We might as well have left then, for all I got out of the rest of the service. I was drowsy and uncomfortable, and I wanted nothing more than to lean my head on Tolliver’s shoulder and fall asleep. That would clearly be the wrong thing to do, so I focused on sitting up straight and keeping my eyes open. At last the service was over, and we sang a closing hymn. Then we could go. I stepped out of the pew first since I was on the end, and a grizzled man in overalls took my hand. “Thank you, young lady,” he said, and then began making his way out of the church without another word. He was the first of many people who made a point of touching me: a light hug, a grip of the hand, a pat on the shoulder. Each contact came with a “Thank you,” or a “God bless you and keep you,” and each time I was surprised. This had never happened to me before. I was sure it would never happen again. Doak Garland embraced me when we reached his spot at the door, his white hands light on my shoulders so he wouldn’t hurt me. Barney Simpson, towering over me, reached out to give me a light pat. Parker McGraw said, “Bless you,” and Bethalynn wept, her arms around her remaining son.

No one asked me a single question about how I’d found the boys. The faith of Doraville seemed to hinge on the acceptance of God’s mysterious ways and the strange instruments he selects to perform his will.

I was the strange instrument, of course.

Eight

THERE were a couple of cars behind us on the long road out to Pine Landing Lake. Of course, the little hamlet of Harmony was past the lake, and there were other people in residence at the lake itself, so I told myself not to be crazy. After we turned off, the other cars continued on their way. Tolliver didn’t comment one way or the other, and I didn’t want to sound paranoid, so I didn’t say anything.

We hadn’t left on an outside light—in fact, I wasn’t even sure if there was one—and I tried to mark the location of the stairs before Tolliver cut the ignition. We had a few seconds before the headlights turned off, so I hurried as much as I could to start up while I could see my way. There was a noise from the underbrush, and I said, “What the hell is that?” I had to stop and look, and then I saw a lumbering small shape scoot across the driveway and into the thicket between ours and the next vacant cabin, barely visible through the thick growth of trees and brush.