Why was she being gracious when I was going to get the ax? Why ask me to use her first name if she was there to do the dirty work? Of course, this didn’t make sense, but my world never did as you have come to realize. I looked at the brown iced tea stain down the front of my blouse and then to her. “More than I care to.”
“We at headquarters are concerned.” Louisa cleaned her glasses on a hanky. “This is a matter of grave importance.”
I stared. I hadn’t seen a handkerchief ever used before except maybe in a high school play. If she was this old fashioned, that swan song and the cooked goose would be roasting together. I gulped. “I’m sure Pastor Bob will clarify everything and tell you about my work here.” I grasped the edge of Bob’s desk, since there were papers on every single chair in the office.
Starting with the first visitor’s chair, Louisa Stephenson scooped the litter to the floor with her pint-sized hand. She cleared the other in the same way, then scooted her butt on it. Her feet didn’t reach the carpet. “I am sure you’re aware that many pastors are leaving the ministry.”
That’s how it’s handled? I “leave” the ministry? They don’t yank my credentials? Less messy. Looks better on some stupid, blinkin’ statistic someplace that some clerk tabulated for each denomination. Well, not this little gal who happens to be a minister, I’ll have you know. The toad would have to ask me outright, I vowed. But she was saying something else. I stopped to listen.
“Situations like this,” Louisa began, “always make us very sad, as you can imagine.”
“Just cut to the chase and get it over. I have chocolate to eat, pounds and pounds of it. Wait, first, is there anything I can say before you complete your reports?” I dug into my purse for medicinal M&Ms, but they’d been gobbled on the drive over.
“We thought you’d be upset.” Louisa’s little forehead wrinkled more, making her look even more like Kermit the Frog.
I sighed. Without coffee or chocolate, apparently my bravado was zilch. “Are there specific situations you’d like to hear about, or shall I recount it all?”
“I want to hear everything,” said Louisa, leaning back in her chair, crossing her baby-sized feet at the ankles.
The woman got an earful about sex slaves, the black-market baby trade and child abandonment. I told her about Pastor Bob Normal. Told it all. “Everything I’ve done has been with a pure heart, although some people — ” I meant Bob the Gambler. “ — may have told you otherwise.”
“Yes,” Louisa said, and nodded.
“When do you take away my job, take back my credentials?” The words squeaked from my throat.
“My dear, why don’t you just tell me when you first suspected Pastor Bob of ministry violations?”
I was staring at her feet as she crossed her ankles in the other direction. For a woman as round and short as she was, her feet were delicate, even though her shoe choices, orthopedic-esque, made me queasy. I was looking at her shoes when
wham,
it hit me. “What? This is about Bob?”
She nodded.
I jumped up and down like a forgiven sinner at a tent revival. “You’re not here to reprimand me, but Pastor Bob.” I’m embarrassed to say I remember my moves were reminiscent of a running back making it to the end zone, swinging my booty, waving my arms. I finished this sight for sore eyes with, “You’re from Dallas to discipline him, oh, thank you, Jesus,” then ordered my mouth to clamp shut. For once, it listened to instructions.
“Now, Pastor Jane, calm down, please.” She leaned forward. “We know you well, perhaps not personally, but from talking to others, we realize your methods are unconventional. That said, you are a fine pastor.”
Yes, those were her words, at least as I remembered them because I was going to have them placed in needlepoint and framed for a picture. Bliss hit. I felt like Sally Fields when she accepted her Oscar … yes, they liked me. “I, um, well, could you be specific?”
“Back to business.” She cleared her throat. “Information about Pastor Bob’s behavior came to our attention a month ago. The tithes skyrocketed, a holy thing, but attendance went down. For summer in Las Vegas, that surely is not usual. When the associate pastor resigned and the youth pastor asked for a leave, we wanted to know more.”
“But the youth pastor is having a baby,” I said.
“Yes, that’s true. I just came from her home. She was concerned about the stress of working with the pastor in her very early pregnancy since she’d been in fear of having another miscarriage. The council is aware of your skills in handling touchy situations. Hence, my visit.”
She studied the lines on the tablet resting in her lap, or maybe she was waiting for me to say something. But what? Bob’s debts? Bob stealing the church funds? Bob’s attempt at murder? I didn’t know I had so much to say, and without coffee, either. We talked till my bum was numb.
“Still, you did not contact the District Council, Pastor?” asked Louisa. This time I swear there was a sparkle in her navy blue eyes.
Phew. I spilled that, too. “I was afraid all this was somehow my fault. Like before … ”
“Yours?” Louisa smiled, displaying a ring of tiny teeth, like a child’s. “I do not know what happened to you when you were a pastor before, my dear, but historically our senior pastors, unlike Bob Normal, do not gamble away funds and threaten God only knows what when the staff doesn’t cooperate with rants or depraved requests.”
I sighed and rested my head against the chair’s back. But then she said something that nearly gave me whiplash as I snapped to attention. “You’ll help us, dear?”
“Me? Help? Headquarters? Before you say anything, please know I’m sorry for any negative publicity I gave the church. I have never, ever meant to hurt anyone with anything I’ve done, and I’m really glad I only talked with CNN a few times.” I sounded like a kid in the principal’s office or Beaver Cleaver talking to Ward, but that’s how I felt. “I’m sorry.”
“Tut, tut, child,” said Louisa, and while I doubted she was ten years older than me, I lapped it up like a puppy. It was sick, but I’d been the ugly, sinister minister so long this was glorious. “Don’t tell anyone else, but I have kicked some butt in my day.” She tut-tutted again.
I believed her. She might be as round as she was tall, but the woman had moxie. I wondered if she was Polish.
“I am here today not to speak with Pastor Bob, but to you,” Louisa added. “For your help. But first, I must know you’ll be discreet.”
“Anything,” I said.
“We, the members of the District Council, would like you to find out Pastor Bob’s connection with PSA. Just to clarify, Ms. Delta Cheney attends the church, but she’s not a member, is that correct?”
I nodded yes.
“Good. Can you find out how deeply Pastor Bob is entangled in the PSA schemes?”
“You want to know if he’s getting a kickback for the babies?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Louisa said. “We know your pastor is connected with Ms. Cheney. For goodness’ sake, his face is on their web site. He counsels couples before and after adoptions, especially those that don’t work out.” She added a note to the folder she’d extracted from her baby-sized briefcase. “It could be that wire fraud is involved.” She looked at a previous page of notes and said, “We’d like to know before others do. You understand. We know about the gambling, but until you explained about those debts, headquarters had no idea how much money was involved. Where is it coming from? Where is it going?”
It seemed a trifle strange that she didn’t ask about the building funds or to see the accounts, but the District Council works in mysterious ways. Besides, she wasn’t in the office to chew me out, but rather to ask little old yours truly for help. Amen and hallelujah, and I said, “What can I do? I’ll do anything.”
“You have helped already, dear. You’re on our side now. I’ll be in touch. Just be yourself, your curious self. I’ll call you soon.” She checked her watch and heaved her backside forward until her tiny tootsies, clad in tan Oxfords with laces, touched the floor. “Oh, of course, you could record conversations, take notes, snap pictures, little things like that.”
And she was gone, without a final prayer. I fingered her card. There was no doubt that she was from the District Council. She had even given me her private phone number to call day or night. As for finding me? The church directory had me listed under 1-800-buttinski. I rubbed my hands together. The feelings of revenge might not be pretty, but they felt like a million bucks. Now that I had a license to snoop, it was pushing a billion.
• • •
I flitted and floated through the day repeating, “They like me,” until I got a call making me regret I’d inhaled three dark chocolate Mars bars. In celebration for not getting canned, mind you.
It was late in the afternoon when a call from one of the moms whose daughter was a best friend of a kid that someone knew who had overheard Harmony talking about a problem when some girl thought it was Harmony talking in the girls’ bathroom. You won’t be tested on that.
Since Harmony grunted in response to all of my questions, we hadn’t bonded in any old way. I punched Gramps’ number into the phone. From the music, he was doing the two-step at the rec center. “Hold the phone, Jane. Okay, I’m walking outside.” The music quieted. “Okay, let her rip, baby. What’s up?”
“I heard a rumor, and you don’t have tell me not to listen to gossip.”
“You’ve already found the problem,” he replied.
“At least you admit it, but big fat good that is going to do. Besides, as a pastor, I know some gossip is based on truth. What have you to tell me?”
Gramps yelled something to someone then came back on the phone. “I wasn’t going to tell you anything. Didn’t think you’d hear so fast.”
“What. You knew about this all the time, and just when were you going to bother to tell me? I cannot believe this of you, you of all people.” Steam surged from my ears. “You are a bona fide lunatic.” I turned off my laptop, grabbed my purse, tucked the phone under my chin, and walked from the church building. I had to get home. The SUV was blistering, but I slipped in, turned on the engine and fired up the A/C as Gramps said, “Jane, get a grip, and for God’s sake switch to decaf. Why should you get your britches in a bunch about this?”
“Oh, that is rich, Grandfather. Why in heaven’s name would you think I wouldn’t want to know? I’m way too young for hot flashes, but I am flaming, white-hot mad.”
“Didn’t think you’d care, being all busy and that stuff.”
I counted to fifty before I could squeak, “Care? Care.”
“Jane, they’re kids. They do this.”
“Yes, they’ve been doing ‘this’ since Adam and Eve, but it’s still dangerous, and the consequences are plots used for movies on the Hallmark channel.” I huffed and puffed. The man was deranged; that was the only answer.
“The kids deserve a chance at this, don’t you think? Besides, they could be good. Hey, stop that heavy breathing, Jane, they’re all kids, college kids, and renting here like you are. I can get them some gigs and maybe play with them. Why are you so steamed?”
I barely was able to squeak, forget speak. “Wait. What about Harmony? What of her future?”
“Hey, if that’s all you want. We’ll include Harmony if you like, but don’t go ballistic, kid. It’s just a band. She’s a beginner, but I guess she could play.”
“Hold that, mister. Whatever are you yammering about?” The A/C droned on, the engine purred, and I sat there in the parking lot. Stunned.
“Listen closely. Jane, take some breaths and think back about what I’ve been saying.”
“Listen. I’m making breathing sounds. You’d better talk quickly. Why, if you knew for a long time that Harmony was pregnant, didn’t you tell me?”
“Harmony and pregnant? What? Whatever are you talking about? No, this is about the young men who live in the house next door. I’m going to help them, with a condition. If I play with them and manage the band, they’re going to have to stop singing smut and stay in school.”
“A band?”
“ You see, granddaughter, I’ve been watching you with all that’s on your shoulders, with Harmony and the mooching pooch, the love you show without asking what you’re doing or going to get from it, and I looked at how you’ve handled yourself with that nut-nick pastor. Yes, I’ve heard some gossip around. You’ve stepped up to the plate time and again, Janey. You’re my role model, kiddo. Now, honey,
if
Harmony is pregnant and that’s a supersized if, you need to click it down a notch. You come at her like this and the kid’ll spook. Hear me on this?”
“Ah, jeepers. Okay, after I talk to Harmony, and if I can take some breaths and lower my voice, let’s celebrate. What time is your class finished?”
“About six. Janey, one more thing. I’ve been thinking of my gal friend Gerry, too, and how wrong I’ve been to string her along. Do you think she might want to go steady with an old geezer like me?”
“Steady?” I shook my head. “Why are you asking me? And why now?”
“See you later? How about that big seafood buffet? It’s at the MGM, I think, and then we can take the monorail and pretend we’re at Disneyland. Check with Harmony, will you? She
was
looking a bit green today when I left.”
“Gramps, wait,” I screamed, but he was gone.
“Terrible things can happen when girls are on the street,” I said out loud as I drove to the condo. I had been one thing to talking with teenagers about the consequences of sex, but this time, and with Harmony, I just prayed I was ready with the right words. A knock on the window, and ready or not, the decision was made. “Harmony.” I unlocked the door, and she and Tuffy crawled in to settle in the passenger seat.
“Pastor, can we talk?” She looked straight ahead; we both did.
“Talk is good. I’ve been wanting to talk, but this has been a frenetic week.” And then I gulped. “I’m sorry. It’s me. I’ve been too busy to notice you needed to talk.”
“Did you get into a fight at church?” she asked, and I looked down at my stained, ripped and sweaty blouse and would have guessed the same. Then she added, “I’m in trouble.”
While Tuffy licked my face, smashed between us, we hugged. She was rail thin from the worry over the unplanned pregnancy. “Harmony, tell me what happened. Remember, I’m a good listener and no stranger to big problems. You know there are people who love you and will help you, don’t you?”