Chapter 5

He sat in his car and stared at the doors before he turned off the car and climbed out. It wasn't like he was going to go into the sanctuary. He would just leave a message with the secretary and be gone. He should have just phoned. He had a vision of the stack of cards that Reverend Daniel had left him. The man had tried. God was the problem. They would be talking land not God. It would be OK.

The doors were unlocked and an arrow pointed toward the church office. There was no one at the desk. He was about to leave when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hello," Reverend Daniel said, "may I help you?" He hadn't changed much in the two years since the funeral. He still wore a black shirt that looked broken in like a favourite t-shirt. A bit of the white plastic tab that he'd worn for the service poked out from his breast pocket. The frames for his glasses were black and the lenses seemed to magnify not only his blue eyes, but the empathy that rested there. If he weren't a minister, Patrick could imagine him being a good friend.

"I'm Patrick Constance, Justine's dad."

"Right, Justine's in our Sunday School."

"I don't come to church." Patrick said and wondered why he had said that. He wasn't here to talk about either church or God.

"Ah," Reverend Daniel said, "we'll be here if you change your mind. I'm not usually in the office on Mondays, but Grace is off sick and I have some reading to do anyway. I have coffee in my office."

"That sounds good." Patrick followed the minister to his office. The only wall that wasn't either books or a window was an abstract painting that was odd lines and colours that looked like they were either fighting or dancing.

"That's not the kind of painting I think of ministers hanging in their office," Patrick said.

"It was a gift from a parishioner. He was dying when he painted it."

Patrick looked at the painting again. It didn't look different knowing a dying man had painted it. He turned away from it and sat down while the minister poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

"Reverend Daniel," Patrick said.

"Just Daniel will do," he said.

"Daniel," Patrick started again, "I was researching a property on King St. that had been a school. The land was deeded to the school from First Reformed, in 1872. When it burned down in 1936, it wasn't rebuilt so the land should have reverted to First Reformed then, but as far as I can find out First Reformed had closed and moved over to Brock St. and become St. Aidan's."

"Then in 1976, St. Aidan's joined us here at Redeemer."

"I was wondering if you still had the deed to the property."

"Let me look." Daniel pulled open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet that occupied one corner. "We have copies of all the deeds here. The originals are in a safe." He pulled out several large envelopes. "Here we are." He handed a brown envelope to Patrick.

Patrick opened the deed and compared it to his notes.

"This looks like it," he said and handed the deed back.

"Can I ask why the interest?"

"I can't say," Patrick said, "I just do the research, but you may want to make sure that your deeds to all your properties are up to date and registered. A lot of the land registry only goes back forty years. If you haven't done anything with the property in that time it can get lost. That causes problems down the road."

"I will pass the word onto the trustees."

"I'd better get back to work."

"Thanks for stopping in. Say hello to Justine for me."

"I will."

Patrick climbed into the car and took a deep breath. Then he drove back to work, stopping at a drive-thru to pick up a coffee for Mr. Ball.