Miracle in the Rain Page #9

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Harry.

Ruth's sick. She's awfully sick.

- Help me.

- Anything.

The doctor says it's pneumonia and...

What is it?

She's gone!

Oh, God in heaven, she's gone.

Harry, she's gone.

Oh, Harry, find her. Find our daughter.

- I heard you howling, I thought it was a fire.

- Oh, Mrs. Hamer.

The lousy, good-for-nothing, dirty alley cat.

Phooey on you.

So you came back?

What do you want, something to eat?

You don't get a bite. You're nothing.

Holy saints. What's going on?

- Where is she?

- In the rain. And she's so sick.

- Oh, Harry, find her. Find her.

- I'll find her, Agnes.

My stars, in that lousy rain.

Burning with fever.

Oh, Mrs. Hamer.

What do you want? Who is it?

This is Grace,

Ruthie's friend from the office.

Well, I hope I'm not disturbing you,

Mrs. Hamer...

...but I just wanted to know

how Ruthie is tonight.

Oh, she went out in the rain

with a fever all by herself.

Call the cops.

Oh, that's awful.

Oh, Ruthie.

My arthritis is killing me.

It's worse than ever.

Why don't we pray?

That's the least we can do.

Oh, God in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Don't let nothing happen

to dear little girl Ruth.

Oh, Lord, that lookest out

for everybody and everything...

...don't let the lousy rain hurt her.

Ruthie!

Ruthie!

Hey, wait a minute!

Ruthie!

Gosh, I'm glad I caught up with you.

Oh, Ruthie, let me look at you.

Let me look at your face.

Art, is it really you?

It isn't the King of England.

Oh, I'm so glad.

Thank God.

I'm so glad to see you,

I'm liable to start yelling like an Indian.

Remember?

Everything.

The story I wrote

for The New York Times.

They printed it, second section.

Did you happen to see it?

It was a wonderful story.

I read it over and over and over.

All the other things.

L... I wrote you about

how I remembered everything.

You're still wearing it, huh?

I'll always wear it. Won't I?

Till all the cows come home

from all the green fields.

You didn't write to me.

Why didn't you write?

You can't send letters

where there are no mailmen.

What this war needs

is more mailmen at the front...

...with little wings in their feet

and motors in their shoes.

Oh, you're still the same.

You're so funny.

Do you...?

Do you still feel the same?

I mean, like you did

before you went away?

Infinitely worse.

I love you so much

that I can't eat or sleep or anything.

It's like living castaway

on a desert island without you.

Remember, it was raining like this

when I met you the first time.

Yes, I remember.

Oh, and look.

Remember this?

- It's the lucky piece I gave you.

- A genuine Roman coin.

You keep it now.

I don't need it anymore.

Oh, you're not going back?

I learned something wonderful.

Love never dies.

Did you know that, Ruthie?

Never, never dies.

Oh, Art, don't go away.

No, no, never.

I'm here to stay...

...to love you

till all the cows come home...

...from all the green fields.

To love you forever and ever and ever.

I'll always love you. Forever.

Oh, Art.

What happened to her, Father?

Was it an accident?

No, no, she's ill. Call the hospital

to send an ambulance. And bring a blanket.

Father, I knew she was coming here.

I just knew it.

- She collapsed on the steps. She's very ill.

- In the rain.

Ruthie. Ruthie.

- She's unconscious.

- The ambulance should be here any minute.

Where is he?

He was here.

Art.

Her hand is clenched.

Holding something.

Some sort of a coin.

Do you know what it is?

I think so.

"Titus...

...Flavius...

...vespasian...

...imperator."

Yes.

A genuine Roman coin.

It belonged to somebody who...

She gave it to him.

He must have brought it back.

Thus, a story of New York

and of an antique Roman coin.

That's the way we heard it.

We'd like to believe it's true.

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