Read Online Little Sister by Patricia MacDonald - Free Book Online

under her arm, she reached into her handbag and pulled out her dark glasses, which she quickly put on. There was no sun in sight, but at least they offered her some shelter from curious eyes.
    The undertaker had given May and Francie each a flower and was now instructing them to pile into the old Lincoln and they would follow the hearse the short distance to the cemetery. Beth could see the black-garbed people scattering to their cars like crows in flight as she wedged herself into the back seat beside May.
    The silence in the car was oppressive as they sat waiting in the church driveway. The driver, clearly a local farmer who was moonlighting for Sullivan’s, chewed gum in a quiet, steady roll of the jaw.
    “What are we waiting for?” Beth asked impatiently.
    “Uncle James is going with us,” said May.
    Beth stared out the tinted window of the car at her uncle, whose vestments were billowing in the wind, the skin on his face and hands ruddy from the cold as he nodded in hushed conversation with stragglers, slowly making his way toward the car.
    “It was a nice service,” said May.
    Francie pushed her glasses up on her nose after wiping her eyes underneath them. “God,” she said, “I hate this.”
    Beth sighed and looked away with dull eyes, grateful again for her dark glasses. Not too much longer, she thought. She felt something slimy on her fingers and looked down. She had absentmindedly crushed and rolled the petals of the carnation in her fingers. May saw her glance. “Don’t worry,” she whispered as the car door opened and Uncle James got in. “We’ll get you another one.”
    The car started to roll slowly in the direction the hearse had already gone.
    By the time they reached the parsonage, after the cemetery, the kitchen table in Aunt May’s house was already laden with plates and casserole dishes full of food. Beth was a little surprised to see the spread, considering that she had hardly recognized any of the people at the funeral. I’m the uncharitable one, she thought. I’m the one who is judging them, not the other way around.
    There was a buzz of quiet conversation in the house, and as Beth made her way through the crowded living room, she was greeted with handshakes and awkward, brief squeezes. She responded as courteously as she knew how.
    She went upstairs to her aunt and uncle’s bedroom and put her coat down on the bed along with all the others piled there. Then she went into the bathroom and fixed her makeup in preparation for facing the people downstairs again. When she came out of the bathroom, she saw a young women of about her own age sitting in the window seat waiting for a turn. The woman had a wide face and a short cap of curly red hair. It took Beth only a moment to place her.
    “Cindy?” she asked.
    The woman stood up and nodded, reaching out a hand to Beth. She gave Beth an apologetic smile. “So sorry about your dad,” she said.
    “Cindy Ballard,” said Beth, shaking the girl’s hand, remembering her as she had seen her last, in their high school days when they had walked home from school together and shared dateless Saturday nights. “God, it’s good to see you. It was so nice of you to come. It’s been years.”
    “I know. How are you? You look great.”
    “Thanks,” said Beth, clinging to the woman’s hand, happy to see someone who had once been a friend. She studied the other woman’s clear eyes, her neat figure in a plain navy dress. “You look good yourself. Tell you the truth, I’m so glad to see someone I really know. I hardly recognize most of these people.”
    “I don’t know. Old-timers, I guess,” she said with a bemused smile.
    “I guess some of them might have worked with my father,” Beth observed.
    Cindy immediately became more sober. “Probably.”
    “Well,” said Beth, pausing awkwardly as a man in a neat but shabby suit edged his way hopefully past the young women toward the bathroom. “Do you mind?” Beth asked Cindy.
    The woman