Michael was already grabbing the phone, running outside into the rain. Other neighbors were rushing out too, shouting. But then, from the door of the ruined house, Mrs. Coleman appeared—frightened, but alive. She was crying when Michael reached her.
“I was in the guest room,” she managed to say between sobs. “Your warning… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I decided to sleep in the other room, just to be safe. If I had been in my room…” She looked at the wreckage, at the huge branches that had completely crushed the bed where she usually slept. “It would have been fatal, without any doubt.”
In the days that followed, the story spread through the neighborhood. The three-year-old boy who had saved the neighbor’s life. People began to ask questions—some with curiosity, some with skepticism, some with reverence. Rachel and Michael began to feel uncomfortable with the attention. But more than that, they began to worry about Ethan.
The following Monday, Ethan went out to the garden. Rachel watched him from the window. He sat in front of the niche and talked for a long time, almost twenty minutes, much longer than usual. Rachel saw when Ethan asked questions. She saw when he listened, head tilted in full attention. She saw when tears appeared in his eyes. She saw when he nodded, accepting something. When Ethan finally stood up, his eyes were red and wet, but there was peace on his face, a deep peace she hadn’t seen before.
He came back inside. Rachel knelt down to be at his eye level.
“What did she say?”
“She said that I helped those who needed it, and that now it’s okay for me to just be a kid.” He paused, wiping away his tears. “She said she’ll always take care of me, even if I don’t talk to her every day, and that she’s proud of me.”
Rachel hugged Ethan tightly, her own tears falling. That was the last time Ethan spoke to the image of the Virgin Mary in that way…
