But he’d known what she meant.

One Sunday afternoon, a barbecue at Moses’s apartment, up on the roof looking over the Haight-Ashbury.

“The what?” Hardy had asked. “Get out of here!”

“Big Brothers.” Frannie telling Hardy.

It wouldn’t have been like Eddie to mention it. He didn’t preach-he just did. “Hey, it’s one day a week, Diz,” Eddie had said in defense. “Gimme a break. Maybe do some good. Couldn’t hurt, anyway.”

It sure could, Hardy thought. It could hurt you, you fool. Most likely your “little brother” will wind up taking a chip out of your heart. But he didn’t try to argue with Eddie-there wasn’t much arguing with Eddie on anything.

But Hardy had said, “You think you can make a real difference, don’t you?”

The two-hundred-watt smile that wasn’t a put-on. “I doubt it.”

Except what got to Hardy was that, underneath it all, Eddie didn’t doubt it. He thought everything he did mattered a lot, that he personally really could make a difference. It reminded Hardy of the way he thought he used to be himself. Like Eddie. Long time ago.

Rose stood at the top of the steps by the back door of the rectory. Father Dietrick was crossing the parking lot, head down, returning from bringing Father Cavanaugh the news.

Bless them both, but it was going to be a hard month. June was always a hard month in San Francisco. It felt like God had given His promise in the spring and then taken it back. This morning Rose had thought it would stay bright and sunny, but already the fog was on them again.

She wiped her hands on her apron. Her eyes came up to meet the young priest, questioning. He sighed. “Not too well,” he said. “He took off.”

Though he wasn’t yet thirty, he mounted the stoop like an old man. Rose followed him inside.