Johnny Smith still slept. He had begun to pull into a fetal shape.
Dr. Strawns, the doctor who had talked to Herb and Vera and Sarah in the conference room on the day following the accident, had died of burns in late 1973. His house had caught fire on the day after Christmas. The Bangor fire department had determined that the fire had been caused by a faulty set of Christmas tree ornaments. Two new doctors, Weizak and Brown, interested themselves in Johnny’s case.
Four days before Nixon resigned, Herb Smith fell into the foundation of a house he was building in Gray, landed on a wheelbarrow, and broke his leg. The bone was a long time healing, and it never really felt good again. He limped, and on wet days he began to use a cane. Vera prayed for him, and insisted that he wrap a cloth that had been personally blessed by the Reverend Freddy Coltsmore of Bessemer, Alabama, around the leg each night when he went to bed. The price of the Blessed Coltsmore Cloth (as Herb called it) was $35. It did no good that he was aware of.
In the middle of October, shortly after Gerald Ford had pardoned the ex-president, Vera became sure that the world was going to end again. Herb realized what she was about barely in time; she had made arrangements to give what little cash and savings they had recouped since Johnny’s accident to the Last Times Society of America. She had tried to put the house up for sale, and had made an arrangement with the Goodwill, which was going to send a van out in two days’ time to pick up all the furniture. Herb found out when the realtor called him to ask if a prospective buyer could come and look at the house that afternoon.
For the first time he had genuinely lost his temper with Vera.
“What in Christ’s name did you think you were doing?” he roared, after dragging the last of the incredible story out of her. They were in the living room. He had just finished calling Goodwill to tell them to forget the van. Outside, rain fell in monotonous gray sheets.
“Don’t blaspheme the name of the Savior, Herbert. Don’t...”
“Shut up! Shut up! I’m tired of listening to you rave about that crap!”
She drew in a startled gasp.
He limped over to her, his cane thumping the floor in counterpoint. She flinched back a little in her chair and then looked up at him with that sweet martyr’s expression that made him want, God forgive him, to bust her one across the head with his own damn walking stick.
“You’re not so far gone that you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said. “You don’t have that excuse. You snuck around behind my back, Vera. You ...”
“I did not! That’s a lie! I did no such...”
“You did!” he bellowed. “Well, you listen to me, Vera. This is where I’m drawing the line. You pray all you want. Praying’s free. Write all the letters you want, a stamp still only costs thirteen cents. If you want to take a bath in all the cheap, shitty lies those Jesus-jumpers tell, if you want to go on with the delusions and the make-believe, you go on. But I’m not a part of it. Remember that. Do you understand me?”
“Our-father-who-art-in-heaven-hallow’d-be-thy-name ...”
“Do you understand me?”
“You think I’m crazy!” she shouted at him, and her face crumpled and squeezed together in a terrible way. She burst into the braying, ugly tears of utter defeat and disillusion.
“No,” he said more quietly. “Not yet. But maybe it’s time for a little plain talk, Vera, and the truth is, I think you will be if you don’t pull out of this and start facing reality.”
“You’ll see,” she said through her tears. “You’ll see. God knows the truth but waits.”
“Just as long as you understand that he’s not going to have our furniture while he’s waiting,” Herb said grimly. “As long as we see eye to eye on that.”
“It’s Last Times!” she told him. “The hour of the Apocalypse is at hand.”
“Yeah? That and fifteen cents will buy you a cup of coffee, Vera.”
Outside the rain fell in steady sheets. That was the year Herb turned fifty-two, Vera fifty-one, and Sarah Hazlett twenty-seven.
Johnny had been in his coma for four years.
9
The baby came on Halloween night. Sarah’s labor lasted nine hours. She was given mild whiffs of gas when she needed them, and at some point in her extremity