Reggie tried to step forward and say of course the number wasn’t there, none of them were, that not only was everything Barney had said impossible, it also wasn’t the issue at all. The issue was what he’d done.
But just then someone in the jumble said, “It’s another miracle,” and Reggie froze.
To his astonishment, he counted six Praise the Lords.
3
The caravan that made its way up the Norcrosses’ lane was not as long as the one from the day before—two vehicles rather than fifty. The first was Barney’s rusty Dodge. Trailing behind were the Grandersons. Allie unlocked the door on Marshall’s truck before he could park. Her white dress with yellow flowers—her Sunday usual and the only girly thing Mary could ever convince her to wear—fluttered in the breeze as she ran up the steps and onto the porch. Mrs. Norcross waited at the open front door. The smile she wore was a mix of greeting and confusion.
“Why, hello, Allie,” she said. “What brings you—”
“HeythereMissEllenma’am.” Allie ran past her and into the house. Tom and Leah were on the leather sofa gandering at the fancy flat TV on the wall. “Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”
“Hello, Allie,” Tom said. “What’s going—”
She walked right past him and took her strange new friend by the hand. “Hey, Leah, me and you gotta parlay.”
“Whuh-what’s wr-wrong?” Leah asked.
Allie guided Leah out the back door of the yellow Victorian as Ellen welcomed the Grandersons and the Moores through the front.
“Why’s Mr. Buh-Barney s-smiling like that?” Leah asked.
“Just come on,” Allie said.
Allie pulled Leah off the porch and into soft grass still flattened by the day before’s footsteps, past where the popcorn machine and Moon Bounce had stood, to the underside of the two pines on the small hill where they’d first met. They sat side by side as green boughs enfolded them in silence. Somewhere in the limbs above, a robin squeaked its protest and lit for the maple nearer the house.
Leah’s thumbnails found each other. The dead space beneath the trees filled with rubbing sounds. Her voice was shaky and small: “Wh-what’s happening?”
Allie said, “Leah, I’m gonna ask you somethin’, and you gotta be for reals, okay? No pretendin’, because we’re pals.”
“I duh-didn’t tell anyone about y-you and Zach Buh-Barnett,” she said. “I p-promise, Allie.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about that,” Allie said, “but thanks anyways.” She slid her hand between Leah’s thumbs. “And stop rubbin’ at your thumbnail before you spark a fire. Now, you keep honest, hear?”
Leah nodded, though her lips quivered and her throat did that tight/loose/tight motion again. She looked around the brambles that surrounded them and settled on a spot in the needles. The hand with the unblemished thumbnail settled there.
“Did you put those numbers in that picture we gave to Mr. Barney?”
Allie studied her, careful to watch for the things she herself did whenever she fibbed, which she told herself was not often. Leah did not look away, did not ask Allie to repeat the question, did not take offense. She simply said, “Wh-what numbers?” and Allie believed her.
“Mr. Barney gave a witness in church today.”
“What’s a wuh-witness?”
“It’s when you stand up in front of everybody and speak on the good God’s done you,” Allie said. “But never mind that right now. What matters is that Mr. Barney says he won on the lotto last night. I mean, like, all the pennies in heaven, Leah. And he says he knowed what numbers to play on account they was all in your picture. So I’m gonna ask you again—did you put those numbers in there?”
“N-no,” Leah said. Her eyes bulged. Allie thought for sure another BAWP was near. “All I duh-did was listen.”
Allie shook her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
Leah looked to where her free hand lay. Her voice was low and hushed. It was a tone of wonder: “I just luh-listened to what he s-s-sang, and then I puh-painted it. He said it was what Mr. Buh-Barney needed.”
It wasn’t that Allie had forgotten about the Rainbow Man, it was more that she had misplaced him. Too much had happened since, and a child’s mind rarely dwells upon the past. But now, yesterday and today merged in the forefront of her mind like jagged pieces of a puzzle, snapping together to form one incontrovertible whole.
“Zonkers, Leah. He’s really real, isn’t he? The Rainbow Man.”
Leah offered Allie a look that was part shock and part hurt that had nothing to do with her cursing.
“I thuh-thought you already buh-lieved that. You t-told me you duh-did yesterday.”
“But that’s different,” Allie said. “And it don’t matter, because I believe all the way now. Holy cow, Leah. You and the Rainbow Man just made the Moores bajillionaires. Outta everybody in town . . .” She snapped her fingers as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “That’s what makes it a marvel. Most folks say the Moores are accursed, even though my momma and daddy think they just fell on hard times like Job. You don’t know about him ’cause you ain’t covered in the blood, but he was this good man who did all the right things and loved the Lord a whole bunch, but God let th’ devil at him just to make a point. Poor Job lost near everything, just like Mr. Barney and Miss Mabel did. They ain’t got no fam’ly, though. All Job’s fam’ly died except his wife, who was pretty much a biddy.”
Leah shuddered. “Thuh-that sounds awful.”
“I know. But God touched Job with the magic at the end. That’s the only way He could fix him proper again.” Allie looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing but some dry limbs and a gray spider spinning its web. “I think the Lord’s movin’ you with the magic now too, Leah.”
Allie thought that should have been enough to make Leah smile, but none came. There was a war being fought between Leah’s eyes and chin, a clash of dread and hope that erupted in a series of flinches that had nothing at all to do with being so close to a spider. Aside from those spasms, Leah was motionless until she looked back over her shoulder. The hand that cupped the brown pine needles twitched but did not move. Allie thought if it did, Leah would go at her thumbnail again.
“I duh-don’t know who God is,” Leah finally said, “but I nuh-know the R-rainbow M-man wouldn’t luh-let anybody get hurt just to pruh-prove some p-point. He didn’t tuh-tell me Mr. Buh-Barney would w-win the lottery, and I duh-don’t know anything about any nuh-numbers.” Now she turned all the way around so that Allie was looking at the house and Leah toward the fence behind them. “The R-rainbow M-man duh-doesn’t tell me everything. Juh-just the things I n-need to know.”
“And me,” Allie said. She turned to face the small space between them and the fence. The spider had retreated. Only the limbs remained. Cracks of sunlight drifted down upon them. Allie didn’t know if the Rainbow Man was there or not, but she guessed something was. She could feel it. She figured it was the same way Mr. Barney had felt those numbers. “We’re friends now, remember. That means I’m with you. So whatever he bares to you, you need to bare to me.”
The war was fresh on Leah’s face. It was a tossing and turning, a reaching out and a pulling back.
“I know your daddy can’t imagine such things,” Allie said. “I think my folks are strugglin’ to imagine too, least when it comes to what Mr. Barney said about your numbers. I can imagine fine, though. Truth is, I had a friend no one could see once. An’ I ain’t talkin’ about that rhino my daddy says follows him around, ’cause I know that’s just his body makin’ noises. I mean a real pretend friend. Her name was Daphne. She weren’t magic or nothin’, but we still played together. Then one time a whole day went by and I didn’t say nothin’ to her at all, and then it went on for another day too, and then after that she just went away. I don’t even remember what she looks like now.” Allie was surprised that she had to pause and shore up the emotion that threatened to leak through her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if I killed her. N
ot with my hands, but just with my heart. I don’t want that to happen to your Rainbow Man, Leah. He’s special. Killin’ him would be an awful burden to bear.”
Leah considered those words. Allie hoped they would be enough to provoke a little more reaching out than pulling back. She had never told anyone of what she feared had happened to Daphne, not even her mother, and telling it now revealed a small hole in her heart where Daphne had once lived.
“He wuh-wants me t-to do something,” Leah said. “The R-rainbow M-man, I muh-mean. And I d-don’t know what it is yet, so you d-don’t have to ask. Whuh-whatever it is, he’s g-going to help me. He suh-says he w-wants you to help me too. He suh-says he’s g-going to s-sing us whuh-what to do n-next if we want to nuh-know.”
“Okay then.” Allie bowed her head and folded her hands. She nudged Leah with her elbow to do the same. “You just go on and direct us what to do, Mr. The Rainbow Man, and we’ll set about to doin’ it. Amen.” She looked over to Leah. “Is he singin’?”
Leah nodded. “He suh-says it’s already st-started.”
“What’s started?”
“I duh-don’t nuh-know. All I nuh-know is that it’s gonna be ruh-really guh-good, and then it’s gonna be ruh-really buh-bad.” She looked away from the spiderweb of limbs around them. “You stuh-stay right wuh-with me, Allie.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Allie said.
This time, Leah smiled.
4
Barney had spent the short drive to the Norcross house rehearsing three different ways of expressing what had happened. None had seemed to satisfy Mabel. Now, as they sat in Tom and Ellen’s living room along with the Grandersons, he decided the best course would be to dole out a little at a time. As Barney had witnessed at church, spewing it all out in one breath would only overwhelm them. Barney only hoped Marshall and Mary could keep quiet and not jump ahead, and that he could finish the account before Tom’s phone started ringing. He thought Marshall could. But the way Mary fingered the gold cross around her neck (which was what she always did when nervous) made Barney want to hurry things up.
“I got this here last night,” Barney said. He reached into his pocket and handed the ticket to Tom. “Never told nobody, but I been doin’ it awhile. I guess when you hurt enough, a body’s apt to try most anything to feel better. Reckon you can understand that, Tom, you bein’ one of them head doctors.”
Tom looked at the slip of paper and handed it to Ellen. Her head cocked to the side the way Mabel’s sometimes did when she tried to remember something. She took the newspaper from the coffee table and flipped to the second page. Mary’s hand went out to stop her and then withdrew, as if something had whispered that small act would bring the story to a close before its time.
“Anyways, Mabel’s always in bed when the numbers are called on the TV. I reckon that’s more good than not.” Barney took his wife’s limp hand and patted it. “She don’t know much of what’s goin’ on anymore, but I’d still feel shamefaced if she was sittin’ there with me while those Ping-Pong balls tumbled out. Mabel’s a good Christian woman. She don’t like the lotto. Ain’t that right, Mabel?”
Mabel smiled as they all looked at her.
“So I stay up myself with the TV down low,” Barney said, “and last night—”
“Oh my,” Ellen said. Her face was hidden by the splayed newspaper, which now crinkled as her hands dropped to her knees. She handed the second page to Tom along with the ticket. “What did you do, Barney?”
Tom’s eyes went from the ticket to the page where, much to the chagrin of a good many of Mattingly’s clergy, Trevor Morgan always included the winning numbers in the Sunday edition of the Gazette. Tom moved closer to the sofa’s edge with each number he read. He dropped both the newspaper and the ticket on the coffee table when he was done. His hands were shaking. Ellen was laughing.
“It’s a miracle, Tom,” Barney said. He smiled—Barney couldn’t help it, Ellen’s laugh was infectious and had spread to both Mary and Marshall—and tried not to let that affect the seriousness of his words. “An’ I have your Leah to thank for it.”
“Leah?” Tom asked.
“Yessir.” Barney reached into his other pocket and unfolded Leah’s painting. He spread it out over the coffee table on top of the newspaper. “Those numbers on that ticket? They were in her paintin’. Hidden-like. I saw them just as I was leavin’ to go to Camden.”
“What?” Ellen asked. She bent over the painting. Tom followed her.
“I don’t see any numbers,” Tom said.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Barney told them. “They ain’t there no more.”
The phone rang. Tom and Ellen both looked at it as if it hadn’t rung much in the past two months. Ellen rose to answer it and bumped her knee against the coffee table. Barney didn’t know if it was because she’d gone light-headed or because she just couldn’t stop looking at her daughter’s painting. Mary stood up with her and blocked Ellen’s path.
“Better not,” she said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s probably Trevor wanting an interview,” Marshall said. “That man was all in a tuff when Barney gave the church his news. He’s smellin’ a story. Best not to give him one until y’all have a handle on this.”
The machine picked up after the fourth ring.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Norcross. This is Trevor Morgan of the Mattingly Gazette. We met yesterday at your lovely daughter’s party? Just wanted to touch base with you about Barney Moore’s good fortune and ask if I could stop by later on this afternoon. Maybe talk a spell. Give me a call at your earliest convenience. My number here is 764-4591.”
The line went dead and was replaced by a dial tone that for some reason perked Mabel up enough to mutter, “I love you.”
“Holy cow,” Ellen said. She thumped back down on the sofa. Tom studied Leah’s painting.
“Barney,” he said. “You just won the lottery. You’re a millionaire. I mean, the odds alone are . . . but you know Leah had nothing to do with this, right? I mean, that’s just ridiculous.”
“It ain’t ridiculous, it’s a miracle, just like I said. I know you an’ Ellen don’t believe in such things, y’all bein’ spiritual but not religious, and I don’t know what that means. But ain’t no other word for it, Tom. Those numbers were there. I’ll swear it. I might be a lotta things, Tom an’ Ellen Norcross, but I ain’t no liar.”
“We didn’t say you were, Barney,” Ellen said. “But you have to understand that it’s just kind of, you know . . .”
“Impossible,” Tom said. He turned to Marshall and Mary. “You guys don’t really think Leah could do something like this, do you?”
“I’ve never seen a painting like that, Tom,” Mary said. “And Allie told me about this imaginary friend Leah has.”
Marshall, who had been mostly quiet thus far (and Barney figured he knew why), now said, “Stranger things have happened in Mattingly, Tom.”
“That’s true, Tom,” Barney said. “Sheriff Barnett found this hole up in Happy Holler awhile ba—”
“Barney,” Mary interrupted. She shook her head.
Barney cursed his slip of the tongue, though he couldn’t help but think of what Jake had found in those dark woods and added, “It’s all connected.”
The phone rang again. This time the caller hung up before the machine asked for a message. The back door opened. Allie and Leah ran into the living room. Leah headed straight to Barney and Mabel and wedged herself between them. She gave Barney a hug and Mabel a kiss on her cheek.
“Cuh-cun-gratulations, Mr. Buh-Barney,” she said. “Allie tuh-told me.”
Barney placed his hand at the back of her head and said, “Thank you, little Leah. From the bottom of my heart.”
“Leah,” Tom said, “Barney thinks you put some numbers in your painting that helped him win all that money.”
She looked at Allie, who moved from Mary’s lap to as close to Leah as she could get. Allie nodded
slow.
“I puh-put the n-numbers there, Puh-Pops,” Leah said.
“See there?” Barney said. And even though he had upon several occasions questioned the validity of what exactly he did see in that painting, he told Tom and Ellen that he never doubted one bit. “I knowed it.”
“Leah,” Tom said, “don’t lie.”
“I’m not luh-lying, Puh-Pops. I don’t nuh-know why they’re nuh-not there n-now, but they wuh-were.”
Tom sighed. Ellen offered Leah a look of wonder that was much like the one she’d given the phone earlier.
“So Trevor’s holding this big press conference tomorrow morning at the park,” Barney said. “He said this is the biggest story since”—since Jake Barnett found that hole, he almost said, but then he remembered the Norcrosses were from Away—“since forever, practically. I’d like y’all to be there, Tom an’ Ellen. An’ you too, Allie. And a’course Leah, since she’s largely responsible.”
“We’d be glad to,” Ellen said. “Leah?”
“Shuh-sure, M-Mommy.”
“Barney,” Tom said. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and slid a bit away from Ellen on the sofa. “I have to work tomorrow.”
Ellen closed her eyes and mumbled, “I can’t believe you, Tom.”
“Buh-but you c-can take the muh-morning off, c-can’t you, Puh-Pops?” Leah asked. “I nuh-need you there w-with m-m-me.”
Barney couldn’t believe he’d heard such a thing from a father. He’d never be one (except maybe to Mabel, of course), but he suspected his heart had been right enough even in the bad times of Mabel’s stroke to know that your own comes before your job. There was a cleaving on Tom’s face, a push one way and a pull the other that said Tom at least knew that. It also said Tom knew that the scales upon which we placed our treasures never balanced. They always tilted more toward the things we wanted than the things we had.
“I’m sorry, Leah-boo. It’s important.”
Allie spoke up and said, “So is Leah, Mr. Doctor. She’s more important than the crazy people you gotta listen to.”
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