The Gospel According to Luke (19 page)

‘We seem to have a problem,' Pastor Riley said.

‘Oh?'

‘Have you heard of a group called Justice for the Unborn?'

Luke thought immediately of Aggie. ‘I don't think so.'

Pastor Riley sighed and removed his glasses. Taking a handkerchief from his top pocket he began to rub
the lenses. ‘I received a telephone call this morning, asking me some odd questions and directing me to a certain internet site.' He blew on his glasses, returned to rubbing them. ‘The site is dedicated to outing abortionists and their supporters.' He replaced his glasses and looked through them at Luke. ‘You're listed.'

‘Ah, well that would be because of Honey. I told you there was a scene with the protester who took her photo. The woman seemed to think that it was unchristian of me to want to help a teenager rather than harass her.'

‘Yes, I remember. How is the child settling in?'

‘Wonderfully. She really is an extraordinary girl.'

‘I'm sure.' Pastor Riley nodded. ‘This isn't about Honey. Tell me, Luke, this woman, Agatha Grey, do you know her well?'

‘Yes.'

‘How well?'

Luke considered the question. He had no intention of lying; after all, God knew the worst of his sins already. But equally, he had no desire to divulge his most intimate feelings to a man whom he saw once a month at best.

‘You seem to be having some difficulty with the question. Let me rephrase.' He cleared his throat. ‘Is this woman your lover?'

Heat flashed through Luke's body. ‘My . . . Is that what they are suggesting?'

‘Are you having an affair with her, Luke?'

‘No!' Luke unbuttoned his cardigan and wrenched it off. ‘We were close friends, but I realised the relationship was inappropriate and I ended it.'

Pastor Riley nodded slowly. ‘You were photographed embracing her outside her office at four in the morning. A strange thing to do if you are not intimately involved with a person.'

‘Aggie and I never . . .' Luke took several deep, slow breaths. ‘We were never lovers.'

‘I'm told Miss Grey visited you here at the centre.'

‘She helped with meetings a couple of times.'

Pastor Riley stood. ‘You allowed an abortionist, an avowed atheist, a feminist, to participate in your youth ministry? You provided her with access to these children?'

‘She wasn't here to influence them in any way. She was here –'

‘Yes?'

‘For me. She was here to see me.'

‘Do you think the parents of these young people would approve of you conducting your romances in front of their children?'

Luke stood and met Pastor Riley's glare. ‘I'm losing patience with this conversation. My friendship with Aggie Grey was formed in the spirit of fellowship and with the hope of witnessing; when my personal feelings deepened I severed the connection. I have nothing to apologise for or be ashamed of. If you have a particular grievance, I wish you would state it.'

The older man lowered his gaze. ‘I have no particular grievance. What I have is enormous concern for you and for this ministry.' He removed his glasses and squinted at Luke. ‘You have a bright future ahead of you, Luke. I would hate to see it jeopardised because of a woman.'

‘As would I. Anything else?'

Pastor Riley sighed. He put his glasses on and went to the door. ‘I'll have to discuss this situation with the Elders, Luke.'

‘There
is
no situation.' Luke gripped the back of his chair with both hands.

‘That's for the Elders to decide. I'll be in touch.'

The door closed. Luke picked up the chair and threw it. It slammed into the door frame and clattered noisily to the floor. The door re-opened, scraping the upturned chair along the slate. Pastor Riley frowned at the chair, then at Luke. ‘Your uncontrollable anger and hostility have been noted, Pastor Butler.'

The door closed again. Luke counted to one hundred. Picked up the chair, carried it back to his desk and sat on it. He stared at the door while he counted to one hundred again. Then he stood, picked up the chair and hurled it, harder than the first time. It made an ungodly racket as it impacted with the door and bounced back, knocking the edge of his desk before landing. ‘My anger is perfectly controlled,' Luke said to the chair, as he picked it up, held it over his head for the count of fifty and then slammed it into
the floor until a leg broke off. ‘Perfectly under control, thank you very much.'

On the website for Justice for the Unborn under the heading AUSTRALIA'S HOLOCAUST VICTIMS were photos of dead babies: bloodied corpses, some with umbilical cords attached, some with half-formed limbs, some with black muck covering their misshapen bodies. Luke stopped scrolling when he got to the picture of a slimy head with black staring eyes, held aloft on a stick by a protester wearing a
Justice for the Unborn
T-shirt.

He clicked on the link that read MEET THE SCUM RESPONSIBLE, and an alphabetised list of ‘offenders' appeared. Luke recognised the third name: Malcolm Addison was described as a despicable homosexual who started a sexual health clinic in order to recruit young boys into his deviant lifestyle. There was a photo of Malcolm with his face contorted in anger.

Luke picked up the broken chair leg from the floor and returned to his desk. He pressed the jagged edge into his left palm, holding it there until tears ran from his eyes. When he removed it, there were three long splinters lodged in his palm and blood seeped through the lines there. He slammed his hand into the desk, forcing the splinters hard into his flesh. He did not cry out.

His left hand buried now between his thighs, the pressure working to increase the pain of the
splinters but also stem the flow of blood, Luke returned to his exploration of the website. He scrolled past the photo of Malcolm, past several names he did not recognise and then found a blue bubble declaring NEW LISTING!

Twenty-nine-year-old Luke Butler calls himself Pastor, but we refuse to bestow the honour of this title upon him. Mr Butler confronted one of our agents outside the Parramatta Sexual Health Advisory Service and accused
her
of being un-Christian! This from a man who spends his evenings locked inside abortion advocate Agatha Grey's (see separate listing) office, emerging just before daybreak for a shameless display of intimacy. We have very little information about Mr. Butler as his employer, The Christian Revolution, will not co-operate in our investigation, nor will his colleagues at the Northwestern Christian Youth Centre, and we have been unable to identify any of Mr Butler's family or friends outside of the TCR or NCYC. If you have any information about this false-Christian abortion supporter please contact Justice for the Unborn
.

The photo beneath the text showed Luke's white Camry parked alongside Aggie's orange Datsun, the sign above the clinic door clearly visible. In the corner of the photo the time and date were recorded as 04:11
12/08/02. And in the foreground a couple was embracing in a manner that looked passionate.

He scrolled down until he found
Agatha Grey
, and below her name, a photograph of Aggie with her arm over the shoulder of a tall blonde-haired woman wearing a leopard-print leotard. The caption read:
Abortion advocate Agatha Grey with her mother, lesbian activist Carrie Grey, at the 1999 Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras
.

Luke touched the picture and smiled. Carrie Grey was shorter than Aggie, with a smaller waist, bigger breasts, smoother hair and clearer skin. She looked maybe five years older than Aggie, and a thousand times more glamorous. Aggie wore baggy brown trousers, black lace-up boots, an oversized
PFLAG
T-shirt and a pink tiara atop her shaggy head.

Luke read the text with disgust.
Man-hating feminist Agatha Grey is the manager of the Baby Killing referral service owned by known homosexual Malcolm Addison (see separate listing). Ms Grey is the daughter of lesbian rights advocate Carrie Grey and the late Sydney financier Roland Grey who committed suicide when faced with the prospect of having to live alone with his daughter
.

Luke pressed his palm to his mouth and sucked on the tiny wounds, trying to draw the splinters out. It hurt and the taste of his own blood turned his stomach. In a minute, when he had cleaned up his hand, he would force himself to read the rest so he knew what it was Pastor Riley and the Elders would be
basing their accusations on. For now, he sucked at his hand and waited for his pulse to slow.

There was a rap on the door, simultaneous with its opening.

‘Why knock?' Luke grumbled, then seeing it was Greg, he forced a smile. ‘Yes?'

‘On the news just now. A man –' Greg stepped into the room. He stared at the floor. ‘What happened to the chair?'

‘It broke. What's the news? What happened?'

Greg looked from the chair to Luke and back again. ‘If it's not a good time, I can –'

‘It's a fine time. Tell me what happened.'

‘A man's been shot. In Adelaide. Shot dead. Someone just shot him while he was walking to his car. Broad daylight. Just shot him dead.'

‘Greg, sit a minute. Calm down.' Luke stood and went to take Greg's arm and led him to the chair.

‘No, Luke, no!' Greg shook his head, his eyes wild. ‘You don't understand. He was a counsellor at a – a clinic – a pregnancy crisis centre. A note was sent to all the papers saying it's justice for all the babies he's condemned to –'

‘Oh.' Luke stumbled backward until he felt the edge of his chair against the back of his legs. He sat heavily. ‘Oh, dear God. Justice. Oh, God, have mercy on us all.'

‘I know, man, I know. I was thinking we should do something? Send, I don't know, condolences or something?
Belinda said we should prepare a statement. She says because we've opposed Aggie – ah, the clinic across the street before, maybe the papers will ask us to comment?'

Luke stared at the computer screen. Swallowing the vomit that was bubbling up in his throat, he closed down the website and opened a new document. He began to type.

‘Luke?'

‘Give me a minute.'

Today, a man in the midst of a sinful life was shot in cold blood. Killing [victim] didn't stop abortion. It didn't save one single life. All this killer has done is rob a man of the chance to repent and to be reconciled with God. The person or persons responsible cannot call themselves prolife, as being pro-life means loving all life, not just the lives we personally approve of. Nor can the perpetrators of this evil call themselves Christians as they have disobeyed God's commandment not to murder and ignored the words of our saviour Jesus Christ who implored us to love our enemies
.

The Northwestern Christian Youth Centre calls on all true Christians to speak out against this horrific murder even while they continue to peacefully protest the legalised killing of unborn children. Remember, they'll know we are Christians by our love, not by our guns
.

Luke hit print and opened the file containing last month's financial reports. He couldn't touch
the Caring for our Community fund, since it was earmarked for Honey, but there was just over eight thousand dollars in the public relations account. He took the cheque book from his top drawer and wrote a cheque for the full amount. Then he switched back to the word processor and started a new page.

The staff and congregation of the Northwestern Christian Youth Centre wish to express their deepest sympathies for the family and friends of [victim]. We hope his family will accept our prayers along with this small contribution to assist them in rebuilding their lives after this tragedy
.

In His Name
.

Luke waited until the page was printed and then handed both pages to Greg, along with the signed cheque. ‘Find out the man's name and his family's names. This first statement is for the media; get Belinda to read it to anyone who calls. The second should be rewritten onto a card and sent with the cheque to the family. The cheque's signed; you just need to fill in the recipient details. If it turns out he had no family then the cheque should go to the clinic where he worked.'

‘We can't give money to a –'

‘We can and we will. But I don't think it will come to that. How many people you know have no family at all?'

Greg's hands were shaking. ‘Just, uh, just you.'

Luke patted him on the back, pushing him toward
the door. ‘Right. Even in an orphanage, I was the only one with no one at all. This poor man will have a family somewhere. Find them and send them the cheque. Okey-dokey?'

‘Luke, I really think we –'

‘Oh, I have to go out tonight. Not sure when I'll be back. Help Belinda with VIBE, for me, will you? Ta.' Luke nudged Greg over the threshold and shut the door, went to his desk and picked up the phone, dialling the number he knew by heart.

The first thing he said when he heard her voice was, ‘Oh.' Then he said, ‘If I come over, will you talk to me?'

‘Okay.'

Aggie answered the door before he had a chance to ring the bell. She was swamped by a shapeless black dress, her hair had been pulled off her face with a blue headband and she had applied a deep plum lipstick which made her lips look thin and mean.

‘Come in,' she said, her eyes roaming from his face to his chest, legs and stomach and back to his face.

‘Wait.' Luke stayed in the doorway, locking his hands together. ‘Hear what I have to say first, then decide if you want to invite me in.'

She smiled, revealing a slick of lipstick on her front teeth. ‘Sounds dire.'

‘Oh, no. It's just . . .'

‘Come on, spit it out, the suspense is killing me.'

Luke looked away from Aggie's mouth, focusing instead on the curls poking out from under her headband. ‘I have concluded that friendship between us is an impossibility due to the fact that I have romantic feelings towards you, also feelings of a physical nature and, well, I'm in love with you.'