Thirty
NATE AND GLADYS DROP me off at the Rectory—my dead car is still in the driveway, and my bicycle is at the Myer Mansion—a little before 8 a.m. I’m immediately peppered with questions from Anna about what happened and if Mae is all right. I answer as briefly as I can and ask her to send a note around the parish email chain giving everyone an update before trudging upstairs, setting my phone alarm for 11 a.m., and throwing myself on the bed.
I must have fallen asleep right away, because my alarm wakes me with a jolt. Feeling surprisingly refreshed, I shower and get dressed and walk downstairs to the kitchen. Anna has made a fresh pot of coffee, and I pour a cup and take it into the living room for a few moments of peace before I walk over to the church to prepare for Mass.
“I though
