Rain dripped from the cottage’s broken eavestrough. A paper blew across the yard, coming to stop on the priest’s foot and becoming soaked in seconds. The man bent down and peeled it off his shoe.

“We need to fix this,” James shook his head. “Let me make some calls. I have some connections around this little city.”

The priest was true to his word. As soon as the rain stopped almost an hour later, people began arriving with tools and extra material. The sound of hammers ...