“The way you keep looking at her, I’d say yesterday wouldn’t be soon enough.”

“That’s the damn truth,” Cyrus said. Father Ike held a beer bottle in his hand, a Miller Lite. They had it at the engagement party back in June. That was it…that’s where they were. The river had brought them to Cyrus and Paulina’s engagement party, held in her backyard.

The last time Cyrus had seen Father Ike alive.

“I know you heard it from everyone in this city,” Father Ike continued, “but you are one lucky man. She’s one of the great ones.”

“Truer words, man. Look, feel free to say ‘no,’” Cyrus said, “but we’re doing the full wedding Mass. Would you be willing to help out? Paulina loves you, you know.”

Nothing unusual about having more than one priest at a wedding Mass.

“It’s November seventh,” Cyrus pressed on.

Ike winced and the crow’s feet around his eyes went deep. “I don’t think I’ll be around then,” he said. “I think I’m getting transferred. New school. Not in Nola. I’d hate to say ‘yes,’ then have to back out. But if I’m around, I’ll be there as a guest.”

“It’s fine,” Cyrus said, because it was.

“But I will pray for you and Paulina. Every day.”

“I appreciate that, Father.”

“And you’ll pray for me, too?” Ike asked, smile gone.

Cyrus didn’t do much praying. That was Paulina’s thing, not his. But he was too polite to say that to a priest.

“Yeah, definitely. I better get back to my lady.”

“Give her a kiss for me. Or two.” Ike winked at him. Cyrus patted Father Ike on the shoulder and waded back to the riverbank, leaving the memory behind.

When he turned around, Father Ike was in the middle of the river. He wasn’t holding a beer in his hand anymore, but a rifle.

“Ike!”

Cyrus sat up with a start, eyes open to the real world. He drank it all in—the begonias, the neatly-mown grass, the picnic table on the patio. He texted Katherine.

Father Ike told me he was getting transferred. Ask the archbishop’s secretary what that was about, Cyrus wrote. Don’t ask Archbishop Dunn—ask the secretary. Call her at home, right now before Dunn gets to her.

Cyrus didn’t know much about Archbishop Thomas Dunn, but he knew bishops liked keeping things quiet.

Katherine wrote back almost immediately. Got it. You on the case?

I don’t know yet.

Know soon, Katherine wrote back. Cyrus rolled his eyes and stuffed his phone back into his jacket pocket. He got up and went back into the house, back into the kitchen.

Paulina smiled at him as she brought two plates over to the table. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sat down at his plate. Today’s feast was scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, and yogurt with an assortment of toppings (raspberries, walnuts, chocolate chips). The woman was a health nut every day but Saturday morning, God bless her.

“Grace,” she said.

He began, “Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen.”