Prayers of Agnes Sparrow by Joyce Magnin Page A

began to pray again. This time she raised her voice and even asked God to bind any devils that might be chasing after Hezekiah. He crossed his arms tight against his chest when she said those words.
    “In the name of Jesus, we pray for these things,” Agnes finished.
    Hezekiah lifted his head. “Nothing,” he said. “I still got nothing.”
    I watched him slowly ball both hands into tight fists. He rubbed them into his eyes. “You’re my only hope, Miss Sparrow.”
    I put my hand on his shoulder. “Hezekiah, give it a little time. You’ll get your miracle.” The second those words left my mouth I felt my stomach sink. I had never promised anyone a miracle before that evening.
    Agnes patted my hand to silence me.
    “Listen,” she said looking at Hezekiah, “why don’t you stay in town. I’m sure Vidalia Whitaker will give you a room.”
    “But I got no money.”
    “That doesn’t matter. You can work around here. Do some odd jobs and such. I’ll pay you—not a lot, mind you—but enough to help out. Maybe you can get another job in town.”
    I stood straight up. “Agnes, what are you saying? Shouldn’t we … discuss this first?”
    “I’m sorry,” Hezekiah said. “I didn’t mean to start a family squabble.”
    “Phooey.” Agnes blew out air that smacked of beef gravy. “Don’t let my sister bother you.”
    Hezekiah stood and rubbed his head. “I can’t thank you enough. And … and I suppose I’m willing to wait as long as I have to for God to grant me my miracle.”

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    A gnes reached out her thick arm to the bedside table and picked up the phone. “I’ll call Vidalia right now and let her know you’ll be coming to see her tonight.”
    Hezekiah stood at Agnes's side with his hands folded like a child's in prayer against his chest and his chin bent downward. When Agnes started talking he sneaked a peek at me. I smiled politely.
    “Vidalia,” Agnes said into the phone. “I got a favor to ask.” Agnes spoke for only a couple of minutes, but I could tell from her tone that Vidalia agreed to give Hezekiah a room. He caught on also and practically beamed at her as she spoke. I stood back and watched, fighting my feelings of apprehension. Agnes placed the receiver on its cradle, winced, and tried to grab her knee.
    “Cramp,” she said, “another cramp.”
    She needed to adjust herself, and Hezekiah wasn’t shy about helping. He pulled the offending leg out as straight as it would go.
    “Better?” he asked.
    “Thank you, Hezekiah. Yes, much better. Sometimes I get myself into the oddest, tangled up predicaments.”
    He patted her arm. “I’m glad I could help.”
    “Well, you go on down to Vidalia's and get settled. She's expecting you. Griselda will point the way.”
    Hezekiah shook Agnes's hand, and then he grabbed mine and pumped it up and down with vigor. “Thank you, thank you both. I knew the Almighty God led me here. I knew it.”
    Agnes raised her hands and said, “Praise Jesus.”
    I walked Hezekiah to the door and told him how to find Vidalia's house. “Just look for the wreath on the front door. Vidalia always has a welcome wreath.”
    “I guess I’ll be seeing you in the morning,” he said with a sigh. “I’m excited to get to work for you and Agnes.”
    “Not too early, Hezekiah. Make it around nine.”
    Vidalia Whitaker was one of my favorite people in town, and I had no doubt that she would take generous care of him. Vidalia was a small lady with enormous grace and compassion. She rarely complained, never attended town meetings, went to church every Sunday, and, as far as I knew, only went to Agnes once for prayer. And then, it wasn’t for herself, but for a family member who lived on the other side of the country. I doubt if Studebaker even asked her to sign the petition for the Agnes Sparrow sign. I’m certain he knew she would have no part of the spectacle. I could have heard her reply, sweet, gentle, but to the point. “Now you know I am not going to