The Truth About Faking

the fact of him being here is making her hesitate.
    “No.” She says softly, still looking at him.
    Dad’s eyes lock on hers and the other men let out a collective breath. My stomach lurches. What is she doing?
    “Jackie,” Mr. Bryant says. “You’re not going to let these allegations stand…”
    “These allegations are ridiculous.” Mom drops Dad’s hand and stands up, walking to face the mantle. “And they’re being put forward by an ignorant woman and a teenage boy who doesn’t know what he saw.”
    “You can respond either yes or no,” Mr. Perkins says.
    “To what?” Mom flashes at him. “So far I haven’t heard any evidence of wrongdoing. So what if Ricky came here last Saturday? I’m his mentor, and he had a problem he needed to discuss with me. I can’t help it if Sandra has a vivid imagination.”
    “You do have to consider your appearance, Jackie.” Mr. Perkins sounds like a patronizing teacher. “It is questionable for the pastor’s wife to be in a car with a young man late at night in what looks like… a compromising situation.”
    “Compromising situation?” Mom’s voice rises. “Right in front of my house? In full view of the neighborhood? Where Stuart or Harley or anyone could walk up? Just what kind of a tramp do you and Crystal think I am, Ted?”
    Several of the men shift in their seats. Dad shifts and clears his throat.
    “Jackie, just tell them it isn’t true,” he says. “That’s really all the session needs to hear at this point, right fellas?”
    “Well, we are also concerned about a non-repentant spirit,” Mr. Perkins says. “Refusing to hear the church’s discipline…”
    My eyes narrow. I might be furious at Mom, but now I hate Mr. Perkins. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And how those words will affect her.
    “A non-repentant spirit?” Mom’s voice is sharp. “And for what am I being disciplined exactly? So far all I’ve heard is a bunch of misguided innuendo.”
    “Jackie,” Mr. Bryant’s deep voice brings a much-needed calm to the room. “We’re not trying to falsely accuse or insinuate anything. We know you. We know Stu. If you can assure us nothing’s going on and agree to… modify your behavior going forward, we can put this behind us.”
    Mom’s green eyes are sparking. I know her too well. Mr. Bryant is trying to give her an out, but his choice of words is like pouring water down a cat’s back. He’s allied himself with Mr. Perkins and stupid Mrs. Perkins and all her years of jabs and petty remarks.
    “I’ll have to discuss this with Stuart,” Mom says evenly. “I’m not sure I’m ready to accept those terms.”
    “Jackie—” Dad starts.
    She looks at him. “Stuart.”
    My dad looks down and then rises from the couch. At that the five men also stand and make preparations to leave. Mr. Perkins adjusts his waistband and makes some comment about getting back to the wife. I can just imagine Mrs. Perkins waiting at the door for the full account of what happened. She’s probably holding her breath, too. She’s finally found something that might stick, something that might put her stupid husband in charge and get rid of my mother for good.
    The last elder to leave is Mr. Bryant. He tries one final time.
    “I know this can be frustrating, Jackie,” he says. “But it’s just part of shepherding a growing flock.”
    Mom doesn’t even look at him, and I can’t stop staring at her. What has she done? What is this going to mean? By tomorrow everyone will know they came here and presented her with the story, and she didn’t say a thing to contradict it.
     Dad returns from seeing Mr. Bryant out and sits in a chair. He leans forward and rests his chin on his fists looking straight ahead at the fireplace.
    “I’m sorry, Stu,” Mom says quietly. “I just couldn’t listen to them saying all of those things anymore. A non-repentant spirit?”
    Dad lowers his face and rubs his forehead. Mom drops to her knees in front of him and puts her hands on his arms.
    “Stuart?” her voice breaks.
    My eyes fill with tears. If the congregation believes she’s having an affair and won’t repent, she could be excommunicated. If she won’t answer them, what other choice do they have? Why is she doing this?
    Dad looks at her for a moment before pulling her into his arms and rubbing her back. “Is it worth it to you?” He asks softly. “Is this really worth that much?”
    She doesn’t answer him. I can’t stop the tears. He’s