“ ‘Behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and his rainment white as snow. And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men. And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear ye not: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen.’ ”

Reverend Tilson closed his Bible. He stepped into the shallows until water rose to his calves.

“Christ rose that we all might rise,” he said, waving the Bible over the water. “Randy Moseley, our brother in Christ, may be in that river, but if God wills it he will rise from it this morning and be among us.”

Jill Moseley held on to Ronny’s arm as she slowly pressed her knees into the sand one at a time. Others knelt as well.

“Raise him, Lord,” Wallace Eller shouted.

Allen leaned toward me, his hand pressing my arm. “Do they really believe their prayers can resurrect him?”

“Yes,” I said. “They do.”

“Raise his soul, Lord,” Reverend Tilson shouted, “as you have promised. And we would ask more, Lord, for you to raise his body from this river so his family may see him a last time.”

“Please, Lord,” Jill Moseley prayed, eyes closed, voice fervent. Her face and arms were uplifted, and the late-morning sun lay like a palm of light across her forehead.

“He was baptized in this river, Lord,” Reverend Tilson said. The old man stooped so the fingers of his left hand touched the water that swirled over his ankles. “I’ve lifted him from this river in my own arms and in Thy name. I’m too old to lift him, Lord. You must lift him from these waters now.”

Reverend Tilson pointed his dripping hand toward the hydraulic. “And this child who lies with him, given the name Ruth by her parents, a Godly name, Lord. Raise her too, body and soul into the light.” Everyone in the congregation knelt now except Ronny and Reverend Tilson.

I knelt as well. Allen hesitated, then pressed his knees into the sand beside me.

“Hear our prayers, Lord,” Reverend Tilson said, “as we make our individual petitions to You on this riverbank. Hear us, Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation answered, and dispersed into groups of three and four to kneel together and hold hands, their prayers blending with the sound of the river. Allen helped me to my feet.

Ronny walked upstream, neither nodding nor speaking as he passed in front of Allen and me. He didn’t speak to anyone else, either. He found a spot between Kowalsky and Phillips. Ronny crouched, not as though to pray but as he would in his orchard, hips touching the backs of his calves but not the ground while he rocked slightly on his heels.