Rising from the pew, he headed to the little chapel, just off the altar, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. He had been hiding behind her skirts his whole life, and as he knelt before the chapel’s rack of tall blue candles, he felt certain she would understand his predicament. She might not be part of the Trinity, but her ex officio position, as the intercessor who had God’s ear, had always made her something like Mrs. Roosevelt, the person to go to first.
