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Connie felt wrung out, drained to the core, as she lay in John’s arms with her head resting on his shoulder. She considered adding embarrassed to the list but finally rejected it. In an odd way, she felt good, light. Free of the burden she hadn’t known she carried, didn’t know what it had been. She simply felt free from beneath its pressing weight.
She slid from his lap until they sat side-by-side with her leaning safe inside the protective curve of his strong right arm. They held hands across, his left to her right, and gazed at St. George and his golden sword raised high, preparing the final deathblow to the serpent below.
They sat quietly for a long time in the pew. At peace. Stopped. She’d leaned her head on his shoulder and he’d rested his cheek on her hair.
When the night coul
