Read Online Revival by Stephen King - Free Book Online

supposed to—” Claire began, but Con interrupted her. Because now he could.
    â€œI love you, Mom,” he said. “I love you, Dad.”
    Dad took Con by the shoulders and looked closely at his throat, but there was now nothing to see; the red mark had faded. “Thank God,” he said. “Thank God, Son.”
    Claire and I looked at each other, and once more the thought didn’t need to be spoken: Reverend Jacobs deserved some thanks, too.
    We explained about how Con was supposed to use his voice sparingly to start with, and when we told about the water, Andy went out to the kitchen and came back with Dad’s oversize joke coffee cup (printed on the side was the Canadian flag and ONE IMPERIAL GALLON OF CAFFEINE), filled with water. While he drank it, Claire and I took turns recounting what had happened, with Con chipping in once or twice, telling about the tingling sensation he’d felt when the belt was turned on. Each time he interrupted, Claire scolded him for talking.
    â€œI don’t believe it.” Mom said this several times. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Con. Several times she grabbed him and hugged him, as if she was afraid he might sprout wings, turn into an angel, and fly away.
    â€œIf the church didn’t pay for his heating oil,” Dad said when the tale was finished, “Reverend Jacobs would never have to pay for another gallon.”
    â€œWe’ll think of something,” Mom said distractedly. “Right now we’re going to celebrate. Terry, fetch the ice cream we were saving for Claire’s birthday from the freezer. It will be good for Con’s throat. You and Andy put it out on the table. We’ll have all of it, so use the big bowls. You don’t mind, do you, Claire?”
    She shook her head. “This is better than a birthday party.”
    â€œI have to go to the bathroom,” Connie said. “All that water. Then I’m supposed to pray. Reverend said so. The rest of you stay out while I do it.”
    He went upstairs. Andy and Terry went into the kitchen to serve out the Neapolitan (which we called van-choc-straw . . . funny how it all comes back). My mother and father subsided into their chairs, staring at the TV without seeing it. I saw Mom grope out with one hand, and saw Dad take it without looking, as if he knew it was there. That made me happy and relieved.
    I felt a tug on my own hand. It was Claire. She led me through the kitchen, where Andy and Terry were squabbling over the relative size of the portions, and into the mudroom. Her eyes when she looked at me were wide and bright.
    â€œDid you see him?” she asked. No—demanded.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œReverend Jacobs, stupid! Did you see him when I asked why he never showed us that electric belt in MYF?”
    â€œWell . . . yeah . . .”
    â€œHe said he’d been working on it for a year, but if that was true, he would have showed it off. He shows off everything he makes!”
    I remembered how surprised he had looked, as if Claire had caught him out (I had on more than one occasion felt the same expression on my own face when I had been caught out), but . . .
    â€œAre you saying he was lying?”
    She nodded vigorously. “ Yes! He was! And his wife? She knew it! Do you know what I think? I think he started right after you were there. Maybe he already had the idea—I think he has thousands of ideas for electrical inventions; they must pop around in his head like corn—but he hadn’t done anything at all on this one until today.”
    â€œGee, Claire, I don’t think—”
    She was still holding my hand, and now she gave it a hard and impatient yank, as if I were stuck in the mud and needed help to get free. “Did you see their kitchen table? There was one place still set, with nothing on the plate and nothing in the glass! He skipped his supper so he could keep