“On it,” I say and walk to the back of the room and into the kitchen. The kitchen looks like it was from the 1970s, and the beat-up round tin coffee machine sits on the corner of the counter. I walk to the counter, taking it off, and then open the top. Luckily, I helped Murielle set up for a barbecue once, and she explained to me how it works. It takes me four minutes to get everything ready, and then I carry it over to the table, plugging it into the wall and waiting for it to do its thing. I walk back into the kitchen and open the cupboards, looking for the cups and some sugar. I get everything that I need out along with some stir sticks. I walk over and start setting up the table as people slowly start arriving. Looking over, I see that Father Rolly is standing by the door talking to someone, and then he looks over at me, pointing.

I stand here and look around the room, noticing some people sitting and waiting for it to start. “Excuse me,” Father Rolly says and then comes to me. “It is just about to start,” he says, smiling. “Luckily, Patricia is going to run the meeting.” I smile at him, and I’m about to ask him if he needs anything else when he holds out his hand. “Would you come this way please?” He walks toward Murielle’s office and steps in, waiting for me to follow him in, and then closes the door behind me. “Sit, sit,” he says, and I sit in the chair I always sit in when I have to come and ask Murielle to help us out.

He sits in the chair next to me, and I am suddenly nervous. Can one be kicked out of church? Can one be refused entry? “Relax, dear.” He chuckles.

All I can do is wring my hands together. “Easier said than done.”

“You know I always say everything happens for a reason,” he starts, and I just look at him. “Just like you coming in this morning while I was setting up. I was thinking to myself that I really needed to get going and hire someone to take over Murielle’s position.”

“She really did a lot here,” I say, knowing full well she ran the whole church.

“She did, and I know that it’s going to be hard to fill her shoes.” He smiles. “But I think you can do it.”

I look at him shocked, my mouth opening and closing and then doing it again, but nothing comes out. Finally, I whisper, “What?”

“It seems we have been pushed together for a reason,” he says. “I will be here with you every single step of the way, and I’m sure once you get used to it, you’ll be able to do everything with your eyes closed.”