Father McKenzie Eats Ice Cream

"You call this counseling?" Norah smiled as she caught the drip of ice cream on her chin. She was only teasing, but my stomach flipped. I vowed to pray all night to make up for this. "We have to get reacquainted; besides, non-traditional counseling works best sometimes. Your husband? He is not a..." I struggled to find the words. "He's... not a happy man. Nothing makes him happy. It's like something--or someone-- has stolen his joy and I can't help but feel responsible." Norah shivered. "Silly, right?" "Don't blame yourself for someone else's unhappiness. Only your own." "Father--Ben, are you happy? I mean, _really_ happy?" I jumped a little. "Why would you ask me that? It's a ridiculous... question." Norah stared at me and pursed her lips. After a minute, she turned back to her ice cream cone, and we continued walking.