Prayers of Agnes Sparrow by Joyce Magnin

Author:Joyce Magnin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Abingdon Press
Published: 2010-04-05T21:00:00+00:00

17

I rushed down the stairs at quarter after five the next morning. “Agnes, they’re gonna be here in less than an hour.”

Agnes was propped up with two pillows behind her and one under each arm. She clutched her M&Ms jar. “I ain’t doing it, Griselda.”

“What?” My forehead wrinkled like a cotton tablecloth.

“That gall darn radio show. I changed my mind.”

“You can’t change your mind now, Agnes. Those folks are on their way. They planned on this.”

“Phooey. Rassie Harper can just make other plans.”

“I don’t understand. What changed your mind?”

“It just ain’t right tooting my own horn and telling the world about the miracles. It shouldn’t come from my mouth.”

“Didn’t I say that? Didn’t I say we can’t start advertising this all over the place? Isn’t that why we tried to stop that whole sign thing? Wish you’d just have listened to me from the beginning.”

“That's right. I know and I’m sorry. My prayers are between me and God, nobody else.”

I flopped onto the red sofa. “What in tarnation am I gonna tell Rassie Harper?”

“Tell him the truth. Tell him Agnes Sparrow is not for sale. Tell him I got my reasons for praying, and God's got his reasons for answering, and it ain’t nobody else's beeswax.”

I took about ninety choppy breaths and started to hyperventilate. Agnes pointed to her oxygen. I declined with a wave.

“I’ll think about this one. I’ll get us some breakfast. Those folks are liable to show up early, now, the way things are going.”

I put coffee on and checked the thermostat. A cold front had moved in overnight. I fed Arthur who kept looking at me like he had all the answers. And then I stood like a member of the walking dead and stared out the kitchen window as the coffee pot bubbled. Most days, I loved to look out over the mountains and dream of a day when I would travel past them. But not that morning. That morning those mountains were so wide and so tall and so high I believed there was no force in heaven or earth that could get me to the other side.

Agnes and I ate breakfast. I slathered her toast with raspberry jam and salted her eggs while she drank juice.

“I thought I could do it and give God the glory, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn’t.”

I bit the end of a triangle of toast. “That's good jam. Ruth brought it the other day. She said it's made by hippies in Binghamton.”

“Best jam I’ve ever had,” Agnes said.

“Well, speaking of jam. I still have to tell Rassie Harper.”

Agnes waved her fork. “Ah, phooey. Rassie can go fly a kite. I can’t be the first person to cancel at the last second.”

“I suppose, but he's going through all that hassle of coming here. Might make it a little tougher.”

The doorbell rang.

“Maybe we could just pretend we’re not home and he’ll go away.”

“Agnes. We can’t do that.”

Fortunately it was not Rassie Harper standing on the other side of the door, but Ruth and Vidalia both in their Sunday clothes.

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