“Arthur has threatened to take away my pulpit by Sunday,” I said.

Helen reached into her apron pocket and took out a silver pen.

“I’m on the early shift Saturday morning,” Helen said.

“I’ll sign your marriage license as the official witness.”

“The hospital board might make trouble for you,” I said.

“Let them go ahead and try,” Helen said.

I looked down at the twin candle flames reflected in the polished brass base on the altar.

“If Arthur wants a fight over my ordination, he’ll have to bring it into this chapel,” I said.