“Every muscle in his legs ached, and his arms had some odd little bruises. He had one on his neck as well, but as usual, his secrets would be hidden by the cassock, collar, and white cravat. As he stared at his face in the small mirror while he shaved, he waited to feel a stab of guilt, but delight had apparently taken its place. His version of God seemed to have grown more forgiving lately. He dressed with care due to all the aches and pains. Soon enough, they’d be gone and he’d return to the l...ife he’d always known. A life he treasured, he reminded himself. He’d been happy. Perhaps his punishment for sin was simple: to discover something entirely transcendent and never be allowed to experience that sensation and joy again. That seemed appropriate. He had a Canterbury cap too, a gift from his parents, but wasn’t sure how Hollister would feel if he wore it. Poor crowing Jeannie’s gift, the soft gray scarf he always carried, went in a pocket. The simple-minded village girl wouldn’t be at the service, but he felt insecure when it wasn’t with him—as if his life’s meaning wasn’t clear.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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