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recalled things about Jenn and Bethie, some of which I would never have otherwise known, because their religious life was something I never took part in.
    By the meal’s end, we retired to the living room with coffee and happily distended bellies.   Alan, who had come with his wife Samantha, leaned forward and drew a slow breath.
    "Mister Hudson," Alan said.
    "Please, everyone just call me Sam, okay?"
    Alan's wife Samantha grinned.  "Might get confusing."
    "I’m wondering, Sam," Alan continued.  "Would it be okay if we prayed for you tonight?"
    "I don’t know."  I shifted in my chair.  "I’m not all that comfortable with it."
    "Honey," his wife said.  "He's not—"
    "Really," I said.  "It’s all right.  I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary."
    "Don’t be shy, Sam," Alan said.  "Anything at all, just say the word."
    "Honey, please," Samantha’s brow wrinkled.  "He said he’s not comfortable."
    An awkward silence fell.
    "Well," I said, to break the ice and bail poor Alan out, "My son could use all the prayers he can get."  Right away I regretted it.  I began to imagine some kind of snake-handling, holy roller, voodoo session.  But it was too late to rescind now.
    Dave nodded and came forward.  Alan took hold of his wife’s hand, who in turn took Lorraine’s, and so on until the entire group encircled me.
    Here goes.
    Again, there was silence.  But it was an expectant silence.  Like something truly remarkable was about to happen.
    And it did.
    It started with a low-pitched rumble under our feet.  Then came the creaking of the house’s wood frame.  Windows rattled.  Before long, the entire house was shuddering.  Reminded me of my childhood subway rides on the D-Train into Manhattan.  A light side to side rocking.
    Lorraine let out a gasp.
    The group began to pray simultaneously.
    Though everyone else’s eyes were squeezed shut, mine remained wide open.   A warm, tingling sensation trickled from the top of my head down my spine and spread through my body.  Another fifteen seconds and it was over—the prayers and the tremors.
    Lorraine was the first to speak.  "You’d think after thirty years in California, I’d be used to these earthquakes."
    "Sure you didn’t plan this with the Man?" I smiled at her and pointed heavenward.  "Because it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to scare me into religion."
    She shook her head.  "I’ve been jumpy ever since Northridge.  Don’t you get scared?"
    "Not really.  Just another little San Diego tremor.  We’re pretty far from any major fault lines."  Lorraine blushed and laughed.  "Thank you for the prayers.  I can honestly say it was earth-shaking." 
    Whether it had been a true spiritual experience or an emotional high, their prayers helped.  I no longer felt isolated.  Someone knew my pain, someone cared.
    And they didn’t even ask me to say the Sinner’s Prayer.

 
    Chapter Nine
                 
     
    The morning after, I called George, my supervisor at the office but he didn't pick up.  Probably saw my number on his caller ID and let it roll over to voicemail.  I needed to come in and copy a couple of files from my work computer which contained life insurance contact information.  The very idea of getting paid for Jenn and Bethie’s deaths repulsed me, but the funeral and the burial had cost thousands.  We’d depleted our cash reserves on our new house.  Reserves were something I had to seriously consider now as Aaron’s insurance deductibles were beginning to pile up.  What would happen if, God forbid, I should lose my job and benefits?
    I called Human Resources to discuss issues of insurance claims.  Amanda answered.  She seemed startled and abruptly put me on hold.  A cheesy popcorn version of We've Only Just Begun played while I waited.
    "Sorry to keep you, Sam," she finally said.  "How are you doing?"
    "I’d be lying if I said fine."
    "I’m so sorry."
    "Amanda, I need to talk to you about my