At the angle where I stood, I recognized faces I’d known since childhood, some of them belonging to relatives. Some returned my gaze, and their eyes made it clear they knew I’d played a role in their gathering here this morning. Jill Moseley and her mother-in-law stood in the center, the rest of the church members huddled around them. Only Ronny did not wear his church clothes, dressed instead in a black T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. His children were not present, nor were Randy’s.

Upstream, Sheriff Cantrell and Walter Phillips stood where the dam had been built. To the left of Sheriff Cantrell lay Ronny’s wet suit, tank, and flippers. Up on the ridge across the river, Luke sat by himself. He wore what he’d worn yesterday. I knew he, like Hubert McClure, had stayed here all night.

Reverend Tilson bowed his head.

“Lord, hear our prayers this morning. Let not our hearts be troubled in this trying time,” he said, his voice still strong. “Let us know you are with us this morning, Lord, in our time of trial. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation echoed.

Reverend Tilson raised his head.

“Let us pray individually now. Let the Lord know our hearts, our needs at this troubled time. Any so moved speak now.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I told Allen, and lifted up my backpack. I walked up the trail as Agnes Moseley prayed for her son’s soul.

I soon left the trail and made my way to the cave. I clicked on the flashlight as I entered and felt again its cool moistness. I swept the light in front of my feet and in a few minutes came to the campfire. Beside it lay marbles and a toy train Aunt Margaret had bought Ben when he was still in the hospital. Soft drink cans and candy wrappers lay on the cave floor as well.

And a paint set, left open, a brush lying beside it. I shined the light on the cave wall.

The stick figure was still on the wall, but now three other ones had joined it, one the same size and two larger. Their arms too were upraised. The face of the original figure was now smudged black, not by paint but ashes. The second figure was smudged as well, not on the face but on one arm and one leg. The larger figures were unmarked but one arm of each connected to an arm of a smaller figure. All four faces looked upward, and tears of white paint fell from their eyes.

I sat down on the floor. I cut off the flashlight and put my head on my knees. I didn’t want to see or be seen.

After a while I got up and walked back down to the river. The last of the individual prayers were being offered when I rejoined Allen.