Scandalous by H.M. Ward Page A

loans.”
    He shook his head, either shocked or appalled. I couldn’t tell. I felt his gaze on the side of my face, and turned to look at him. He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “What’d you do? What could have you possibly done?”
    More squirming. “Jack, do you really have to know? It was stupid. Stupid enough to get me fired and thrown in jail.”
    His eyes were wide, “You went to jail?”
    I sighed, “Should have. If it were any other job, I would have.” Jack looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin if I didn’t tell him. I dove into the story and didn’t come up for air until I was done. “It was bothering me. All these people pile into the pews week after week and ignore my sermons. I’d just finished a series on helping the poor, but it fell on deaf ears.” I sneered without meaning to as I stared into space, “They bought gold plates, pricey Jesus art, and new tapestries. Meanwhile they drive around in big old Caddies with a Jesus fish on their trunks, plowing down poor people at WalMart like they’re parking cones. I snapped.”
    “What’d you do?” he asked.
    “I kind of took their lavish stuff and sold it. You know, the communion plates, the flower arrangements, the carved mahogany table that was just like one Jesus might have carved.” I rolled my eyes, not looking at Jack. He was completely still. “Basically, I took all their crap and got rid of it. I switched things back to baskets and tin, and gave the money to the poor. I proudly announced what I’d done after the cheap WalMart baskets were passed through the church. People murmured about the gold plates. When I said I sold them there was a collective gasp, until someone asked where the silver ones went.” Looking Jack straight in the eye, I said, “They went the way of the gold plates. That nearly caused a mob. The town sheriff was there, getting his holy on, and said it could have been considered theft, but since churches are supposed to give to the poor— and I was their only minister—they couldn’t fire me without breaking my contract. Doing that would’ve meant they had to pay out my contract right then and there before they could shoo me out the door.”
    “Holy shit, Abby!” he grinned, clearly excited. “You went all Robin Hood on your own church! What’d they do?”
    “Yeah, that’s where this story goes south. They turned things around one me. They did to me what I did to them. After a few hours of debating in the boardroom, they came up with my sentence. They said if I survived a year on nothing but the grace of God, they’d take me back. There are stipulations in my contract that were put there for other reasons, but they twisted it. So it was walk away and come back in a year, or resign . I can’t get another job if they fire me and resigning is just as bad—it shows I didn’t have the skill to manage the people entrusted to me. Score one for the rich pew-sitters.” I held up my pointer finger and swirled it once in the air, unenthusiastically.
    “That’s not the same—throwing you out with nothing. That’s totally different than you giving their things to the poor,” he said it like I didn’t realize it. I gave him a look that said I did.
    “I realize it’s not the same. They still have food, shelter, and money. They didn’t pay me enough to have any savings. I have nothing. They kicked me out without a cardboard box. If Kate didn’t help me out, things would have been bad. I don’t really want to go back, but I’m kind of trapped.”
    Jack nearly choked. Blue eyes wide, he asked, leaning closer, “You don’t want to go back?”
    I don’t know when it happened, but the idea of going back made me sick. When I left I thought it’d be awesome if I survived the year on their terms. It would really show them what I was made of, but they already knew what I was made of and they didn’t like it. They threw me out on my ass because of it.
    I shook my head, “No, I don’t. Would you