Fat Lightning by Howard Owen Page B

two.
    â€œWook!” she exclaims, and the park’s other residents whistle and shout.
    The old woman looks back at Nancy, holds out her right hand, the one with the bracelet, and Nancy shakes it, turning it slightly so that she can read the name that encircles her wrist.
    â€œSebara,” Nancy says.
    â€œLot’s nephew’s wife,” Sebara says, and Nancy knows that the woman has known it was her all along.
    It’s then that Nancy knows she’s ready to write.

1971

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    By late July, the crowds of pilgrims coming to see Jesus on the barn have grown to the point that the county sends a full-time deputy sheriff out every evening an hour before sunset to direct traffic. Now, due to some irregularity on the barn’s surface or the shadow of a tree branch, there appears to be a line running from the figure’s right eye to the bottom of its face.
    Lot sees what it is as soon as the people first notice it.
    â€œIt’s tears,” he says. “It’s Jesus shedding his tears for this here sinful world.” And somebody mutters “Amen” in the back of the crowd.
    With every new trick of the light, some new aspect is seen or imagined by the people, many of whom have driven hundreds of miles out of their way on vacation to see the vision. Dozens of people a day pull in at the stores in Monacan itself to ask directions to Lot’s home, because the only dateline in the news stories they’ve seen is “Monacan, Va.” To reduce confusion, a sign is placed at the entrance to the county road to Old Monacan. It reads: Jesus-on-the-barn. An arrow points the way.
    Simon Jeter complains to the sheriff’s department that his crops are being ruined by all the people parking on the edge of his fields. One afternoon in June, he leaves his Buick in the garage and moves his oldest son’s Ford pickup beside the garage, blocking the way to Lot’s. Cars are backed up almost to the state highway before the deputy sheriff comes and threatens to give Jeter a citation for obstructing traffic.
    But Jeter doesn’t have much time to devote to keeping Lot’s pilgrims off his property. His second-oldest son’s boy, Terry, is still missing. They first assumed that the boy had run away again, and they checked with all their relatives and acquaintances where they thought he might have gone. But the boy doesn’t show up.
    Now, a month later, they have his picture on posters in stores throughout the northern half of the county. They even put one beside the dirt road leading past Jeter’s to Lot’s, hoping one of the pilgrims will have seen Terry somewhere. But no one admits to having seen the boy.
    â€œIt’s one of them damned foreigners that Lot Chastain’s got out at his place,” Jeter tells Sheriff Watson. “Ain’t no telling where-all them people are coming from. Some of ’em looks like gypsies to me. They liable to do anything.”
    The sheriff tells Jeter that it isn’t likely that somebody could have kidnapped Terry at the Chastain place because there’s always a crowd there, but he promises to have his deputy keep an eye on the pilgrims.
    â€œIf I was you-all, I wouldn’t worry all that much,” the sheriff tells the Jeters. “He’s run off before, and I expect he’ll run off again. He’ll turn up.”
    â€œAin’t never been gone a month before,” the boy’s father says in a low voice.
    â€œWell,” the sheriff says, scratching his head, “he’s gettin’ older.”
    Nancy is still coming out once a week, most recently with Aileen and Grace. There’s been an offer on the farm, one that would allow Lot to keep the house, the land around it and the road leading in. The buyer is offering $450,000 for the rest of the land, taking up most of what was once the town of Old Monacan. He plans to build an upscale housing development, with a new road coming