Free An Imperfect Miracle by Thomas L. Peters

breath, maybe because I knew that, this time at least, I was telling the truth.
    â€œI didn’t talk to Carlos about her until after she’d already shown up. That little drunk was bleeding real bad too right before Mary healed him. If he’s telling you any different, he’s lying.”
    The cops didn’t say anything more about the little drunk, and it wasn’t long before they figured out that I was sticking to my story and that they might as well leave. Mom and me stood at the window and watched their car pull away. Then she bent over me and gave me a big hug with plenty of kisses, which she hadn’t done since I’d sprained my ankle a couple months before chasing through the woods after Chewy. I tried to fight her off, but she wasn’t budging. When she was finally through, I asked her if Mary had done something wrong to cause the cops to check up on her.
    â€œThey probably just want to know if vandals put her face there. You told the policemen the truth, didn’t you?”
    I nodded real hard a few times.
    â€œYou didn’t hold back anything.”
    â€œI told them everything,” I said, and crossed my arms hard over my chest, probably a little too hard because Mom squinted at me for a second like she knew I was lying. But I didn’t really see why it was so horrible that I got the credit for having discovered Mary instead of that nasty little drunk. If he didn’t like it, he ought to step up and complain.
    We climbed back in our car and headed north on the Interstate out toward the country. I liked driving past all the old beat-up black barns with the big Mail Pouch signs painted in grimy white letters on the outside. And I liked watching the cows grazing in the tall grass and every once in a while some horses and sheep nibbling away too. Uncle Carl and Aunt Helen lived in a big white wooden house about two hours away up near Lake Erie. The house was surrounded by an apple orchard, and Uncle Carl grew corn and tomatoes in his backyard too. He had a ponytail and used to wear a little gold earring until Aunt Helen made him pull it out.
    They had a dog named Rocky, a black lab with a little hound dog in him. He wasn’t near as nice as Chewy, but they seemed to hit it off pretty well. Even being invisible, Chewy still liked to run through the rows between the apple trees with the tall weeds smacking against her nose, which I guess meant that being invisible wasn’t as big a deal as you might think at first. We turned off the interstate and onto this squiggly country road that cut through the woods and past some run-down barns. Mom had been quiet for about fifty miles, so when she spoke up it jolted me a little.
    â€œThe air’s so fresh and clean in the country, and there’s plenty of space to run around. If we lived up here, you could get another dog and play out in the fields together.”
    I felt like telling her that Chewy could run around all she wanted in the woods back home, but I thought of something better to say instead.
    â€œI bet Father Tom believes that Mary has special powers, or else he wouldn’t have blessed her. And being a priest and all, he must be pretty smart.”
    â€œWhy don’t you ask Pastor Mike in church tomorrow what he thinks about it?”
    For once Mom was right. Pastor Mike would know for sure, and I could trust him too because he wasn’t Catholic and didn’t have anything to lose one way or the other. After a few minutes, I spotted Uncle Carl’s old wooden barn and gave a secret hand signal to Chewy that we were almost there. Chewy looked out the window, and Rocky must have been able to see her too because he started scampering around in the driveway barking and carrying on.
    Aunt Helen had roasted a turkey even though it wasn’t even a holiday, and it sat tender and juicy in the middle of the dining room table with the sunlight sparkling off it from the big windows all around. Before we