"How about showing him that picture of her on the porch when she was a kid?" I said. "That's a good one." Gary looked at me like, What the h.e.l.l is going on here?

"That picture's got her a little upset," I said.

"I understand why," he whispered.

"Plus she just saw her mother's cells for the first time," I told him.

Gary nodded. Over the years, he and I had spent many hours talking; he understood Deborah and what she'd been through more than anyone else in her family.

Deborah pointed to the hives on her face. "I'm having a reaction, swellin up and breakin out. I'm crying and happy at the same time." She started pacing back and forth, her face shining with sweat as the woodstove clanged and seemed to suck most of the oxygen from the room. "All this stuff I'm learning," she said, "it make me realize that I did have a mother, and all the tragedy she went through. It hurts but I wanna know more, just like I wanna know about my sister. It make me feel closer to them, but I do miss them. I wish they were here."

Keeping his eyes on Deborah, Gary walked across the room, sat in an oversized recliner, and motioned for us to join him. But Deborah didn't sit. She paced back and forth across the linoleum floor, picking the red polish off her nails and talking an incoherent stream about a murder she'd heard about on the news and the traffic in Atlanta. Gary's eyes followed her from one side of the room to the other, intense and unblinking.

"Cuz," he said finally. "Please sit."

Deborah raced over to a rocking chair not far from Gary, threw herself into it, and started rocking violently, thrusting her upper body back and forth and kicking her feet like she was trying to flip the chair over.

"You wouldn't believe what we been learning!" she said. "They injected my mother's cells with all kinds of, uh, poisons and stuff to test if they'd kill people."

"Dale," Gary said, "do something for yourself."

"Yeah, I'm tryin," she said. "You know they shot her cells into murderers in prison?"

"I mean to relax," Gary said. "Do something to relax yourself."

"I can't help it," Deborah said, waving him off with her hand. "I worry all the time."

"Like the Bible said," Gary whispered, "man brought nothing into this world and he'll carry nothing out. Sometime we care about stuff too much. We worry when there's nothing to worry about."

In a moment of clarity, Deborah nodded, saying, "And we bring our own body down by doing it."

"You don't seem so good right now, Cuz. Make some time for yourself," Gary said. "When I get in my car and drive, don't have to be going nowhere, circles is fine by me. Just got to have time to relax with the road under me. Everybody needs something like that."

"If I ever get any money," Deborah said, "I'll get an RV where I can go back and forth and I don't have to be in the same place ever. Can't n.o.body bother you when you're movin."

She stood up and started pacing again.

"Only time I really relax is when I'm drivin down here," she said. "But this time I just be drivin along the whole time thinking about what happened to my sister and my mother."

The moment Deborah said the words sister and mother, her face got redder and she started to panic. "You know they shot my mother cells into s.p.a.ce and blew her up with nuclear bombs? They even did that thing ... what do you call it ... um ... cloning! ... that's right, they did that cloning on her."

Gary and I shot each other a nervous glance and both started talking at once, scrambling to bring her back from wherever she was going.

"There are no clones," I said. "Remember?"

"You don't have to be fearful," Gary said. "The word of G.o.d said if we honor our father and mother, we can live long upon the earth, and you doing that, you honoring your mother." He smiled and closed his eyes. "I love this scripture that's in Psalms," he told her. "It says even if our father and our mother fall sick, the Lord take care of you. Even if you lose everybody like your mother and your sister, G.o.d's love will never turn His back on you."

But Deborah didn't hear any of it.

"You wouldn't believe it," she said. "You know they mixed her with mice to make a human-mouse? They say she's not even human anymore!" She laughed a loud, manic laugh and ran to the window. "Holy cuss!" she yelled, "is it raining out there?"

"Much needed rain," Gary whispered, rocking back and forth.

Deborah grabbed the blue ribbon keychain that always hung around her neck. It said WWJD. "What is this," she said, "a radio station? I never heard of WWJD." She started yanking it off her neck.

"Come on, Cuz, it means 'What Would Jesus Do,'" Gary said. "You know that."

Deborah stopped fussing with the keys and collapsed back into the chair. "Can you believe they even gave her that AID virus and injected her into monkeys?" She stared at the floor, rocking violently, her chest rising and falling fast with each breath.

Gary sat, calmly rocking in his chair, watching Deborah's every move, like a doctor studying a patient. "Don't make yourself sick over something you can't do nothin about," Gary whispered to Deborah as she rubbed the welts on her eyes. "It's not worth it... you got to let the Lord handle it." His eyes drooped closed as he mumbled, "What is Deborah doing for Deborah?"

When she didn't answer he looked at me and said, "I was talking to G.o.d just now-he's trying to make me say stuff, trying to make me move." Deborah called Gary The Disciple because he had a habit of channeling the Lord in the middle of a conversation. It started about twenty years earlier, when he was thirty-one minute he was busy with booze and women, the next he'd had several heart attacks and bypa.s.ses, and he woke up preaching.

"I been tryin to keep Him out of this because we've got company," he said, flashing me a bashful grin. "But sometimes He just won't let me keep Him out."

Gary's brown eyes went vacant, unfocused, as he stood slowly from his chair, spread his arms wide, and reached toward Deborah, who struggled to her feet, hobbled toward him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The moment she touched him, his upper body seized like he'd been electrocuted. His arms thrust closed, hands clasping each side of Deborah's head, palms to her jaw, fingers spread from the back of her skull to the bridge of her nose. Then he started shaking. He squeezed Deborah's face to his chest as her shoulders heaved in silent sobs, and tears rolled from Gary's eyes.

As they rocked back and forth, Gary tipped his head to the sky, and began singing in a hauntingly beautiful baritone.

"Welcome, into this place. ... Welcome, into this broken vessel." His singing, quiet at first, grew louder with each word until it filled the house and poured into the tobacco fields. "You desire to abide in the praises of your people, so I lift my hand, and I lift my heart, and I offer up this praise unto ya, Lord."

"You're welcome into this broken vessel, Lord," he whispered, squeezing Deborah's head in his palms. His eyes shot open and closed, and he began to preach, sweat pouring from his face.

"That you said in your word Lord, that the BELIEVER would lay hands on the sick, and that they shall RECOVER!" His voice rose and fell, from a whisper to a yell and back. "I REALIZE G.o.d that TONIGHT there's just some things doctors CANNOT DO!"

"Amen Lord," Deborah mumbled, face pressed to his chest, voice m.u.f.fled.

"We thank ya tonight," Gary whispered. "Because we need your help with them CELLS, Lord ... we need your help liftin the BURDEN of them cells from this woman! Lift this burden, Lord, take it away, we don't NEED it!"

Deborah started convulsing in Gary's arms, weeping and whispering, "Thank ya, Lord ... Thank ya, Lord." Gary squeezed his eyes tight, and yelled along with her, "THANK YOU, LORD! THANK YOU FOR TONIGHT!" Their voices grew louder together, until Gary stopped, tears and sweat pouring from his face onto Deborah as she screamed, "Thank you Jesus!" and let loose with a chorus of hallelujahs and praise G.o.ds. Gary swayed back and forth, breaking into song again, his voice deep and old, as if coming from the generations who worked his tobacco fields before him: "I know the Lord been good, yoooooooooooh ... I know the Lord been good."

"Real good," Deborah whispered.

"He's put food on my table ..." Gary dropped his voice, humming as Deborah spoke: "Show me which way to go, Lord," she said. "Show me where you want me to go with these cells, Lord, please. I'll do anything you want me to do, Lord, just help me with this BURDEN. I can't do it alone-I thought I could. But I can't TAKE it, Lord."

Mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm, Gary hummed.

"Thank you Lord for giving me this information about my mother and my sister, but please HELP ME, cause I know I can't handle this burden by myself. Take them CELLS from me, Lord, take that BURDEN. Get it off and LEAVE it there! I can't carry it no more, Lord. You wanted me to give it to you and I just didn't want to, but you can have it now, Lord. You can HAVE IT! Hallelujah, amen."

For the first time since Gary stood from his chair, he looked straight at me.

I'd been watching all this from a recliner a few feet away, dumbfounded, terrified to move or make noise, frantically scribbling notes. In any other circ.u.mstance I might have thought the whole thing was crazy. But what was happening between Gary and Deborah at that moment was the furthest thing from crazy I'd seen all day. As I watched, all I could think was, Oh my G.o.d... I did this to her.

Gary stared into my eyes as he hugged Deborah's sobbing body and whispered to her, "You're not alone."

Looking at me, Gary said, "She can't handle the burden of these cells no more, Lord! She can't do it!" Then he raised his arms above Deborah's head and yelled, "LORD, I KNOW you sent Miss Rebecca to help LIFT THE BURDEN of them CELLS!" He thrust his arms toward me, hands pointed at either side of my head. "GIVE THEM TO HER!" he yelled. "LET HER CARRY THEM."

I sat frozen, staring at Gary, thinking, Wait a minute, that wasn't supposed to happen!