A knock at the door. Then another one. The third—the loudest—jarred Edward from wherever his mind had wondered off to. He picked up the pen he dropped and straightened his tie. He sat up in his chair. “Come in.”
The door opened and Richard Leland poked his head into the office. “Is it safe?”
Edward had been trying to clear his mind of the unexpected encounter with Carl, while at the same time trying to gather his thoughts—which were helter-skelter right about now—to prepare for the coming Sunday’s sermon. In spite of all that, he surprised himself at still being able to recognize that Richard was throwing him an opening line.
Edward cleared his throat, deciding to go along with his friend. “You talking to me?”
Richard stepped all the way into the office and closed the door. “Is it safe?”
Richard’s way of helping people through difficult situations was to sprinkle in healthy doses of humor, but it surprised Edward that Richard chose right now, under these circumstances, to perform their time-honored charade. “Is what safe?”
Richard sauntered over to the cluster of four chairs, picked one up, and situated it in front of Edward’s desk. He stood next to the chair, one hand resting on its back, the other hidden in a pocket. “Is it safe?”
Edward leaned back in his chair and raised his hands above his head in a questioning manner. “I don’t know what you mean. I can’t tell you if something is safe or not unless I know specifically what you’re talking about.”
Richard moved between the chair and Edward’s desk, set both hands on the desk, and leaned toward Edward. He whispered, “Is it safe?”
Edward slowly stood. “Tell me what the ‘it’ refers to.”
Richard held Edward’s stare. He sighed and lowered his lanky frame into the chair. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants, he looked around the room as if searching for a particular object. His eyes came full circle and settled on Edward. “Is it safe?”
Edward held his stance. “Yes. It’s safe. It’s very safe.” He limped around the desk, using its edge for support, and bent down so his lips were inches from Richard’s ear. “It’s so safe you wouldn’t believe it.”
Richard stared straight ahead. He clenched his fists. He turned toward Edward who was still at his side. “Is. It. Safe?”
Edward shook his head, straightened, made his way back behind the desk, exaggerating every movement, thinking about the irony of the words he was about to speak. “No. It’s not safe. It’s very dangerous. Be careful.”
Each man stared at the other. Moments, perhaps even a full minute, passed. A smile cracked Richard’s face. He unclenched his fists, loosened his tie, and crossed his legs. “Well done, my thespian friend. Well done indeed.”
Edward unrolled his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs, wondering if there was more to the scene they’d just reenacted than the lines they’d recited. Richard was a man of direct words. However, the past few weeks, being as troublesome as they’d been, Richard had seemed cryptic at times. Edward didn’t know if he was reading too much into everything his friend said, or if the foundation of their friendship had shifted beneath them, each man trying to figure out where he stood with the other.
“Thanks.” Edward gathered his notes that were scattered about the desk. “Not sure I hit all my lines, though.”
“If memory serves me correctly, I do believe you hit every one of them. Nailed it, as they say in the business.”
“Is that what they say?” Edward put his sermon notes in the briefcase and snapped it closed.
“How should I know?” Richard shrugged and clasped his hands together in his lap. “I just watch the movies. I don’t make them.”
Edward stood. “It’s not like Marathon Man is that old. It came out, what, two years ago? ’76 I think. And that particular scene is still fresh in my mind. Hoffman and Sir Laurence. Doesn’t get any better than that.”
Richard smiled.
“You picked quite a time for a visit.” Edward nodded toward the window. “I was getting ready to leave before I get snowed in here.”
“If you would indulge me a moment or two.” Richard motioned toward the chair behind Edward’s desk. “I won’t keep you long.” Edward sat down, not knowing what to make of the wall of formality Richard was now erecting between them.
“As much as I enjoyed our little acting exercise just now, I do need to talk shop with you, and the sooner the better. Hence my visitation on such a day of questionable weather.” Richard glanced at the closed door that separated Edward’s office from the outer office. “I trust you have no appointments scheduled today?”
Edward looked at his friend, considered cracking a joke, but thought better of it. “You trust correctly.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that Richard was sizing him up, like they were two boxers meeting in the ring for the first time, circling one another, each searching for an opening.
“Ed, I’ve known you a long time. Fifteen years ago I was the first to welcome you to this community and to our church. I chaired the pulpit search committee that recommended you to our congregation. There was no doubt in my mind back then that you were a gift to us from the Good Lord above at a time when we needed someone like you.”
Edward shifted in his chair. He adjusted his tie, smoothed out his sleeves. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He felt like he was about to be hit by a sweeping left hook.
Richard cleared his throat and continued. “A lot has happened since then. You’ve gone through your share of rough patches. There have been residual issues stemming from your wife’s death, you’ve had the unenviable task of raising a daughter on your own, not to mention dealing with the occasional crisis in the church, all while performing your pastoral duties.” He paused. “There have been difficult times, but I stayed by your side, even when others did not. I never doubted your faith in God, Ed, or your trust in Him, so I knew that, at best, you would always do the right thing. At worst, you might do the wrong thing, but—and I never doubted this point—you would do the wrong thing from right motives. I always knew that.”
Richard leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “That is, up until this…this thing that has happened.” Edward grew more uneasy, another bead running down his neck. “I know we, as a board, have discussed with you the affair and its ramifications not only on you and Abigail and the Sandersons, but also on the congregation and the community at large. You and I have talked about it, though not as much as I would have liked. Perhaps there will be a time for that in the near future.”
Richard leaned back and crossed his arms. For the first time since Edward had met the man, Richard appeared to be at a loss either for what to say, or how to say it.
“Ed…you hurt us. Deeply. Jessica, Carl, Abigail, the church board, the congregation. Even the community. You hurt all of us.” Richard uncrossed his arms and placed both hands on the armrests. “Most disconcerting of all, and perhaps most damaging in the long run, you hurt the kingdom of God. You hurt the cause of Christ in this city. The grief and pain you have brought to this local body of Christ is deep, it is wide, it will impact our efforts in this community, and it may take years to heal.” Another pause. “And I am not at all convinced that total healing is possible.”
Richard checked his watch. He stood. He looked at Edward, who thought about speaking his mind, but the look on Richard’s face told him now was not the time. “The decision by the board to accept your resignation was made soberly and prayerfully after seeking God’s wisdom.”
Richard picked up a picture from the corner of the desk. It was of Abby and Edward standing in front of the tree house they had built together. He gazed at the photograph for a few moments before shifting his eyes to Edward.
“After all that,” he said as he returned the picture to the desk, “I still fear the fallout that is to come.” A few moments of silence, not of the comfortable variety, occupied the space between the two men as they looked at one another. Finally, Richard spoke. “And I continue praying that the board made the right decision.”
Edward had nothing to say.