Once at the end of the line, he stopped, jammed the handle down on his suitcase, and sat on it. Finally at rest, he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat sluicing down over his caramel-colored cheekbones, collecting in his five o’clock shadow that appeared to be much grayer than his jet-bla...
She and Colm joined him on most Sunday mornings at St. Patrick’s. Since their mother had died more than six years ago the two had an unspoken pact that this was how they would honor her. Granted, they had given the woman her fair share of grief over her daily attendance at church, but now the cer...