I hoped they would stop worshiping the coat soon. After my husband Ed spilled coffee on his shoulder I'd washed it and put it out on the line to dry.

Someone from town happened to pass by as it swung from the line. He said he saw the face of Jesus in it. Right where Ed had spilled the coffee.

They came after. Ed tried to run them off with his shotgun. He tried to sick the dogs on them. They still came. All wanting to look at it. Take a piece of it home with them.

I took it down once. Took it inside. I was sick of all the chanting and singing. They shrieked at me from the yard. Lisa, who was the librarian in town, got a couple of guys to try and tip my car over.

The coat went out again. Hanging from the line. There were too many. Too many singing and worshiping Ed's old work coat. The coat I got him for his 45th birthday. The coat he wore when I lost the first baby. The coat he wore the night we slept under the stars and made the second.

As the songs grew louder and the prayers more fervent, I had a second to wish I'd bought a better laundry detergent.