“ARE YOU SURE IT WAS Steve?” Helen whispers as we stand greeting parishioners after Mass.
“Look, if it wasn’t Steve, then it was his twin brother,” I say.
Before we can talk any further, Catherine Conway runs up and squeals, “Hi, Father Tom! Hi, Miss Helen!”
“Hello, sweetie,” Helen says as she bends over to give her a hug. Max and JP come up then and mumble something that might be a greeting, followed by Dan and an increasingly pregnant Miriam.
“Morning, Father Tom, Chief,” Dan says.
“Morning, Dan, Miriam,” I say. Seeing the expression on Miriam’s face, I ask her, “Are you doing all right?”
“About as well as can be expected,” she says, wearily. “She’s laying right on my bladder so I have to go every five minutes—oh, oh, dear, excuse me!”
She turns around and scurries back into the c
