Page 9 of They Say a Girl Died Here

“O God, our resurrection and life, the promise of your new life in Christ is like a breath of fresh air in a dry and thirsty land. We have gathered as believers, and as those who are honestly seeking the truth. Guide our worship in this hour.”

A streak of sunlight cut through the high windows like a spotlight on a superstar, and his dark hair shone and his eyes sparkled against his pale skin. His gaze moved around the room, taking them all in—it’s my job to know my flock—and as his eyes landed on Anna she was sure she saw an extra twitch of a secret smile at the corner of his mouth. Was that an acknowledgment of their meeting last night, or because he’d followed her home, lights out in the dark?

She glanced around. With perhaps the exception of Mom, who looked like she might fall asleep where she sat, the rest of the congregation was alert and focused on the pastor, almost rapt. It wouldn’t be going too far to say that some among them stared at him with something close to adoration. It was weird. Surely most people went to church out of a sense of duty, a habit, because their folks had, because it was part of the community, not because they were full of belief.

As the organ music rose and Pastor Keene flicked his hands as a signal for them to stand for a hymn, Anna reluctantly got to her feet. She didn’t sing, just moved her mouth in pretense. Not that it mattered. Grandma was loud enough for everybody, her head high, no songbook needed for her. She knew all the words. She could remember those well enough.

Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing power?

Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

Are you fully trusting in His grace this hour?

Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?

As she mouthed silent nothings, Anna looked around her, picking out the people she was starting to know.

Jeannie and Miles in their Sunday best, Jeannie’s hair frozen into place with half a can of hair spray as she held her head high. Both she and Miles singing their hearts out. The Millers and the McArthurs, the two families who’d been in the diner the previous day, were next to each other, the Millers’ carefully mended thrift store clothes faded next to the bright crisp colors of the McArthurs’ expensive outfits. William McArthur’s silver belt buckle was large and garish, his initials stamped in it in gold, but he’d paid for the Miller family’s food and not made a big deal out of it, so Anna gave him a pass on its ostentation.

To her left and farther forward was the tall figure of Todd Greenbough next to the sheriff, both men in their uniforms. A woman with a sleek bun was beside the sheriff and must have been his wife, given that the two teenagers sitting with her had the same unruly dark hair as he did.

Todd’s little sister, Holly, Caroline’s friend, probably the only one of Caroline’s new friends Anna recognized, was up in the choir, which was a mixture of children and adults. She was front and center, a perfect angel of prettiness. No wonder Caroline was so keen to hang out with her. Anna would bet money that she was the most popular kid in the class. Her brother had probably been too.

She looked again at the back of Todd Greenbough’s undeniably handsome head and broad shoulders. She was glad she wasn’t in his sight line. Suzy, over near Jeannie and Miles and with a woman who looked so much like Jeannie she had to be Suzy’s mother, was snatching hungry glances at Todd as she sang. Anna had no intention of getting on her bad side over a man she herself had no interest in.

When the hymn ended, the pastor talked about entering some charity prize draw gifted by the sheriff’s office for a five-day city break in Omaha—which got even the teenagers paying attention—and then started delivering his sermon.

It was something about farming and community, as if God was going to hear him and make it rain. Sitting there in the sweaty warmth, Anna couldn’t imagine it ever raining again. She zoned out as her eyelids grew heavier. She hadn’t had enough sleep. She felt like she hadn’t slept properly since the thing, and as the pastor continued his long and tedious sermon, Anna slid a little down in the pew and bowed her head, letting her hair fall across her face, hiding it. She closed her eyes, immediately feeling better. Ten minutes dozing, that was all she needed. She’d be awake before the next hymn. A catnap. No one would notice. The warmth seeped into her bones, and she tumbled into the void of half dreams before the thought was even finished.

12

She was lost in blackness, snared in the threads of an anxiety dream, where there were hands around her neck and she couldn’t breathe, and as panic engulfed her she jolted suddenly back to consciousness, letting out a small startled noise, enough to make the people in the row in front glance back.

She sat up straighter, needing a moment to collect herself as the dregs of her dream faded, leaving only a headache and dry mouth behind, but before she was even fully awake, she realized the people in front weren’t looking at her. They were looking at Grandma, who was the only person up on her feet.

“Grandma?” Anna said quietly. “Sit down, Grandma.”

“What am I doing here?” Her voice was loud, worried, and when Mom tried to pull her back down, she shook her off, turning to Anna.

“Are we in church?” It wasn’t a whisper, but loud, and this time more than just the row in front turned around. “Is it Sunday?”

“Yes, Grandma.” Anna got to her feet, trying to shake off her sleepiness. This was all she needed. The whole church staring at her. Jeannie and Miles and all the rest. She felt queasy. Her dream might have vanished but the headache remained.

“Is it me? Did I bring us here?” Grandma grabbed at Anna’s hand.

“Is Grandma okay?” Caroline’s voice was full of worry.

“Do you remember, Anna?” Grandma’s cold hands were like claws on her arms. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I do. We came in the car.” Anna looked over at her mom. “I’ll take her outside.” Ignoring the shuffling of feet and whispering of the congregation, she steered Grandma to the aisle.

The elderly man she’d seen in the diner, the doctor who’d spoken to Sheriff Adams, now smartly dressed in a linen suit, got up and opened the doors for her before following them out. He carefully took Grandma’s other arm and helped Anna lead her to a bench, despite using a walking cane himself.

“I’m John Burdett,” he said. “Local doctor. You work at Jeannie’s, right?”

Anna nodded. She was glad of the help with Grandma but didn’t want to sit and make small talk with a stranger.

“I knew your grandmother a long time ago.” He took hold of Grandma’s hand, rubbing it in his own as he sat beside her. “It’s good to have you home, Evelyn. Although I thought you’d have called on me by now. But then you always did play hard to get.”