CHAPTER 4
“Greet one another on the way out,” the pastor calls to us, and I’m glad Jake and I are in the back row. No time for overzealous church ladies to make meaningless chitchat or impose their uninvited hugs on either of us. I clutch my phone, wondering if we should call Patricia to let her know we’re on our way. If we don’t, she’ll politely complain that she had no way to know when lunch should be ready. If we do, she’ll pitch a very understated fit about how we shouldn’t expect her to rearrange her schedule to cook for us, because don’t we know she has a sick grandchild to look after?
Trust me, Patricia. We know.
I’m ready to leave, but Jake hasn’t moved. Neither has anyone else, I realize. Nobody except that old lady sitting next to the pastor’s wife. She’s standing up now, lean
