Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Iris looked around in a panic when she rounded the corner to answer the entrance chimes and saw me standing in the doorway of Rose Petal’s Place.
I saw her glance toward the phone on the counter, as if she were trying to discern if she had enough time to call the police before I attacked her.
Inwardly, I let the thought flit through my head, enjoying the vision of shoving her head in a rose bush.
I strode over to the counter and slammed the Weekly Planet in front of her. Somehow, her eyes grew wider. As if she hadn’t known why I was here in the first place.
Maudra had shown me the town’s newspaper that morning.
It came out every Tuesday. Every week, on the front page, down the right-hand column was a section called The Brick Yard.
They would publish letters sent in from the locals.
If there weren’t any good letters that week, the editor, Justin Coleman, would write a letter of his own, commenting about certain events happening in El Dorado.
More often than not, The Brick Yard was little more than a place for people to gossip about one situation or another under the guise of need for public knowledge.
I had thought about reading it to her, making her listen to her own words, but I didn’t think I could get through it without yelling.
Even as it was, there was a very good chance that by the time I left her shop, I would tell Iris exactly where she could shove her fat ass and her horribly painted store.
When she handed it to me, Maudra said she’d debated telling me, but figured it would be worse to have me find out at some other time when I wasn’t prepared or when I was in public. By the time I had finished reading it a second time, I was shaking in fury.
Corruption in the Church
Iris Linley
Dear concerned citizens of El Dorado Springs,
I write this as a public warning, not in hate, only out of a spirit of concern for those who have been misled into believing that their children are being instructed in the ways of God by the Holy Church.
It has come to light that the Holy Church has brought on a new youth pastor for their junior high and high school youth group.
Not only is it bad enough that this new youth pastor, our very own Brooke Morrison, is a self-proclaimed homosexual, but it has come to light that he was fired from his last job with children where he worked when he lived in Denver, Colorado.
Although his case never was seen by a court or jury, his employer settled with the children’s families for a significant financial settlement.
What reason could they have found to fire Mr. Morrison, you ask?
Two boys accused him of demanding sexual favors from them.
When they refused, Mr. Morrison assaulted them.
Of course, Mr. Morrison was not convicted as the situation never went to trial, but it doesn’t take a jury to determine what the truth is.
I see it as my public duty to make sure that parents have the information they need to keep their children safe, both from liberal indoctrination and those who would seek to steal their innocence.
It seems that the youth group at the Holy Church is falling apart at the seams. Their head youth pastor just disclosed this past Sunday that he is stepping down for his own sexual impurity.
It is time for this town to demand more from its spiritual leaders and defend our children from those who would move in uninvited and lead them down the path to Hell.
I jabbed my finger at the first paragraph. I did my best not to yell. I wasn’t entirely successful. “What part of this did you not write in hate?”
She looked at me with terror on her face. She really must have thought I meant to kill her. Her mouth opened and closed, but she wasn’t able to make it form words.
“You might as well have called for people to shoot me as I walk down the street! You never bothered to ask if any of this was true. How long did you wait after you found out about the false accusations in Denver to write this? Did you have it finished before or after you talked to Pastor Bron? Did you run right home after church on Sunday and add the last little section about Donnie? What has he ever done to you?”
She slowly seemed to realize that she wasn’t in any physical danger. She attempted to make her voice soothing and innocent. It came off as scared and weak. “I was only doing my part as a good Christian. We are to protect our children—”
“That is complete bullshit, and you know it!” Her eyes widened again as I cursed.
“You hadn’t even gone to church till I came back.
You smelled drama, and you came like a dog to lap it up.
” Even as I said it, I knew I would look back later and feel guilty for lowering myself to my mother’s standards.
“You don’t give a shit about what the truth is or who you hurt.
You just wanted to see your damned name in print.
” I almost stopped myself, but the words were out before I realized that I had said them.
“It’s not my fault your husband was a son of a bitch.
And I’m sorry your sons died such horrible deaths, but that doesn’t give you the right to ruin people’s lives! ”
At the flash of pain that shot through her eyes, I regretted my words and wished I could take them back. “I’m sorry, I—”
Her pain turned to rage in a heartbeat. “How dare you come in here to my store and yell at me! Who knows what you did or didn’t do in Denver?
Your kind shouldn’t be allowed to work with kids anywhere.
I don’t regret an iota of what I wrote! People have the right to know that a child-molesting faggot is trying to get at their kids.
As for Donnie, he’s always been a nice boy, but he is just as involved as Pastor Bron for you being allowed to be with the kids. ”
“What? Are you going to try to dig up dirt on Tyler now?” I wanted to strangle her.
A sneer tore her face. “Tyler, is it? You’re too good to call him Pastor Bron? Or is he your new boyfriend?”
“You’re an evil bitch!” I thought I was going to vomit as I heard my mother’s intonation from my throat.
“Get out of my store. If you know what’s good for you, get out of this town!” Her voice was shaking.
I stormed out of her shop and slammed the door.
I glanced back through its glass center, ready to yell one last comment.
At the sight of Iris’s head lost in her folded arms on the counter and her massive body convulsing with sobs, I stopped.
Shame flooded me. Maybe I deserved what I was getting.
I didn’t do what I had been accused of, but surely I couldn’t be so overcome by hate and be like Rose if I truly had a real relationship with God like I claimed I did.