Dave hesitated. The Kiefer family had survived generations of oppression and poverty in Germany and America by the rule: don’t attract attention. Disturbed, he looked at Kathy and saw that she was really into the idea.
“OK” he said doubtfully. He kept his skeptical reason to himself: I guess it can’t hurt.
Eagerly, Kathy grabbed the unicom remote and punched up Reverend Jason Matthew Wayne’s number. Reverend Wayne’s operator-cartoon appeared in miniature over the combox, drawn to look like a plumpish middle-aged lady. “How can I help you, dear?”
“Um, we want—uh, we want to see Rev’ren’ Wayne—a personal appearance…”
“Oh, of course, dearie, and it so happens the Reverend is able to see you now.” Her cartoon smile did not falter. “The donation to cover the communications charges must be prepaid…”
“Oh, of course.” Kathy hurriedly keyed in the transfer of funds from her bank to the Reverend’s account.
“Thank you, dear!”
After a moment’s pause, the door to the kitchen was blotted out by a large, green and white wing chair. With a swift motion, the Reverend hurtled into it, backside first, holding a Bible and hastily smoothing his full, wavy hair. He turned a bright smile on them.
Dave couldn’t help smiling back and found himself warming to the man. Suddenly the idea of consulting him felt reasonable enough, since the Reverend was willing. Only a moment ago, the Reverend had seemed a remote figure.
“Hello!” the Reverend said brightly. “My operator tells me I’m being called from the phone of Kathy Bender, but she didn’t give me any other information.”
“Oh, yes, I’m Kathy Bender, and this is my brother Davey, Dave Kiefer. Um, what we wanted to ask, what Davey needs to know, is what to do about his son, Trippy.”
Hastily, Kathy told the Reverend about Trippy, while Dave suffered silently. It all sounded so harsh and final, as she described the circumstances. What could this pleasant, well-dressed man know, what could he do that would help?
Reverend Jason turned his sympathetic, unsmiling gaze on Dave. “A terrible thing. I know how broken up you must be by this.”
Dave nodded, feeling suddenly the smart of tears in his eyes, the heaviness of grief in his breast.
“What does the Bible say? ‘I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’ John eleven, twenty-five. But you must believe. ‘Whosoever believeth in him shall not perish.’ John, three, fifteen.”
Dave couldn’t speak; he could only nod to the truth.
Kathy glanced quickly at him, then looked back respectfully at the Reverend. “Yes, but what should we do? I mean, the doctors want to shoot these little things into him to grow his brain back, but we don’t know. I mean, if it’s God’s will for Trippy not… not to w-wake up—” She choked and wiped her eyes.
The Reverend paused, then spoke with gentle reassurance. “Our most important prayer urges God to let His will be done. Not because He wouldn’t otherwise, but to help us to become reconciled to the will of God.”
“But what if Trippy dies?” Dave’s voice cracked with anguish.
“ ‘And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.’ John, ten, twenty-eight.”
Dave swallowed and spoke carefully. “I mean, Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, but these guys are just doctors. Are we going against God’s will? I mean, like you said, thy will be done, and all that. It’s like we’re being tested. You know?”
The Reverend Jason nodded soberly. “As in the days of Jesus. ‘Now we know that God heareth not sinners: but if any man be a worshipper of God, and doeth his will, him he heareth.’ John nine, thirty-one.”
“But you’re not telling us what to do!” Kathy wailed.
The Reverend turned to her calmly. “I’m sorry. I’m merely a man of God, or at least I try to be. I cannot decide for you. I cannot believe for you. I can only pray for you.”
Dave felt a deep disappointment at that, but he understood the truth of it.
“If your hospital has good connections, I can come and pray by Trippy’s bedside the way I have come here. Or I can pray here. Or I can pray for him and your loved ones in my chapel. I promise you I will do that. But I can do no more.”
Dave looked at Kathy, and saw that she agreed, however reluctantly.
“But let’s not close on so unhappy a note. Instead, let’s sing a hymn that’ll uplift your heart. The Merciful Sisters of Melody are here with me—come over here, Sisters—let’s all sing! ‘Amazing Grace!’ ”
The three Sisters hurried into view, seeming pleased; the Reverend stood and spread his long arms. They all crowded into them, looked up at him adoringly, and swung expertly into song.
Kathy joined in; so did Reverend Jason, who looked at Dave. They used to joke that Dave’s singing would scare the crows, but he mumbled along, trying to remember the words, and humming when he couldn’t. When it was over, they thanked the Reverend and the Sisters, and switched off.
The living room again darkened.
“Well.” Kathy was clearly disappointed, too, though she’d evidently been thrilled to sing along with Reverend Jason and the Merciful Sisters of Melody.
“Yeah, well, you have to learn not to expect too much,” Dave muttered.
The next few days were as bad as the last week had been, a melange: nightmarish hours in the white-lit hospital room where a pale, drawn Trippy lay uncharacteristically flat on his back with tubes coming out of his nose, his arm, between his legs. Dave spent silent, sleepless hours alone by night. He saw Laura at the hospital, or Laura preoccupied, or worst of all Laura weeping on him and begging for reassurance.
Dave called in to the yard, and Hunter told him to go ahead, take another week; they’d put the kid, Mick, on his welder. Dave didn’t even worry about the kid burning out his welding tips. How was the boy? Hunter asked. Just the same, Dave answered numbly. Just the same.
Kathy was a big help. She visited Dave and Laura every day and took to cooking for them, at least one meal a day. It was all Laura ate, Dave saw.
Two nights after the Reverend’s visit, Dave sprawled back on the couch holding Laura in one arm, and aching: Trippy should have been in the other. He studied Laura’s face with a deep tenderness. It was worn now with suffering but more beautiful than ever. When Laura Li had first been described to him as a Chinese American, he’d pictured some little doll of a woman with an expressionless face, like painted porcelain. Laura was five feet ten and statuesque in build, and had the most vivid and expressive face he’d ever seen.
“Davey? Has Kathy been talking to you? About seeing the Reverend Jason?”
“Yeah, we invited him day before yesterday. Video appearance. Didn’t cost much.” He had told her that before, but her memory for little things had been poor lately.
“Not that. She’s talking about going to Atlanta and seeing him in person.”
Dave sat still in surprise.
Laura twisted to look at him. “Davey?”
“Uh, kind of expensive, isn’t it? I mean, we already asked him for his opinion.”
“Kathy thinks you’ll get a better answer in person, where he can’t just switch off.”
“We?”
“Yes, she can’t go alone.” Laura sat up a little, earnestly, turning under his arm. “Davey, we can afford it. We have good insurance.”
Laura made half again as much as he did, and he was proud of her for it. He’d never understood why she cared for a blue-collar lunk like him. Her insurance was covering practically everything—and Hunter was letting him take his vacation, so he wasn’t losing money, either. She was probably right; they could afford it. Still, the German peasant in him rebelled: with a really sick boy, who knew what expenses would come?