“You’re from our side,” Eddie said. He spoke in a kind of sigh. “Holy God, you’re really from our side!” “Yes, I think I am,” the man in the turned-around collar said. “My name is Donald Callahan.” “You’re a priest,” Susannah said. She looked from the cross that hung around his neck—small and discreet, but gleaming gold—to the larger, cruder one that scarred his forehead. Callahan shook his head. “No more. Once. Perhaps one day again, with the blessing, but not now. Now I’m just a man of God. May I ask . . . when are you from?” “1964,” Susannah said. “1977,” Jake said. “1987,” Eddie said.
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