I ARRIVE AT MYERTON General Hospital and park in the Clergy Only parking space. Apparently, it was Helen’s influence with Martin that got the clergy space moved closer to the entrance, for which I’m particularly grateful.
Since it’s usually empty when I visit, I wonder if any other clergy actually have people in the hospital, or if my parish just has a large number of sick and injured.
We certainly seem to have more than our share of murder suspects and victims.
I walk through the doors of the Emergency Department and approach the nurses’ station. Betty Bouquet, one of my favorites, looks up from where she’s doing paper work and says, “You’re out very late tonight, Father. Who are you here for?”
“Nathaniel Rodriguez,” I answer. “He was brought in a couple of hours ago.” I hesitate, the
