So he wasn’t a liar. But he was crafty. He’d handpicked the time, knowing I’d be free.
Luna shut the door, closing me in with the preacher. I stared at the landline phone on my desk, half inclined to pick it up and tell Luna to keep the door cracked open. But I couldn’t think of a rational justification. I certainly didn’t believe the preacher was bent upon inflicting physical harassment. He hadn’t come to my chambers to throw a punch, or to steal a kiss.
As he sat across from me, I stared him down, wondering,Just what does he intend to accomplish?
He didn’t make me wait. “Judge Mary, you won’t be surprised to learn that I’ve heard about the abortion case. It’s weighing on me. A heavy burden.” He paused. When I didn’t speak, he sighed and said, “You know I’m Nova Jones’s pastor. I’m ministering to the whole Jones family. And Bria Gaines has also attended my church from time to time.”
I cleared my throat. “I really can’t talk about this, you understand.”
“I do! I do understand, Judge. I’m not here to force any confessions or guarantees out of you. Just here in my capacity as a man of God.”
The audacity of that man shouldn’t have surprised me. I cut him off. “You wanting to pray over me, Reverend? I’d rather skip that. Not comfortable with it in this setting.”
“Hear me out, Judge. I want to counsel you. To tell you this.” He made eye contact, held it. “Do the right thing or don’t do it at all.”
“What did you say to me?”
“You know exactly what I’m saying. What the right thing to do would be. If you can’t do that, well, don’t do it at all.”
Anger surged, making sparks blur my vision. “You got a lot of nerve, Reverend. Trying to influence a judge.”
He raised both hands in a defensive gesture, like he was sayingDon’t shoot!“Don’t take it wrong.”
“How am I supposed to take it?”
“Judge, I’m a pastor, it’s my job to advise people.”
A pulse was beating in my head. I had to work hard to hold on to my temper. “Well, here’s some advice for you. You want to be a preacher, stay out of politics.”
“I’m not talking about politics.”
“The hell you say.”
His eyes widened. Probably because he wasn’t used to people cussing around him. He dropped his voice. “I’m talking about God’s word. The Sixth Commandment. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”
“And I’m talking about your nonprofit status. Your church doesn’t pay taxes.”
It startled him. I could see it in his face. I drove the point home.
“Getting involved in political matters can threaten your tax-exempt status. You know the IRS rules. 501(c)(3). You want to useyour position and pulpit to play with politics, your church can start paying taxes, just like the rest of us.”
He scowled at me. I could see he wasn’t ready to quit.
So I finished it for him. Stood up, grabbed my bag, walked to the door and pulled it open. “I have someplace I need to be. Let’s put a stop to this conversation before you go too far, Reverend.”
He was fuming as he launched out of the chair and left my chambers. But he didn’t say another word. I watched him go. After the door slammed shut behind him, Luna turned to me with her eyes wide. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said. My tone was brusque. I eased off; none of this was Luna’s fault. “We’re getting out of here, Luna. Taking off early. I have to get out of this town.”
CHAPTER
17
MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA
A couple of hours later, I was in Montgomery. Sitting in a waterfront restaurant that looked out on the Alabama River. I studied the menu like I’d never seen it before.
After carefully reviewing the list of dinner entrées, I looked up at the waitress and said, “I believe I’ll have the low country boil.”
