Addie could see Charlie’s closed coffin, out in front of the community hall. She could also see Preacher and Sophia, searching for her in the small gathering. She started scooting around the building, but her foster parents were splitting up now, one heading for each side, knowing if she wasn’t in the crowd, she was still in the forest.
She raced to the back porch and swung onto the railing, then up to the roof.
Like Charlie taught me to do.
While Addie was an expert tree climber, she would never have considered using those skills to sneak around town. Spying on folks wasn’t right. As Charlie said, though, “when you’re a child, no one tells you anything, so you need to eavesdrop sometimes, to know what’s going on.” They’d tried listening in on the town meetings through the chimney, but it didn’t really work. So they mostly just climbed up here to get a better view of anything taking place in the village square.
Like bringing a boy back to life.
Bringing Charlie back to life.
She crawled across the roof carefully, slipping a little as she went but always catching herself in time. Below, she could hear Preacher asking someone if they’d seen Addie. They hadn’t. No one had.
If Addie went down there, she wasn’t sure that Preacher would stop her from watching. He probably wouldn’t. He and Sophia really were teachers, right down to their bones. They’d explain why she ought not to watch, but if she insisted, they’d let her, believing it was always best to see a thing for yourself. To learn a lesson for yourself.
She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to watch this with them standing beside her, suffocating under the weight of their disapproval. Even recalling their expressions when she told them made her want to scream. Made her want to charge back home, grab her belongings, leave, and never come back.
They’d betrayed her. That’s what she felt, and it hurt worse than any of her dead father’s beatings. Eleazar had promised to bring Charlie back, and they wouldn’t even consider that he might be able to work miracles. Sophia and Preacher—the very people who’d taught her about God.
She took a deep breath and calmed herself as she crept to the front. She stretched out there, then inched forward until she could peer down.
Below was Charlie’s coffin. Still closed. Eleazar knelt beside it. Addie couldn’t see the old man—Rene. He must have stayed inside, where it was warm.
Mayor Browning stood at the foot of the coffin. Dobbs and Doc Adams flanked him. All three stared at the coffin as if mesmerized. The other spectators milled about, peering over and then whispering to themselves, as if wondering what the fuss was about. They hadn’t been told. Good. If people knew, they’d all come running and they’d crowd around and Addie wouldn’t see the miracle. Wouldn’t see Charlie rise.
If she listened closely, she could hear Eleazar talking. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, though. It wasn’t English.
Because Christ didn’t speak English. That’s what Sophia told her when she’d asked why the Bibles were translated. Jesus spoke another language and so did the people who wrote the Bible. Hearing Eleazar speaking in a foreign tongue only proved he was no fraud.
He finished the words, and then he reached for the coffin lid. Addie held her breath, her heart beating so hard it hurt.
What if Preacher and Sophia were right?
When were they ever wrong? When had they been cruel to her? Misled her?
“No,” she breathed. “They are wrong. They must be.”
As Eleazar opened the wooden lid, Addie squeezed her eyes shut, prayed as hard as she could.
Please, God, let him live. I know you didn’t listen before. I know why—
Addie’s heart clenched, and she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, panting for air as pain filled her.
I know why you didn’t listen. I was evil. I was wicked. I . . . I . . .
She couldn’t even form the words in her head. What she had done. The sin for which God had punished her.
I deserve that punishment. But Charlie doesn’t. Please let him come back.
She heard a gasp from below and her eyes flew open. He’s alive. He’s really . . .
Addie stared down. Charlie’s coffin was almost exactly under her perch, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his face. His pale, dead face. His sunken, closed eyelids.
No, he is alive. That’s why they gasped.
Only it wasn’t. She looked at the faces of the villagers, the women shrinking back, and she knew the sound came from them, a simple reaction to seeing the poor dead boy. She had but to see Mayor Browning’s expressionless face to know Charlie did not live.
Yet the mayor’s face was expressionless. It did not crumple with grief and disappointment. He stood there, resolute. Waiting.
Eleazar bent over the coffin. He lifted his fingers to Charlie’s face and traced them over his pale forehead. When he pulled them back, there were three red lines left there.
“Is that blood?” someone whispered.
“Of course not,” another hissed back.
Eleazar spoke again, in that foreign tongue, touching his fingertips to Charlie’s eyelids, his nostrils, and then his lips. When he reached the lips, he held his fingers there, his head bent, words flowing faster until . . .
Eleazar stopped abruptly, as if in midsentence. His head jerked up. His fingers pulled back and . . .
Charlie’s lips parted. Or they seemed to, opening so little that Addie was certain she’d blinked, certain she was seeing wrong, that his lips had been like that already or were moved by the man’s fingers.
Yes, moved by the man’s fingers. A trick. Isn’t that what Sophia warned of? Charlie’s lips moved by chicanery and—
His eyes opened. Addie stopped breathing.
Trick. It’s a trick.
Charlie sat up and looked about. His gaze lit on Mayor Browning and he smiled, and Addie knew there was no trick.
Charlie lived.
* * *
After Charlie sat up in his coffin, the village erupted like a volcano in one of Sophia’s books. Some people ran shrieking that the dead had risen. Others fell and gave thanks to God for his infinite mercy. And still others barely drew breath before demanding to know why Charlie had been resurrected—why him, why not their child.
“Charlie was returned to us as proof of this man’s holy power!” Browning’s voice boomed over half the town. “I offered my own child to be tested, as is only right. As your mayor, I must take that risk for my family, before asking you to take it for yours!”
“Is he truly alive?” Millie Prior pushed through and peered at Charlie as Doc Adams examined him. When she reached to poke him, Eleazar grabbed the old woman’s hand hard enough to make her shriek.
“Please,” Charlie said, his voice low and rough with disuse. “She meant no harm.”
“He speaks,” Millie breathed.
He speaks, Addie thought. But he doesn’t sound like—
She bit her lip, as if that could stopper her thoughts.
“Yes,” Charlie said. “I can speak, but barely. I feel . . .” He gripped Eleazar’s hand for support.
“He’s very weak,” Eleazar said. “I’m sorry if I startled you, my good woman. I do not wish him to be poked and prodded about during his recovery. Your doctor is examining him now.”
Doc Adams rose. “The boy lives. He breathes. He speaks. His heart beats. His blood flows.”
Millie dropped to her knees. “Praise be. Dear Lord, thank you . . .”
As she continued, Doc Adams explained which children could be resurrected. Eleazar took Charlie’s hand and helped him from the coffin. He told Mayor Browning to fetch his wife and then announced that he would take Charlie inside to rest. Addie waited until they were gone, then scampered back across the roof.
* * *
Addie eased open the back door to the community center. Inside, she could hear Eleazar talking to his assistant. She closed the door silently behind her. While Eleazar was occupied, she’d speak to Charlie. Yes, he was weak, but she’d take up none of his time or his strength. She simply wanted to . . .
She didn’t know what she wanted. What she expected. Only that she’d been robbed of the chance to see him before, and she would get it now. No one would take that from her now, and if something went wrong—
It won’t. He’s back.
If something went wrong, at least she wouldn’t lie awake, wishing she’d seen him one last time. So she crept into the community hall while Eleazar spoke to Rene.
She hadn’t even reached the kitchen door, though, before the conversation stopped.
“I need to rest now,” Charlie said, and she realized Eleazar hadn’t been talking to his assistant, Rene, at all.
This would make things more difficult. Eleazar and Charlie were both in the front room, and the assistant was here somewhere, too.
It didn’t matter. She would see Charlie.
She peered into the back room before she slid through. There were three coffins now, the fourth gone. Something caught her attention on the floor. An eagle’s feather, under the table where Charlie’s coffin had lain. When they’d picked it up, they’d let his treasures scatter.
Anger darted through her. Those things of Charlie’s had been so important to his parents after he’d died. Now they were as they’d been in his life—useless clutter. How many times had his mother tried to throw out that eagle feather, saying it was filthy? It was treasured only after he was gone, like Charlie himself. His father had paid him no mind when he was alive—
Addie wiped the thoughts from her mind. Unchristian, Sophia would say.
She paused again, caught on that new thought. Preacher and Sophia. She hadn’t even seen them after the resurrection. They’d been there, lost in the crowd. Were they regretting their hasty judgment? Looking for her to apologize?
Stop thinking. Start moving. Or you’ll lose your chance.
She stepped into the room, gaze fixed on that feather, to retrieve it for Charlie. She picked it up and as she rose, she caught sight of a figure and stifled a yelp as she wheeled. It was Rene. He sat in front of one of the other coffins, with his back to her. His head was bowed. Asleep.
Addie exhaled in relief. She ought to be more careful. She’d been checking the room for him when she’d gotten distracted by the feather. She tucked it under her jacket now and silently tiptoed to the door joining the two rooms. He never stirred.
The adjoining door was closed tight. Addie turned the handle as carefully as she could and then eased it open. Through the crack she could see Charlie. He sat in a chair, leaning back, his eyes closed, looking like . . .
Well, looking like Charlie. Exactly like the Charlie she knew, his color coming back, the swelling fading. His dark hair hung in a cowlick over one eye, and Addie smiled, expecting him to reach up and push it impatiently aside, as he always did. He seemed too tired for that, though, and just sat there, slouched in the chair.
Eleazar was across the room, rummaging in his pack. He muttered to himself as he did, doubling the noise.
“Charlie?” Addie whispered.
No response.
A little louder. “Charlie?”
His eyelids flickered. Then they opened, and she was looking straight into those eyes she knew so well, gray-blue, like the sky on a windy day. She looked into them and saw . . .
Nothing. Not a flicker of recognition.
Because he can barely see me through this crack in the door.
She glanced at Eleazar. He was still retrieving things from his pack, turned away enough not to see her. She inched the door open until her face fit in the gap. Then she grinned at Charlie and, in her mind, she saw him grin back, as he always had, ever since the first time they met, when her ma brought her to town for supplies. Charlie had been in his father’s shop room, and he’d snuck a licorice whip from the jar for her. That’s who Addie saw in her mind—that boy, that grin—and it took a moment before she realized she wasn’t seeing it in front of her.
Charlie wasn’t even smiling. He looked right at her and that expression in his eyes never changed.
He doesn’t know me.
Because he’s tired. He’s confused.
She lifted the eagle feather and waggled it. He frowned.
Addie glanced at Eleazar. He was reading a book, muttering to himself as he turned the pages. Addie opened the door a little more and slipped through. Charlie sat barely three paces away. She crossed the gap and held out the feather. He only stared at her. She laid it on his blanket-draped lap.
“Here,” Eleazar said. “I’ve found that—” He looked up and saw her. “Who are you?”
“I-I’m Addie. Adeline. I came to see—”
“He’s not ready to see anyone. Begone, girl.”
She backed up to the doorway. Charlie didn’t look down at the feather, as if trying to remember where it came from. He didn’t look at her either. He closed his eyes as if she’d already left.
“Charlie?”
His eyelids flickered open, and he glanced over with annoyance.
“He needs his rest, child,” Eleazar said, striding toward her. “He’s not himself yet. You need to leave.”
She retreated through the door into the rear.
“No!” Eleazar said, raising his voice. “Not that way.”
But she was already through, already racing across the room. As she reached the kitchen door, she heard Charlie’s voice, and she thought he was calling her back, telling Eleazar he remembered her now. She turned, and as she did, she saw the assistant, Rene, saw his face now as he sat there, head bowed. Saw the bruises around his neck. Saw his eyes. Open. Bulging. Dead.
Addie spun and bolted out the kitchen door.