Chapter 27

“Now.” Zeke stood and faced Rosa.

Fewer and fewer drops fell on his saturated clothes. The gap between lightning and thunder grew.

“What about you?” A residual ringing filled his head, but he could hear himself speak.

Rosa’s eyes flickered from where Otto had stood to Zeke’s patient face. Feral fear filled her eyes.

He wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her. But he couldn’t. Like when Otto prayed, he couldn’t put his hand on his shoulder. It was so awkward not to touch them.

“What about me?” Rosa’s alabaster skin dulled.

“How do I help you move on?” Zeke smiled. He wanted to let her know she was safe. “How do I help you?”

“I ... I don’t know,” she answered finally. Her gaze lifted from the ground to him. She looked like a small creature, caught in a trap. “I stayed here for Luther. My baby. I watched over him all his life. But ... but he’s dead now.” She hiccupped as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know how to move on.”

Empathetic agony rose in Zeke’s chest. Then he bowed his head and asked God to help him. Show him what she needed in order to move on. He stood quietly and waited, listened.

“Let him rest.” He heard a small voice like his own inner voice but different.

Suddenly Rosa’s words came to his mind. Maybe Luther’s spirit is not yet at rest.

He’s not laid to rest, Zeke had told her.

Zeke prayed for guidance.

“It begins and it ends with the well.” The words flashed in his mind. Zeke’s eyes flew open. He spun to look at Rosa.

She glanced to her side. “What?”

“I know what we’ve gotta do.” He took a step toward the flagstone.

“What?” She stepped toward him.

“Rosa, you have to trust me. Okay?”

“Sure, but what are you gonna do?” Concern blanched her face.

He took another step and then stopped. “Can you come with me, to the house?”

“No, Zeke, I can’t.” She shook her head. Her damp hair clung to her cheek. “Why?”

“I have to go to the house. I promise I’ll be right back. Wait for me here.”

“No, don’t leave me alone!”

“Rosa, please. Please trust me.”

“I ... I trust you.” She forced a weak smile.

“I’ll be right back.” His gaze held hers. Then he turned and ran to the house. He said a quick prayer. Then, picking up the urn and his mother’s Bible, he ran as quickly as he could back to the well.

“Rosa,” he called.

“I’m here.” She had squatted down on the back side of the wishing well.

He stopped. The vision of his dream flashed through his mind. A cold shiver whipped down his spine.

Her eyes focused on the black urn. “Is that...”

“Yes, Rosa,” Zeke said gently, shaking off the fearful memory. “This is Luther’s remains.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“I’m going to lay him to rest,” Zeke explained. “I asked God what to do to help you be at peace and He told me it began and it ended with the well. Rosa, I’m—we’re going to pray over his ashes and pour them into the well. He will rest in the well. Maybe then, you, too, can rest.”