California Girl

David watched a large clot of worshipers in the front rise and make quickly for the aisles. Then part of the middle section. Those in the back were closer to the main exits and many of them had already left the building. He felt disemboweled.

“Some of us can understand the terrible weight that Howard carried inside,” said David. “And imagine what it’s like to be different. To live in fear. To be hated if the truth is known. Howard asked for none of this. Howard was created by God. There is a place in God’s world for imperfection. There must be, because we are all imperfect.”

By then, over half his congregation was gone. David watched them bunching at the exits, the volume of their voices rising. He saw the anger and disgust on their turned faces.

Special Agent Hambly sat shaking his head. Looking up like David was the stupidest guy he’d ever seen.

Then David’s pain began to change into something else. His agony dissolved and a magnificent peace overtook him. Even as his congregation deserted him, David understood that he had now accomplished two things he had always prayed for and wanted. God had worked a miracle through him. And God had given him the strength to speak the truth.

David watched his believers go.

“The service will continue now,” he said. “For any of you who would like to stay.”

A loud clear voice answered him. “God bless you, Reverend Becker. I’m staying. Please continue.”

David looked out at the speaker. An old man sitting almost alone now. The one whose platoon had been cut to ribbons by machine gun fire outside Calais.

“I am an optimist,” said David. “Our place of worship is half full and we have room for many more. Reverend Whitbrend, please come forward and lead us in prayer.”

Whitbrend swept up from the first row and took the steps to the proscenium two at a time.

THAT EVENING at the family home in Tustin, David sat in the den with his parents and brothers. He’d never felt this self-conscious. Even at ordination at San Anselmo’s, the first time he’d do

Max freshened David’s drink, then his own. “David,” he said. “I don’t know if anything more needs to be said right now. But that’s never stopped me. Just know I love you and I’m sorry about what happened. All of it. I would imagine your career is ruined. But you told the truth and conducted yourself honorably today.”

“Thanks, Dad,” David managed.

“And I agree,” said Monika. “What you did today was difficult.”

“It sure was.”

A fragile silence.

“I always wanted a queer preacher for a brother,” said Andy.

Shame punched through David like a bullet. He understood that this would be his cost for the truth. He looked down at the carpet and a small smile crossed his face.

“Me, too,” said Nick.

“My God, you boys are horrible,” said Monika.

“They’re not so bad,” said David.

Then a long quiet. Ice clinking on glass. The sounds of the children and TV in the living room. The exhale of the wind through the orange grove outside.

Max stood. “Well, any other business before we have di

Andy stood, too. “I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps yesterday. I’m reporting tomorrow. I want to know why Clay died and I want to write about it. Mom, I’m coming back alive. I promise you I’m coming back alive.”

David saw his father waver. Thought it was booze, then understood it was emotion that had rocked him.

Monika rose and hugged Andy so hard David could hear the joints cracking in her back.

Nick shook Andy’s hand and said he was doing a good thing.

David wasn’t sure if Andy wanted a hug from his queer preacher brother but he did ask everyone to bow their heads. He said a brief and elegant prayer.

When he was done Andy hugged him.

36

1970

ORANGE COUNTY SUPERIOR COURT, Department C-7.

“The defendant will rise.”

Cory Bo

Nick sat second row behind the prosecutor’s table. He had testified for three days in August, almost a month ago now. Then once last week during redirect. Had memorized Andy’s articles and huddled with Lobdell. Lucky had called it “synchronizing our watches.”

Abbott Estle couldn’t catch them. Nick denied that he had ever gone to Mexico for any reason co

Bo

Bo

Janelle as informant. Bo

Nick could tell by the jurors’ expressions that they believed. Sewell, too.

And they should, he thought. This, the part that matters, is all truth.

“Mr. Bo

Bo

“You were offered a chance to set us straight. Is that all you have to say, Mr. Bo

“What else matters?”

“Noted. Foreman, have you filled out the verdict forms?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Clerk, please read the verdicts.”

The clerk was a trim middle-aged woman with dark hair and frown lines around her mouth. She looked once at Bo

“We the jury in the above-entitled action find the defendant, Cory Bo

The reporters bolted for the nearest telephones. Karl Vo

“Bailiff,” said Sewell, “please bind the prisoner for transport back to the jail. I’m going to set a sentencing date of September twenty-six. That’s two weeks out. I’ve got some thinking to do and I want the time to do it. I would like to thank the jury again for their patience and insight. Court is adjourned.”

Nick shook hands with the prosecuting attorneys. Shook hands with Lobdell and a couple of detectives. Sent one last long stare back at Cory Bo