Mountain Top(19)

“Is it a felony charge?” Bobby asked.

Mike nodded. “Class C.”

“Then it involves at least a hundred thousand dollars,” the lawyer said, sitting up in his chair. “That’s a big error for a bank to make.”

“It’s just zeros to them,” Mike replied. “I haven’t investigated anything in detail. His wife contacted the church and asked for help. I met with him at the jail.”

“You went to the jail?” Libby asked. “That’s not an appropriate place for our minister to be seen.”

“The apostle Paul spent a lot of time in jail,” Bobby said. “How much time did he build behind bars, Mike? Three or four years?”

“At least,” Mike said. “But this man is not the apostle Paul.”

“What’s his name?” Libby asked.

“Sam Miller.”

“The yardman?” Milton asked.

“Yes,” Mike said.

“He’s no minister,” Milton grunted. “He used to cut my neighbor’s grass.”

“He’s a lay preacher,” Mike answered. “I doubt he has any theological education or recognized ordination.”

“Wouldn’t he qualify for an appointed lawyer?” Bobby asked.

“No, he owns a home and runs a small business.”

“Then he should hire his own lawyer!” Milton said sharply. “This is a church, not a legal aid society! If you don’t have enough to keep you busy, we need to discuss modification of your job description.”

Mike started to respond then stopped.

“What’s really going on?” Bobby asked. “Why do you want to do this?”

Mike paused before answering. If he wanted to retreat, now would be the time to do so gracefully.

“Because I believe God wants me to help him,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “I’m working very hard to be a faithful pastor for this church, and this is not some kind of professional identity crisis. I’m more confident of my call to the ministry than ever and have no interest in returning to the law. This church is where I want to be, and I intend to stay here as long as you’ll have me. I’m simply asking you to allow me to help someone in need, and trust me to do it in a way that honors God.” There was silence for several seconds. The elders glanced at one another.

“Mike, would you please step out of the room for a few minutes while we talk?” Bobby asked.

Mike hesitated. “Let me make one thing clear,” he said. “I want to do this, but if you tell me no, I’ll accept your decision and won’t mention it again.”

Mike stepped into the hallway. The sounds of muffled voices came from the room. He resisted the childish impulse to put his ear to the door and listen. He began pacing up and down the hall, convincing himself that whether or not he helped Sam Miller was an insignificant matter, no more important than how to pay for gravestone maintenance.

By his fifth turn on the carpet, he’d lost the internal debate. He was vulnerable. If his request was approved, there would be whisperings around the church about his actions. If he lost, he would have needlessly expended valuable capital and diminished his stature before the session. He inwardly kicked himself for having a knee-jerk response to Peg’s pressure. Time passed. The door opened, and Libby came out.

“Just going to the restroom,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Mike didn’t walk past the open door. In a few minutes, Libby returned to the conference room without looking at him. He felt as though he were waiting for a jury—only he was the one on trial. He kept pacing up and down the hallway. He thought about Sam Miller. The old man was probably snoring in his bunk, dreaming about gumdrop fairies and cupids. The conference room door opened.

“Come in,” Bobby said. “We’re ready.”

Mike took his seat, but his sense of authority was gone. He quickly scanned the faces around the table. They were inscrutable. Bobby cleared his throat.

“We voted and decided that you can represent Sam Miller.”

“It wasn’t unanimous,” Milton interjected.

“Until he finds another lawyer,” Libby added. “Bobby is going to see what he can do to help on that part of it.”

“Fair enough,” Mike said, trying to regain control. “If any of you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.”

“Let’s pray and go home,” Bobby said, stifling a yawn.

“Before we adjourn,” Mike said, “I have one other bit of news and wanted you to be the first in the church to hear it.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Peg is pregnant. It was confirmed at the doctor’s office this morning. She’s fine, and we’re looking forward to the arrival of a new member of the Andrews family in about nine months.”