“I’m fine,” he said. “Keep moving. We’re getting closer.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

She could hear people cuss them when they pushed past. She ignored them and kept moving. She clawed her way through a group of people until she finally neared the door. And she saw her. A woman. The woman stood only feet before her. She had brilliant red hair. And she was tall. And lovely.

Ruth found herself unable to move.

The woman looked at Ruth. She wanted to step forward, but her legs were stuck.

The man released Ruth’s arm and hobbled to the woman with a labored gait. He limped so badly he could hardly remain upright. When he was finally before the woman, he doubled over to catch his breath.

The woman looked at the man and said, “What’s your name, sir?”

He was too busy breathing.

The woman looked at Ruth. “Are you his daughter?”

“No, ma’am,” said Ruth.

The woman knelt low. She touched the man’s leg. “Is it this one?” she said. “Is this the one?”

He nodded. He cried.

The woman took a deep breath and rolled up his trousers, exposing a skinny leg, deformed and scarred.

The woman pressed both hands against the man’s leg. His breathing slowed. Ruth expected to see something miraculous, but she saw nothing. His leg did not change. There were no lights from heaven. But his posture became strong, and he stood upright. He stood on his own feet. And he took a few steps with ease, as though he’d never had a problem in his life.

The woman moved her eyes back to Ruth. “You’re a good friend,” she said.

“No, ma’am, I don’t know him.”

“What’s your name?” said the woman.

“Ruth.”

“Ruth,” the woman said. “You have such pretty hair, sweetheart.” The woman reached her hand to touch the girl’s hair.

Something happened. Something Ruth felt inside her temples. An unfamiliar feeling, and gentle. Not overwhelming, but soft. It worked its way across her head and through her eyes and down into her belly. It was a warm feeling. Like being dipped into a hot pond on a July afternoon.

The woman must’ve felt it too, because she looked at Ruth with large eyes and an open mouth. The woman pulled back from Ruth and placed a hand over her mouth.

And in that moment, the sounds of the congregation faded into nothing. The people around Ruth disappeared. All she could see was the woman’s outline, and all she could feel was the woman’s presence. It was unmistakable, the feeling inside her. It was a familiar feeling, located within the recesses of her person.

Ruth felt the dam inside her burst.

“Mama,” she said.

Ninety-Seven
Sewn Together

In her dream, Marigold was a child. She was lying on her back in the creek, her face aimed at the sky.