Caleb twitches the curtain, peers out.
"It's raining, but the sun is shining," he says. "My mama always said that meant the devil's beating his wife. She had something to say about everything. A common failing, among females. I finally told her, Mama, he does that because she never...shuts...up."
He heads for the door, for his car, for another calling--but turns one last time to say, "She did teach me somethin', though. Slicing through the voice box takes care of that particular sin right quick."
And the girl puddling red on the parsonage carpet is, blessedly, silent.