monument. An altar.
When Jonathan arrived and saw the rock ring, long anchored to the ground by snow-soaked mud and durable mountain grasses, a breeze passed over him that caused him to shudder. He would tell his family later that he thought of the apostle John’s account of the angel that stirred the waters at the pool of Bethesda, though no doubt Mathilde’s journal entries had given him this idea. Whether the breeze was divine, Jonathan couldn’t say. Still, he was compelled to show his respect for God, regardless of what modern science had to say, by dismounting his horse, cane in hand.
He planted the tip of the cane in the firm ground next to his strong leg and leaned on it for support. The carved stick snapped in two and the bottom half toppled away, and as he overcompensated for his sudden imbalance, his full weight came to bear on his injury.
It didn’t stagger under the weight of the surprise. He felt no pain. Instead the wasted muscles of his unused legs seemed to coil and hum, waiting to spring him into long-awaited action. Look, you are well again.
The tip of the broken cane was like a pharaoh’s staff in Jonathan’s fist. He raised it to the sky and tilted his face to the sun and began to laugh.
“Look at what God has done,” he chuckled. “Look at what he has done.”
14
If you hadn’t paid good money to come on this outing,” Hank said in his booming voice as he leaned against the rim of the fire pit, “I might be able to make you a promise that your very own prayers will be answered here at the sight of Mathilde’s Miracle, but both God and the state of Colorado frown on that, so all I can guarantee you today is a good story.”
All the boom of his voice seemed to come from the depths of his large belly. He was a jovial man, which Garner had always thought accounted for some of the assembly’s popularity.
“Nevertheless,” Hank said sagely, “I can say that many people who come here leave as changed people. I’ve seen sick people get better and sad people made happy. It’s a simple thing, they tell me: they believe that anything’s possible.”
Hank’s version of Mathilde’s tale was the “simpler” and “more sensitive” one, he’d often boasted to Garner. He left out the “stop sinning” part, because who ever said such a thing anymore, especially of a person like Mathilde, who was as pure as the Rocky Mountain air? And who would know or care what such a command meant, or tolerate the threat that followed it? Wasn’t being attacked by a ferocious wildcat enough terror for an innocent soul to bear?
Garner didn’t mind. He knew the full story—it had been published in a book sold at Nova’s store, and it was posted in a classy museum format out in the foyer for anyone who was interested. He wasn’t sure how many people had read the full text of the placards. But this slant toward sugarcoated entertainment was one of many reasons why Cat Ransom refused ever to attend services with Garner: “Even if Mathilde Wulff wasn’t a complete crock,” she would sniff, “the people who want to make money off the tourists sure are. It’s best not to believe any of it.”
Garner was more willing to give Hank the benefit of the doubt. Who would give up a half hour of his day seven days a week all summer long for a sham? There had to be something worth believing in here, however commercial it had become.
He listened attentively to Hank’s version of the story. Years of repetition had refined it to a very entertaining point, and he even found himself rewarding Hank with amused laughter on cue.
But his smile fell with the long hand of the clock to the bottom of the hour. Hank was wrapping up, and Garner still had not heard the thing he had hoped to hear, even though he couldn’t say exactly what that was.
“The power of belief is a great force in the universe,” Hank said. “Belief has given feet to terrible evils, but also to even greater good. What do you believe about the miracle you seek? Do you deserve it?”
Yes, Garner thought. I never forced Rose to go. I respected my daughter. She was the one who ran away. I’ve waited patiently for her return.
“Will the fulfillment of your miracle bring others goodness—happiness, peace, and joy?”
Yes, Garner thought. To