I pushed my way through the crowd. None seemed to notice – or maybe they didn't care, chalking it up to 'God' – that an invisible force pushed the... to the side. I reached Happy, perspiration dotting her face. It was sweltering in the tent; the pathetic AC chugging away didn't seem to do a damned thing. The Reverend launched into another hymn, one I vaguely remembered from my childhood sitting in my pa's church bored as a coonhound too old to hunt. 'Come All Ye Faithful, ' I reckoned the song. How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? If I forget thee O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; yea, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy’.” When it was time for Hans to leave the farm house he told Ruth, “I know a minister in Germany who can make counterfeit passports. You could easily pass for a French girl. If you go to Spain you will be safe.” “Come with me,” Ruth said,. More

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