The Painted Table(95)

“Oh yeah?” He looks into her eyes, eager to hear anything that is wonderful.

“It was about Mother in heaven, Daddy. And, Daddy, get this.” Saffee squeezes his hand. “She was dancing!”

“Dancin’?”

“Yes, Daddy, it was a marvelous sight, since she hadn’t even walked for years, had hardly even moved, couldn’t smile or say a word. But, Daddy, I saw her dancing. Twirling round and round and laughing, Daddy, laughing!”

Nels tries to say something, clears his throat, and tries again. “She . . . she . . . when we was young . . . she loved to dance, just like that yellow, whatcha call it, figurine I got her. I still got it, you know.” He looks into the distance. “That’s how I like to remember her.”

“I know.”

Nels refocuses. “She was laughin’, you say?”

“Yes, Daddy. But that was the end part. The beginning of the dream was when Jesus, surrounded by brilliant light, walked toward her, stretched out His arms, and embraced her. Then, get this, Daddy, He gave her a sparkling white stone and told her to read what was written on it. She was smiling so big when she read the stone. And then I heard her voice—that none of us heard for years. She said, ‘It says “Joy”!’ And Jesus said, ‘Yes, Joy is your new name. You are My Joy!’”

Nels sits a little straighter, his eyes wide. “What happened then?”

“That’s when she started dancing, and oh, Daddy, she was so happy. And there was music like you’ve never heard. Beautiful, beautiful music I can’t describe. I wanted to stay right there in the middle of it myself—but that’s when I woke up. Then I just had to wake up Jack to find out if he’d heard the music of heaven.”

“Did he?”

“No, but I wish he had. I will never forget it.”

Nels’s closed eyes are brimming. Saffee wraps her arms around him and their wet cheeks touch. They rock a little, back and forth.

Nels smiles. “Dancin’,” he says hoarsely. “She’s dancin’ to music . . . Dancin’ . . . in heaven.”