Free as a Jailbird

Chapter 16

She is adding soda to the other punch bowl, humming along with the mellow music.

"Hey Belle, I was–"

"Jess!" she interrupts me eagerly. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, listen–"

"You have to meet Pastor Daniel."

"Okay – wait, what?" Pastor? As in the guy who reads from the Bible and tries to interpret it like some fortune teller with a beard? I'm not so keen.

"Pastor Daniel," she repeats and practically throws the ladle in the bowl. "He's a great guy, you'll love him." She takes me by the hand and yanks me into the crowd of swaying people.

Forgetting completely about keeping an eye on the time, I prepare myself for meeting the Pastor. I don't have much time to collect my bearings before Belle taps someone on the shoulder and he turns around to face us.

Pastor Daniel is not at all who I expect him to be. While the image of a man in a long, black, tunic-like robe with those little white hats and a Bible clasped worshipfully in his hand is all I can picture every time someone mentions the word 'pastor', the man who stands before me is so different to my stereotype, he could have been Tinkerbell.

"Pastor Daniel, this is Jess," says Belle brightly, "I wanted to introduce you. I know you love meeting the new people."

I shudder at the reference to my title but shake his hand all the same.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Jess," says Pastor Daniel as he breaks away from his circle of friends to talk to me.

I would have put a great deal of money – if I had any – on betting that Pastor Daniel is in his late twenties. He has no hair on his head, but it works with his glimmering black eyes and blinding white smile. His broad shoulders are covered by a light leather jacket and a baby-blue T-shirt. His style, I note, is definitely not the norm of pastors I've seen before.

And, like Belle and Ted, Pastor Daniel has the same glow about him that makes me instantly relax.

"Thanks for being so welcoming," I say to him, standing uncomfortably under the huge domed roof of the church. I remember vividly the last time I stood here, before the altar that rests merely meters away and up a small bunch of steps. It was here that I watched a gang member be beaten until he begged for mercy from one of the top-ranking crews in the city for spilling information to the police. The memory makes me shiver and I look away from his gaze, as if he could somehow read it in my eyes.

"Oh it's not a problem," he grins at me. His voice is mellow and new-agey. It also makes me wonder whether he is any good at singing. "Where did you say you came from?"

I didn't. "Er, downtown a fair way. But I like this part of the city. It's lively."

"We're usually busier here, but this neighborhood has become a sort of ... hot spot for vandalism and other things. Don't let that scare you though," he grins.

His smile is so contagious, I grin too. "Are you really a pastor?"

"Eh... more the Youth Pastor. I handle all the fun stuff. Most of the oldies in the church can't handle all of the mischief we get up to here," he says, flicking a finger back at the young kids who are dancing with each other and looking so full of happiness.

I laugh to be polite.

"So have you been here before?" he asks.

"I've been to a church service once or twice, but I ... I don't attend."