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nice to meet you and we’re glad you’re here in Willow Creek,” Diana said.
    Sam stood on the stairway as if he were nailed to the spot.
    “And this is Mr. Pickett. He teaches English and coaches the basketball team,” she added.
    Sam slowly walked down the stairs and shook Olaf’s huge hand. “Yes, nice to meet you, very nice, but I don’t coach the team anymore.”
    “You
don’t?”
Diana felt crushed. After bringing these two together, she thought for sure Sam’s heart would be clicking its heels. She turned to Olaf. “Do you play basketball?”
    “Play basketball? No, at sports in my country I am not playing.”
    “Have you ever played basketball, just a little?” she asked, probing for some sign of hope.
    “No, at soccer I am playing when I am younger, but without the coordination I am becoming.”
    Bess said she needed Olaf in her office and Sam started up the stairs.
    “Sorry, Sam, I thought your prayers had been answered,” Diana said.
    “No. Wrong prayers, but thanks for the try.”
    On her way to her room, Diana exchanged good mornings with Mr. Grant, and she wondered what on earth Sam Pickett’s prayers could be.

CHAPTER 6
    A hopeful undercurrent trickled through the faculty and student body, spilled over into the community, and collected into the Blue Willow Inn, where speculation ran rampant as to what good fortune the Norwegian giant would bestow on the town. Not to be outdone, Grandma Chapman didn’t allow them to forget about her grandson who, she boasted, had a few gifts himself. What had started as an undercurrent had strengthened into a tidal wave of such dimensions that one needed a wet suit and scuba gear to escape from drowning in the unprecedented optimism and promise.
    On the second day of school, Diana caught Olaf as he was leaving her biology class. She hadn’t avoided the overwhelming hope that had spread like the epidemic, and she felt compelled to see what she could do to help bring salvation to this knock-kneed little village.
    “Could I talk to you a minute?” she asked.
    “Oh … ya, sure.”
    The sky-scraping boy stepped aside to let several students scurry out. When they were alone, she hesitated.
    “How was the class? Did you understand everything?”
    “Ah … some I am not understanding.”
    “Maybe after a few days it’ll get better,” she said.
    “Ya. A few days.”
    She looked up into his boyish eyes and smiled. “Don’t they play basketball in your country?”
    “Some play. More and more it is coming.”
    “I’m surprised you didn’t play, being so tall. I’d think you’d be quite good at it.”
    “No … too fast I am growing,” he said and shrugged as though it were his fault.
    “Are you still growing?”
    “Ya, still growing.” He smiled. “In the athletics I am not taking part. All elbows and kneecaps I am my father says.”
    “Well, we sure could use you on the team and I think you’d have a lot of fun. You’d learn the game and make good friends with the other boys. Playing on a team can bring you closer to others. It’ll be a great way for you to assimilate with your American peers and have fun, win or lose. But I suppose you’ve been hearing that a lot around here,” she said with some apology in her voice.
    “Ya, Mr. Painter tells me the basketball I must learn while I am here. For me he has been praying for many years, but I don’t understand. Me he’s not knowing until last week.” Olaf flashed a puzzled smile.
    “Well, you think about it. I think you’d enjoy it,” she said.
    “Ya, think about it,” he said and he ducked through the doorway.
    T HE FOLLOWING DAY , after twenty-four hours of brooding over how he had the chance of a lifetime slipping through his fingers, Sam went to get his mail at about noon, something he avoided and did only once or twice a week. Willow Creek’s post office was across the Blue Willow Inn at the entrance of Mavis Powers’ modest two-story apartment building. The post office was so