Page 3 of The Woman at the Funeral

I objected to the term. But I understood the sentiment. There was something special about getting to be the only person that someone opened up to.

That said, I could practically hear the hushed words of Matthew’s family from just across the aisle.

What kind of wife doesn’t cry at her husband’s funeral?

I dipped my chin toward Blair.

She spread her lips outward. It wasn’t a smile. Just a silentthank youfor not making her sit alone in her grief.

My gaze slid toward her hands clasped around the funeral program, crinkling the thick glossy paper. On her left hand, her engagement ring sparkled even in the low light. A simple square-cut diamond I’d loaned Matt the money to buy and had immediately regretted when he showed me the ring, knowing it wasn’t the style Blair would wear.

There was no wedding band.

That was sitting on the coffee table in my living room. Where Matt had tossed it when he told me that Blair had kicked him out and thrown it at him.

It had sat there since. Matt would occasionally grab it, spinning it on the glossy table surface while lamenting about how he had no idea what he’d done wrong.

Clearly, his biggest sin had been not listening. Because I could give him a whole laundry list of reasons his wife finally had enough.

Seeing what I was looking at, Blair rested her left hand on her thigh over the program, covering it with her right.

The organ music dulled, and in the silence that followed, we all turned to watch the priest bless the casket before draping the pall.

We all rose to our feet as the choir started to sing and the casket rolled down the aisle toward the altar.

The priest followed as Ronny’s cries swelled louder than the music.

Beside me, Blair’s breath shook before we all lowered back into our seats.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest began. “We gather here today to commend our brother, Matthew Ferraro, to the mercy of God, and to comfort one another with the hope of the resurrection.”

The words echoed softly through the nave, reverent and familiar.

“In the face of death, sorrow weighs heavy, but we come not only in grief, but in faith that death is not the end. Let us pray…”

The service was painfully long, the sounds of Ronny’s cries punctuating the grief they all found themselves surrounded by.

Eventually, though, they were all getting to their feet and making their way out toward the front of the building, ready for the drive toward the grave.

Stepping out into the rain, both Matt’s brother and father produced umbrellas, using them to shield their mother and aunts, but not offering the same protection to Blair.

I suddenly cursed myself for not bringing one with me as the raindrops slid down Blair’s cheeks. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

“We don’t have any more room,” Ronny said as her sisters loaded into a stretch limo they’d reserved so everyone didn’t have to rely on cabs or fight with city traffic on such a somber day.

There would be plenty of room.

But the meaning was clear.

We don’t want Blair to come with us.

“I’ll bring her,” I offered.

I got a disapproving look, but a shrug from Matt’s mom before she climbed into the limo.

We watched them pull off before Blair turned to me.

“You don’t have to drive me.”

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