What marks the boundary between a miracle from God and the imagination of a child?

Leah is a child from Away, isolated from her peers because of her stutter. But then she begins painting scenes that are epic in scope, brilliant in detail, and suffused with rich, prophetic imagery. When the event foreshadowed in the first painting dramatically comes true, the town of Mattingly takes notice.

Leah attributes her ability to foretell the future to an invisible friend she calls the Rainbow Man. Some of the townsfolk are enchanted with her. Others fear her. But there is one thing they all agree on?there is no such thing as the Rainbow Man.

Her father, the town psychologist, is falling apart over his inability to heal his daughter . . . or fix his marriage. And the town minister is unraveled by the notion that a mere child with no formal training may be hearing from God more clearly than he does.

While the town bickers over what to do with this strange child, the content of Leah’s paintings grows darker. Still, Leah insists that the Rainbow Man’s heart is pure. But then a dramatic and tragic turn of events leaves the town reeling and places everyone’s lives in danger. Now the people of Mattingly face a single choice:

Will they cling to what they know . . . or embrace the things Leah believes in that cannot be seen?

“Billy Coffey is a minstrel who writes with intense depth of feeling and vibrant rich description.” ?Robert Whitlow, best-selling author of The Choice

saturday

Seven Days Before the Carnival

1

In those long days between the town’s death and its rebirth,

everyone had a story of how the magic came to Leah

Norcross. Whether that magic was divine or deviltry, real

or imagined, hinged upon the teller. And though many declared

they had trusted all along, the fact was that in the beginning

no one believed but Leah and Allie, and not even they could

have known what that carnival week would hold. And as for

who was there when the magic first appeared, that would be

Leah’s father. Unfortunately, he was too busy worrying about

Leah’s birthday party to notice.

Tom Norcross shielded his eyes from the morning sun and

checked his watch. On the driveway to his left, three men

unloaded wooden chairs and a gleaming but dented popcorn

machine from two panel trucks with Celebration Time stenciled

in swollen red letters on the sides. Tom looked up as one

of the men passed him with an armload of chairs.

“Gonna be a hot one, Dr. Norcross. Shoulda ordered you

some shade along with all this stuff.”

Rick? Nick? Tom couldn’t remember the man’s name.

There were more pressing things to consider. He checked his

watch again—it was now 9:17, each tick of the second hand

was like a tiny exclamation point—and did his best to smile.

“Should have. And it’s just Tom. You can leave off the doctor

part.”

“Will do.”

The man—Tom decided it was Rick—joined the two

wheeling the popcorn machine and disappeared around the

corner. Tom fidgeted with his hat and reversed his course along

the sidewalk in front of his family’s new home. His eyes went

first to the twisting lane that led to the empty road below,

then through the open windows of the old Victorian. Ellen

was somewhere inside, probably pulling the tubs of ice cream

from the freezer or helping to set up the cake. She had been

awake for three hours, Leah long before that. Tom suspected

it was anticipation that had pushed his wife from bed so early

for a Saturday. He suspected it was that same expectation that

had awakened their daughter, though one tempered by a measure

of don’t-get-your-hopes-up.

But Tom’s hopes? Up. Because Barney Moore had a plan.

Of course that plan depended upon Barney’s timely arrival,

and if there was one thing Tom had learned in his two short

months of country living, it was that time carried little weight

in Mattingly.

He checked his watch again—9:30.

“He’ll be here.”

Ellen stood on the white wooden porch behind him. She’d

exchanged pajamas for faded jeans and a pink T-shirt that

accentuated her blond hair and blue eyes. Both reduced Tom

to a lovesick teenager despite the wariness she displayed. Or

perhaps because of it.

“Barney was supposed to be here an hour ago,” he told her.

“Yes.” She took a step closer, which Tom matched. “But

this was all Barney’s idea. He’ll be here. He probably just had

to be careful with Mabel.”

Under normal circumstances—normal being five years

ago more or less; Tom couldn’t remember when it all started,

though Ellen enjoyed reminding him how—a wife would take

that moment to offer some sort of physical bolstering. A hand

on the arm, a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the rear. Anything

besides the nothing Ellen gave. Tom didn’t think his wife realized

this and didn’t feel like broaching the subject. There

was Barney to worry about. Besides, pointing out what Ellen

wasn’t doing might prod her into mentioning that the touchyfeely

street ran both ways.

“Where’s Leah?” he asked.

“Out back overseeing the temporary amusement park you

had trucked in.”

The jibe was slight but still pricked. “Like you said,

Barney’s idea.”

Ellen said, “It was Barney’s idea to invite everyone. The

‘Deluxe Princess Birthday Package from Celebration time’

was yours.” She took another stride forward to the top step

but still didn’t descend. Her hands were on her hips. “You

can’t fix everything, Tom.”

He doffed his hat and rubbed the sweat from his brow.

Rick/Nick was right, it was going to be a hot one. Maybe hot

enough to keep everyone away.

Tom checked his watch again. “I just want today to be

perfect.”

“I know.” Ellen’s hands went from her hips to behind her

back in a posture Tom saw as one of trust. “I want today to be

perfect, too. Maybe too much. I’m sorry, Tom. Sometimes it’s

just hard. Truce?”

A rumble came from the east side of the street below.

They both looked, but the source of the sound was hidden

by the magnolias bordering both sides of the lane. An engine

popped and sputtered, sending a cloud of blue smoke above

the trees that was caught and then swirled in the hot breeze.

Finally, Barney Moore’s old green pickup appeared. It weaved

from one side of the lane and eased back into the middle.

Ellen smiled. “Told you. Take the world off your shoulders,

Dr. Norcross. Everything will be fine.”

“I’ll let you know in a couple hours.”

They shared a smile. Tom could not speak for his wife—

reading her gestures was one thing, reading her heart was sadly

another—but to him it felt warmer than even the summer sun

on his back.

“I’ll go get Leah,” he said.

Tom waved to Barney and followed the men with the tables

and chairs around the house, where the backyard’s three acres

affirmed that Ellen’s remark about the amusement park wasn’t

far off the mark. The Moon Bounce was finished. Per Tom’s

directions, it had been placed far enough from the tables and

chairs that the children’s play wouldn’t disrupt adult conversation.

The yellow-and-blue castle jiggled in the June breeze,

its puffy bottom inviting a multitude of tiny bare feet. The air

smelled of popcorn and flowers. Banjos and fiddles resonated

through two towering speakers between the Moon Bounce and

the tables. The deejay had been part of the Deluxe Princess

Birthday Package as well, but it was Barney who had chosen

the music. Not exactly Tom’s style, even if he couldn’t help

but drum his fingers against his jeans. Tied everywhere possible

were hundreds of balloons—red ones and orange ones and

green and blue. And yellow, yellow especially, Leah’s favorite

color. A banner hung between the two large maples by the

house. The pink and purple letters spelled out HAPPY 9TH

BIRTHDAY LE AH!! The Celebration time men placed their

tables next to ones already decorated with mounds of silverware

and glasses. Tom caught himself thinking there weren’t

enough people in the whole town to fill all those places.

He took the four steps from the stone path onto the back

porch, where the birthday girl sat atop a faded and chipped

picnic table that had come with the house. Leah peered out

toward the far edge of the yard where the white fence abutted

a small hill. Her yellow dress was tucked around her scrawny

legs like a cocoon. Small patches of sunburn on her face and

neck mingled with chalk-white skin. Not-quite-folded hands

rested in her lap. Her left thumbnail rubbed her right in short,

panicked strokes that matched her breathing.

“H-hey, Puh-Pops,” she said.

“Hey, Leah-boo.”

Tom sat beside her on the picnic table and smoothed out

a wrinkle in the hem of her dress. He knew the stutter would

be there (that birthday wish had sadly gone unfulfilled for the

last four years), but he had hoped it would at least remain at

the usual degree. Instead, what was usually manageable had

grown worse. It was the stress, of course. Too many things,

too many people.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked.

“Just wuh-watching,” she whispered.

Her eyes remained on the hill, where two shaggy pines

grew at awkward angles in a skewed, fairy-tale simplicity. The

hill had been Leah’s favorite place since the move. Tom had

considered trying his hand at building a playhouse up there for

her, though he thought Barney might be better suited for it.

“There’s luh-lots of s-stuff here, Puh-Pops.”

Tom placed a hand on Leah’s knee. Her thumbnails stopped

rubbing as one hand went over his. Her gaze never wavered.

Tom turned her thumb over and winced. The sight gave him

shivers despite the heat and broke his heart despite the happy

surroundings.

“I know you asked me not to do all this,” he said. “Couldn’t

help it, I guess. This is your day, and I love you.”

“You luh-love me t-oo much to duh-do what I ask,” Leah

said, then she pursed her lips and shook her head. “I m-mean

that guh-good, not b-bad. It’s all so p-pretty. It’d make for a

guh-good p-picture.”

A yellow balloon by the tables slipped free of its moorings.

It floated upward and stuck into one of the maples. Leah

didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe later.”

She looked from the hill to Tom. “I’m scuh-scared no one

will c-come, Puh-Pops. No one wuh-will come and no one

wuh-will notice me.”

“I know.” Tom leaned over and kissed the top of his daughter’s

head. Her long black hair smelled of Ellen’s shampoo.

“But it’s your birthday, and your mom and I have something

special for you. Mr. Barney’s bringing it right now.”

Leah’s eyes went from woeful to bright. “Is Muh-Miss

Mabel w-with him?”

“She is. Want to come see?”

Her mouth tried to say yes but instead hung open in the

thick air. Leah didn’t have to say what she thought. Tom knew

“coming to see” wasn’t nearly as easy for her as it sounded, and

it sounded nearly impossible.

“Suh-sit with m-me for a minute, Puh-Pops?”

“Sure.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

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