“An overflow crowd of mourners had attended the services at St. Thomas’s Church, standing shoulder to shoulder at the back of the nave, through the narthex, and across the sidewalk outside, and now everyone appeared to have come to the cemetery, as well. Assisted by Edom and Jacob, Agnes—in a wheelchair—was rolled across the grass, between the headstones, to her husband’s final resting place. Although no longer in danger of renewed hemorrhaging, she was under doctor’s orders to avoid strain. In ...her arms she held Bartholomew. The infant was not heavily bundled, for the weather was unseasonably mild. Agnes wouldn’t have been able to bear her ordeal without the baby. This small weight in her arms was an anchor dropped in the sea of the future, preventing her from drifting back into memories of days gone by, so many good days with Joey, memories which, at this critical moment, would strike like hammer blows upon her heart. Later, they would comfort her. Not yet. The mound of earth beside the grave had been disguised by piles of flowers and cut ferns.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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