Free Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] by Shadow on the Quilt

would be embarrassed. Aunt Lydia would reach out with compassion, and that would surely break the last thread of Juliana’s weakening resolve to cope.
    When Mr. Lindermann suggested they might wish to follow him into the viewing room to select a casket, Juliana stood up. Mr. Lindermann broke off midsentence and sprang to his feet.
    “Please,” she said and gestured for him to be seated. She looked over at the aunts. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already run away once today, but I can’t—”
Not without screaming, anyway.
“I—I need some fresh air.” She glanced over at Mr. Lindermann. “Whatever my aunts decide about things will be fine with me.” She took a step toward the door.
    Mr. Lindermann called after her. “There is one thing you should know before you take your leave. It will affect everything else.”
    Reluctantly, Juliana turned back around. But she stayed by the door.
    “Pastor Taylor asked that I offer St. John’s for the service, if it would help you. They won’t be impacted by the conference demanding so much of Reverend Burnham’s attention this week.” Mr. Lindermann smiled. “He didn’t tell you himself because he didn’t want to seem to be pressing the matter.”
    Juliana frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    “He wants the funeral,” Aunt Theodora snapped. “Although he’s been clever enough to couch it in decorum and dignity.” She shot a look at her sister. “There is a sizeable honorarium involved in holding a service for a leading citizen. And St. John’s is desperately in need of improvements. Anyone can see that just driving by.”
    “Theodora.” Aunt Lydia shook her head sadly.
    Mr. Lindermann cleared his throat. “Pastor Taylor assumed that Reverend Burnham would conduct the service. He also said that St. John’s would neither expect nor accept remuneration for the use of the facilities, should you decide to have the service there.”
    Aunt Theodora sniffed. “I don’t suppose he’d return a new organ if one were to suddenly show up, though, now would he?”
    Aunt Lydia’s tone sharpened. “Theodora.”
    Juliana thought back to Mrs. Burnham discreetly admiring the parlor. And not so discreetly examining the china. She thought back to the way Reverend Burnham kept tapping that infernal piece of paper with his pencil, pressing for a commitment to a service time.
    She thought about Pastor Taylor’s promise to pray for them. Reverend Burnham’s scripture reading had been delivered in the manner of a field marshal firing off orders. Feel this way. Think that. Believe this. Pastor Taylor hadn’t quoted one Bible verse at them. He’d offered to let Juliana yell at him.
    She needed to think. She turned to go.
    Aunt Theodora called after her. “What of the music?”
    “Who better to select it than you?”
    “Reverend Burnham will want to consult regarding the order of service.”
    Juliana took a deep breath. “That will have to wait until I speak with Pastor Taylor tomorrow.”
    “Whatever for?”
    “Because I’m going to accept Pastor Taylor’s offer to have the funeral at St. John’s.” She didn’t dare look at Aunt Theodora when she said it. “I’ll have Alfred wait for you two. I’m going to take a walk. I’ll meet you at the dresser’s.” She exited quickly.
    Outside, she put her hand on the coach to steady herself as she looked up to where Alfred sat on the driver’s seat. “Please wait here for the aunts. When they’re finished inside, they’ll want you to bring them to Miss Thornhill’s. Then I’d like you to carry a message to Pastor Taylor of St. John’s, asking him to call tomorrow. Mid-morning, if he can manage it.”
    Alfred looked toward O Street. “You sure you’re up to walking all that way?”
    “I’m sure.” She headed off up the street, hoping that she looked more determined than she felt. What a jumble of emotions she was: one moment nearly consumed with anger, the next drowning in hurt and regret. One minute unable to