The Pastor

Confession

The pastor typed on his computer. The February wind shook the office window as he leaned back in his chair. Thank you, God, for choosing me to help my flock. His eyes settled on his wife’s smiling photograph, and he sighed. The mouse arrow hovered over the upload button. He breathed in and clicked upload.

The pastor grabbed the brown paper bag and set it on the passenger seat. The wrapper crinkled as his car began to move. The pastor finished the last bite as he arrived home. He breathed and exited the car; a greasy cross remained on the rearview mirror’s surface. The front door opened and sighed as he went into the house.

“Hello, Honey. The pot roast sure smells good.” He moved to her side and went to kiss her lips. She turned her face, and he pecked her cheek. They took their seats at opposite ends of the table. The pastor saw her looking at his pants as they sat down. Their eyes met. She shook her head as they both began to eat.

The pastor finished his meal quickly and slid his chair back. He avoided eye contact as he got up. The salad sat untouched on the table next to his dirty plate. He left the kitchen and headed to the living room.

The pastor sank into his lounge chair as the TV came on. He leaned to the side as he searched for a package of cookies under the cushion. His phone came on as he took a bite and checked how many views his post had. The phone slid next to his leg as he dozed off in the chair.

The pastor woke in the chair and noticed the TV was off. Morning light shone through the window as he stood. His body felt heavy as he moved past the master bedroom door and entered the guest bathroom. He quickly showered and changed clothes. His belt felt tight. He heard Joanna cough as the front door closed behind him.

The pastor pulled into the gas station parking lot and discarded his trash before entering.

“Good morning, Kristy,” he said while making his way to the coffee and warm breakfast sandwiches.

“Good morn’, Pastor.” The pastor grabbed two of the sandwiches and set them on the counter.

“I hope we see you on Sunday.”

“We will be there.”

He paid and exited the store. The church parking lot was empty except for his secretary’s car when he arrived.

“Good morning, Sandy,” he said as he walked by her desk to his office.

“Good morning, Pastor.” The office door closed behind him. He sat down at his desk and unwrapped his first sandwich.

The pastor finished the second sandwich and threw the wrapper in the trash can. He moved his hand to the mouse and opened a new document. The cursor blinked as he paused and took out his phone. He looked at the page view count and placed the phone on his desk. The pastor leaned forward as he began typing. The office wall clock ticked as he hit print. The pastor exited his office and went to his secretary’s desk. She handed him the papers while talking on her headset. He exited the church and headed to the coffee shop across the street.

The bell rang on the coffee shop door as the pastor entered and looked for Grady. The older man stood up. The pastor went to the corner table and sat down. A coffee and a Danish were waiting for him. He handed the papers to Grady and grabbed the fork off the napkin. The pastor finished his Danish as the waitress refilled his coffee. He took a sip as Grady set the last page down.

“You’re so brave, Pastor.” He set down his mug as their conversation shifted to parishioner gossip. Tomorrow will show Joanna that this is part of God’s plan.

Brunch

Joanna paused in front of the hallway mirror. The wooden paneled walls of the clubhouse barely reflected any light. She adjusted her hair as the pastor waited. He looked at her and didn’t see any change. She turned to him and adjusted his tie. They entered the brightly lit dining room together.

The pastor looked around and saw Raymond in the corner. Raymond was talking to a man in a dark blue suit. The two men laughed as Raymond noticed the pastor and Joanna. Raymond waved them over. The pastor followed Joanna and, for the first time, saw that she was wearing a light blue dress.

“Alright, Tom. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s service.” Raymond finished his conversation, turned to the pastor, and motioned for the couple to sit down. The man in the suit left, and Raymond spoke to the pastor as he took his seat. “What a bright young man, really turned around our Quail Cove congregation. Passionate and teachable. Good golf game too.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Raymond, please.” He slid his black boots under the table.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Honey?” The pastor saw a white smile.

“Of course, dear. This is Glenda, my wife and co-spiritual journey partner.”

“Joanna.” The pastor’s wife responded to Raymond, “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course. Hopefully, we can do this again in the summer so you can really see the course shine.” Raymond nodded towards the large window near their table.

“You and golf.” Glenda looked at Joanna.

“Good morning, sir,” the waiter addressed Raymond, nodding to the rest of the table as he placed the menus on the white cloth.

“Good morning, Jacob,” Glenda directed her smile at the young man. The waiter smiled back as he left the table. The pastor read the menu as he smelled maple syrup.

“Everything is excellent. Order whatever you want.” Raymond said while looking at his wife. Glenda slid her hand over Joanna’s.

“The Benedict is especially good. You should get that.” Joanna retracted her hand before Glenda could finish.

It looks like my leopard met the tigress.

Raymond cleared his throat. The waiter returned to take their orders.

“My husband will have the French toast, bacon, and home fries. Also, a Bloody Mary, double and extra spicy. I’ll have the Greek yogurt with berries and almonds. Just water.” Glenda handed her menu to the waiter as he shifted his attention to Joanna.

“I’ll have two scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried tomatoes instead of home fries.”

“And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the…” the pastor hesitated, “Fren.., no, I’ll have oatmeal.” The Pastor looked at his lap as he handed his menu to the waiter. He slowly lifted his head and saw that Joanna was looking out the window.

“So, Pastor. Are you ready for the big day tomorrow? That post took some gumption.” The pastor shifted his gaze in response to Raymond’s question.

“I hope so! You know you’re going to help so many women who are part of this struggle, too.” Glenda added while looking at the pastor.

“I know I’m part of God’s pl…” The waiter began setting down their orders before he could finish. The pastor looked at Raymond’s French toast before his eyes settled on his bowl of oatmeal.

“Now, Pastor. Would you please lead us in grace?” Raymond requested. The pastor’s throat tightened.

“Dear father. I want to sincerely thank you for providing us…”

“A bit louder, dear. I can’t quite hear you.”

“Dear father.” The pastor heard his voice crack. “I want to thank you, sincerely, for the gratitude of our fellowship. My mentor and his wife for their support, and this bountiful meal for helping to feed our bodies. In your glory. Amen.”

Joanna stood, and her jaw tightened. She walked out of the dining room.

the shower faucet turned slowly in her hand. The pipes groaned in the wall. Frost webbed the outside of the bathroom window. She waited. The mirror slowly fogged.

Warm enough, her hand brushed the falling water. The pink robe sat on the tiled floor as she stepped under the water. Her shoulders relaxed. Joanna’s breath lengthened in the quiet, deepening warmth.

he toweled her body dry. The tile floor felt warm on her feet as she put her robe on. The bell note turned her head as she opened the vanity drawer. She paused before taking her hair dryer out. A loud tap on the door interrupted her. A strain in his voice pushed through the door, and she tightened her grip on the hair dryer.

“I know.”

Her foot sank into the carpet, and her shoulder tightened as the hanger squeaked. Joanna heard the click of claws. She felt warm breath against her leg. Her upper chest settled. The front door lock clicked. The car seat was cold as she sat down. Joanna saw the greasy cross was still there. She heard the cough hit wrong. His hands shook as he adjusted the radio, and the music got louder. The ground crunched, and the cold rose against her ankle. The pastor looked at the church as he stepped out of the car.

Her neck stiffened from the thud. Joanna’s eyes turned to Grady. She saw his head lift before he began moving towards the pastor. Grady quickly leaned in and grabbed the pastor’s wrist. She saw the men’s shadows lengthen and heard the brushing fabric. His eyes flicked towards her.

“Joanna.” She nodded. “Well, pastor, I’m sure you need to get inside to get ready.” Grady shifted his weight toward the church.

The door latch scraped. Joanna’s breath caught as her nose stung. She blinked as her footsteps echoed in the hallway.

“Good morning, Joanna.” A white smile waited for her. The woman closed the distance and touched her arm. Joanna’s shoulders locked.

“Good morning, Susan.”

“I hope you’ll join me up front today. I saved your spot already.” Joanna’s shoulders stayed locked.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, hi there!”

The mechanical hum of the lights hit her ears, and her breath tightened. A small brown stain on the cushion, the foam bulging beneath it. She stood for a moment, her jaw clicking. Her jaw stayed locked as she sat. A stamped bible sat in the rack. Another church’s name showed on the cover. Her jaw stayed tight.

Her breath caught as the first note hit. The door to the pastor’s office opened, and feet scuffled. Her fingers curled as he stopped at the pulpit. The final note landed wrong, and her fingers clenched tighter. The sanctuary went still.

“Dearly Beloved,” the harsh echo cracked through the mic. Her breath stilled. The pastor’s head dropped as papers scraped. The lights hummed. The papers hit the floor, and her nails dug into her palm. Her back froze as the harsh inhale hit the room. She heard his shoes scrape the floor as he bent down. A thin voice broke the quiet behind her.

“You’re so brave, pastor.” Her breath stopped, and her spine stayed rigid.

“Thank you, Grady.” Joanna felt her hand loosen. “Dearly Beloved.” His words thinned.

“Amen,” came from behind her, and she breathed. She blinked. The applause began, and Joanna’s shoulders tightened. She felt a hand on her arm. Joanna looked down at her arm and saw a silver ring.

“You need to go up. He was so brave today,” the smile whispered. She saw the pulpit ahead of her. Joanna felt the pressure leave her arm. Her neck tightened, and she saw the pastor’s teeth.

“Joanna.” She felt her jaw clench. Joanna saw a glint and felt him getting closer. She felt pressure on her shoulder. Her breath shortened. She felt the pressure leave her shoulder.

“Let the rabbits wear glasses.” Joanna felt her chest get tight and her throat lock. Something pitched inside her — too quick, too familiar — and her breath stuttered. A soft voice neared her.

“…a message we all needed to hear.” Joanna’s eye flicked. A figure stood close, and another waited behind them. She felt pressure on her arm.

“…and you should start your own support group.” Her breath locked, and her neck tightened. A small nod moved through her. A body stepped away, and sound opened around her. Something hissed in the distance — coffee, maybe. Her feet moved. The next thing she felt was the edge of a table beneath her fingers. Something sweet drifted in. Warm paper rested against her hand. A mechanical hum pressed in. Dull pressure followed.

“Thank you,” her voice said without her. Pressure touched her elbow — warm, wrong.

“Joanna…” The voice moved, and a few words reached her: “office… help…” The chair slid back — wood on tile, a thin scrape. Her shadow thinned along the hallway wall as she moved towards the office. The doorway met her. A sour smell pushed out, then settled. Trash bulged at the rim, wrappers slumping over the bin’s edge. Her hand moved across the desk, brushing crumbs into her palm. Something clicked under her fingers. A glow rose. Her hand stopped. The image settled.

A white smile met her first. Light pooled around it on the screen. Something in her chest tightened, low and sharp. Beneath the smile, skin and angles — wrong, too close. Her breath shuddered once. Then the black boots at the bottom of the frame. Still. Watching. Something dropped inside her. She knew those boots. Brunch.

Her palm brushed the mouse lightly, almost nothing. A click followed, sharp in the quiet. A small window flickered on the screen. Then her legs took her. The office fell away. The air hit her as she stepped outside. Her feet found pavement, each step sounding sharper than she expected. She kept walking. The rhythm of her own steps pressed in, louder than the traffic.

A bell chimed. Joanna looked up. A couple stepped out of a diner, holding the door open for a moment before it swung shut. She stopped. The next step brought her toward it.

Warm air wrapped around her as she pushed inside. She moved without choosing a table; the nearest booth met her, and she sat. Vinyl pressed against her back. A mug touched the table with a soft claw. Joanna nodded.

The waitress’s tired voice hovered above her.

“And what can I get you, hon?” Joanna paused. A shape under glass caught her eye: pale crust, sugared top, a slice waiting. Her mouth felt warm before she spoke.

“Apple pie.”

“I’ll warm that up for you. Be just a few minutes.”

He walks down the hallway. A soft whistle leaves him — not cheerful but self-sure, loose. He calls out, “Joanna?” as he pushes his office door open. The room answers with sour air and stale heat. The laptop glow catches his eye — the screen still awake. He takes a step toward it. Then another. He stops before reaching the desk. His body tilts. His shoulders meet the wall. The whistle is gone.

Their truck hums along the road, the windows rattling. Raymond laughs at something Glenda says, his hand lightly on the wheel. His phone buzzes against the console. He glances, answers. Glenda watches his posture change — the slow drop of his shoulders, the way his jaw shifts. His voice goes thin. A few words leak out, not meant for her: “…picture… church… webpage…” The truck keeps moving. Glenda doesn’t breathe.

A sound touched her ear. Joanna’s breath caught. It was only a plate settling on the table. Her breath eased. She took the fork. The crust gave under the edge. She lifted the bite. Outside, leaves moved across the gray pavement. Warm pie met her mouth.