Seeing Robin left me as wrung out as an old dishrag. For the first time since the accident, I slept without dreaming. When I finally got up, I had a late Sunday breakfast—warm biscuits and blackberry jam.

Granny had pressed my favorite lavender skirt for church and hung it on the door between the kitchen and den. I got dressed and caught my long, blond hair into a ponytail. I stared at myself in the mirror, wishing I didn’t have quite so many freckles.

When I was ready, I knocked on Granny’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

Granny didn’t answer. Instead there was a strange noise. “Uuummm, uuummm. Uuummm, uuugggh.”

I pushed the door open, worried Granny was having a stroke or a heart attack. There she was—tugging on her girdle for all she was worth.

I looked down at the floor to keep from giggling. Robin should be here to see it too. She thought underwear and potty jokes were the funniest things in the world.

After Granny got the torturous girdle around her middle, she flopped down in a chair. “I’m plumb worn-out, and I still have to get my stockings on.”

I sat on the edge of the bed while Granny put a stocking on each leg and fastened them to her garters. Then Granny slipped into a navy polyester dress. “How about zipping me up?” she asked. To finish off her ensemble, Granny pinned a pearl brooch on her right shoulder. “I’m ready.” She beamed.

We dodged the chicken poop in the yard and climbed into Grandpa’s old red truck. Rowdy had his usual spot in the back.

As we chugged down the dirt road, Grandpa said, “I think Rowdy likes church music. When they keep the windows open, he can hear the whole service.”

Granny laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. That dog just likes to ride. He ain’t one bit picky about the destination.”

Almost everybody went to church in Shady Creek. The parking lot was nearly full. To keep Rowdy comfortable, Grandpa parked in a shady spot underneath a row of maple trees. Granny waved at Hiram Fletcher, their closest neighbor, and I waved at my friend Betsy Carter.

I shuffled behind Granny and Grandpa to the front door. Most of these folks looked out of place to me. I was used to seeing the farmers in overalls instead of stiff white shirts and shiny shoes. Some of the women even wore hats. Mrs. Fletcher’s looked like a bird’s nest.

My favorite thing about church was the stained-glass windows. They reminded me of Joseph’s coat of many colors. The organist played softly, and everyone spoke in hushed tones.

Mrs. Carter hugged Granny. “How’s your grandbaby doing?” she asked.

“She’s still unconscious,” Granny said. “Keep praying.”

Mrs. Fletcher bent down and hugged me. “You poor thing,” she said. “You poor, poor thing. We’re all praying for you.”

I didn’t like for anybody to hug me except for family, but today I didn’t mind.

Granny and Grandpa led the way to our seats. Betsy Carter left her family and moved to sit beside me. I had met her last year at Vacation Bible School. At first I couldn’t believe somebody so beautiful wanted to be my friend, but we had been the only two girls in a roomful of boys.

I didn’t pay much attention during announcements, but then my ears perked up. “Today is a special Sunday,” the preacher said. “For the past few weeks we’ve been focused on our boys serving in Vietnam, but today we’ve got trouble a little closer to home. Most of you already know that Robin Willis was injured in an automobile accident. For anybody that’s wondering, she’s George and Maybelle’s granddaughter.”

And my sister, I silently added.

Reverend Reece continued, “We don’t understand why bad things happen, but the good Lord promises to never leave us or forsake us.”

“Amen,” Granny said.

Reverend Reece bobbed his head in her direction. “Our service will be a little different today. I’m going to ask Blanche to come on up and play ‘Just as I Am’ on the organ. I’d like for everybody to gather and pray at the altar.”

I followed Granny and Grandpa to the front of the church. We knelt at the altar, and the whole congregation crowded around us.

Mr. Fletcher was the first one to pray. “Please take care of her, Lord.”

A man with a crew cut said, “I went to school with Charlie Willis. He’s a fine fellow, and I hate to see his family suffering.”

I felt a jolt of electricity running along our clasped hands. As I knelt between Granny and Grandpa, I could almost believe in miracles. I wished that I could actually hear God’s voice, or see a sign, like Moses and the burning bush. That would make faith a lot easier to come by.

At the end of the hour, Reverend Reece closed with a prayer. “Lord, your will be done. You know what we’re asking. But we realize there are three possible answers to a prayer: yes, no, or wait.”

There was only one answer that I wanted. I was sick of waiting, and I couldn’t stand it if the answer was no. I wanted to yell at Reverend Reece to only pray for yes, but a hickory switch would be waiting on me if I caused a scene. My dad believed in “spare the rod and spoil the child.”

Betsy opened the door to Grandpa’s truck. “I thought you’d be out here. I promised your granny that I’d get you something to eat. There’s a potluck dinner in the fellowship hall.”

“Oh. I was hoping we were going home.”

“That would be kinda rude,” Betsy said. “The potluck dinner is for your family.”

I didn’t care about being rude. I wanted to kick Reverend Reece in the shin and make him take his prayer back.

“It’s hot in this truck,” Betsy said. “Let’s sit on the back steps to eat. There’s fried chicken, ham biscuits, potato salad, the works.”

My stomach growled because I hadn’t eaten very much since the accident. “What’s for dessert?”

Betsy grinned and counted them off on her fingers. “Coconut pie, pecan pie, egg custard, strawberry shortcake, pound cake, German chocolate cake, and Jell-O salad.”

I followed Betsy to the steps, but no way was I going any farther. I didn’t want to be called a “poor, poor thing,” and hear everybody whispering about my family.

“No problem,” Betsy said. “I’ll get the food.”

I ate a chicken leg, a couple of bites of macaroni, and then pushed the plate away.

“You didn’t eat very much,” Betsy said.

I sipped sweet tea, hoping the sick feeling in my stomach would pass. “I can’t eat, and I’m not sleeping so good either.” I looked off toward the cemetery. Six generations of the Willis family were buried out there.

Betsy looked off toward the cemetery too. “Sarah, there’s something I need to tell you.” The cup shook in her hand. “Jason Shore, the boy who was driving, he’s my sister’s boyfriend. He was in the service this morning.”

My hands clenched into fists. “He hurt my sister. Why would he come here?”

“Reverend Reece invited him. Jason feels guilty. He can’t eat or sleep either. Reverend Reece thought it might help if he apologized to your family.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like he broke my doll, or cheated off my test paper.” My voice got louder. “Do you know what I saw yesterday? My sister can’t talk or even open her eyes! I wish he were the one in the hospital and Robin was here with me.” I scrambled to my feet.

“Where are you going?” Betsy asked.

“Out to the tombstones.”

“Want me to go with you?”

I shook my head. “No, not this time.”

I hurried out to my family’s plot. I had been there many times before with Granny to put flowers on the graves. There were tombstones of all sizes. The small ones were usually for children. Granny had told me that before vaccinations were common, lots of kids died from diseases like diphtheria. I leaned back against my great-uncle John’s monument, remembering the day of his funeral. He had been so old, eighty-five, arthritic and gray. Granny said death had eased his suffering. I thought the funeral of a child would be different than Uncle John’s, even sadder. And if it were Robin, I would miss her for the rest of my life. I needed to talk to Ruby Lee about it. Ruby knew about dying, and unlike most grown-ups, she wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth.