An Imperfect Miracle

by Thomas L. Peters

  I decided that the shrine was the best place to find out where the fire was on account of all the people standing in line with their cell phones. Chewy was already way ahead of me, and I took off after her as fast as I could. When I turned onto Main Street, I saw the flames shooting up but couldn’t tell from where exactly. I was hoping that it was the karate place, since it didn’t seem to be doing much business anymore, or maybe Joe’s novelty shop, because those crusty old bums who shopped there were always swearing and grumbling at the pilgrims. But when I got up close enough, I saw that it was Mary’s shrine that was burning to the ground. I’d never seen a real fire before except on the TV news, and once when old Mr. Whales up the street got drunk and set fire to his garbage can. But that didn’t really count because Mr. Markle scooted over right away and put it out with a sprinkling bucket he was using to water his tomatoes. If it hadn’t been Mary’s house going up in smoke, it would have been a pretty cool thing to see too, what with all the pilgrims standing out on the street pointing at the flames shooting up all over. Some of the flames got so stirred up by the wind that they began swirling around like little tornadoes.

  Carlos was running in and out of the shrine like a wild man, and every time he came out he had an armful of crosses and beads and other merchandise. That little fellow John, the drunk Mary had saved, was with him too, lugging buckets of water inside. I wondered what he was up to, because I didn’t see how a few buckets of water could put out such a big fire.

  Just then the fire truck came wailing down Main Street and pulled up right in front of the shrine, even though it had to slow down a little at the end on account of all the pilgrims still gawking at the fire. Mr. O’Connor, my old science teacher, was riding up front hollering at the pilgrims to get out of the way, and Pastor Mike and Father Tom were riding with the other firemen in the back. They were all wearing their yellow fireman suits and thick gray overalls and red plastic hats and looked pretty hot and sweaty already.

  Father Tom jumped off before the truck had even stopped all the way, and hooked up a thick gray hose onto the fire hydrant me and Chewy hid behind sometimes when we were worried some drunk was after us. Then Mr. O’Connor and Pastor Mike and some others each grabbed a piece of the hose and started aiming the nozzle toward Mary’s house. Pastor Mike was up front swinging the nozzle all around and shouting out instructions like it was his house that was burning down instead of Mary’s. You should have seen how much water was squirting out of that hose once they got it flowing good. I didn’t see what the point was though, because the shrine was almost burned down to ashes and soot by then. But I guess they didn’t want the fire spreading to other buildings. Carlos was trying to go back inside one more time so he could save more of his religious merchandise, but Father Tom yelled at him to get out of the way. Carlos still tried to make it back in, but the flames must have been too hot and he finally gave up. Then I saw his little friend John scamper out too.

  After the fire was finally out the firemen all got their axes, except for Pastor Mike, who seemed awful worn out by it all, and smashed whatever was left of Mary’s house all to pieces. They must have wanted to make sure there were no sparks left, although some of them seemed to get a real kick out of swinging those axes all around and breaking stuff.

  Father Tom was the first to go tramping around through all the burned-up wood looking for dead bodies. But it wasn’t long before he turned around and yelled out in a real loud clear voice that everybody had made it out alive. Then some of the pilgrims dropped to their knees and lifted their hands up to the sky and started praying and screaming and giving thanks, although I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying with all the commotion.

  By then the TV reporters had shown up, and Mr. O’Connor was getting interviewed by one of them, a young dark-haired girl who kind of reminded me a little of Mary. She was wearing glasses though, and her face was all tight and scrunched up, not relaxed and easygoing like Mary’s. Anyway, Mr. O’Connor seemed to enjoy getting interviewed, because he was smiling and talking so loud into the microphone that he was almost foaming at the mouth. Pastor Mike still looked kind of beat, and he was sitting on the sidewalk with his fire hat off trying to catch his breath.

  I went over and asked him if he was okay, and he said he was just a little out of shape. He said he’d have to start exercising more. I told him that Mom could whip him into shape, because being a nurse she knew all about exercising and good health. He thanked me for the tip and smiled a little. Then I asked him why he’d gotten so wound up about Mary’s shrine burning down, being that he wasn’t even Catholic and didn’t have anything to lose one way or the other. He flinched like I’d just stuck a knife into him. I wondered if I’d insulted him or something, although I didn’t really see how. Then he shrugged and said he must have gotten a little carried away in all the excitement. I asked him if he knew how the fire got started. He said he didn’t know for sure, but that he smelled gasoline and thought that somebody might have set it on purpose.

  “Whoever did it probably snuck around to the back of the house when nobody was looking and dumped some gasoline and lit a match, and that was it. With all that wood, there was no chance to save it.”

  After listening to him, I started going over the possible suspects in my mind.

  “Whoever did it had to be pretty sneaky not to get caught, what with all the pilgrims standing around.”

  But Pastor Mike said that the pilgrims were all probably concentrating on Mary so hard and praying to her and everything that the guy was able to slip away without being spotted. He said whoever did it was in big trouble if he ever got caught. By then of course I already knew who’d set the fire, and I couldn’t help feeling a little proud of myself too for having figured it out so quick.

  “Tim Runyon is the guy’s name. He hates Mary because she’s cleaning up the town and getting rid of all the bars where he does his drinking. He’s sneaky enough to have pulled it off without getting caught too. He was the big jerk with the pizza who Father Tom got into a fight with on the day of the blessing ceremony.”

  Then I thought of how sneaky Mr. Grimes was too. But I didn’t think Mr. Grimes had the guts to set fire to a building with so many people around. Pastor Mike seemed to be breathing easier now, and I wasn’t so worried anymore about him dying of a heart attack or something. I was pretty sure that poor Mom would have fallen all to pieces if Pastor Mike ever kicked the bucket on us.

  “Did you see him set it?” he asked me.

  “I got here too late. But I’ve seen him standing across the street giving dirty looks at Mary and her shrine.”

  He took another deep breath and then flicked his eyes toward me.

  “You shouldn’t go around making accusations, Nate, not until you have proof. You don’t want your mother to get sued, do you?”

  “Do you mean Runyon could take all Mom’s money just because I said he burned Mary’s house down?”

  I’m no lawyer, Nate, but the laws are nuts sometimes. He could say you’re libeling him and that your mom put you up to it. You have to be careful about what you say.”

  “But she never did anything close to that. I bet she don’t even know yet that it was Mary’s house that caught on fire.”

  Pastor Mike smiled kind of weak, but he must have been feeling better because he stood up finally.

  “The truth and the law sometimes don’t go together.” Then he stretched a little, and it must have got the blood flowing again because his face didn’t look nearly so pale. “What about that English teacher of yours? What’s his name, Grimes? He tried to burn her up once, you said. Maybe he tried again.”

  I was about to tell him what a sissy Mr. Grimes was, but then something struck me as a little strange.

  “How’d you know about Mr. Grimes trying to blowtorch her? I just thought Father Tom and Carlos knew about that.”

  I didn’t mention the little drunk, because I wasn’t sure that Carlos and Father Tom would want
his name out in public. Pastor Mike’s blue eyes clouded up a bit, and he seemed like he was thinking a little too long and hard to answer such an easy question.

  “I guess I must have heard it somewhere. In my job I have to talk to a lot of people. Maybe Father Tom told me. Who knows?”

  His answer made some sense, since they seemed to be such good friends and all. I decided I better let Pastor Mike rest up a little. Plus, I was dying to find out what had happened to Mary. The firemen were pretty much done tramping around and smashing stuff with their axes, so they let me get a little closer. I walked over to Father Tom, who was searching around in some of the burned-up wood helping Carlos look for crosses and other merchandise. I asked him if Mary had gotten scorched in the fire too. Father Tom wiped the dirty streaks of sweat off his cheeks and let out a big happy sigh.

  “That special glass case saved her. Otherwise, the concrete would likely have been blackened beyond recognition. Our friend John helped out too.” He pointed over at where the little fellow was yapping to Carlos about something. “He kept throwing buckets of water over her to keep the flames away until we got here.”

  I told him what Pastor Mike had said about smelling gasoline. Father Tom stretched out his back a little and then smiled down at me.

  “It was arson, all right. There was gasoline all over the place.”

  I told him who I thought did it. But just like Pastor Mike he said I shouldn’t go around blaming people without having all the facts first. He didn’t even seem to know who Tim Runyon was, until I told him it was the same guy he’d wrestled to the ground right after Mary’s blessing ceremony. Then Father Tom patted me on the shoulder, a little harder too than when he was showing me around his church. But it still didn’t hurt nearly as much as when Dad used to do it.

  “You better go home now. You don’t want your mom worrying about you.”

  Then Pastor Mike and Carlos came over, and they all started talking about whether the shrine had enough insurance to cover the losses and other money stuff that I didn’t really understand. Just as I was leaving, Father Tom bent over real close and whispered to me not to forget to take Chewy.

  “All we need now is some crazy dog running around getting in everybody’s way.”

  I told Chewy to behave herself, and then we both took off for home. I must have had pretty sharp ears just like Mary, because I heard Carlos saying that he thought Runyon was the guy who’d set the fire too. I looked back at Father Tom nodding his head and saying what a bad actor Runyon was and what a long criminal record he’d had, and I wondered why he’d just pretended not to know him. I asked Chewy about it, but she couldn’t explain it either.

  When I got home Mom was watching the TV reports about the fire. Marcie’s mom must not have called her up yet, because she didn’t yell at me for bloodying that kid’s nose or causing a ruckus at the party. All of a sudden she switched off the TV and said that she better get to the hospital in case somebody was hurt. She said that breathing in too much smoke is what usually kills people from fires, and that it can sneak up on you fast if you’re not careful. I thought about how worn-out Pastor Mike had looked sitting on the pavement. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want her to get all worried about him. Then she asked me how the swimming party went, and I told her it was okay.

  “See. I knew you’d have fun. I don’t know why you’re always fighting me whenever I ask you to do something. You know how much I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom,” I mumbled. I didn’t like getting all mushy like that, but I knew Mom wouldn’t leave me alone until I said it.

  Mom didn’t get home until way past supper time, so we ordered out for pizza. While we were waiting for the delivery, I asked her if any of the firemen had gotten hurt. She said no, but that there’d been a bad car wreck out on the interstate. She said that some people from Missouri on their way home from a vacation at the beach had gotten pretty banged up. She said if she hadn’t gone in to work, there wouldn’t have been enough nurses to take care of them all.

  “It’s a good thing there was a fire then,” I said. “Mary must have been looking out for us after all.”

  Mom looked at me kind of puzzled, but then the pizza came and I was too busy eating to think anything more about it. Before she tucked me in she made me say a prayer asking God to heal up those Missouri people. She’d never made me do anything like that before, and I wondered if it was because of Pastor Mike and whether they’d get married soon.

  Chapter 10

  The day after Mary’s house burned down, while Mom and me were sitting at the kitchen table eating limpy spaghetti for supper because Mom had boiled it too long, Marcie’s mom called up and told Mom what had happened at the swimming party. It was a bad break for me because Mom had just come home from the hospital in a happy mood, since those Missouri people looked like they were all going to make it just fine. Mom even called it “a minor miracle,” which made me think that all the praying me and Chewy had done the night before might have actually worked. I didn’t say anything to Mom about it though, because I didn’t want her thinking that I was trying to grab the credit.

  While she was still on the phone, Mom was already throwing me frosty looks. So I started working around inside my head what I was going to say. After running through it all a couple times, I didn’t see that I had much choice but to blame it all on that bratty red-haired kid. He was the one who’d started it after all, by making fun of Mary and me.

  Right after Mom put down the phone she starting hollering at me so fast and loud that for the first minute or so I couldn’t get in a word. When she finally stopped to catch her breath, I raced through my side of the story as quick as I could. But after accusing me of turning into a little liar just like Dad, she grabbed me by the ear lobe and dragged me out to the car and drove us over to Marcie’s house, where I had to apologize to Marcie and her mom. I could tell by how bright and crafty her little eyes were shining that Marcie loved every second of it too.

  On the way home I kept trying to explain to Mom that I was just sticking up for Mary. I told her that some people on TV were already saying how it was a miracle that Mary had made it through the fire without a scratch. But Mom just started sputtering and fuming all over again. I wondered for a second if she was going a little crazy, like Mr. Grimes for instance.

  “I’m getting sick and tired of having to listen to all this silly Mary business. Haven’t you ever heard at church that you’re not supposed to get into fights? Do you want to grow up to be some worthless bum like your father?”

  I decided to keep quiet, because I knew no matter what I said it wouldn’t do me any good. When we got home Mom told me that I was grounded for a week. She said that if I gave her any lip about it, she’d ground me for the rest of the summer too. Then she stomped out to the kitchen and started throwing baking potatoes into the sink and crying a little. It was what she did sometimes when she got really teed off, like she used to when Dad was still running around hassling us.

  Hearing those potatoes plunk down against the metal sink gave me the willies, like I was being chased by monsters or something. But I stood firm right outside the kitchen and took it like a man. I knew if I’d gone up to my room while she was still yelling at me there was no telling what she’d have done. Then all of a sudden she started bawling her eyes out. She slumped her shoulders over a little too, like she did sometimes when she was feeling worn out from being on her feet so long at the hospital.

  After I told her that I wasn’t planning to grow up to be some skunk like Dad, she finally dried off her eyes with the back of her hand and told me to go up to my room. But when I asked her if I could have some ice cream first, she charged at me so fast that I barely made it up the steps in one piece.

  I spent the whole night lying in bed feeling sorry for myself and not sleeping much. Even Chewy hopping under the covers with me and snuggling her nose up real close to my cheek didn’t cheer me up any.

  The
next morning when I came downstairs Mom was fixing me eggs and bacon and toast before she went off to work. She fixed me extra eggs and bacon too, I guess because she felt sorry for not letting me have dessert the night before. But she kept giving me the silent treatment like she used to do with Dad. Then just before she stepped out onto the front porch she threw me an icy sort of look.

  “If you even think for one second about sneaking out of this house while I’m gone, you’re risking a sore backside for the next year and a half.”

  Mom must have been able to read my mind, because I’d been all set to stroll down to the shrine to tell Mary about my troubles. Mom said that she might have to work late and that I should keep the doors locked. For a second I was afraid she was about to get me a babysitter too, like she used to when I was real little. But she must have decided to cut me a break this time, because she didn’t call up any of those silly neighborhood high school girls to come over and bug me.

  Being grounded was still plenty brutal on me though, and I pretty much just sat around the living room all morning watching game shows on television and playing with Chewy. Chewy didn’t like being stuck in the house any more than I did, and I told her that she could go outside and play in the woods if she wanted to. But Chewy was a loyal dog and wouldn’t hear of it.

  After I’d finished chomping down some of the BLT sandwiches Mom had left me in the fridge for lunch, I got up to stretch out my back. Then I went over and opened the front door to see what was going on out on our street. I didn’t step out onto the porch though, because I didn’t want to risk some nosy neighbor snitching to Mom about it.

  Down on the glass pane at the bottom of the screen door, I noticed a spider wriggling around and bent over for a closer look. The spider was hanging by its back two legs off its web, which was made of shiny white strands so skinny that I could barely see them. There was something else wriggling around up above and I took a closer look at it too. It turned out to be a little round orange and black spotted bug that had gotten itself caught in the web and was trying to break free. The harder it fought and squirmed though, the more tied up it got. I didn’t think it was a ladybug, but it might have been since I was no expert on bugs.