“You… you actually came.”

A hush fell over the room.

Even the children stopped fidgeting. The organist’s fingers faltered, then stilled. The old woman lifted her head slowly, eyes shining with tears, and gave the pastor a small smile.

He walked straight past the pulpit, past the deacons and choir, and down the aisle to the last pew.

I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said, voice barely steady.

She patted the seat beside her. “Sit, Ezra. It’s been a long time.”

The entire room sat frozen. The name Ezra hadn’t meant much to them until now. Their pastor was always “Pastor Grayson.” No one used his first name.

He sat beside her, shoulders slumped like a boy caught doing something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The old woman nodded. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Someone near the front coughed. A baby let out a wail. The organist glanced at the pianist, unsure whether to continue playing.

Pastor Grayson stood up slowly and faced the congregation. “This… this is my mother.”

Gasps rippled through the room. An elderly man in the third pew leaned over to his wife. “I thought she was dead.”