I showered and got in bed. It was after midnight, but since I’d slept until well past noon, I wasn’t all that tired. I lay there, unable to go to sleep.

When Callie woke and went out to the living room to talk to Graham, I heard their voices. I couldn’t quite make out what either was saying. I crept to the bedroom door and cracked it open.

“… has to go,” Callie was saying. “I’m certain.”

“She’s not ready for that, Callie,” Graham answered, “not any more than you were. I don’t want to risk her without more information.”

Was he talking about me? I had to be the most unready person there.

“You say she can see the truth, now. If so, it won’t be dangerous. Not if she pays attention,” Callie said. “If she doesn’t go, things are not going to work out.”

Graham made a frustrated noise. “Why does she have to go? How are things not going to work out? Can’t you be more specific?”

“I assume she’ll be able to see better than I could, but I’m not certain. You know the Lord doesn’t show me everything. He gives what He gives, and it’s up to us to use it for good, with faith that it will be enough.”

There was a pause. Then Graham said, “All right. I’ll think about it.”

“It has to happen,” Callie said more insistently. “She must go. I’ve seen it.”

Graham made an angry sound, but didn’t say anything further.

I eased the door closed. Callie seemed to have some precognition. At least, she thought so, and Graham hadn’t dismissed it.

I quietly got back in bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.

I had a bad feeling the place she wanted me to go was the old mill. That thought made sleep a very long time coming. I mean, confronting the new was all well and good; doing something incredibly stupid wasn’t.

I slept briefly and badly. When I woke, it was about 9:00 in the morning. The house was quiet, and I wondered if everyone else was asleep. Callie was up, though. I found her in the kitchen, cooking something. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, not sure how to interact with someone who’d basically risen from the dead.

“Hi, Callie. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, turning and smiling at me. Then her smile faded, and she studied me for a while. Finally she spoke again. “I was wrong about you, Elizabeth. You do the Lord’s work, even though you don’t recognize it.”

I flushed. It was phrased in Callie-speak, but it was a genuine compliment.

“Thanks, Callie. I don’t know that I entirely deserve that, but I appreciate it. And please, call me ‘Beth.’”

“Beth,” she said, as though trying out the name.

We smiled at each other.