“Well, my mother was catholic, not that I ever saw her in a church - except a mormon one once when I was little.  Might have been Jewish.  I think I have uncles who married into Jewish families.  I think she might have been dating one.”  He shrugged.  “I happen to be Baptist.  But to be perfectly honest, I respect any religion that teaches peace.  And this was the simplest way to make good use of the money without taking up too much of your time.”

He looked at the holy water font and smiled.  Then he dipped two fingers in in like fashion and held them there a moment.  “Nope, they were wrong.  My step family treated me like the spawn of Satan because my mother was a Yankee and Catholic.  They were Hellfire and Damnation baptists.  Never was my thing.  Sermons gave me a headache.  But I did find comfort in an American Baptist church in Albuquerque.  The place was like a sanctuary.  My stepfather refused to go to church.  And I know it’s wrong but part of me was glad.

“Well, I guess I should get you home - unless there’s something you’d like to do first.  I just expect you need to be back soon enough to get sleep for tomorrow.”  He smiled.  “And if I don’t get a lot of sleep, it’s all your fault?”  His smile became a grin.  “I know it wasn’t thrills every second excitement, but I have been enjoying this.”  He flushed.  “Especially the … uhm … museum.”

He stopped and looked around.  “Are impure thoughts wrong here?”  He looked at a nun.  “Uhm … sorry.”

The woman was kind enough.  Her tone was chastising though.  “It’s not ME you should be telling that to.”