“Well,” Pastor Drone says patiently, “for example, if you were moved to pray for your friend, you would just thank God for her. For her life.” In front of us, the same flock of starlings has reappeared. We watch them fly to the horizon, wheel around, and come back. “It may take you a long time to figure it out, Serena, but she was here for a reason. Whether or not you even do figure it out, her life was important. Just start there. That’s faith.”

I wipe my nose with my sleeve. “Are you trying to make me cry?”

“No, but I’d pray right now,” he offers. “With your permission.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

He clasps his hands, hangs his head, and frowns. With no introduction, he starts telling God all about Grimshaw. Pastor Don tells God about her childhood and her long friendship with me, and then he goes on and tells Him about the rest of her family, too, each brother and her mom and the dead father, about whom I know very little. It’s as if God is sitting on a branch of the maple tree above our heads, listening to us, interested, hidden by the new leaves.

It’s a long prayer. My butt goes numb from sitting on that cold rock for so long, but still, I think it’s good somebody told God what was going on.

We’re pretty close to Versailles, and Pastor Don drives me home. Nobody’s there As I walk through the front door, I hear a man’s voice on the answering machine. It’s the police chief of Colchis, telling us that Mike Lyle was arrested in Nogales, Arizona, for driving off from a gas station without paying. He’s being held in Nevada, without bail.

fifteen

AT THE FRONT DESK OF another motel, she explained her situation to another manager. She’d left her boyfriend, she had no money, nothing, but she saw the HELP WANTED sign in the window, and she was willing to work for a room. She was going to look for a job as a croupier tomorrow. Night was falling. Her feet hurt, and she was losing her voice. She had done this at least ten times so far today, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

While she was talking, this manager kept his attention on his computer screen. When she was done, he nodded. “Jobs all over the city.” He put a key on the guest book and moved it toward her. “Sign here.” She took the key, and he watched her sign her name.

“Friend of mine’s in personnel at the Alhambra,” he said.

“Really?”

He wrote a name on the back of a business card and slid it across the counter to her. She couldn’t read it because of the tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “No need to cry. Everyone needs a hand sometimes.”