“If you love him, you’ll leave him,” she saidsimply.Then she turned and picked her way back over the roughgravel toward her car.
Lucas wanted to shout words of defiance afterher, but he had none.If he’d opened his mouth all that would havecome out was an angry, hurt roar.Maybe not even a roar.Maybe justa whimper.
He watched her leave, then sank down into acrouch and leaned back against the barn wall.Too many echoes, butnot enough to drown out the truth.If you love him, you’ll leavehim.Lucas knew what he needed to do, but he wasn’t sure wherehe’d find the strength to actually do it.
ChapterForty-Six
“We’re just going to listen,” Daniel Cohensaid.The lawyer sounded as if he’d said the same thing tocountless clients countless times.“We don’t decide anything rightnow, and we don’t give them any information.Okay?You can exchangegreetings, talk about the weather a bit, but that’s it.”
Mark nodded.He understood the strategy.Thechurch had come to a preliminary conclusion about Mark’s situation,but nothing was formalized yet.Nothing was final.Mark needed tokeep his mouth shut and let Daniel do his job.
“We walk away, discuss their offer, and getback to them with a counter-offer if needed.”
“It’s definitely going to be some sort ofoffer?You’re sure they aren’t going to just apologize for beingparanoid and ask me to get back to work as soon as possible?”
“That would be lovely.And it’s notcompletely impossible.But I don’t think it’s the most likelyoutcome, no.”
Mark nodded slowly.This was all so far fromwhat he wanted the church to be about.They should be helpingpeople and serving God, not negotiating the minutiae of anemployment contract.Mark wanted it all to be over so he could getback to what was important.
But he tried to look serious, if not quitepenitent, as they were shown into the conference room where theothers were already waiting.Amanda Tisdale, the church’s lawyer;Dr.Berton, the bishop’s lapdog, or maybe his pitbull; and severalothers, all wearing suits and looking businesslike.Mark waswearing dress pants and a blazer with an open necked shirt.Hehadn’t worn his collar in months and hadn’t missed it at all, butsuddenly his neck felt bare, as if he needed some symbol ofauthority and respectability.He tried to ignore his discomfort andsank into the chair beside Daniel.
The meeting started with paperwork.It wasridiculous, all of them sitting there and watching Amanda Tisdalepassing sheets of papers across the table to Daniel.He glanced ateach set, said he’d review them and get back to her, and waited forthe next set.They were here to decide the future of Mark’s careerand he was yawning with boredom.
Finally, Tisdale nodded toward Dr.Berton andhe gave Mark an oily smile.“We’ve managed to settle things withMr.Wilson.Obviously there was some damage done by the publicityin this case, but we’ve managed to contain it.”He seemed to bewaiting for congratulations but Mark couldn’t bring himself tooblige.
“So now we need to move forward,” Bertonfinally said.“We think it’s time for you to return to a moreactive role in the church.Terry Groban has spoken very highly ofyou.He says you are at your best when serving parishionersdirectly.He also says that you’ve had a loss in your family—ourcondolences—and that this is consequently not an ideal time for youto relocate.”Berton frowned.“We’d prefer that you did.We thinkyou could benefit from a fresh start.But Father Groban is awell-respected member of our organization and he has considerableinfluence.So against our better judgment, we’re willing to let youreturn to your former post.Is that the position you’re mostinterested in?”
“It is,” Mark said quietly after receivingDaniel’s nod of permission to speak.
“You need to be aware,” Berton said, “thatyou will have less personal freedom in that position than you mighthave if you were working elsewhere.In the city, or in a post thatdoesn’t involve working with young people, there would be more roomfor you to…express yourself.You would still be expected to behavewith dignity and self-control, but there wouldn’t be as muchscrutiny of your…relationships.”Berton paused and fixed Mark witha knowing gaze.
“I think you need to clarify what you’resaying,” Daniel said firmly.“Are you suggesting that Mr.Webber’sacceptance of this position is conditional?And what form ofpersonal expression is it that you’re trying to limit?”
“We’re not trying to limit any form ofexpression,” Tisdale said quickly.“But a significant part of Mr.Webber’s former job was parishioner relations, and to a lesserextent, community relations.In order to perform that job well, hemay need to make compromises in his personal life.The limitsaren’t imposed by the church, but by the community.”
“I thought the church was supposed toleadthe community,” Mark said quietly.He could feel Daniellooking at him worriedly, but the lawyer didn’t try to interrupt.“I would have thought that as long as I lived my life in accordancewith the church’s teachings, we would take community disapproval asa learning opportunity for them, not a sign that I need to changemy behavior.”
“You can’t teach people if they refuse tolisten,” Berton said.“We can’t race so far ahead of ourparishioners that they can’t see us anymore.We can’t take bigsteps if they’re only ready for little ones.”
“I’m hearing a lot of what we can’t do,” Marksaid.“What can we do?Because I’m gay, and I can’t hide that.Irefuse to.Can I live my life as an openly gay priest?”
“Gay, yes,” Berton said carefully.“Butyou’re aware of the church’s teachings on premarital sex.”
“And I’m aware that I can’t get married, atleast in this diocese.So I’m expected to be celibate?”
“A restriction that does not apply toheterosexual Anglican priests,” Daniel interjected with a pointedlook in Tisdale’s direction.The lawyers were clearly layinggroundwork of some sort but Mark wasn’t concerned about that.Hewas looking for something deeper.
“Not necessarily celibate,” Berton said.“Butdiscrete.And you’re expected to find a partner who will notoutrage the members of your congregation, not to mention themembers of your own family.”
“Yes, let’snotmention his family,”Daniel said firmly, “since they have nothing to do with any ofthis.”
“We can debate the church’s policies at someother time.”Berton leaned back in his chair as if physicallydemonstrating his new distance from the discussion.“For now, wejust need to make it clear that, like every other parish priest,gay or straight, Mr.Webber will be expected to live his life inaccordance with certain rules and in a way that does not offend hiscongregation.We would not approve of a heterosexual priest who wascarrying on an affair with a convicted criminal, and we do notapprove of those actions from a homosexual priest.The relationshipbetween the crime and Mr.Webber’s family is also something thatwould certainly create doubt about Mr.Webber’s judgment, both inthe minds of the parishioners and in the eyes of the church.”
Mark tried not to wonder how the church knewabout Lucas, whether his mother had been the one to tell them.Instead he searched his mind for a reaction to the words he washearing.“What are you saying?I need it spelled out for me.”
“I don’t think you do,” Berton said primly.“I think you need to search your conscience and ask yourselfwhether you can perform your role as a spiritual leader without thesupport of those you lead.And then I think you need to askyourself what is likely to get in the way of you receiving thatsupport.And then you need to do something about it.”He smiledgently.“I don’t think your relationship is public knowledge.Notyet.The church can understand that you were under considerablestress and made a mistake.But we can’t approve of a decision tocontinue any further along the wrong road.And your congregationwill likely be even less understanding about it, should they everfind out.”
“You’re asking me to choose between Lucas andthe church,” Mark said.He was almost talking to himself.Lucas.The church.The church and Mark’s mother, the only family he hadleft.He’d contemplated the choice before but it had always beendistant, theoretical.Now that it was being placed before him andhe was actually forced to pick one side, things weren’t as easy asthey’d been before.He thought of the peace he found in hisprayers, the serene joy he felt when he listened to the choir singwords of praise to God.And the work he did for the church—thesense of purpose that had imbued itself into every aspect of hislife.And then he thought of Lucas.
