A Church, a Congregation - and normally May knew every face and name, because after she sang, they would come up and introduce themselves, thank her, compliment her. Normally church was on Sunday and wasn't an emergency.

It was packed, not even Christmas, not Easter, not both combined would every pew get taken, standing space, too, the doors swung open for those outside to hear. And May sat where she always did, perched on the piano - and if she felt butterflies today for the first time in years?

"Preacher Stoddard, but is it a miracle? We've come to you for answers, to help explain this...this..." A woman asked -

"Ma'am, everything is a miracle. Everything is possible through God." There was a shuffling, an almost audible groan in the audience, not from the regular congregation but these new faces - and her father, he had not been expecting this.

An inquisitive crowd that was more like a town hall meeting than chapel. These people wanted answers -

"It must be!" A man shouted. standing up, "I saw it with my own eyes, that structure, it wasn't there this morning, you couldn't build that in a day - there's no plumbing there, no electricity, no explanation for how that fountain works."

"It's aliens." Mrs. Waynecock insisted again, shaking her head, "I've been telling ya'll for years!"

"Nobody knows what it is." Father said, lifting his hands up to draw back the crowds attention, "You are here because -"

"Have you drank of it?" A man interrupted, "Will you? Is it wrong to?"

"God has guided you here! That is a miracle!" Her father continued - and he motioned May, motioned her to play, to use the piano to ease the room, to calm them - to sing because he didn't have answers, he wasn't there, hadn't yet seen the fountain, or what Weston had learned - he was being prudent. Being safe.

And it was hard to believe - like the story of Jonah - a man swallowed by a whale and who would believe it? - If they hadn't been there, hadn't seen it happen. Hickory, a boy - no, a man. Almost unknown in this small town, how private he was, and half the curiosity was there, wasn't it? Who is Hickory...

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The man chosen by Angels - returned, along with a fountain. A fountain containing the purest water on earth said those who tasted it -

That May had realized even she didn't know Hickory as well as she would like to, she felt that. And butterflies - how strange, for her body to have such a response since seeing him return.

May placed her fingers on the piano keys at her father's prompting, and began to play the introduction of a song, playing over the talking crowd.

She opened her mouth to the microphone - the song 'I Will Follow Him' started soft and low, soaring up - past her tonsils, past her tongue, and she sang - "I have Drank."

Her father's eyes shot to her, so did the congregation's - May heard her mother gasp, the slap of hands over her mouth was shocking as the f-word coming from her always composed mother -

May had drank - She still didn't understand it, what had moved her, to press her lips against his miracle. She didn't know, she didn't have words to explain it, and the water had left her with butterflies -

So she told her story to the congregation in the only way she could, with music, she played for them a small moment, the fear - of seeing an Angel.

And May told her story - everything she saw, and felt, her words soft and simple with the music flowing from her heart, filling in the details.

She played the terror, the shock, she played Beethoven - and she felt the crowd, felt their gathered breath quicken, their hearts beating faster and a sheen of perspiration as they listened, they felt -

May nodded - slowing the song, softening it to make room for thought, rational thought - that seemed to slip through only from a distance, as the congregation heard what had occurred, a floating ball of light, listening to Weston talk to the Governor, important people, powerful people - who should know what to do, but didn't -

May slammed her hands down on the keyboard in a bright explosion of sound, the moment Hickory reappeared, her feelings:

Her hands were wide in a hug, but her left hand played the theme from Jaws - dark and lurking, her right hand playing heart and soul, high and hopeful, as she watched Hickory walk toward them not knowing, the structure behind him, a fountain.

'What was the message, Hickory?' Weston had asked, his phone held out so the many listening could hear -

'Ah, Nothin', I reckon I failed.'

Then Hickory walked away. Without another word.

May looked at the congregation's stunned faces, she could hear THE QUESTION: On everybody's lips, if he failed, why drink?

Why drink?

May didn't tell them why, it was personal, she wasn't sure. She couldn't put it into words, what she'd felt, seeing him. She didn't tell the congregation to drink or not to, but she drank. She'd drank.