It was almost three thirty before Mike was done in confession. He had paused a few times to censor his confessions after the priest had dropped his bible… four times. He had caught a glimpse of the middle-aged priest as he was leaving. He had peeked his salt and pepper head out of the confessional to study Mike as he knelt in front of the virgin mother and made the sign of the cross.
The priest’s face had been flushed, and his wide-eyed stare told Mike that had been the most excitement the old man had ever experienced. Perhaps he would rethink his vows; Mike mused as he smiled back at the priest who immediately retreated into his confessional. The man now had some confessing of his own to do, Mike was sure.
He stood outside St. Tarrasa’s church on the stone steps and did up his coat, a
