AFTER MASS, I GREET my flock. To a person, they ask about Helen and how she’s doing. I can honestly answer that she's doing well, that her pain’s pretty much gone, and that she’s looking forward to returning to Mass next Sunday.
“We must do something for her, Father,” Clara Benton says. “Something to let her know how much we appreciate her and how glad we are that she’s doing better. A reception for her after Mass next Sunday.”
“Well,” I say, smiling but a little hesitant, “I don’t know how she’ll be feeling. I mean, she’s doing better, but she tires easily and is still a little—”
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Clara says with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know your bride very well, but from what I’ve seen and from what I’ve heard, she’s as tough as nails. I’m sure getting shot in the shoulder’s no
