane, but given the circumstances, I have to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” She scooted down to the next cushion on the sofa.
David told her about his conversation with Ed, how he thought her family might have some artifact that had been passed through the Masons. “He’s worried some group is trying to get their hands on it.”
“But—” Jane jumped up and started to pace. “Now you’re telling me Blake was a Mason?”
“I don’t think this is about Blake,” he said, afraid her next steps would be to show him the door. How had he gotten so attached to her in such a short time? “But I think Blake was a Rosicrucian.”
“What’s the difference?” Jane asked.
David shook his head. “They’re both metaphysical orders. There’s some cross-over.” He waved his hand. “That’s not important right now. I asked Ed if he could find out more details about this artifact, but I don’t think I’ve taken enough degrees for him to tell me.”
“Enough degrees?” she frowned.
“That thing Knight told you about the National Mall? That’s a big Masonic secret.”
“It’s true?”
“Yes.”
“So you learned that in one of your . . .” she snapped her fingers, trying to remember the right word, “degrees?”
“No, I had to get James drunk to get it out of him.”
“James?”
“Yeah, he was hinting around after he took some advanced class.”
“Not so good at keeping secrets, is he?”
“He’s a musician. Scottish. They’re way into the Masons over there. We’re good buds.”
Jane sat down on the loveseat across from him. “So, somebody or worse, some group is after an artifact they think my family has?”
“That’s what Ed said.”
“What’s it got to do with this house?”
“Ed said that with Miss Essig gone, they might try to take advantage of the confusion. They seem to think it’s hidden here.”
“There are more rooms down there. I wouldn’t put it past that Dreher. But my family’s just ordinary, garden variety Moravians.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Maybe not so ordinary as you thought. Not if they gave land to the OGMS.”
Jane looked at David thoughtfully. “What do you think it is? What artifacts are the Masons supposed to have?”
David snorted. “The question is what don’t they have. The legends are amazing. Plus there’s Fetter Lane and the Templar link. The Knights spent years digging at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, and they were hip deep with the Rosicrucians, so the possibilities are endless.”
Jane sat forward, a keen look in her eyes. “Tell me.”
“Oh, geez. Well, besides your run of the mill gold, silver and precious gems?”
“That’s a good start.”
“You’ve also got the Head of John the Baptist, the Holy Grail, the Arc of the Covenant,” he ticked them off on his fingers, “the Spear of Destiny—”
“No, wait.” Jane held up her hand. “I thought Hitler stole that from some museum in Austria, and it was returned after the war.”
“There are alternative versions of that story.”
“But do they have any credence?”
David gave her a surprised look. “People who hunt for treasure aren’t always the most logical.”
Jane started laughing. “Okay, so the Arc of the Covenant could be down there in some room?”
David smiled, glad to see the Jane he knew start to reemerge. “Or it could be the Garter of the Winter King or John Dee’s missing manuscript.”
Jane shook her head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Those are just the treasures I can think of off the top of my head.”
“But people don’t take this sh— stuff seriously, do they?” She smiled self-consciously. “My language has really cleaned up since moving into this house.”
David looked around the room. “I know what you mean.”
“But David, surely in this day and age nobody believes some ancient relic that will make them—” she waved her arms “—invincible is hidden in the basement, do they?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Some people take these legends dead serious.”
Jane flinched away from his wording. “So how do we know what they’re looking for?”
David shrugged. “I could talk to Ed again. Maybe James would have a clue.”
“I guess I should just pack up and leave. It’s this house they’re interested in, not me.”
David pursed his lips together.
“Right? Jane asked, her voice almost shrill. “Don’t tell me they think I have the Arc of the Covenant stashed away somewhere? That they’re after me?”
“Ed did seem concerned about you personally, not just the house.”
“Damn it all to hell,” Jane shouted.
Winston woke up barking, looking around for the intruder.
Jane put her hand over her mouth. “If Miss Essig could hear me now.”
David started laughing, because he’d been thinking the same thing.
“What am I going to do?”
“We. What are we going to do?” David put his arms around her. She leaned her head against him.
“You don’t have to—” she started to say.
“Shush. I don’t have to, but I’m gonna.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I know Ed’s got a guard on the house, so you’ll be safe tonight.” He started to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
“Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”
He stood stock still.
“So much has happened . . . with Lois and all. There are plenty of extra bedrooms.”
He tried not to let his shoulders droop.
“It’s not that I don’t . . . I mean.” She lifted her head and stepped back. “I just don’t want to be alone.”
David forced his voice to sound normal. “I understand. I’d be happy to stay.”
“God, I hate feeling like this,” she said, fists clinched.
“Crying over the death of an old friend doesn’t make you weak. Besides, you’ve just lost your house and you just moved in.”
Her hands unclenched.
He looked at his cell phone. It was early yet. “Have you eaten?”
Jane shook her head.
“We could order a pizza.”
“Right, and the delivery man pulls an AK47 out of the box.”
“It would be an XM8 more likely.”
“What?” Jane’s eyes had taken on that wild look again.
“Want me to cook you something? I make a mean omelet.”
“You cook?”
“For other people.”
Jane ushered David into the kitchen. “How can I help?”
“Sit.” He pointed to a bar stool and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of eggs—from pasture-raised chickens, he noticed. Goat cheese, organic. He wished he could afford these kinds of ingredients. Scallions, peppers, garlic, onion. Found a jar of capers. Took down a big pan hanging above the stove.
“Wow. You’re serious about this.”
“I watch the cooking channel,” he said.
Jane opened a bottle of wine and poured them both a glass. David took a swig, then slowed down and savored the next sip. “That’s good.”
“I know wines,” she said.
“I’m a beer man, myself, but I’d drink this any day.”
They ate in the dining room on the fancy china. After they finished their meal, Jane opened another bottle of wine, this one better than the first.
David talked about his kids, telling funny stories, and watched Jane relax. They ended the evening at the piano, playing various childhood favorites, reminiscing about Miss Essig and their musical careers. David tried not to press against her side or stretch over flirtatiously to reach a key.
“You know, I’ve been dreaming about a piece of music,” Jane said.
“What piece is it?”
“Something new. I wanted to be a composer when I was little, but I bombed in theory.”
“Naw, you were always the smart one.”
“Not in that class, believe me.”
“Play it for me.”
“I’ve only got the first few phrases.” She closed her eyes, hands poised above the keys.
David admired the curve of her cheek, her elegant brow.
Her hands came down. The phrase began softly, like the first stirring of a spring breeze, then began to open, the gossamer wings of a dragonfly. She stopped and looked at the far wall, focused inward. “I can hear violins and a flute.”
“Nothing for us horn players?”
She turned her head toward him, a faint smile forming. “I think I may find a part for you, David Spach.”
Desire coursed through him, but he held still, not wanting her to know how strongly his body was responding to her. She leaned over and kissed him, her lips smooth and soft. He returned the kiss, trying to keep it light, holding himself back.
She gave a little smack with her lips and sat back. “Thank you,” she breathed.
“It’s my pleasure.” His voice was husky.
Winston scratched at the side door, then turned and gave an impatient groan.
They both burst out laughing. Jane jumped up and ran to the door.
“Wait, I’ll come out with you,” David said.
They walked outside and stood shoulder to shoulder under a gibbous moon while Winston headed to the bushes. After he did his business, he came back out to the drive where he nosed around. The bulldog suddenly inhaled deeply and trotted over to the other side of the house. They followed.
He growled at a clump of trees.
“It’s just me,” a Scottish brogue came from the dark.
“James? What are you doing here?”
“Ed asked me to keep an eye out.” He stepped from the trees and held his hand out for Winston to smell.
They walked closer. “This is my friend I was telling you about. James, meet Jane Frey.”
She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am.” He made a bit of a bow. “We heard about the theft.”
“And apparently the painting isn’t the only thing they’re after,” Jane said.
James’s breath blew out in a puff of surprise. “David,” he said, his voice like a disapproving parent.
“She deserves to know,” David said. “Do you know more about what they might be after?”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Come on, James. How can we keep her safe, keep the artifact from being stolen, if we don’t know?”
“I really don’t know.” James said. “Ask the higher-ups. I’m on until midnight, then somebody else is coming.”
“Thank you for helping,” Jane said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here.” She walked toward the house.
David waited until Jane was out of earshot. “I’m staying the night.”
“Lucky you,” James pitched his voice so only David would hear.
“Coming?” Jane called.
“Not in her bed,” David said in an undertone.
“So you say,” James whispered.
David ran over to Jane and they went back inside, Winston leading the way. She went into the kitchen and checked the water bowls. “I’m leaving the cat door open.”
“I think that’s safe.” David hesitated, then asked, “Where should I sleep?”
They climbed the stairs together. Jane opened the door of a bedroom. “I’m in there.” She pointed to a door kitty-corner to his. “Or you could sleep in the master bedroom.”
“In Miss Essig’s bed?” he asked, eyes wide.
Jane giggled, sounding a bit tipsy. “I haven’t been able to move in there yet either.”
He opened the door and found two twin beds. “This will be fine.” He turned back to her, then yawned prodigiously. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll put a new toothbrush out after I wash up.” She stood on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek.
He patted her shoulder, trying to be reassuring. He worried his touch would telegraph his state of desire.
“I’ll cook breakfast.” She went into her room. Winston followed her.
“Lucky dog,” he whispered.