The first thing I did was to order coffee black for me, and one with cream and sugar for her. I looked at her closely while I waited for the coffee. She had to be around forty not a lot more or a lot less either. She was dressed conservatively in clothes that didn't scream either rich or poor. For the most part she just looked average.

She had short hair but not dyke short. It was more easy to care for short. She had good features but nothing stood out. She had a truly forgettable body. Small breasts and too large hips left me thinking half the women in the street on any given day. The hips were most likely from some kind of sit down job. She didn't look to be the outdoors type. Her complexion was a little toward the pale side.

"Is that gonna' be all Mr. Mike," the black teenager asked.

"It will be just fine Patricia. By the way how is school going."

"It's hard Mr. Mike. Working here all day and then classes at night."

"I know but one day you will be glad you toughed it out. You can say that you did something not many girls your age had the will, and the courage to do."

"You always have a good word for me. I appreciate that, and I do plan to stay with it. Mama will kick my butt if I quit."

"Well, we can't have that."

The stranger and I slipped into silence for a while. "You really are one of the good guys aren't you?" she asked.

"That depends on who you ask, I expect."

"Maybe you can help me."

"I said I could, and I almost never lie."

"Almost, that sounds promising. I was about to think you were a saint."

"Hardly a saint, I'm more like an old worn out sinner. All those hormones have finally calmed down, so now I can be the man my mom hoped I would be."

"Living up to someone else's expectations, it seems I have done that all my life."

"Well there is nothing wrong with that, if you don't go mad trying. It has been my experience, that too many people are trying to pull me in totally different directions all at the same time."

"Yes that's how I feel at times."

"The waitress told you my name what is yours?"

"Edith Wright," she said the paused to take a deep breath then continue. "Reverend Edith Wright actually."

"Oh really and what flavor are you." It took her a moment before the light went on in her eyes.

"Methodist," she replied.

"And does your problem have something to do with your position. Steal the money from the poor box."

"No nothing so cliche. Actually maybe it is a cliche. My husband left me for a younger woman. My daughter blames me for the divorce."

"Well he is an idiot, and she is also an idiot. Although she has an excuse. She is an inexperienced idiot."

"Thanks those are challenges that led to my problem, but my problem is a little more real than emotional."

"Okay what is this deep dark secret."

"I had an affair after the divorce." She paused then went on. "He is a member of my congregation."

"Ah, that's not good," I suggested trying to keep a straight face. I'm not very religious and find all the sins of the flesh committed by the clergy humorous.

"Worse, I have been couple counseling him and his wife," She looked down at her coffee cup.

"Are you still seeing him?"

"No, but his wife found out. She is going to tell everyone I know. My daughter will really be upset."

"Well you could explain your side of it first."

"I know and I will, but it will ruin me. I will lose my congregation."

"I would think so yes. If she does tell all, there is nothing I can do to keep your church. I guess, I will just have to kill you. There is one thing I might be able to do."

"What?" she asked.

"Maybe I can convince her not to tell anyone."

"How?"

"I have no earthly idea at the moment, but I'm sure something will come to me.