The reverend surprised me by moving to the door. "Let's get in line or the food will be gone. Come on, it's on me." I felt compelled to follow but I wanted to hear more. "After dinner," he said, answering my unasked question.
I lined up behind an old fellow whose odor almost caused me to skip the meal entirely but I stuck with it and was rewarded by a tasty bowl of chicken soup and a fresh baked roll. Everyone in the crowded room knew Pastor Humphries and treated him with the reverence as a visiting cardinal. A seating place was cleared for us near the front. A number of those in attendance asked if the service was still on for seven o'clock.
Willard turned to me. "The chapel is upstairs. You'll be an honored guest seeing as you're from out of town." It wasn't an invitation but I figured I owed my presence for what I'd learned so far and I couldn't wait to renew our conversation. By the time we'd finished our meal, with a piece of cake, there wasn't much time before the service was to begin and the pastor excused himself to prepare.
I was buttonholed by two middle-aged men who alternated telling me their life story. One arrested his nasal problem on the sleeve of his hoodie. They both spoke as if what said was oft repeated. While they didn't detail their crimes, both spoke of ruining their lives because of sins of the flesh. I was trying to come up with an exit excuse when a gong sounded from above. I followed about twenty lost souls up a rickety flight of stairs to a brightly lighted room, smelling of flowers and candles.
The service lasted just under an hour and consisted mostly of Reverend Humphries preaching against giving in to the devil's temptation for wicked bodily desires. Ample mention was made of alcohol as the fuel for the engine of lust. A few of the gents nodded off but the pastor would quickly bring them back we a raised voice and a fist pound, prompting a hearty Amen. I tried to remain objective but I'm forced to admit, the assemblage made me feel a tad tetchy. While I had no direct evidence the attendees were all registered sex offenders, the way they nodded and agreed at the mention of deviant sexual behavior made me feel I might be unique among like penitents.
After the service and obligatory greetings, hand shakings and pats-on-the-back, Willard and I returned to his office.
"Don't worry about a bed for the night," he said as we settled back in his office. "I have extra because it's a warm night and lots of my regulars like sleeping in the park." At least I'd save the price of a hotel though I wondered how peaceful a sleep I'd manage. I thanked him for his generosity and donated a hundred dollar bill to his mission. Though he pleaded it was unnecessary, he readily pocked the offering. If I thought sermonizing would wear out Willard for my questions, I was dead wrong. He seemed eager to talk all night.