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Edwardhis age-spotted, big-knuckled hand around his wife’s

“I knew you would co to say h her chest

Francis stared down at the pale, withered old woman Her white hair, brushed and corayed pillow like wisps of goose down He took hold of her other hand, so sliently

Dull, watery blue eyes blinked at him, the corners tucked into folds of wrinkled flesh Even now, in the last, pain-riddled days of her life, she exuded a calentleness that touched his heart

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned”

She spoke so softly, he had to lean forward to hear the words

“It has been teeks since my last confession I accuse myself of—”

Francis squeezed his eyes shut and sed the lued like old dust in his throat When was the last time you truly sinned, Ilya? When?

How could a benevolent God heap suchwoman who’d never harmed a soul All her life she’d helped people, and now here she lay, cancer eating through her bones, hopelessness spreading like a virus through her blood

And what of Edward, her husband of fifty-seven years? What would he do after her death, hoould he go on in this home that she had created for them?

“Edward,” she said softly, “get Father Francis a cup of tea”

Edward let go of his wife’s hand and left the bedside, disappearing into the kitchen

She waited for the quiet click of the kitchen door before she spoke “Father …” She paused, drew in a deep, shaking breath, her hand curling within his grasp into a tight fist “I am afraid for him, Father The look in his eyes lately … He isn’t ready for me to die”

Francis touched her face, gently stroked the velvety wrinkles “I’ll help him, Ilya I’ll be here for him”

“I can’t stay er The pain …” Tears slid down her temples She squeezed his hand “Take care of him, Father Please …”