THE PETITE WOMAN WITH THE COPPERY-COLORED HAIR lifted her arms, palms up, and turned her face to the sky. The blazing midsummer sun, filtering through the twisted branches of the live oak, dappled her white robe with shifting shadows.
“Amen,” she murmured and opened her eyes. “Go with God.”
Red’s hand tightened around mine, and I nearly choked on the lump of tears in my throat. Beside me, I heard Lavinia sniffle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her take the lace-edged handkerchief from the pocket of her soft lavender suit and dab at her eyes.
The silence, uninterrupted by even the lilt of birdsong, seemed to stretch away forever, rolling down the lush carpet of grass behind Presqu’isle and out across the placid water. It was as if the whole world held its breath.
Scotty’s voice cracked a little. “Hey, Dad? Aren’t you guys supposed to kiss now or something?”
My sister Julia laughed, a light ripple like sun dancing on water, and the spell was broken.