The young couple standing to his left had plastered on their smiles mid-service, and they had not let them drop for more than a few seconds since. They were to be married soon, as they had told him immediately after the concluding rite, and naturally (as they’d put it) wished for him to be the one to conduct their ceremony. Father Richards was great, they’d said, but Father Brennan just felt right.

The way they’d looked at him when they said that was rather telling. He gave an awkward laugh and thanked them for their trust before pretending like he’d heard someone else call for him.

(Why was it always so hard to just stay on the holiest path? A curse upon that awful, wonderful tradition that was granting communion to a parish on their knees. It should have been an excommunicable offense, for how many sinful thoughts it encouraged.)

Thankfully for the struggling addict priest, a voice did address him soon after and he did not have to pretend for long.

Praise the Lord.

He stopped himself from making the sign of the cross as he turned to address the siblings, his smile having eased into something more genuine.

“Edmund. Pleased to see you both here,” Malachi greeted first, hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Don’t worry, you did not interrupt,” he assured, despite the fact that their entrance kind of… had. It had not been an unpleasant distraction though. He was pleased to see them. He focused on Mable for a moment when she spoke up, though her quiet demeanor certainly contrasted with her excitement the night before.

“Hello Mable,” he returned, “thank you. How are the two of you doing?”