Bad Preacher

“Pastor Brad?” said Earl.

I turned to him. “Yes?”

“This is not over,” he said, “not by a long shot.”

I swallowed hard as I looked at him. “See you gentlemen later,” I said before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind me.

I heard the door lock click behind me before I’d taken two steps down the hall. I should have just kept walking, but something made me stop and listen. I’d like to say it was righteous indignation, but honestly, it was probably fear.

“Can you believe him?” said Earl. “Now where could a pastor get that kind of money? He’s no good for us, I tell you, and it’s not hard to see that he’s been up to something, probably stealing money from the church.”

“I like him, and I believe him,” said Ernie. “I don’t see why he would steal money from the church. Besides, he’s been really supportive to Connie and me.”

“It’s a cover-up!” said Earl. “Archie and the rest of the deacons are going to hear about this. I’m going to make sure about that.”

“Why don’t you just drop it, Earl? What’s done is done.”

“Not going to happen,” said Earl. “No way, no how.”

My head fell to my chest. Suddenly, I felt guilty and defeated. I was being reported to the deacon board. I had returned the money I found and had told the church treasurer all about it, but I had used it selfishly and had lied about the results. Snapping back at Earl hadn’t improved my situation either.

Earl was a loud-mouthed idiot, but I was beginning to believe that he was right about me. Maybe I was no good for this church. Maybe I was no good period.