THE NEWSPAPER HITS THE FESTIVAL
Abby and the children stepped out onto the open lawn. To Abby’s surprise, Glenda and the bishop were walking toward them. One glance at Glenda’s face told Abby that something bad had happened. The cloud of gloom seemed to be everywhere now. The bishop came forward to speak to Abby, and Glenda waved to the children to join her.
Glenda did not look up at Abby or acknowledge her at all. But the bishop came right up to her and said, “Guide me on your path while we have a moment. Please, it would be a big help to me.”
Abby was burning with curiosity but terrified at the same time. Each moment seemed touched by the hand of fate.
“A beautiful little spot,” said the bishop with a smile. “I love the way you organized the yard. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” came Abby’s tense reply.
“Oh, it’s very good. I’m interested. I can see you’ve learned a lot that most people miss. I was wondering how you managed to do that.”
“I try,” said Abby. “I find teachers.”
“Mmm. Well, I won’t be too inquisitive.” The bishop wore regular street clothes. He had a warm smile. Abby wasn’t sure how to address him, but felt she had to ask the obvious.
“Forgive me, Sir, for being so direct, but why did you come over here with Glenda? I know there’s a reason.”
“Oh, of course. We’re in a very difficult transition here, and that’s a part of a much, much larger transition. So I thought I would give you a few words of encouragement.”
“Thank you! I do need it,” exclaimed Abby. “But you’re so vague about it.”
“I want to be vague. I have no intention of getting into the details of your business. You have to do what you have to do. But at the same time, I want to lift you up, make you more hopeful. You’re doing good, so don’t be dismayed. I’ve got your back.”
Abby could hardly believe her ears. “I didn’t think you would care about me.”
“Well, you’re wrong there,” the bishop replied. “Take my word for it. And now we should return, and get ready to deal with the next two days.”
As they walked back to the festival area the bishop remained behind. Totally bewildered, Abby walked up to the food tables searching for a close friend. There were new faces in the crowd, most of them total strangers. Many were reading a newspaper, and pointed at her and laughed. On a couple of tables were stacks of newspapers, and frequently someone would walk over and grab a copy. Abby was beginning to feel desperate when she caught Sara’s eye at one of Sammy’s tables. Sara quickly spoke to Stephanie and walked over to Abby, grabbing a paper on the way.
“Come with me,” she said.
“What’s going on today? Are those people laughing at me, or am I just paranoid?”
“All your questions will be answered soon, never fear. Find us a private spot.”
Abby led her to the privet fort and they sat on the leaves. Sara gave her the newspaper and said, “I know it looks bad, but I’ve already got some ideas for a counter-attack. Never fear, we’re with you.”
Abby was already scanning the paper at lightning speed. The headline read: MILTON MORPHY TO OFFER A FORTUNE FOR THE CHURCHYARD. The article stated that due to deplorable mismanagement, the Middletown United Church was decaying into a shadow of its former glory. Morphy was quoted promising to use his renowned business expertise to organize a renovation of the entire church, all funded by the purchase of the churchyard by the Geddon Insurance Group. A separate article expressed the hope that on the following day the congregation would elect a new trustee who would support the renovation campaign. The paper carried a long editorial exploring the ‘possibly criminal misuse of church funds’. And on the opposite page was a large, clear picture of Abby hugging Jeremy in the privet fort. Her face was visible and recognizable, her chin just above his shoulder. There was no doubt about the drama she was feeling.
Underneath the photo the headline read: MISUSE OF CHURCH EMPLOYMENT BY FAVORITE OF REVEREND TUCK. The article began: ‘Last week Reverend Tuck invited a known vagrant of questionable reputation to live in the churchyard, a teenager who neglects her responsibilities and uses her privileged position to carry on her personal life in a manner that would be more appropriate elsewhere.’
Abby had grown numb, and trembled as she gave the paper back to Sara, who looked at her very closely. “I know it’s awful,” Abby said, “but what can I do?”
“Well…” Sara was very hesitant, obviously uncomfortable. “Most of this is stupid. What, is it a crime to hug Jeremy? You’ve only been hired for a week! It seems to me you can shrug this off. But there’s one thing… I’m not sure you saw it.”
“Go on, Sara, you’re making me nervous.”
“It’s the photographer… I mean, it’s the person listed as the photographer.”
Abby grabbed the paper back. In fine print under each photo she read, ‘George Thompson for the Middletown Standard’.
This was too much for her. A mist came before her eyes.