The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,92
bedroom, kneeling in front of Adam, who sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees. She held his face in her hands, directing his gaze at her, just as Granny Paynes had held mine when I gave birth.
“We may not understand how this could be, but it did happen. It was the Lord’s will and we have to accept it.”
“You can have the will of your Lord then,” he growled.
She let her hands fall from his face. “You have four other daughters. They will need you. Bitterness will do them no good. Frank Roe is a stupid, indecent man who drinks too much.”
“I don’t want Frank at the funeral. I don’t want to see him, ever again.” His voice fell ragged and soft.
“Ever, I can’t take care of. But the funeral I can. He will not be there and none will begrudge you.”
As we drove to the church, past the familiar homes and hills, the sky hung high and clear above us. The spring-bright fields and woods seemed to mock us with their greenery. I remembered being a child under such fresh canopy, alone in the woods. I longed to be there again, feral, unaware of my solitude, untouched by grief.
We walked into the church for the funeral service, down the aisle of faces turned toward us. Hands touched us. Comforting whispers broke around us. Hours, it seemed, we sat on that hard pew with Jennie laid out in front of us. Stands of flowers were propped up on either side of the pulpit and her coffin. The odor of chrysanthemums thickened the air.
Only numbness kept me from screaming. Sorrow and confusion came off the girls like smoke, their innocence burning away. Beside me, Adam, with Sarah curled almost fetal in his lap, vibrated. I kept my hand on his leg, not to comfort him but to press down what I felt rising in him, something sharp and dense. I pressed harder and harder till finally he reached under Sarah and took my hand in his. We will make it through this day, I thought.
At last, the service ended, Reverend Paul finished up, and we stood for a final hymn. My throat closed on the notes. Beside me, Adam stood with Sarah in his arms, his lips pressed shut.
Our friends and neighbors lined up to pay their final respects. The immediate family would be last. As Momma passed by us, she reached over Sarah’s head to touch my arm. For a second, I met her eyes. My family began to file slowly past the coffin. Momma paused and laid her hand over Jennie’s until Daddy whispered, “Come on, Lily Mae,” and steered her away. Adam, the girls, and I stepped up to the coffin.
Jennie looked the same—the same perfect child she had been alive, but so still. Completely still.
The girls clutched at me and Adam. The rest of the congregation filled the aisles. Stragglers spread out in the pews behind us. I heard the low mutter of voices, the shuffle of shoes on wood floorboards.
Wordless, beside me, Lil stared down at her sister. I took a last, wrenching glance at Jennie and pulled Adam and the girls toward the door. In the press of the girls around me, I felt Adam let go of my hand. The warmth of him gone.
He turned back to the coffin. His lips parted. I heard that familiar deep sigh and felt the vibration of him, faint and tender, wash toward me. No one else seemed to notice, but the girls exchanged looks.
Adam’s suit jacket tightened across his back. He gripped the coffin’s edge. The timbre of his voice flattened abruptly into a mournful resonance. Spreading, filling the room.
My throat clenched. Anchored by the girls, I could not move fast enough.
“No, Adam. No!” I shouted.
A loud, plosive sob burst from him. For a heartbeat, the church fell silent. Then, as everyone moved again, leaving Adam to mourn, he took a deep, shuddering breath.
His voice slashed through the church, all sweetness gone. A new, searing wail. Jagged and dark. A blade. Through wood and bone it cut. Then it held steady, a vise of static and pain crushing my head and chest.
The girls froze beside me. The hairs on my neck and arms stood up. I pressed my hands to Sarah’s ears.
Momma squinted over her shoulder, one hand out, shielding herself, the other over her heart. Daddy drew his shoulders up. His step faltered. Glaring at Adam’s back, a man wrapped a