Mom Over Miami - By Annie Jones Page 0,45
and probably blushed. “Of course.”
“It was the prayer vigil that did it.”
“Prayer is a powerful thing.”
“We have no idea how powerful, girl. We humans are so prideful and shortsighted. We think we can fix every little thing, when we should turn it all over to the Lord.”
Hannah nodded. “So you held a prayer vigil.”
“We lit candles. Sheltered them in our hands against the evening wind.” She cupped a hand around the remembered candle. “And prayed.”
She wanted to hurry her aunt along, not out of a need to rush the story but to hear the end, to try to understand what had compelled the woman to tell her this now and what it meant to getting her father the medical tests he needed.
“And then we heard it.”
“What?”
“Moonie’s voice.”
She sighed. “Where was he?”
“Didn’t know at first, but we followed the sound. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.”
“Wow.”
“It was something to experience, I tell you that right now. We couldn’t get a handle on where he was until, quite by accident, someone stepped in a hole and tripped.”
“He was in the hole.”
“He was in a dry well that someone had only partly covered, and when he’d tried to climb out, he’d pulled more dirt and rock down on him until he was all but buried except one arm and his head.”
“Poor Daddy.”
“Your grandpa dug him out with his bare hands.”
“Did it take long?”
“Longer than you might think, because they didn’t dare risk the dirt falling back and smothering him.”
“I can’t imagine it.”
“I sat at his side the whole time, holding up a candle and telling him he’d be all right. Telling him not to be afraid. Telling him to have faith.”
“Do you think he understood you?”
“On some level, yes, I do. And furthermore, I know he’ll understand me now.”
“Now?”
“Yes, when I go to sit beside him while he gets that MRI.”
“He’s…he’s claustrophobic. That’s the point of the story?”
“The point of the story, Hannah Banana, is you girls may have gotten some things from your daddy. Sadie her stubbornness and that sarcastic streak. And you, your independent spirit and that longing to sometimes fly away and leave your troubles behind.”
Hannah folded her arms and tapped her double-knotted sneaker against the carpet backing. “You could have just told me those things outright.”
“Yes, but I couldn’t have made you understand why I have to go to be with your daddy to get him to take the tests he needs.”
“Because his history makes him afraid of closed-in spaces,” she reiterated.
“Listen, child.” A beaded earring clacked quietly as Phiz turned her head and pointed to her ear. “I’m saying that at some points in our lives we are all frightened children who need God’s hands in human form. We need someone we love to remain steadfast beside us no matter what. To hold up the light to show the way.”
Hannah shut her eyes and could almost hear her father calling out to the one person he had trusted all those years ago. “To remind us we are not alone.”
“And to pray,” Phiz whispered.
Hannah opened her eyes and sat up, suddenly aware she’d been leaning on her aunt’s ample shoulder. She took one age-spotted hand in hers and met the loving, time-wizened gaze. “How long will you be gone?”
“Will it really matter to you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Phiz lumbered upward to her feet. “I’ll leave today. And, Hannah Banana?”
Hannah felt all of five years old again, looking up at her aunt who was about to leave again. “What?”
“When you’re ready, when you’re really ready for my help, you call out. I’ll come back so fast it will make your head spin.”
“Well, I’ll just take that up with Hannah, if you don’t mind.” Cydney’s voice echoed in the stairwell.
“I don’t mind one bit, because I know she will definitely be on my side.” Jacqui could not have been more than a footfall behind.
“That’s not so hot a trick.” Hannah staggered to her feet and gave the carpet one gigantic heave. “Everyday life makes my head spin, Aunt Phiz.”
13
Subject: Nacho Mama’s House column
When you’re tired and you can’t sleep—you’re probably at my house.
End of soccer season. Now there’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one. Soccer season has no end. It just has brief pauses for the kids to regain their strength. Between indoor and outdoor leagues, and programs provided by the parks department, private clubs—not to mention the school team—a kid could literally play soccer any time but in his sleep.
And listening to the racket coming