I glanced at Yannis, who raised his eyebrows. How quickly we trust someone when the life of a loved one is threatened. All we really knew of this stranger was his wild claim, and that he’d wolfed down a package of peanut butter crackers.

Then I saw little Alice take Jean Philippe’s hand. The new man turned toward Bernadette and put his palms on her shoulder and forehead.

Just like that, her eyes opened.

“Bernadette?” Jean Philippe whispered.

“Cherie?” she whispered back.

“You did it,” Jean Philippe said to the Lord, his voice reverential. “You brought her back. Thank you, Bondyé! Bernadette! My love!”

I have never witnessed anything like that, Annabelle. One moment she was unconscious, the next she was awake and talking. The others began to stir and take notice. Geri poured Bernadette some water. Nina hugged her tightly. Even rigid old Mrs. Laghari seemed pleased, although she mumbled, “Someone must explain how this happened.”

“The Lord did it,” Nina said.

The new man smiled. Mrs. Laghari did not.

Eventually, we gave Bernadette and Jean Philippe their privacy and moved to the back of the raft. The stranger followed us. I studied his face. If this was a miracle, he was taking it in stride.

“What did you do to her?” I asked.

“Jean Philippe wished to speak to her again. Now he can.”

“But she was nearly dead.”

“The distance between death and life is not as great as you imagine.”

“Really?” Yannis turned his way. “Then why don’t people come back to Earth after they die?”

The stranger smiled. “Why would they want to?”

Yannis made a snorting noise. “Whatever.” Then he added: “But Bernadette, you healed her? She’s going to be good?”

The man looked off.

“She is not healed. But she is going to be good.”

Two

Sea

My watch reads 1:00 a.m. Our fifth night lost. The stars are so thick I can’t tell where some start and others end, as if a barrel of glowing salt just exploded in the heavens.

For now, I focus on a single star that sparkles so brilliantly, it’s like someone is signaling us. We see you. Wave. Do something and we’ll come get you. If only. We remain adrift with this magnificent panorama all around us. It has always been a mystery to me, Annabelle, how beauty and anguish can share the same moment.

I wish I were staring at these stars with you, from a beach someplace safely on land. I find myself thinking of the night we met. Remember? The Fourth of July? I was sweeping the floor of a pavilion in the municipal park. You approached in an orange blouse and white pants, your hair tied back in a ponytail, and asked where the fireworks were being launched.