not to notice as she took a compact out of her purse and scanned her face with it. "Oh," she said, faltering.
"What is it, baby?"
"Oh, nothing. Just stumbled over a stone or something." She smiled as she replaced the compact.
Gwen walked over to them, peering to get a look at her mother's face. "Mom, let me seeâ"
"Goodness, but it's getting hot out here!" Ginger exclaimed, rushing past her daughter over the boardwalk. "John, honey, I think I'll just go back home now, if you don't mind."
"You can go anyplace you want, but I'm getting me a beer." His glance wandered back to the blond woman.
"Certainly. You go ahead. I'll see you later."
"How are we supposed to get home?" Gwen shouted after John's back as he loped off. "Jerk."
"It's all right, honey. We can walk."
John was making a beeline toward the blonde.
"Looks like your boyfriend has a short attention span," Gwen said. Her mother barely glanced up. "Well, you can't keep them on a leash, can you," Ginger said perfunctorily, her heels clattering against the wooden flooring, her skirt billowing.
"Mom, wait a minute."
"What?" Ginger asked irritably, out of breath from her sprint away from the creek.
"Let me look at you."
"Oh, don't beâ"
Gwen took her mother by both arms and stood facing her head-on. The bruise over Ginger's cheekbone was still there, even more prominent now that some of her makeup had been rinsed off by the water. "It didn't work," she said, puzzled.
Ginger tried to twist away. "I probably just didn't put enough on," she said. "Doesn't matter, anyway. It's only a bruise."
Gwen continued to stare at her.
"Come on," Ginger said, pulling her daughter with surprising strength down the hill.
Chapter Six
UGLY WOMEN CAN DANCE, TOO
G inger Ranier had known that the water did not heal everyone. That fact had been known almost as soon as its healing power was discovered. The question was why. Why did it work on some, and not on others?
Among those who achieved perfect wellness after visiting the water were young people, old people, sick people, people with injuries, people of all races and all beliefs, atheists and zealots, drunks and addicts, the hopeless and the saintly, bulimics and overeaters, carnivores and vegetarians, people who had been kept alive by drugs, and people who had never visited a physician.
The same mix of people were left unaffected by the water.
This led to all sorts of speculation. New Agers proclaimed Miller's Creek to be a vortex of extraterrestrial vibrations. The movement of the planets was their explanation for why the water might cure one twenty-year-old woman's case of multiple sclerosis and not another's, or one brother's cleft palate while leaving the other afflicted.
Almost every religion had some sect or other claiming the water's healing as the exclusive property of their particular deity. A surprisingly large number of people voiced the opinion that the government was behind the phenomenon in some way. These people insisted that, despite the fact that use of the water was completely free of charge, hardworking citizens were in some way paying for it all in the end. And, predictably, there were those who proclaimed it all to be the work of the devil.
Had the water affected everyone in the same way, Miller's Creek might have been accepted by the Catholic Church, or even by the medical establishment, as a bona fide place of miracles. But the fact that many who came to the waters in good faith left unhealed and heartbroken (including a number of small children with pathetic disabilities) caused both the media and the general public to slough off the place as a fraud or, at best, a psychosomatic "cure" for the gullible.
As a result, the flow of visitors, while always heavy, did not require any major changes to the simple setup. And after an initial flurry of media attention, the press ceased to maintain an interest in the authentic but inconsistent miracle of the water from Miller's Creek. This was
"What is it, baby?"
"Oh, nothing. Just stumbled over a stone or something." She smiled as she replaced the compact.
Gwen walked over to them, peering to get a look at her mother's face. "Mom, let me seeâ"
"Goodness, but it's getting hot out here!" Ginger exclaimed, rushing past her daughter over the boardwalk. "John, honey, I think I'll just go back home now, if you don't mind."
"You can go anyplace you want, but I'm getting me a beer." His glance wandered back to the blond woman.
"Certainly. You go ahead. I'll see you later."
"How are we supposed to get home?" Gwen shouted after John's back as he loped off. "Jerk."
"It's all right, honey. We can walk."
John was making a beeline toward the blonde.
"Looks like your boyfriend has a short attention span," Gwen said. Her mother barely glanced up. "Well, you can't keep them on a leash, can you," Ginger said perfunctorily, her heels clattering against the wooden flooring, her skirt billowing.
"Mom, wait a minute."
"What?" Ginger asked irritably, out of breath from her sprint away from the creek.
"Let me look at you."
"Oh, don't beâ"
Gwen took her mother by both arms and stood facing her head-on. The bruise over Ginger's cheekbone was still there, even more prominent now that some of her makeup had been rinsed off by the water. "It didn't work," she said, puzzled.
Ginger tried to twist away. "I probably just didn't put enough on," she said. "Doesn't matter, anyway. It's only a bruise."
Gwen continued to stare at her.
"Come on," Ginger said, pulling her daughter with surprising strength down the hill.
Chapter Six
UGLY WOMEN CAN DANCE, TOO
G inger Ranier had known that the water did not heal everyone. That fact had been known almost as soon as its healing power was discovered. The question was why. Why did it work on some, and not on others?
Among those who achieved perfect wellness after visiting the water were young people, old people, sick people, people with injuries, people of all races and all beliefs, atheists and zealots, drunks and addicts, the hopeless and the saintly, bulimics and overeaters, carnivores and vegetarians, people who had been kept alive by drugs, and people who had never visited a physician.
The same mix of people were left unaffected by the water.
This led to all sorts of speculation. New Agers proclaimed Miller's Creek to be a vortex of extraterrestrial vibrations. The movement of the planets was their explanation for why the water might cure one twenty-year-old woman's case of multiple sclerosis and not another's, or one brother's cleft palate while leaving the other afflicted.
Almost every religion had some sect or other claiming the water's healing as the exclusive property of their particular deity. A surprisingly large number of people voiced the opinion that the government was behind the phenomenon in some way. These people insisted that, despite the fact that use of the water was completely free of charge, hardworking citizens were in some way paying for it all in the end. And, predictably, there were those who proclaimed it all to be the work of the devil.
Had the water affected everyone in the same way, Miller's Creek might have been accepted by the Catholic Church, or even by the medical establishment, as a bona fide place of miracles. But the fact that many who came to the waters in good faith left unhealed and heartbroken (including a number of small children with pathetic disabilities) caused both the media and the general public to slough off the place as a fraud or, at best, a psychosomatic "cure" for the gullible.
As a result, the flow of visitors, while always heavy, did not require any major changes to the simple setup. And after an initial flurry of media attention, the press ceased to maintain an interest in the authentic but inconsistent miracle of the water from Miller's Creek. This was
Similar Books
