The voice that spoke from the other side of the confessional window, wavering and thin with age, held a trace of accent from across the sea. Irish, perhaps?
“I’m not a Catholic, Father. Will you hear my confession?”
Father Lucas came fully awake from his near doze. His chin lifted from his chest and his fingers touched the skin there, tracing the impression left from his clerical collar.
“Is there not someone of your own faith to whom you could turn?”
“I never embraced a faith, Father. For many years I thought God was dead or disinterested.”
The priest hesitated. There were disputes over the Canon Law on this matter. He preferred to err on the side of caution.
“Perhaps it’s time to commit to religion. Wherever you place your faith, there will be someone to hear and mediate your trans
