Free Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind by Ann B. Ross Page B

many ways they are held to a different standard than the rest of us. Think of David and his many wives and concubines. He was guilty of adultery and even of murder, yet the Lord delighted in him. You see what I’m saying here? We have to overlook and forgive those men who have more to offer than the average person.”
    I don’t know why I’d never noticed how coarse the skin of his face was or how close together his eyes were. “I do see what you’re saying,” I said. “You’re saying that wealthy men can commit sins that would condemn a poor man. And you’re saying that you’re afraid that little boy will get the money you want for the church. Do I have it right?”
    “No, no,” he said, still smiling like he was dealing with a half-wit. “You mustn’t see it like that. I’m just trying to protect Mr. Springer’s name, and yours. And the church’s. Mr. Springer was so closely associated with First Church of Abbotsville that anything that smears him smears us, too. We need to work together here, Miss Julia. I think you’ll feel much better when you learn to accept the Lord’s will in this matter. Now, why don’t we have a prayer together?”
    He raised his face toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. When he opened his mouth to call on the Lord, I stood up and walked out.
    When I stepped into Norma’s office, she quickly stuffed a napkin in her desk drawer and closed it. Krispy Kreme doughnut aroma filled the room.
    “Through already?” she chirped. “I thought you’d have a whole lot more to talk about.”
    “Don’t think, Norma,” I said as I traversed her office to the outside door. “It doesn’t take long to discuss adultery when the pastor’s for it.”
    I glanced back to see her mouth drop open, so I said, “You’ve got sugar on the front of your blouse,” and walked on out.

C HAPTER N INE
    I DON’T KNOW how I managed to walk across the parking lot and then the street and up the steps to my front porch with my limbs trembling like they were. Somewhere in one part of my mind I was aware of the way the hot asphalt sucked at my shoes with each step I took. And I knew I waited on the curb for a UPS truck to pass before crossing the street, but the roaring in my head kept me from concentrating on anything but getting to the wicker rocking chair on the porch.
    I sank down in it, thankful for the wisteria vine that covered one end of the porch. Nobody could see me there, and maybe a few minutes of privacy would settle me down.
    My preacher! A man of God saying the things he did. And comparing Wesley Lloyd to David, of all people, who, as everybody knows, had dabbled in somebody else’s bed, too. But that didn’t excuse Wesley Lloyd. And if it did, then everything I’d ever heard from a pulpit, read in the Bible, and believed in all my life meant absolutely nothing.
    I curled my hands on the arms of the rocker and pushed off with a foot. I rocked and thought, and rocked and thought some more, taking stock of my situation. It had never entered my mind that my pastor wouldn’t support me in this trying situation. Howmany times had I heard him preach on how hard it is to do the right thing? Doing the right thing, he’d preached many a time, goes against the natural grain of the sinful heart. So I knew that acknowledging the child was the right thing to do because it was the hardest thing to do. And Pastor Ledbetter should’ve seen that and encouraged me in it.
    That’s all right, I told myself, rocking faster. I knew that most of the church members would take whatever position Pastor Ledbetter did. A congregation wasn’t called a flock for nothing. So I was going to have to gird my loins to walk into that building for the worship service with Little Lloyd. I had a few more days before Sunday, and I determined to prepare myself for it and not shirk my duty to raise up a child in the way he should go, even if I had only a little while to do it in. The church might abandon me, but it was my