The Gospel According to Luke (23 page)

‘Do you find it hard?'

‘Sometimes.' Greg's hand clenched and unclenched. ‘I would be dead if it wasn't for Luke saving me. I have to always remember that.'

‘Luke says only Jesus changes hearts.'

‘Right. Jesus changed my heart. Luke showed me the way to Jesus.'

Honey reached out and took Greg's hand. It froze and then fought for a split second before closing around hers. She lay still, looking at the strange fingers wrapped around her hand. ‘I miss Luke. I don't know what I'll do if he goes away forever.'

Greg let go. ‘We'll be okay, Honey. I promise.' He began to stroke her hair.

Luke woke sweating. Opening his eyes he saw the bleak timber panelling of his bedroom wall and felt the desolation of missing her. It was two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and he had no sermon to read over, no meetings to arrange, no teenagers to counsel or parents to advise. He stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. That was all wrong too. How had he managed all these years without Aggie to wash his back? How come he had never noticed how big the shower recess was, how obviously designed to accommodate two bodies, a woman and a man, with interlocking parts?

There would be an investigation. They would ask
him: Do you support the aims of the Parramatta Sexual Health Advisory Service? He would say no. They would ask him: Do you believe in the sanctity of life, specifically, do you believe that the killing of unborn children is evil? He would say, yes and yes. Then they would ask: What is your relationship with Agatha Grey? And he would tell them:
She is mine. If you saw the way we fit together, you would have no doubt that the woman was designed especially for me. No document of church or state could make us any more married than we are. She is mine. I care not if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.

He combed his hair, dressed quickly in running shorts and a T-shirt. He picked up the phone and dialled Aggie's number. He tried nineteen times, threw the phone onto the floor in disgust before he hit twenty.

He decided to do something constructive. Since the investigators would no doubt gather their information from every grubby little place they could find it, he better know what was out there. The Justice for the Unborn website was the obvious starting point and Luke decided to read everything they had on him and Aggie, and
then
he would go to her house and wait for her to come home.

The main building was quiet. Sunday was traditional worship only. Everyone was expected to go to
at least one service, but the rest of the day was free for rest and relaxation. They would all be visiting their families or napping under a tree by the river. Luke felt a pang at missing his services, but he was pleased to have the place to himself. He got to his office unseen.

While he waited for the computer to fire up, he went through his desk drawers and removed the few personal items he kept in there: half a roll of peppermint lifesavers, a travel pack of tissues, a hair comb, the white leather-bound Bible he was issued after completing his missionary year. Then he went to the wall by the window and took down the framed ordination certificate and photograph.

Up until this weekend, the most momentous occasion of Luke's life had been his ordination. He had worn a white linen robe, belted at the waist with a strip of brown leather, and sat on a wooden chair he had made himself. The Elders knelt before him and washed his face, hands and feet.
You are the body of Christ
, they recited.
Jesus has no hands on the earth except your hands
,
and no mouth on earth except your mouth. Being His body, you must express Jesus through all that you are.

This weekend, Aggie had knelt before him and said
My God you have a beautiful cock
. She closed her eyes and called out to the heavens
Jesus Christ I love the way you fuck me
. She washed him all over saying
Oh God your body is divine.
It was a baptism of sorts. Satan must have been laughing his tail off.

The dead babies on the Justice for the Unborn website made Luke think about Honey. Seeing her should have been the first thing he'd done, but he didn't know what to tell her. She wouldn't accept his personal business line. She would demand to know where he was, and although she was just a child she had been there done that and she would know if he fudged the details.
Slept over
, she would scoff,
oh, right, Mr Sin-free, I suppose you slept in the spare room with your flannelette pyjamas on
.

The thought that Honey had done the things he and Aggie had done made him dizzy. How could any man look at poor, sweet Honey with her big brown eyes like a terrified deer, and feel anything but protective? The father of the baby was not the only one to have done those things to her. Luke had known this all along, but now the knowledge made his hands begin to shake. He imagined Honey lying beneath him naked, her scrawny legs pressed together, her arms crossed over her chest so as not to reveal her little girl breasts, her doe eyes looking up at him. He wanted to cover her with a blanket and bring her good food to eat. But men had looked at Honey like that and found her enticing. Men had driven into her body the way Luke drove into Aggie. Grown men had opened up Honey and dumped their disgusting stuff inside her. She had let them. Maybe even asked them to.

Luke thought he might throw up. He put his head
on the desk and concentrated on breathing until the sensation passed. Resolving to keep his mind free of all but the task at hand, he turned back to the computer.

There she was: Agatha Grey, all crazy curls and gangly limbs. He skimmed the description of her personal life – mother's desertion, father's suicide, broken marriage, friendship with homosexual activist Malcolm Addison. Further down the page there was the photo of Luke and Aggie embracing in the car park, with a hyper-linked caption advising readers to
check out the disgraceful double life of Pastor Butler of the Christian Revolution – when he's not with his abortion advocate girlfriend he's preaching to your children
.

He scrolled down. There was another photo almost identical in composition to the first. Two cars, side by side in the staff parking area of the clinic. A man and a woman embracing passionately. A date and time stamp in the corner. But the car next to Aggie's was some kind of four-wheel drive, and the hand tangled up in her hair was not Luke's. The photo was taken less than a week ago. Luke read the text over and over.
Aggie Grey demonstrates her high moral standards by publicly making out with married father of two Dr. Simon Keating. We wonder if Pastor Butler knows how quickly he has been replaced!

When Mal opened the door to Aggie on Sunday morning she was crying.

‘Pastor Butler?' he asked, ushering her in.

Aggie nodded and allowed herself to be pushed into an armchair and fed tea and whole-wheat biscuits. Will rubbed her shoulders and handed her tissues and she cried all the more.

‘I'm so happy you guys sorted everything out. You give me faith.'

Will leant down and whispered in her ear. ‘We got married.'

‘Married!'

‘Aggie doesn't want to hear about that right now, darl.'

‘Of course I do. Tell me!'

‘We were on the balcony of our hotel, drinking tequila and watching the sun set over the desert, and Mal turns to me and says, “It's about time we got married, don't you think?” and I said – well, I didn't say anything, I just squealed in an alarmingly camp way, and then we went out and bought rings and found a crazy old priest who married us in his garden and then had his wife serve us mint tea.'

‘They were ninety years old,' Mal said. ‘I don't think they realised we were both men. It's not legal, of course.'

‘Oh, bugger legal,' Aggie said. ‘It's incredibly romantic. I'm thrilled. You'll have to let me throw you a wedding party, you can do it all again in my garden.'

Will kissed her cheek. ‘You're the best fag-hag-in-law a boy could ask for. I want you to be the mother-influence of our unborn children.'

‘Enough with the
Queer as Folk
audition. What's that little shit done to you, Ag?'

Aggie told them and started crying again and could not stop.

‘You're not seeing him again,' Mal said when she was finished.

‘I love him.'

‘You're. Not. Seeing. Him. Again.' He emphasised each word with a fist to the coffee table. ‘Ever.'

Will covered Mal's fist with his hand. ‘She loves him.'

‘Even more reason to put a stop to it now. It'll only get harder, and he's not going to change. He's going to keep doing evil shit, and you're going to keep getting hurt. Your mother would go nuts, Aggie.'

‘Fuck her. Where's she when I need her?'

‘She's off being true to herself. Like you should be.'

Aggie covered her face with her hands. ‘We had sex. That means something.'

Malcolm threw his hands up. ‘Oh, give me a break.'

‘No, she's right,' Will said. ‘The boy is a hottie; if he was a virgin then you can bet it wasn't through lack of offers. Pathetic or not, Mal, the kid gave Ag the most precious thing he had. Tell me that doesn't mean something?'

‘It means he's a fucking fruit-loop. Anyone who puts that much importance on sex is seriously warped.'

‘I better go home. He's probably called.' Aggie stood, ignoring Malcolm's expression. ‘I'll see you later.' She ran out before Mal could tell her why she shouldn't.

By the time Luke had cleaned up all the pieces of the computer monitor and washed and bandaged up his hands, it was after four. He dialled Aggie's number, and this time she answered straightaway. He hung up without speaking and then smashed the receiver into the desk until it was nothing but a bunch of wires with a few bits of black plastic hanging off here and there. The cut in his right palm split open, and so he had to wash and wrap it again.

It was time to tell Honey. The door of her cabin was not properly closed; a sliver of light showed from inside. Luke knocked and waited. There was no response. He pushed it open a fraction more, wary
of invading her privacy but concerned she may have fallen asleep and left her room unlocked.

Stepping inside, Luke saw that Honey was indeed sleeping soundly. What he had not anticipated was the fact that she was not alone. Beside her, his chest acting as a pillow for her head was Greg.

‘Luke . . .' Greg reached for him with one hand, then abruptly stopped and turned his attention to the sleeping girl. ‘Honey!' He half sat, easing her off him by holding her shoulders. ‘Wake up, Honey, you have to –'

‘Luke?' Honey blinked at him. She sat up straight, rubbed her face, blinked again. ‘What happened to you?'

Luke's words got stuck in his throat. He coughed and held his aching guts. Greg came towards him, put his arm around his back and led him to Honey's bed. He sat and allowed Honey to pick up both his arms.

‘What happened?'

Luke turned to Greg who was hovering over them, rubbing his chin and making small panicky noises.

‘How could you?' he managed to say.

‘Luke, man, don't freak out. Everything's cool here.'

‘
Don't freak out
.' Luke laughed, pulling his bandaged hands away from Honey. ‘Why would I freak out? It's just fornication, right? Just sex. Everybody's doing it with everybody. Doesn't mean anything. Jump from one bed to another within a week. Easy come, easy go, nothing to it.'

‘I think something's wrong,' Honey said. ‘Maybe we should call someone.'

‘Luke?' Greg crouched in front of him. ‘You look tired, man. I'll walk you to your room, eh?'

Luke laughed.

‘I don't know what happened to you this weekend,' Greg said, ‘but I know you're strong enough to handle it. We'll go to your room, and we'll pray together. Like old times, right? Remember, when I was lost and you'd sit and pray with me for hours, all night sometimes? You said God never gives us something we can't handle, and I believe that. So whatever's wrong, we'll go talk to Jesus and with His help, we'll sort it out.'

‘He and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.' Luke laughed and laughed. ‘He's in a bit of a sulk with me, I think.'

‘What? Greg, what's he saying? I can't understand. I think something's really wrong.'

Luke's laughter had morphed into cackling.

‘He needs help, Greg. He's lost it.'

Luke turned on Honey, the laughter dying in his throat. ‘I
have
lost it. How did you know? Can you tell by looking, Honey? Is there some kind of radar that tells you when a man is fallen? Is that how you knew Greg would hop into bed with you?'

‘That's it.' Greg grabbed Luke's arm and pulled him to his feet. ‘I'm sure you don't know what you're saying, but if you keep saying it, I'm going to lose my temper with you.'