Straightening Stones

in silence. Little Ray's moans and screams—"I'm burning, Mama!"— ceased only when he lapsed into unconsciousness . Lorene turned toward Raymond during one of the quiet periods and searched his face for something to help her understand . He hunched in exhaustion beside the boy's bed, praying repeatedly, "God's will be done. Only He has the power. His will be done." Lorene looked away, the last strands of hope unraveling within her. Tuesday morning they carried Little Ray back to the church so that the entire congregation might unite in prayer for him. Six hours had passed since his last waking period. The swelling and redness had subsided, but his body was drained, lifeless except for the slight irregular rise and fall of his chest. Raymond lay his son on a folded quilt by the altar, then knelt beside the boy as the soft singing and praying began. Lorene stood at the back of the room, watching. It was there, quite unexpectedly , that she felt the numbness come over her, then the flood of warmth she had heard Raymond and the other describe . And just as they had related, she unquestionably knew what she must do. She left the church, pausing to offer up her prayer for Little Ray, the one differing from all those being repeated in the room. Her words were not "Thy will be done." Instead, she prayed, "Please God, let him live." She would not know if her prayer outweighed the others when it reached God's ear, if God perhaps, in His mercy, gave precedence to the pleas of the lost sheep. She knew only that salvation for her and the child she carried within her lay elsewhere. She would seek it as far from here as the money in the pink glass pitcher would allow. She would go first to her cousin's house, outside of Nashville , until the baby was born. After that, she did not know, but her step in that direction was as fearless as Little Ray's upon the serpents. Straightening Stones Bill is up at Peaceful grove, straightening up the stones. One of them Graham's from up Michigan came in and griped that his great-great aunt's gravestone was crooked. She was one of the Simcoxes used to live over in Pratertown. Anyway, he said he put in every year for the Upkeep Fund. As though we didn't have the list of who put in. But you know Bill, don't want anybody unhappy and feeling like the Committee wasn't doing what it was supposed to. So he went up there; took a pry bar, a level, and a truckload of dirt, while he was going he decided he might as well fill some. I think maybe Junior went with him; said might even spray for them waspers up at church while they were there. -David Graham 34 ...