scandal at the church

Who: Mickey and Janey
Where: St. Peter’s
When: afternoon

Mickey hadn’t expected the call he got at the garage, but he wasn’t one to read the paper regularly. After the angry chatter on the line though he managed to find a copy of the Echo and sunk hard into a chair as he read it. This was not good, not good at all. He promised to finish up what he was working on and start that way straight away wondering if again, the money falling from the sky had been God’s modern version of a plague of locusts.

The parish hall was in a bit of an uproar when he arrived, plenty of patrons demanding answers from their priest who had holed himself up out of fear. One of the older ladies even asked him to break down the door for her, but he managed to shake her off headed for a familiar redhead who usually stayed more level headed than the others.

“This is getting out of hand quickly isn’t it?” he asked as he limped up closer to her, smile there even if the topic was sullen.

At the sound of a voice directed her way, Janey tensed, but when she turned to see Mickey, she relaxed. She’d been hiding out in the corner, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and what they could do about it. Unlike many of the other women, she wasn’t in favor of raising their torches and going after the Father Michaelson like the villagers after the Beast. While she was disappointed and certainly felt a bit of betrayal, she felt surprisingly distanced from the scene. This seemed like a mere tremor in comparison to so many things that had happened recently.

She shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “The minute it hit the papers we were doomed,” she said. “I’m not sure what exactly there is for us to do. It’ll be up to the diocese to punish him, and the likelihood of us getting our money back is slim. I almost feel sorry for him,” she mused, “because obviously he must have a gambling problem.” She couldn’t help but think of Danny as she said that. Though gambling and alcoholism were two different diseases, they both ranked in the same severity of sinfulness, in her mind. One was just more visibly harmful than the other.

Mickey leaned against the wall a little, evening out his legs a little and making standing easier. Yes I guess it’s hardly our place to decide what’s done to him, though you’re a better Catholic than I am in the moment I suppose. I do somewhat want to punch him in the face.” He gave her a warm smile, obvious a little bit of a tease there. “Well the money was supposed to help the needy. Though I don’t approve of how he got to be needy, I’m glad he didn’t have goons in here using him as a punching bag.”

“Have you heard anything about who turned him in?” Janey asked. It had to be someone close enough to Father to have found out in the first place--either that or someone on the other side, one of the bookies or his men wanting to stir up some trouble to cover up whatever else might be going on. The thought surprised Janey. Danny was meant to be the one developing conspiracy theories.

Mickey let out a sigh and shook his head. “No idea. Doesn’t seem to be anyone here though, everyone seems too shocked.” Which was odd. The information just appeared in the papers and given the way the priest was reacting it seemed true.

“I wasn’t quite sure I believed it, at first. I’m still not. Seeing everyone in a panic makes it hard not to get caught up in it all, but I suppose we should try and withhold our judgement until the diocese proves it and puts out and official statement,” she said. “I’m not even sure why I came, to be honest,” she said. She had plenty of other things to be doing--like grading papers, for one. Though now that she was here, she thought she might stop by the memorial on her way home. It had been quite a while.

“Again, I have to tell you Janey McKinnon, there are few people in the world who are as good of God’s servants as you,” he told her amazed that with everyone going nuts around them, she was still able to preach patience and understanding. “I came because they called me. Why is starting to seem a little suspect, though I s’pose I can just get into the thick of it, try and send people home.” Directing holy traffic before going to the gallerying opening for Shoshannah. It was a turning out to be a longer day than he’d originally planned.

Janey shook her head, shrugging off Mickey’s praise, but then remembered the conversation she’d had with Ramona the previous week. Maybe she was learning from her students, after all. “I don’t know about that,” Janey replied, “but I promise it doesn’t come easily. Would you like me to give you a hand?” she offered. She knew he could fend for himself, but still felt bad letting him go off into the crowd alone. People tended to see him as a “cripple” before anything else, forgetting that what made his body different had no effect on his heart or mind.

“No one said it was supposed to be easy,” Mickey pointed out. It wouldn’t have been pounded in their heads since Sunday school if it was easy. An offer of help from Janey was different than others. He knew she was offering because she genuinely wanted to help him, not that she thought he needed it. Many saw the disability, like he’d explained to Shoshannah. “Certainly couldn’t hurt to have another voice in there,” he told her with a knowing smirk, something friendly and welcoming.

“I just meant that I try as hard as the next person, so it’s nothing to give me credit for,” Janey explained. “I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled to hear my voice; you know I’m always the one to disagree but I’m usually one of the few dissenters to speak up,” she added. “But I think you should be the voice--yours is probably louder,” she joked.

“You deserve the credit for trying,” Mickey said, reaching out to give her arm a friendly squeeze before pushing himself off the wall and starting into things. “Don’t ever back down, even if I don’t agree with you. Backbone is always a good thing to have.” He grinned at her joke, shrugging one shoulder the nodding towards the slowly gathering mob. “Might as well jump into the fray.”