“If Father hadn’t been holding her arm, she would have fallen. The church was a simple white clapboard building that, except for the spire, blended into its surroundings. Inside, plain white walls surrounded rows of oak benches. Their armrests had been lovingly hand-carved by parishioners, with no two designs alike. This was the place where Lizabeth had always felt peace and harmony. Tall windows gave an impression of airiness. In winter the snow outside reflected light into the long, narrow roo...m. Today, on this nineteenth day of May, soft sunlight shone through the glass. The many empty pews were obvious. People were afraid to gather in large groups. Lizabeth allowed Father to guide her to a seat next to Mother. There was no peace and harmony here today. There was a small white casket. It was terribly wrong, Lizabeth thought. Such a small casket was an insult to the order of the world. It was covered with white lilies. Their heavy scent became nauseating. Reverend Morgan spoke. Lizabeth watched his lips move.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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