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weren’t sad. They smiled.
    It was a beautiful dream and Karla wanted to go back to it. Lying in the dark, she remembered a story she had heard in Sunday school. It was the story of Lazarus, one of the miracles Jesus had performed. Lazarus had died and Jesus had brought him back from the dead. The story had made a deep impression on Karla. During church on Sunday, the priest had talked about prayers. He had said that God heard our prayers.
    All of a sudden, Karla shot up in bed. Her heart was beating fast. It all made sense now. If Jesus made Lazarus alive again, perhaps he could do the same for Karla’s mother. And if Karla prayed really hard, God or Jesus would hear her. Karla turned on the light. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the shrine. Anna had said that the dead didn’t come back, ever. But in the Bible it said that miracles could happen, so perhaps Anna was wrong. Perhaps a miracle would happen for Karla, too.
    Karla slipped out of bed. She picked up the box with the matches, then hesitated for a moment. Anna had warned her not to light the candle by herself, that it was too dangerous. But everything looked more beautiful with candlelight and Karla was sure God would like it. It would be all right. He would protect her. Karla carefully struck the match and lit the candle. She smiled as she watched the flame flicker in the light breeze from the half-open window. She turned off the light and kneeled down on the pillow next to the shrine. The flame tossed a pattern of light and shadows on the wall next to the shrine. The scented candle gave off a whiff of lavender. But it was still dark in the room and Karla remembered the many candles in church people lit for dead members of their family or friends. Karla needed more candles. She wanted to do this right; it had to be festive if she wanted to get God’s attention.
    She opened and closed the door carefully and tiptoed through the hallway. In front of Anna’s bedroom, she stopped for a moment. Perhaps she should tell Anna, but Anna was probably asleep. She didn’t want to wake her. She knew where Anna kept the candles in the kitchen. She opened the bottom drawer of the kitchen cabinet. The drawer was stuck and squeaked when she pulled at it. It always did that in the hot summer months. Karla held her breath and listened, but nothing stirred in the house. She grabbed a bunch of candles and tiptoed back to the bedroom.
    When she opened the door, the draft from the hallway and from the open window blew the curtain back and forth. It brushed against the candle flame, extinguishing it, but the old dry cloth had caught on fire. At first, it was just smoldering, but another draft fanned the flames and made them shoot high up, consuming the curtain and licking at the ceiling.
    Karla dropped the candles and stared at the fire, paralyzed. Images of a burning car, of two bodies leaning over the dashboard flashed before her eyes. The sickening smell of burning cloth finally ripped her out of her apathy. She began to scream loud and long. Someone called her and then everything went dark.
    When she woke up, she was lying on the sofa in the living room. Anna, her hair tousled, looked at her with fearful eyes. She gently stroked her forehead. A man whom Karla recognized as her pediatrician stood next to her. A few men in uniform were walking back and forth talking loudly. Firefighters , Karla thought.
    “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
    “Okay,” Karla whispered.
    The doctor put a stethoscope on Karla’s chest and checked her out, then asked her to sit up. “Are you feeling sick?”
    Karla shook her head. “What happened?” Then she remembered and started to cry. “I wanted to light a candle and pray.” 
    Anna hugged her. “It’s all right. I was able to extinguish it in time. The curtain burned and the wall needs to be painted, but it could’ve been worse. And the neighbors saw the flames and called the fire department.”
    “She’ll be