“Aah,” Louis starts fussing with the shirt.
“Shh.” Lara jerks the shirt off and Louis sits in the bed, wobbling for just a moment. “Here, put on your clothes. Hurry.” Her whisper seems to echo across the bare, dusty floor and against the cracked plaster of the walls.
“Where we goin’?” Louis’ voice is barely audible. At least he is moving now, although in slow motion, pulling off the too small pajama bottoms and pulling up his little jockeys. The rain makes a constant drumming on the walls, God telling her to hurry.
“Shh. I’ll tell you in a minute. Be quiet.” Lara looks to the hallway, but it is quiet. Frank can’t hear Louis or her from where their bedroom is, not over the commotion of the storm, but she doesn’t want to take any chances. He won’t understand. Why should he? He never has. But she has to do this. It is almost Easter, and the voice of God has told her it is time for her to emerge with her news, and she knows it. And if she knows it, it must be so. She is the only one who would know it, isn’t she? Isn’t she His mother? Hasn’t she been the one to see the vision? Isn’t she the one who has received the messages from on high?