How I Saved My Father's Life (and Ruined Everything Else) Read Free Page B

crucifix with a suffering Jesus hanging from it and statues of saints in long robes, all with gold circles above their heads like someone’s fancy china. I practically gasped. That’s how beautiful it was in there.
    I went straight up to the altar. The air smelled like wet wool and melting wax, a serious smell that I liked. I knelt down on the padded kneeler, clasped my hands, bent my head, and even though I thought you were probably supposed to whisper in church, I spoke in my natural speaking voice to be sure God heard me. “God, save my father from that avalanche.” I just kept saying it, over and over. “God, save my father from that avalanche. God, save my father from that avalanche.”
    I was surprised how the whole time I was there, not one person came in. It was just me and God and Jesus on the cross and all of those saints. I said my prayer about a million times. That’s what it was. A prayer. I couldn’t imagine ourlife without my father. I mean, we were a family of four. And even though sometimes Cody drove me crazy, most of the time I liked the way we looked together, all of us. Maybe we didn’t take ski vacations to fancy places and maybe our house needed a lot of work, but we were a great family. I didn’t want to be just three. I didn’t want my father to die and leave the rest of us alone. So I prayed. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, pushing away the thoughts of what my life would be like without my father in it. Without him driving me to school and stopping at Seven Stars Bakery for hot chocolate and ginger scones. Without him teaching me new words or facts or songs. Without him taking my mother by the waist and spinning her around our kitchen floor while some old song played on the stereo.
    I could tell by the way the light slanted differently through the stained glass windows that I had knelt and prayed for a long time. My throat felt raw, my voice was raspy, and I was burning hot. Outside, the ice had melted into fast rivulets of water that raced down the streets and sidewalks like it had somewhere to go. Still, it took me even longer to get home. My legs felt heavy and my head pounded. Maybe I was dying, I thought. Maybe I hadsuffered from hallucinations the night before. Maybe I had lost my mind.
    But when I walked in the door, I knew immediately that everything had happened just as I had thought. There was panic in the air.
    My mother emerged, red-eyed, from the kitchen, clutching Cody by the hand. Behind her, I saw Gran, my father’s mother; and Aunt Birdie the cardiologist; and Aunt Becky the pediatrician; and other faces behind them, familiar and frightened.
    â€œMadeline!” my mother said, and she started to cry. “Where in the world have you been?”
    â€œIs Daddy dead?” I asked, my voice hoarse and sore.
    â€œWhy would you say that?” my mother asked. She was twisting a crumpled tissue in her hand. “Did you hear it on television last night after I went to bed?”
    â€œIs he?” I said, and it came out all raspy.
    Gran stepped forward, tall and erect, her silvery blond hair slightly droopier than usual.
    â€œHe’s alive,” she said. “We just got word that he’s one of the people who made it.”
    I nodded.
    â€œBut how did you even know?” Mom asked, moving toward me. “How could you know?”
    â€œWas it an avalanche?” I managed to whisper before I slumped to the floor in a sweaty, feverish heap.
    From somewhere above me I heard my mother’s voice, surprised, saying, “Yes.”
    I closed my eyes, smiling. I had done it. I had performed my second miracle, a huge miracle, a miraculous miracle.
    â€œMy God,” someone said, “she’s burning up!”
    I felt myself being lifted and carried away, up, up, up. The next time I opened my eyes, it was night and still. My father was saved. And I was on my way to becoming a bona fide saint.
    I didn’t