Free Miracle by Connie Willis Page B

stronger, “we know much of the world they lived in. It was a world of censuses and soldiers, of bureaucrats and politicians, a world busy with property and rules and its own affairs.”
    Dee started to cough again. She rummaged in the pocket of her music folder and came up with a paper-wrapped cough drop. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.
    “… a world too busy with its own business to even notice an insignificant couple from far away,” Reverend Wall intoned.
    Virginia passed her bulletin to Sharon. Dee leaned over to read it, too. It read, “What happened here last night after the rehearsal? When I came home from the mall, there were police cars outside.”
    Dee grabbed the bulletin and rummaged in her folder again. She found a pencil, scribbled “Somebody broke into the church,” and passed it across Sharon to Virginia.
    “You’re kidding,” Virginia whispered. “Were they caught?”
    “No,” Sharon said.
    The rehearsal on the twenty-third was supposed to start at seven. By a quarter to eight the choir was still standing at the back of the sanctuary, waiting to sing the processional, the shepherds and angels were bouncing off the walls, and Reverend Wall, in his chair behind the pulpit, had nodded off. The assistant minister, Reverend Lisa Farrison, was moving poinsettias onto the chancel steps to make room for the manger, and the choir director, Rose Henderson, was on her knees, hammering wooden bases onto the cardboard palm trees. They had fallen down twice already.
    “What do you think are the chances we’ll still be here when it’s time for the Christmas Eve service to start tomorrow night?” Sharon said, leaning against the sanctuary door.
    “I can’t be,” Virginia said, looking at her watch. “I’ve got to be out at the mall before nine. Megan suddenly announced she wants Senior Prom Barbie.”
    “My throat feels terrible,” Dee said, feeling her glands. “Is it hot in here, or am I getting a fever?”
    “It’s hot in these
robes,”
Sharon said. “Why
are
we wearing them? This is a rehearsal.”
    “Rose wanted everything to be exactly like it’s going to be tomorrow night.”
    “If I’m exactly like this tomorrow night, I’ll be dead,” Dee said, trying to clear her throat. “I
can’t
get sick. I don’t have any of the presents wrapped, and I haven’t even
thought
about what we’re having for Christmas dinner.”
    “At least you
have
presents,” Virginia said. “I have eight people left to buy for. Not counting Senior Prom Barbie.”
    “I don’t have anything done. Christmas cards, shopping, wrapping, baking, nothing, and Bill’s parents are coming,” Sharon said. “Come
on
, let’s get this show on the road.”
    Rose and one of the junior choir angels hoisted the palm trees to standing. They listed badly to the right, as if Bethlehem were experiencing a hurricane. “Is that straight?” Rose called to the back of the church.
    “Yes,” Sharon said.
    “Lying in church,” Dee said. “Tsk, tsk.”
    “All right,” Rose said, picking up a bulletin. “Listen up, everybody. Here’s the order of worship. Introit by the brass quartet, processional, opening prayer, announcements—Reverend Farrison, is that where you want to talk about the ‘Least of These’ Project?”
    “Yes,” Reverend Farrison said. She walked to the front of the sanctuary. “And can I make a quick announcement right now?” She turned and faced the choir. “If anybody has anything else to donate, you need to bring it to the church by tomorrow morning at nine,” she said briskly. “That’s when we’re going to deliver them to the homeless. We still needblankets and canned goods. Bring them to the Fellowship Hall.”
    She walked back down the aisle, and Rose started in on her list again. “Announcements, ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,’ Reverend Wall’s sermon—”
    Reverend Wall nodded awake at his name. “Ah,” he said, and hobbled toward the pulpit, clutching a sheaf