My Name Is River by Wendy Dunham Page A

have time to worry about that. You just have to do it.” I jump in the back of Tilly, next to Gram, and push on her chest hard and fast. “Come on, Gram. You can’t leave me.” I tip her head back, plug her nose, and then blow two big breaths into her lungs. Breaths of life. No death, Gram, only life. I do it over and over and over.
    When we reach the church, Billy gets out and runs for help while I keep trying to save Gram. Before I know it, Pastor Henry’s in the driver’s seat, squealing Tilly’s wheels, and racing to the hospital. When we get there, he backs Tilly up to the emergency department, and a bunch of doctors and nurses rush out to help. They lift Gram out of Tilly, place her on a stretcher, and wheel her away before I can tell her goodbye.
    I’m still on my knees in the back of Tilly, crying harder than I ever knew I could.

    Pastor Henry, Billy, and I sit in the waiting room. There must not be any other emergencies in Birdsong today because we’re the only ones waiting. And that’s a good thing because there’s only three chairs.
    Pastor Henry puts his hand on my shoulder. “Would you like me to pray for your grandmother?”
    I nod. I figure if God helped us get an awesome camera when Billy prayed, then God will definitely help Gram if Pastor Henry prays.
    The three of us hold hands. Since Billy’s at my left, I take hold of the hand on his dangling arm (which I’ve never touched before). It’s soft, warm, and squishy—kind of like pizza dough.
    Pastor Henry bows his head. “Dear heavenly Father, we need your help. We ask that you be with River’s grandmother and thatyou’d give the doctors wisdom as they make medical decisions. And if it be your will, we ask that you’d keep her with us for many years to come. But if you choose to take her, we ask for the strength to go on. We pray this in your name. Amen.”
    I have to be honest. Even though I’m grateful Pastor Henry prayed, I actually think it would’ve made more sense to just ask God to make her better. Because, really, that’s what I need.
    Pastor Henry takes my hand. “River,” he says softly, “God doesn’t always answer our prayers like we want. We can pray for things to turn out a certain way, but the decision is ultimately up to him… and we won’t always understand that. But because God is God, we need to trust that his ways are good.”
    I nod, trying to understand, but there’s no space left in my brain for that because there are two very big thoughts taking up all the space: the first is wondering if Gram will get better, and the second is knowing my parents need to find me fast. If Gram doesn’t make it, I’ll have no one.
    Pastor Henry leans back in his chair, staring out the window. Then all of a sudden, he sits up straighter than a two-by-four and starts asking a million questions (I think he finally realized Billy drove Gram’s truck). “How much traffic was there? Did you stop at the main intersection and look both ways? Did you even consider how dangerous that was? What would you have done if you got in an accident?”
    Billy looks scared to death. He’s probably wondering what Pastor Henry’s going to do. And all I can do is sit here wondering if Billy’s ever been grounded before.

    Gram’s doctor pushes the waiting room door open and walks straight at me. My whole body’s tight, and everything inside me is shaking. I don’t want to hear what he says, but he bends downright in front of me so I don’t have a choice. “She’s a lucky lady to have a granddaughter like you,” he says. “If you hadn’t done CPR and gotten here as fast as you did, she wouldn’t have had a chance.” My body can’t make up its mind—it shakes, it cries, it laughs, and it cries some more. It’s never had to make so many decisions.
    The doctor says Gram