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(RSST).
    It could not exactly be called love at first sight. Because all Father Anderson could see was a face—pinched by an unforgiving wimple that made it look as if Sister had just been sucking a lemon—and hands.
    Sister Perpetua belonged to a very strict religious order. Relatively recently almost all religious orders had been given the option of wearing either the habit (traditional or modified) or lay clothing. It had been a decade since the conclusion of Vatican II and things were moving, seemingly, for just about everyone but the Theresians: They had stuck with the past.
    Along with the traditional habit, the Theresians appeared to have taken some sort of vow to stamp out good cheer, which was why Sister Perpetua, together with Fathers Casserly and Anderson, stood out amid the crowd: She smiled.
    There was absolutely no way of discerning what Sister Perpetua really looked like under those yards and yards of dark brown cloth; even her face was distorted by the tight wimple. The founders of the older religious orders intended to make chastity easier to observe by making their followers pretty much asexual. In the unlikely event of an assignation, the players would be pretty much spent by the time Sister had been helped to disrobe.
    One thing was incontrovertible: Perpetua was tall. She stood five foot eight. Whatever other proportions she possessed were hers alone to know; everyone else had to guess.
    Sister Perpetua and Father Anderson got along well—better as time passed. They smiled at each other. Even when there wasn’t much about which to be happy.
    The smiles were noted by the other Theresians as well as by Father Angelico. Perpetua paid for her indiscretion by having menial jobs heaped upon her until her back was almost literally broken.
    Anderson would have suffered a similar punishment except that he was now in the process of self-emancipation. No longer would he be indentured to Angelico. Not since the stewardship of Father Casserly had the pastor had this much trouble controlling an assistant.
    Not only was Anderson casting off the yoke of servitude the pastor forced on those associated with him, Jerry was also becoming choosy about which Church laws to impose on the laity. He was particularly incensed by the Church’s marriage laws. His distress grew in the ten years he continued in the active ministry after moving on from St. Ursula’s. It would be the proximate reason he would leave the priesthood.
    That and his imagination as to what Sister Perpetua looked like under that enshrouding habit.
    As was the case with many priests who left, Anderson was offered a job with Tom Becker. Jerry had expected as much since he and Rick Casserly were both members of Father Koesler’s St. Ursula’s alumni group. Casserly made certain that Tom, his former classmate, would at least offer a position.
    Anderson was grateful. As he put it, quoting more than one expriest who had joined the mainstream, “Life gets pretty tough when Mother Church removes her nipple from one’s mouth.” He gave serious and grateful consideration to Becker’s offer.
    Then, suddenly, in a manner of speaking, all his ducks, like a syzygy, were lined up in a row.
    Jerry Anderson had had some success editing and writing a series of parish bulletins. He’d had letters published periodically, a couple of them in the New York Times . Chris Reynolds was trying to save his magazine. And Pat Lennon, with the approval of the boss, was cleaning the slate.
    Several of Jerry’s former parishioners, aware of his interest in writing, urged him to apply for a job in that field. And then came lunch with Sister Perpetua—now having reclaimed her pre-Theresian name of Dora Riccardo. She arranged for his interview with Pat Lennon at Oakland Monthly .
    He landed the job—the only one of those he’d applied for that he really wanted.
    And, as frosting on the cake, Dora Riccardo worked in the same office.
    God was good.

Four
    The year was 1960. It was