After Forty-Five Years Apart, a Pastor Married His High School Sweetheart
“Turn over your key ring now, Tom.”
I unclipped the worn brass key ring from my belt loop and set it gently on top of his legal folder.
“You have until midnight to collect your personal belongings,” Arthur said.
“I’ll be packed well before midnight,” I said.
By five thirty, dusk was falling over the rectory lawn, turning the autumn grass a pale gray.
A white commercial locksmith’s van was parked in the gravel driveway next to my 2004 Buick LeSabre.
Wade picked up a heavy cardboard box full of my commentaries and carried it down the three wooden porch steps to the open trunk of my car.
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