I heard the conversation of two Latino inmates from somewhere in the hall. Their Spanish, the Latin of the Gregorian chants, the English we spoke, and the Arabic of the Muslim prayers swirled together into a linguistic potpourri that permeated the air.

“I did a lot of thinking while I was away,” I said.

It sounded more ominous than I had intended.

“Yeah?” she said, tilting her head and raising her thick brown eyebrows. I had her complete attention.

“I’m not sure I can be an effective chaplain if I’m spending so much time investigating.”

Her expression encouraged me to continue.“

Things always get out of control,” I said. “I change... and if I have to choose...”

“But—”

“I came very close to taking a drink last summer when I was in the middle of the Ike Johnson case,” I said.

Her face registered her surprise. “You should’ve said some thing.”

I didn’t respond.

Harmless appeared at the door again, and I waved him away. She turned, but he was gone.

“How close did you come, really?” she asked when she turned back around.

I shrugged. “The thing is, even though I maintained my sobriety,” I said, “I lost my serenity.”

When Harmless appeared at the door again, I jumped up and rushed over to it. He pulled back from the door and started walking toward the sanctuary.

“What are you doing, Harry?” I asked.

He spun around and stepped back toward me, his dull eyes blinking rapidly behind his thick glasses. “Waiting to see you,” he said impatiently, the severe lisp only adding to his annoying tone. “I’ve been trying to see you for a long time.”

Harry actually looked harmless with his small build, graying crewcut, and thick glasses, his speech impediment only adding to the facade.

“I’m with someone right now,” I said. “If you want to see me, have a seat in the library. If I see you hanging outside my office door again, I’m going to have you locked up.”

“For what?” he asked belligerently.

“You hear that tick tock sound?” Anna asked, coming up behind me and staring Harry down. “That’s the gain time you’re losing. Like sands in the hourglass... I’m taking away days of your life outside.”

He stalked away, muttering something under his breath, and we both made our way back to our seats, shaking our heads as we did.

“Why do you do this?” she asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

When I moved back home to northwest Florida after being a cop and a cleric in Atlanta, I never would’ve imagined I’d become a prison chaplain. But God works in mysterious ways, and when I fell from grace in Atlanta, this is the grace I fell into.