IT’S ALMOST 11 P.M. by the time we walk back to the Rectory for my car.
“I’d invite you in,” I say, “but even though Anna’s there, someone seeing you come inside might get the wrong idea.”
“Hmm, and what idea might that be, Father?” she says, the huskiness of her voice sending sparks through me.
“Any number of things I have in mind for after we’re safely married.”
“Oooh, really,” she says, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I still can’t believe it sometimes. That we’re actually going to be married.”
“I am so looking forward to filing a joint tax return,” I quip.
“Your income includes the use of the Rectory, which complicates things, so we’re better off filing separately. I checked with an accountant.”
“Darn,” I grin. “There go my plans for the honeymoon. I was so looking forward to
