22
I couldn’t find Poppy after Mass, but that was okay. I wanted to call the bishop right away, while my mind and spirit were certain. I wanted to move forward, I wanted to explore this new life, and I wanted to start exploring it right the hell now.
It wasn’t until I was actually dialing Bishop Bove’s number that the full, complex reality of what I was doing sank in.
I would be leaving the congregation in a lurch—they would need visiting priests until they could find a new one to stay at St. Margaret’s. Worse, I was echoing the departure of my predecessor. Yes, I was leaving to marry, not because I was being arrested, but still. Would it feel the same to my parishioners?
No more work at panels and conventions, crusading for purity in the clergy. No more work in Lizzy’s name, on Lizzy’
