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Chapter Thirty-Six
Afew days later, Plum kissed him goodbye from their bed while she was still drowsing. The board and the church’s secretary Helen had called him to a meeting and he wasn’t looking forward to it. They wouldn’t give him any sort of agenda for the meeting. It didn’t help that the dozen people in the room would barely meet his eyes except Mrs. Symes, whose expression was fury incarnate. No, he wasn’t going to like this at all.
They took their seats around the long table and Gideon did his best to sit tall. Whatever this was, he would handle it with dignity and grace and he would extend patience and love to everyone in this room.
Helen called the meeting to order and then knit her fingers together, set her joined hands on the smooth wood. “Father Gideon. We’ve asked you here today because there is some concern amongst the congregation about your…associationwith a certain Plum Brolingtide.”
Gideon’s stomach lurched at the same time his blood boiled. He could feel the heat of rage rising in his chest and all the way to his hairline. They had torn him away from his church duties and caring for Plum for this? He’d seen it coming, knew it would happen at some point, but it still made him want to grind his teeth, pound his fists on the table.
Patience and love, patience and love.He would lead by example and respond calmly despite the fact that these people were attacking the woman he loved, and by proxy his own character.
“I assume by ‘association’ you mean the fact that we’ve been dating and that she’s currently residing at the rectory.”
Helen’s lips pinched together in a distinctly disapproving bud. “Indeed. Much of the membership feels it’s inappropriate for her to be living at the rectory. How are they supposed to explain to their children why an unmarried couple is living together? Especially when one of the people involved is their priest—a man who’s supposed to set a good example for the members of his community.”
Gideon wanted to snarl his answer, but anger wouldn’t get him very far. “I would think parents would be able to point to charity, kindness, and hospitality as virtues being embodied. As you know, Miss Brolingtide lost her home and business in a fire. She’s been staying in the guest bedroom at the rectory while she recovers from her injuries. Is this not a fine example of loving thy neighbor? I could quote bible passages extolling those virtues all day but you’re well-versed enough in scripture to know them already. Yet here we are.”
Another member of the board leaned forward on the table, frown lines etched on his angular face. “But she’s a single woman who dresses like a—like a—”
“Like a what, Mr. Lees? I think Miss Brolingtide has a wonderful sense of fashion. She’s bright, she’s vibrant, and very much herself. I’m not sure what the problem is? We welcome everyone here at All Saints, whether they walk in wearing a three-piece suit or jeans and a t-shirt.”
Mr. Lees’ sallow cheeks took on a ruddy cast as he spluttered, “But she looks like a hussy. A harlot. Haven’t you noticed heads turn when that woman sits in the back of the church with her cleavage and her legs on display? How do you expect people to pay attention to services with that kind of—of pageantry?”
“Miss Brolingtide arrives on time, sits quietly and attentively through services, and helps out in the kitchen during coffee hour. If you find her very existence to constitute some sort of fanfare I don’t believe that’s her problem. That sounds like something you may want to work on. I won’t be in the business of forcing women to wear modest clothes lest they tempt us. You’re a grown man. Learn to control yourself. And if you can’t, perhaps it would be best to remove yourself from the situation.”
Mr. Lees proceeded to stammer and stumble about his long history of being a member of this church and serving on the board, and the room descended into a muted uproar.
Well, this would be making its way to the diocese for sure. But he would tell them exactly what he was was telling his board members. That they could suck it, but politely.
Gideon was going to nip this in the bud and if they wanted to appeal to the diocese then they would. And if the diocese wanted to censure him, they would. He wasn’t going to change his preaching and he wasn’t going to give up Plum. That was absurd and unacceptable and he couldn’t wait to get out of here and head back to the rectory where he could bury himself in her, drown all of his senses in the feel of her body, the scent of her hair, her loving arms, her foul mouth, her adoring gaze.
He raised his voice to speak above the din. “Plum Brolingtide is one of the most hard-working and generous people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. She may not look like what some of you would consider a ‘good Christian woman’ but I think the flaw there lies with people who believe a person’s appearance is more important that their actions. I can’t imagine I’m the only one in this room who has experienced her kind heart and dedication to the community.”
The members of the board looked around at each other, and after a few beats of silence, Mrs. Symes huffed into the air that was rife with tension.
“She brought me lunch and kept me company every week for a couple of months before the fire. And that was during one of her café’s rush hours.”
“She did donate a bunch of baked goods to my son’s school fundraiser,” volunteered Mrs. Iverson, looking sheepish.
“And Caffeinatrix sponsors one of the local softball teams every year,” another board member pointed out.
“She did shows for the local art school every month,” yet another one said, if reluctantly.
Gideon had known Plum was generous and that she loved her neighborhood and took pride in being an active member of the community but it warmed him nonetheless to hear the impacts she’d had on members of his own congregation. He knew, too, the examples they were listing were but a fraction of how Plum gave back. Perhaps the tide was turning in Plum’s favor, as it should.
And if things failed to go her way—which was without question the right and just way—then he would be swept out with her. The board ought to know what their judgment would cost them. He knew he’d fostered a larger and more engaged congregation than Father Eugene, and whether they liked him or not, they liked the extra money in the collection plates on Sundays and in the tithes.
“The fact is that Plum is a talented, industrious, kind, faithful, and conscientious person. And perhaps more important than any of those things is that I love her. She’s not without faults but neither am I and I’m quite certain none of you are either. What kind of spiritual leader would I be if I demanded perfection from the members of my flock? A lonely one for sure, but also a cruel one. We’re all human and yet God loves us anyway. Sent his son as a sacrifice for the deeply imperfect creatures we are. And if that love and acceptance is good enough for our lord in heaven, surely it is good enough for us mere mortals. I won’t sit here and tolerate any more of these spurious accusations of the woman I love. If you’d like to register additional complaints about this matter, I suggest you take it up with the diocese.”
