Free Written on My Heart by Morgan Callan Rogers Page A

open window and returned to work. “Grand used to say about you that Jesus needed someone to keep him on his toes.”
    â€œWell, Jesus can relax for a while. I’m plenty kept on my own toes with this baby.”
    And as if on cue, Arlee made a sound, and I went to her. I picked her up and we walked down to Ida’s house. Our joint appearance would help keep the sadness in the shadows and help us all through the next few days. On the way down the hill, we met Bud heading up to help Billy. He took Arlee in his arms and held her to him for a few seconds, then he kissed me and handed our baby back to me and we continued on our separate ways.

    We decided to hold the funeral lunch for Sam at Grand’s house, because it was bigger than the Warner house. As soon as I knew that, I began to clean while Ida and Maureen kept Arlee. All day long, in between feeding Arlee and then dusting and sweeping and polishing up, I kept my eye on Stella’s house. But it remained quiet. No one came out. No one went in. Her car was still parked there when we left for the wake.
    Once inside the funeral home, we spoke in quiet tones as we stood in front of the closed, dark coffin containing Sam’s remains.
    â€œI would have left the lid up,” Ida said. “He didn’t look so bad and they can do wonders with makeup these days. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want anyone saying how good he looked. ‘I’ll be dead,’ he said. ‘How good could I look?’”
    Sam had a lot of friends, most of whom he had grown up with and had known him most of his life. We all knew them too, in one way or another. If I didn’t recognize them by name, I knew them by their boat names. The tall bald man ran the
Boden
. The gray-bearded man with hands the size of big flounders was captain of the
Celeste
. Most of them were quiet, but the sight of the baby in my arms made everyone relax a little more. It was good to chat with mothers and grandmothers and to people who had known my parents and saw them in Arlee. A few folks asked about the scratches on my face. I didn’t want to go into the whole fight with Stella, but I got tired of mumbling this and that about it. Finally, I said, to Tillie Clemmons when she asked, “It was rough sex.” Tillie, who was as talkative as her husband, Parker, was quiet, spread the word. I got a few shocked stares, but no one else asked me any more questions.
    As the evening wore on, we wandered through the carpeted rooms with the long, thick drapes, nodding at one another with shy eyes or whispering bits of comfort. Finally, Ray Clemmons said to Dottie and me, “Why are we so goddamn quiet? He’s dead, for chrissake. He can’t hear nothing.” Dottie and I giggled at that, and then giggled even harder when several people shot us cross looks. We ended up standing outside on the lawn with Madeline, watching Long Reach cars whoosh by. Arlee’s fussing made my breasts heavy and I told Bud goodbye. Dottie drove Arlee and me back down to The Point.
    The service was held almost two years to the day of Daddy’s funeral. At the church, a tearful congregation sniffed and listened as Billy gave a solemn and personal remembrance of a man who wouldn’t have set foot in church but for his determined wife. Ida wept in the front row alongside a hiccupping Maureen. Bud remained tearless beside me in the pew, but his hand never parted from mine.
    At the graveyard on the hill, the sun and a summer wind held sway. Hair blew back from sad faces, dresses danced and settled as if they were on a clothesline, black pant legs whipped back to outline bony knees and legs. The coffin was lowered into the earth, flowers were strewn over the top of it, and we filed away from the grave to continue on with the day.
    Dottie, Evie, and Madeline were at Grand’s house when I showed up. Most of what we had to offer had been put out on a long table set up against the