I was concerned that someone in the Camp family would notice the well- known and well-worn blue Lincoln that served as St. Mary’s official vehicle sitting in front of their home. It’s never a good sign to have an unexpected visit from the clergy or law enforcement. My white unmarked Dodge could blend in easily on the quiet, tree-lined street, especially since the sun was just barely making its appearance in the eastern sky. Even though I dreaded parallel parking, I chose a spot in front of an empty lot at the end of the block, leaving Father Murphy the convenience of parking in the Camp’s driveway. He chose instead to park directly across from me. I noticed a small, amber light being extinguished and a faint swirl of smoke as he made his way out of the car. He looked at me, embarrassed that I caught him smoking, but Father Murphy could charm the pants off an old maid, and he knew it. “Remember, Jean,” he looked at me brushing ashes off his overcoat. “I know all your deep, dark secrets.” “Your secret is safe with me, Father,”
