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The typed envelope gave no clue as to the sender. William turned it over. The address on the back was Victory’s. His chest tightened. Could they possibly have heard about his suicide attempt?
He counted back on his fingers. No, not possible. Even if Reg had rung the church, a letter couldn’t have made it here this quickly. Phew.
He reached past the breakfast marmalade and picked up a clean knife to use as a letter opener. The letter inside was a crisp sheet of double-spaced typing. He scanned to the bottom. It was from the board of elders. His heart-rate sped up.
Dear Reverend Macdonald,
Was their formality a good or a bad thing? He had major decisions to make, but he didn’t want to be fired.
When are you coming back? Numbers are down week by week, and nothing we’ve done has rever
