"English," Murphy said, with a small laugh. "Latin makes me think I'm gonna get whacked. I...wasn't good at it. And Sister Mary Monica had one heck of a right swing." He took another deep breath and let Gabe take his hands, trying to feel some of what he used to feel.

Or at least something that wasn't confused anger and desperation.

But maybe this would help. It had been a while since anyone else led him in prayer. Sewell's mocking recitations of the Lord's Prayer didn't count.