Chapter 19

Allison sat unflinchingly through the whole sermon. She didn't want to show any emotion, any sign that she was on edge about meeting with Pastor Donathon afterwards. She hadn't even thought about this part of her "reformation" until she climbed into the back seat of her father's car. He looked at her in the rearview mirror and reminded her.

She knew what the preacher was going to say, that she was living some sinful life and needed to make amends with God. She could almost hear his condescending tone as he called her to repentance, using all the horrible names that had been so brazenly left behind by whoever broke into Jack and Abigail's house. She shuddered a little. Jack had told her all about the incident while they cuddled after making love a few days before. She felt her hackles rise then, angered that anyone could be so cruel and, well, un-Christian. Ironic that they should quote a Bible verse in denouncing their relationship. Not exactly loving.

After she and Jack cleaned up that day from their lovemaking, he left her with promises that things would work out. As she watched his intense eyes and listened to his words, she felt so hopeful. Sometimes, like now, she didn't feel it quite so strongly. Her mother returned home an hour or so after Jack left and asked how her day was. Allison still didn't quite trust her mother, so didn't give any hint that Jack had been there. However, something in her mom's expression told her that she knew. Still, Sharon hadn't said anything, and neither had her father. Ted had pretty much avoided talking to her, preferring to engage her brothers in conversation. On the surface, things appeared pretty much back to normal.

The movement and sounds of worshippers bowing heads pulled her from her thoughts, but instead of joining them, she turned her attention to the white-haired man beginning to pray. Pastor Donathon was the only preacher she had ever had. While he always seemed cordial to her and the other children in his congregation, she realized she'd rarely spoken to him at any length. Her last real conversation with him had been when she was 12. He made an effort to meet with each youth as they entered their teen years, giving encouragement and counsel. Allison couldn't remember one thing they talked about. Looking at him now, she transferred the disdain she felt for her father onto the evangelist.

The prayer ended and people stood up to quietly exit the sanctuary. Whispered greetings and conversations filled the room as Allison followed her parents and brothers down the aisle. They joined the throng of folks extending thanks and goodbyes to Pastor Donathon. When her father shook hands with the man, Allison noticed the unspoken conversation that flitted between them. He sweetly shook Sharon's hand and then both Brad's and Ben's. He reached out to take Allison's hand, but she hesitated while looking at his face. He wasn't tall, maybe a couple of inches taller than her, but he was stout. His grey eyes twinkled and he was smiling warmly. She slowly took his hand in a shake, but when she tried to release he held on.

"Allison, I'd love to talk to you for a few minutes this afternoon. Would you mind waiting for me outside my office while I finish greeting our congregation?"

Allison shrugged and then nodded. He released her hand.

"We'll just wait out in the garden, Allison," her father said. Allison cringed at his self-satisfied expression. Without a word Allison turned back into the chapel and walked towards the front, exiting the large room through a side door.

Once in the quiet hallway she took a deep breath and counted to 10. On one hand, she didn't really care what this man thought. But on the other, she wasn't sure how much berating and chastising she could take. She went down the hall and into the office suite, taking a seat in the waiting room. Within five minutes, Pastor Donathon entered the room, carrying his large print bible and a stack of papers. He smiled warmly again upon seeing her.

"Allison, come in, come in," he said as he moved past her and through the door to his office. She stood and followed him in. Just inside the door, her eyes went wide. His office was not what she expected. In her mind, his office was just like her father's: cold, dark and pretentious. Pastor Donathon's office was actually almost an exact opposite. His walls were a sunny yellow color and were adorned with dozens of hand drawn and hand painted pictures, mostly religious in nature, and all done by little children. Two big windows let bright sunlight into the room, instantly warming it. On a bookshelf off to one side, among the many theological and religious tomes, were a handful of picture frames. A quick glance showed they were of the pastor in his younger years, accompanied by an assortment of others—likely friends and family. Against the wall opposite the book shelf was a soft couch, part of a seating area with two high-back plush chairs. On the couch was a huge shaggy stuffed dog. Allison couldn't help but smile.

"That was a gift from my grandson," the pastor said, obviously following her gaze. "He won it by bowling a high score for his age group at a fund-raising bowling event about a year ago. He gave it to me because I taught him how to bowl."

"How old is he?" Allison asked, her guard suddenly down.

"Seven."

Allison noticed the wistful tone in his voice. She looked at him and he motioned for her to sit on the couch.

"Is he part of the congregation?"

"No. My son—his father—transferred to a new job about three years ago. Des Moines, Iowa. But they get back often."

Allison felt a little ashamed that she knew so little about this man who had supposedly been her spiritual leader for her whole life. Unfortunately, she had never been particularly interested in anyone outside of her own circle. She knew that she had been pretty spoiled and bratty as a kid, and silently chided herself. She sat next to the dog and the pastor seated himself in one of the chairs with a groan.

"Oh, I'm glad to be off these old feet. They don't handle hours of abuse like they used to." He looked at the young woman for a minute, and Allison steeled herself for the coming onslaught. "So, Allison—you don't mind me calling you Allison, do you? I've never found calling our young people Mr. This or Miss That much to my liking."

Allison shrugged.

"Well, you can call me William—or Bill—if you like. Do you know why I've asked you here today?"

"You want me to confess some great sin."

"No. Actually I asked you here today because your dad asked me to. Seems he thinks you've committed some great sin that you need to confess. Do you want to confess anything?"

Allison sat up straight and looked at him defiantly. "I don't think I have anything to confess."

Bill smiled that warm, disarming smile. "Then why don't we talk about something else. How is school going?"

Allison's jaw just hung open. "What?"

"How is school?"

"Why are you asking that? Don't you want to preach to me or something, tell me I'm living a horrible life?"

William leaned forward. "Allison, confessing a sin is a personal thing, and must be done at the desire of the confessor. If you feel you've a sin to confess or that you need to make restitution with God, I am here as a conduit to Him, if needed. Or just as a counselor, to give guidance and direction. If you have a clear conscience, then who am I to call you a sinner?"

"Well, I guess I just expected ... I mean, do you know what my father says I've done wrong?"

"Yes, I know what he says."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

"I didn't say that. I said you have to decide for yourself if there is something you need to clear up with God. If what your father says is true—and I'm not asking you to tell me unless you feel the need to—than I personally believe that they are choices that don't mesh with God's laws. However, I also don't expect everyone to believe as I believe. I like to believe I have a pretty good grasp of understanding God's word as found in the Bible. But it would pretty arrogant of me to think I understand it all."

Allison was speechless, and part of her felt deflated. She had prepared herself for a confrontation, but unless she pushed the issue, it appeared that the confrontation wouldn't be coming. She just didn't know what to say. Suddenly, Bill chuckled.

"Why the laugh?" she asked.

"I can tell this isn't what you expected when you came to my office. I think you expected me to share your father's viewpoint, as well as his tactics for handling such sinners." Allison sensed a hint of bitterness in his tone. "Allison, I've been preaching for a long time, and I've seen it time and time again. People become intolerant of those who live or believe differently than them. That was not how the Master handled those around him. Wait, let me illustrate this for you." Bill stood up with a groan and circled to his desk, grabbing his Bible. He was back in a flash, settling into his seat. He grinned at Allison. "You wanted me to preach a sermon to you?"

"Well, I..."

"OK. Here you go. Here's an example I want you to take to heart. It's found in St. John, chapter 8. You remember the story of the woman taken in adultery?"

Allison recalled the story and stiffened a little. Bill raised his hand to calm her.

"Wait now. The main topic of the story wasn't adultery. She could have been taken in any sin, or perceived sin. The crux of the story is how Jesus answered her accusers and how he dealt with the accused." Bill looked down at the book, flipped a few pages. "The Pharisees asked Jesus about fulfilling the law by stoning the accused, but Jesus responded 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.' Do you remember what happened next, Allison?"

"All the accusers felt guilty and left."

"Right. And when Jesus asked the accused whether any man had condemned her, she replied that they had not. 'And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.'" Bill closed the book and looked at Allison. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Allison?"

Allison took a moment before answering. "I think so. Jesus didn't condemn her for her actions, didn't even question her. He just asked her to go and avoid sin."

"You see, Allison, so many people take it upon themselves to judge others who do something they view as wrong. Jesus, the one who most likely had the right to pass judgment, left it up to the accused to determine for herself if what she did was wrong. Regardless of her decision, he left counsel to avoid sin. He did not judge her, nor did he even question her actions."

Allison looked thoughtfully at the man. This was not at all how she expected this conversation to go. She was quiet for a long while. After a time, Bill stood up and went back to his desk and started rifling through a desk drawer.

"You've played soccer for a while, haven't you?"

"Umm, yeah. Pretty much since I could run." What an interesting turn in the conversation, she thought.

"A-ha. Here it is." His arm was deep in a desk drawer. He pulled free clasping a document. As he moved back to his chair, Allison could see it was an 8"x10" picture. He groaned as he sat down. "Back in the early 90s, I went with a group of Christian evangelists on a tour of Asia. We somehow got our hands on tickets to a soccer game. World Cup, I think, but I've never really followed the sport much. Met a beautiful young woman who played for the US team, and came away with an autographed picture of her. I'd never heard of her before, and since I don't follow the sport ... Anyway, I just shoved this into a file drawer when I returned and didn't think about it until now. I'd like you to have it."

Allison reached out and accepted the offered picture, and then her eyes opened wide when she saw who it was.

"Joy Fawcett! Wow, I love watching her play. She's practically my idol!" Allison looked at the pastor, sure his grin was a mirror of her own. She felt her eyes begin to tear. "Thank you so much."

He just kept smiling at her enthusiasm. The conversation turned to casual topics for a few minutes before he decided she should return to her family. When they stood, Allison gave him a warm hug, then looked at him seriously.

"Bill, what are you going to tell my father we talked about?"

"I won't tell him anything unless you want me to. Spiritual leader confidentiality thing and all that."

Allison hugged him again. "Tell him you preached to me, even read to me about the adulteress. That should keep him happy."

Bill smiled, but Allison could make out a sadness in his eyes. "Sadly, so many of believers seem to miss the bigger picture, the real truths found in the Bible. They choose only to focus on a few points—important as they are—and forget the rest." He sighed. "Too many believers have become like the Pharisees they claim to abhor."

Allison wondered if he included her father in that group, but before she could comment, he changed tracks.

"One last word of advice, Allison. There was a moment in the Bible where Jesus was confronted by his adversaries as he dined with 'sinners and publicans'. When asked why he chose that less-than-desirable company, he simply stated 'They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.' Participating in church, keeping your faith in Christ, those are important for all of us, no matter whether your actions are viewed as a sin or not. Please don't let people drive you away."

Allison placed her hand on his arm and nodded at him, surprised that her emotions wouldn't allow her to speak. She reluctantly left his warm office to join her family.

Ted hung up the phone, feeling tired and more than a little perturbed. Bill Donathon was a fool. It had taken an incredible amount of cajoling and more than a little veiled threatening of withheld donations before the old pastor would say anything about his conversation with Allison the day before. When he finally did relent, he was vague and general in his terms. Yes, he did tell Allison that he believed what Ted said Allison was engaged in was a sin. Yes, he did preach, even breaking out the story of the adulteress. Yes, he encouraged her to attend her services and not throw her faith away. Ted grunted. All that was well and good, but why did he have to be so damn calm about the whole thing. Numbers, that's why. Just like so much of the rest of evangelical class, Bill was more concerned about filling his pews than teaching with fiery indignation. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, or so they say.

Ted leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Maybe Bill's tenure as this community's spiritual counselor was drawing to a close. Ted grabbed a pen and jotted a note to touch base with a few of the church's governing board. Informally, of course.

A tap on the door drew Ted's attention. "Enter."

Jean entered the office. "Mrs. Darby needs to postpone the discussion of setting up her trust fund until next week." She placed a stack of papers and envelopes in his wire inbox. "I rescheduled for Tuesday. Also, we need signatures on these two loan applications." She set the folders in front of him, then placed a large, thick manila envelope in his inbox. "Would you like me to order you lunch in, or are you eating out?"

He grabbed his expensive pen and set about signing the applications. He didn't read them. He knew these belonged to children of two of his associates. The loans were risky, but a promise was a promise. "I'll go out, I think." He closed the folders and handed them to Jean. "Anything else?"

"No, sir." Jean departed and closed the door behind her.

Ted immediately grabbed the large envelope, his curiosity piqued. No return address, though he was pretty sure who it came from. He grabbed his letter opener and sliced into the envelope. He carefully extracted the stack of documents and thumbed through them with a widening smile. Copies of police reports, court documents, old photographs, transcripts of interviews. He pressed the call button on his intercom.

"Jean? On second thought, grab a sandwich for me. I think I will work through lunch."

He leaned back in his chair and began to read about one Jackson Lee Williams.

Jack,

Drop by my office when you get a chance.

Phil

That was all the e-mail said, so Jack shut down the browser, grabbed his pack, signed out of the computer lab, and quickly made his way across campus. He silently praised the birth and growth of web-based e-mail during the last few years.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Jack had approached Phil about help with his plan, and time was not their friend. It was already early April. Jack's graduation was a little more than a month away, and Ted's deadline for his son-in-law to disappear was looming. Jack planned to leave town, but he didn't intend to leave empty-handed. He fought the urge each day to call Phil, telling himself that his friend would contact him when he was ready.

Within minutes of receiving the e-mail he was leaning into Phil's office. The older man looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Jack. That was fast."

"I just happened to be checking my e-mail."

Phil smirked. "I'm guessing that you check your e-mail when you get to campus each day, between classes and before you go home."

"Well, maybe. Just a little anxious." Jack plopped down into a chair.

"Then let's cut to the chase. My contacts have made some headway, but we're hardly where we need to be." He handed Jack a stack of papers. "Most of what's there are just accounts of conversations my contacts have had with a variety of individuals, but there are some old press clippings that were intriguing. At this point, all evidence is circumstantial. We have nothing concrete."

Jack flipped through the papers, stopping to read from time to time. "Wow. Surely the volume of stuff here adds some credence the accusations."

Phil shrugged. "Maybe, but I wouldn't bet the bank on it. Flip through the press clippings. Some of the stuff looks pretty real. Most of the discrimination complaints against Garner's bank, though, were cleared through banking audits. Similar articles regarding questionable hiring practices, charitable giving and community involvement are based only on verbal accounts. And none of those articles include a second, follow-up article."

"You think he might be paying someone off to keep this out of the public eye?"

"Could be, though you are, of course, jumping to the conclusion that Garner is guilty."

"He's guilty."

"Careful, Jack. You can't do this based on emotion. If you want to nail the bastard, you have to have proof. Oftentimes the media will give some minor space to questionable issues to see if they can flush out concrete proof of indiscretion. It could be that none of these panned out and the paper just buried the story as a false lead."

Jack continued to read through the papers. The press clippings were interesting, but what really got his attention were the angles Phil's contacts had with community involvement. One mentioned that they heard First Community Bank would pull team sponsorships from youth sports leagues if teams started minorities or non-Protestant kids over White Anglo-Saxon Protestant kids. One accusation was parroted by a couple of Hispanic folks. Seems a 10-year-old kid named Juan Chavez was kicked out of the youth football league because of repeated flagrant unsportsmanlike penalties and parents began to complain for their kids' safety. Jack found it interesting that Juan was the starting safety for the team, and Brad Garner was his back-up.

Another lead listed all the high school and college students hired for summer jobs or internships by First Community Bank. There were a few minorities over the years, but almost all were from WASP families Jack had heard of. And he'd only lived in this community since he started going to school four years before.

Jack looked up at Phil, who was grading a stack of papers. "This is interesting. Can I ask you to have your guys focus on a couple of these angles for me? First, this community involvement stuff sounds pretty interesting. And it meshes with a story Abigail heard at the health center a while back."

"We could, but finding evidence on something like that is pretty difficult. It's not likely there will be a paper trail documenting this, so the only strength will be the quantity of recorded instances of the transgressions." Phil leaned forward and looked hard a Jack. "Listen to what I'm telling you, Jack. You need to put your focus on proving that Ted has engaged in illegal practices, not on proving that he's a bigoted jerk. You have limited time, Jack."

Jack met his gaze with one of his own. "I understand what you are saying, Phil. You need to understand, though, that anything that might ruin his reputation is a big deal to that man. I wanted to focus on what appears to be the most solid threat I have to his standing."

"Jackson Williams, quit being so goddamned selfish."

Jack flinched at the cutting and unexpected dig. "What?"

"All you can think about is trying to get back at the man who has wronged YOU." Phil's words were steady, yet filled with fire. "You have opened a Pandora's Box of illegal and unethical activity. There are potentially dozens of people who have been wronged by this man, and you have the opportunity to bring justice for those people."

"I..."

"Look at those documents, son. Accusations of discrimination, bribery, blackmail, threats, even stalking. Not just by Ted Garner, but by other upstanding men in this community. This isn't about just smearing the man's name. It's about standing up for those who are unable to stand up for themselves, for meting out justice for them and wiping out decades of bigotry and hatred."

Jack couldn't help but smile in the face of Phil's intensity. "You know, Phil, you should consider advocating for civil rights reform."

Phil was breathing hard after his impassioned speech, but Jack's comment broke the spell, and he smiled in return. "I'll take that into consideration. Jack, do you realized what you've started here?"

"Yeah. I guess I do." And he did, though he wasn't sure he wanted to head down that route. "I face a dilemma, then. When I confront Ted Garner, I want to use this as leverage. You know, give me what I want, and I won't leak your indiscretions. If I say that, and then leak it anyway ... You know me, Phil. I'm a man of my word. If I say I won't do it, then I can't."

"Jack..."

Jack cut him off with a raised finger. "However, if someone else was to discover proof of illegal activities without my help, and then report it to the press, not much I can do about that, is there?"

Phil considered this statement for a moment, then leaned back with a sigh. "Dammit, Jack. I got out of this a long time ago. I'm too old, and I just don't have time for it. I was content to just do the professor thing. Then you show up in my office and now I'm behind on grading papers, counseling with students, conducting research and every other thing that comes with my job."

"And you love it."

"You bet your ass I do."

Jack sat back and took a deep breath. "OK. How would you proceed? Keep in mind my short timetable."

Phil rubbed his chin. "Let's see. For now, your best bet may be the hiring thing. Papers have been filed for each employee and intern. Look at family background, race, religion, length of employment, advancement, where those employees and interns ended up after leaving the bank. I'd be interested to see what happened to the minorities who worked for First Community. The whole youth sports involvement can be used as added fuel, but by itself will do little."

"OK. I'll leave it in your capable hands. Is there anything I can do?"

"And remain incognito? Doubtful. Just continue to keep up appearances. After we get what you need, I plan to really dig into the hardcore stuff."

"Speaking of which, you mentioned there are accusations of stalking. How does that fit in with all of this?"

Phil motioned to the pile of papers in Jack's hand. "Scattered throughout the documents there are references that people felt like they were being followed or watched, descriptions of men who seemed to show up frequently in the most interesting places. Enough references to it that it is most definitely suspicious."

Suddenly, it made sense to Jack. Shit, Jack cursed to himself. Shit, shit, shit! Of course. That would explain how Ted seemed to have so much knowledge of Jack and Allison's actions. The snow day seemed to be the only day that was mentioned in most rumors running through the rumor mill. Except Ted seemed to have knowledge of far more moments than just that day, times when not only Jack and Allison were together, but possibly times when Allison and Abigail were together.

Jack stood and extended his hand. "Phil, you've been such a big help. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Phil shook Jack's hand and then held it in a firm grip. "Just make something good of your life. That's all I've ever wanted, all your grandparents ever wanted."

"I will, Phil. I promise."

Brianna took a sip of her Dr. Pepper. She was quiet as Abigail and Tammy chatted about people they went to school with. As she observed the two older girls, she felt the slight pang of sadness at the thought that in only a few weeks, Allison would likely be living across the country. Even though Abigail and Tammy hadn't run in the same circles in high school, their commonality reminded Brianna of her friendship with Allison.

Abigail had called Brianna and asked to meet with her and Tammy for dinner, saying that they needed to discuss some important things. So Brianna was just waiting for the right moment to subtly maneuver the conversation to the real purpose. She took another gulp of her pop and wiped her mouth.

"Why did you want to see me and Tammy?" Brianna interrupted. Subtly was not really her strong suit.

Abigail smiled. "No time for chit-chat?"

"You can chit-chat after you tell me what's up. I'm going crazy here."

"I have to admit, I'm curious, too," Tammy echoed.

Abigail popped a French fry into her mouth and chewed slowly before answering. She glanced around the sparsely populated restaurant, and then turned back to the sisters. "Well, I had a couple of reasons. First, I never really got to thank either of you for what you did for Allison last month." She paused for a moment, and Brianna sensed the older girl on the verge of tears. "I don't even want to know what might have happened if you hadn't been there."

Brianna also felt a surge of emotion, but choked it down. "I'd do anything for Allison. She's been my best friend since, well, forever."

Abigail smiled at Brianna in acknowledgement, then turned to Tammy. "Tammy, you didn't even know what you were getting into, yet you did it without asking questions. Even now you don't ask for any answers to what's going on."

Brianna looked at Tammy, and smiled as her sister fidgeted. She knew Tammy was dying to know what was going on, but was too considerate to pry. She also knew that Tammy hated being the object of even the slightest praise.

Abigail continued. "I'm going to tell you what's going on. Not entirely because of what you did, but because I think you need to know."

"I don't need to know anything. I helped because it was the right thing to do and because Allison is Brianna's friend. You aren't obligated to tell me anything."

"But you need to know, Tammy, because I need to ask you for more help."

Brianna was surprised and looked between the two women. "What's going on, Abbie?"

Abigail didn't look at Brianna, but kept her eyes focused on Tammy. "Some interesting information came to light today, but before I can tell you that I need to try to explain what's going on so Tammy will understand."

Tammy hesitated a moment, then nodded.

Brianna sat back and mentally recorded Abigail's telling of the events leading up to that day. She hadn't heard the whole story spelled out in quite so much detail. Abigail told of how she discovered about Jack and Allison, and how she came to peace with it. She told of how Analise was blackmailing the two, but didn't explain what Analise had expected in return for being quiet. Brianna guessed Jack himself was probably the payment. As Abigail spoke, Brianna thought to her own family. She had always assumed her parents didn't really care about her or what she did. But in hindsight, she realized how much they did care. In an effort to exert her own independence, she'd subconsciously pushed them away. It took her best friend's messed up situation for Brianna to realize what she'd had all along. She vowed to herself to be a better daughter. Looking at Tammy, she vowed to be a better sister, too. Tammy was watching Abigail with rapt attention, and then briefly her eyes flashed surprise at something Abigail said. Brianna glanced back at Abigail who was looking down, obviously uncomfortable. Brianna had lost her focus.

"I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did." Abigail had tears in her eyes as she looked at Brianna. "Please don't hate Allison for this. She's still the same person, no matter who she's made love to."