Thirty
I HEAR FROM HELEN THAT evening.
“Sorry, darling,” she says. “I can’t go out on our drive. We’re still processing Lewis’ house.”
“I understand,” I say. “So, are we OK?”
“Of course,” she says. “And I’m sorry. Frankly, I see you so much as the man I love and my future husband, Lord willing, that I sometimes forget you’re a priest. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Gladys.”
“Do I need to call and apologize?”
“I don’t know. I gave her the rest of the day off. So, how did it go with Richard?”
I take a deep breath. “At least I can say I tried. What do you do with someone who doesn’t believe he’s ever done anything to be sorry for?”
“Well, in my line of work, they usually wind up in jail,” she says with a laugh.
“I see that. Richard—I mean, I’ve never met someone completely amoral. I
