The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Harold Fry, #1)

by Rachel Joyce

He didn’t object to other people believing in God, but it was like being in a place where everyone knew a set of rules and he didn’t.

You could say things in the car and know she had tucked them somewhere safe among her thoughts, and that she would not judge him for them, or hold it against him in years to come. He supposed that was what friendship was, and regretted all the years he had spent without it.