Nine
SATURDAY MORNING, I wake up in my own bed in the Rectory, Helen having insisted that I get a couple of nights of good sleep before Sunday.
“I can’t have my priest and future husband collapsing from exhaustion,” she told me as she shooed me out of her apartment last night.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“No,” she says. “Honestly, part of me really wants you to stay. Some part of me never wants you to leave. But I’m a big girl and you need your sleep.”
“But—”
“No buts, darling,” she said. “Now, why don’t you tuck me in and be on your way?”
I do just that, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible sleeping on her back. I lean down, kiss her, and make the sign of the cross on her forehead, saying, “God bless you, my darling. Good night.”
I have to admit that Helen
