He met her straight look with one of his own.
“Thank you, Darcy.”
“We’ll have to pray as hard as we work,” she said, “but, God willing, we’ll have them on their feet and on the mend in a week or so.”
Jackson shook his head. He looked down at the soda can in his hands.
“I’ll do the work. You’ll have to say the prayers.”
Then suddenly, almost as if against his will, he blurted, “Mine wouldn’t rise above the treetops.”
“Why do you think that?” she said.
“I know it,” he said, in a tone of complete finality. “I lost my faith a long time ago.”