The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,112

clutched my hand.

The funeral home usher stopped Adam halfway down the aisle. My heart pounded so hard, I coughed. But the usher nodded and led us to the second pew. Daddy sat in the front pew between Rita and Joe. I pushed ahead to make sure I would be sitting beside Adam. Next to Joe, Bertie turned and glared, her face reddening as we filed in behind them. She grabbed Joe, who looked up, a question on his face. I touched his shoulder in a gentle plea as I passed behind him. Rita gave us a panicked, quick smile.

Behind us, footsteps sounded on the wood floor. Then the vestibule door creaked as it swung open and shut. Someone had left the church. Reverend Paul rose. The footsteps and muttering voices halted abruptly.

I cannot remember any of what the reverend said about Momma. Once again, Sarah sat on Adam’s lap and I lay my hand on his thigh, under her warm, thin leg. I concentrated on fighting the waves of nausea that kept rising to my throat.

When the reverend finished, he announced that the girls would be singing “Open My Eyes, That I May See,” Momma’s favorite hymn. Gracie rose first and motioned to the younger ones. They followed her to the pulpit single-file. The congregation shifted, a murmur swept through the room as Gracie pulled up a step for Sarah to stand on. Gracie and Rosie exchanged looks, squared their shoulders, and gazed out over the congregation. Lil and Sarah focused on me and Adam.

Gracie nodded to the pianist, who struck the introductory bars. Then Gracie’s pure, strong alto rang out, followed by the three younger sopranos. I wanted to shut my eyes and ride that sweetness, to rest mindlessly on the resonance of their voices. But I had told them to look at me if they got shy. They did not need that crutch. They sang full and steady without hesitation.

“Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit Divine.” Each time they hit the chorus, I thought I heard a fifth singer as their voices converged on those final notes. For a few moments, my heart ceased its hammering and the nausea left me. I squeezed Adam’s hand as the girls finished and returned to us.

Reverend Paul led another Scripture reading. Then it was time to view her body. Adam closed his eyes briefly as Lil scrambled past his knees. “Go on,” he whispered to Sarah, who held his hand and tried to pull him to his feet.

Seeing the dead helps the body understand what the mind does not want to grasp and the heart longs to deny. But I hated the ritual of the funeral at that moment. I wanted to send my girls running down the aisle out into the sun, out beyond this sorrow, past Clarion.

But we filed up to the coffin, Gracie and Rosie stately in their new poise. Lil looked once at her grandmother and then quickly away as she hugged my hip. Sarah just stared, her eyes glued to Momma’s face, as Gracie, who had been holding her up to see over the side of the coffin, lowered her back to the floor. I resisted the urge to keep looking back at Adam still seated behind us. I braced myself, but there were only the normal sounds of people moving in a quiet church.

Adam met us at the end of the pew and we walked out behind Daddy, who leaned on Rita’s arm. As we passed, everyone backed up or turned suddenly to speak to a neighbor. A little girl pivoted away from us to bury her head in her mother’s skirt.

We were naked. My skin was on fire.

The congregation came with us to the graveside service. I noticed a few sideways glances. Then we all gathered at Momma’s for the covered-dish supper. The house swelled with people, their perfumes and sweat mingling with the odor of coffee and fried chicken. The men had their whiskey and cigarettes on the back porch. They parted to let us through, but no one spoke. Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed painfully.

Uncle Otis, already drunk, hugged everyone and told them how much he loved his big sister. I did not see Daddy. I handed Sarah to Adam. With a child in his arms, maybe someone would find him approachable.

I found Daddy in the bedroom, lifting the lid off Momma’s little jewelry box and then setting it back in place. Then he rearranged her comb and brush