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edge of a flat world, he tiptoed toward Gus’s voice—mingled with his own—and sensed that he was precisely where he needed to be. Where the fence met the water, he turned left and kept his right foot in the river and his left on dry ground. He and Gus created an alto-bass duet, which, louder now, confirmed to Authorly that Bartimaeus had arrived. The father greeted his son with the right hand of fellowship, and instinctively the boy unbuckled his overalls, removed his shirt, and took his place on the banks of the Jordan.
    When the rains intensified, the two joined hands and waded knee deep into the river. Bartimaeus shivered from the initial shock of the cool, rushing waters, but Gus’s strong hand allowed his son to relax and feel safe in the midst of the Jordan’s healing powers.
    Time watched Gus and Bartimaeus cleanse their souls. Conversing in moans and hollers, both appreciated having someone with whom to share the experience. Gus further appreciated his son’s blindness now, for it allowedhim to usher Bartimaeus through the cleansing without fear that the boy was gawking at him. With no physical limitations, they spent the afternoon exposing their hearts to one another, unconcerned about what others thought and glad that at least one person in the world knew they weren’t crazy.
    Father and son returned to the riverbank hours later when the rains subsided. Still humming away vestiges of hurt each had found difficult to release, they sat on the banks of the Jordan until Gus believed he could tolerate Emma Jean again and Bartimaeus forgave God for denying him the gift of sight.
    By dusk, they were renewed. The soft drizzle confirmed the conclusion of the ritual, and, like his father, Bartimaeus sighed heavily and said, “Thank you,” both to the heavens and to a merciful, ever-flowing Jordan. Father and son then embraced, buckled their wet overalls, and walked home with their shirts slung across their shoulders.
    And they were not ashamed.

Chapter 5
     
    Gus said good night to the boys and entered Emma Jean’s bedroom. After unrolling the sleeping pallet, he closed the door, reclined, and sighed heavily. He had never seen the rains come and go so quickly. It was as though they had come only for his sake, and now he felt confident that he could love his daughter as much as he loved his sons. Emma Jean was simply grateful the rains had come at all. Now, maybe, Gus would stop fussing about having another mouth to feed.
    “Ain’t you gon’ kiss yo’ daughter good night?” she said, peering over the edge of the bed.
    “No, I ain’t,” Gus grumbled. “I’m tired. And, anyway, she don’t know nothin’ ’bout that yet. She don’t even know she in the world.”
    “Ah, hell, man,” Emma Jean said, returning her head to the prickly feather pillow. “Ain’t no need in bein’ mad now. The baby’s here. You might as well be glad about it.”
    “I’m glad enough.”
    Emma Jean sucked her teeth. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I’ll take care o’ her myself.”
    “Good. You the one wanted her.” After a brief pause, Gus added, “I’ll do whatever I can, but I can’t promise you nothin’ else. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout raisin’ no girls.”
    Perfect whimpered sweetly and Emma Jean unbuttoned her gown, allowing the child to suckle.
    As badly as Gus wanted sleep, it wouldn’t come. The cleansing had certainly drained him, but his anxiety about having another child kept himawake. “We might get a decent crop after all, now that de rains done come,” he said, staring at the ceiling.
    “Un-huh. Might.”
    “Yeah, look like we gon’ be all right. You’ll have a lot to can this year if de tomatoes, peas, and corn make de way they oughta. In a coupla years, that girl oughta be ready to give you a hand.”
    “Perfect. Her name’s Perfect.”
    “All right. Perfect.” Gus frowned. “And why did you name her that anyway? I ain’t never heard o’ nobody named