But Emmanuel turns his back on Claudia’s pleas, still holding Benny, who is whimpering like a little puppy. His voice reverberates through the Great House as he walks through the stunned crowd. “And so I say to you, ‘Whoever does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.’”
“Please, let the hospital—,” Claudia begins.
But Veronica cuts her off with flashing eyes. “Hold your tongue! Do you realize who you are talking to?” Claudia steps back and presses her hand tightly against her lips. Nana Pete grabs Dad’s arm.
“Don’t be a fool, Leonard!” Her voice is breaking. “Don’t let him go! Benny might die if he doesn’t get the right medical care!”
I can tell by the momentary shift of panic in Dad’s eyes that he is considering Nana Pete’s words. But then he blinks and the look of panic disappears.
“The only fools in this world, Mother,” he says slowly, “are the ones who refuse to believe. That is why we are Believers.” He takes Mom’s hand in his and begins to walk alongside Veronica toward Emmanuel’s room. “‘Blessed are the ones who have not seen and yet still believe,’” he says. Listening to him, the crowd now surges behind, individually murmuring their own verses of faith and belief.
“ ‘Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”’ “
“ ‘Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.’ “
I stop as a familiar voice echoes in my ears. “‘He took up our infirmities and carried our diseases!’”
It’s mine.
HONEY
Nana Pete, Agnes, and I keep watch, sitting on one of the couches just outside Emmanuel’s door, but the hours tick by and no one emerges from Emmanuel’s room. There is no way to tell what is going on in there, since the three of us have been forbidden to enter. Even when I stand up and press my ear against the door, I can detect no sound at all from inside. All around us, the rest of the Believers buzz silently, cleaning and sweeping and washing the windows, as if nothing has happened. Mr. Murphy even goes back to finishing his breakfast. When the phone rings, Mrs. Winspear picks it up and blinks, saying the same thing she always does: “Hello and God bless you! How can I help you today?” as if a little six-year-old kid is not clinging to life just fifty feet away from her. These people make me want to mess someone up.
Nana Pete does not look at anyone or say anything as the morning light fades outside the windows. She just stares into the ashy mouth of the dead fireplace across the room with a vacant expression on her face. Every once in a while, she reaches into her purse, pulls out a pink handkerchief, and pats her upper lip. Agnes, who is sitting on the other side of her, rocks back and forth in her seat, reciting Bible verses about faith and ticking off the beads on her consecration beads. I feel like I’m going to start screaming. Instead, I get up and start walking toward the bathrooms.
I almost miss Benny’s glasses, which are lying in a heap just inside the Great Door, forgotten amid all the excitement. Picking them up, I stare for a moment at a tiny drop of blood on the left frame. Fear grips me as I think of Claudia’s words: “He should get to the hospital before he loses any more blood!” How much blood has he lost? Is it too late? I wipe the glasses gently with the hem of my robe, fold the stems, and insert them back inside the robe’s wide sleeves. Then I go back and sit down on the couch next to Nana Pete and wait.
Finally, after four and a half hours, Mr. and Mrs. Little emerge from Emmanuel’s room. All the Believers in the room rush over, surrounding them like a horde of bees. Benny is in Mr. Little’s arms. His eyes are closed and his mouth is hanging open slightly. Nana Pete and Agnes and I have to struggle to get through the crowd.
“Is he dead?” Agnes cries. Mrs. Little’s face is a weird bluish color, as if all the blood has gone out of it. She reaches out and puts an arm around her daughter.
“Of course not, Agnes. He’s just sleeping.” She reaches around and lifts Benny’s bandaged hand gently. “And you should see his fingers.” Now she is addressing the crowd. “They’re as good as new. Emmanuel sewed them both back on, inch by inch. He’s going to be just fine. As good as new.”
“He sewed them back on?” Nana Pete says, but her voice is drowned out by the crowd.
“It’s a miracle!” someone says.
“He’s more than a healer,” says another, clearly awestruck. “He’s a miracle worker! We are so blessed!”
Dad nods, beaming, and then starts walking toward the exit. “Let’s get back to work!” he says over his shoulder. “The excitement is over and we still have much to do.” The crowd begins to disperse accordingly.