”“Well, Christine, my dear,” said Matt, my husband, clearly embarrassed about my language and my questioning our existence. “We are chosen to ...lorify God.” He looked at his clergy colleague, Al, for support.“That’s just it,” said Joan, Al’s wife and my best friend, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at the two men. “You men of God are all the same. You talk in your ivory towers about predestination, grace, redemption, sacrifice and heaven without lifting a finger to bring divine love. The heat of the pavement felt good. Even the grit under the soles of her feet. Freeman waited. Doing his duty without a word. Despite his annoying boy scout manners and sense of responsibility, she was glad he was still there. “Somebody waiting for you at home?” “Ma’am, you really ought to just get in the car and go home. The longer you stay out here in the open the more you risk someone coming along and recognizing you.” Considering the hour and neighborhood, the possibility seemed. More

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