of voices, turning briefly toward the thinning crowd enveloping the widow Grone. Then she heard a loud thump, and for a moment thought the heavy cross had come unnailed and fallen.
Instead, she swiveled around to see Madeline Fister crumpled on the floor near the casket, apparently out cold.
Chapter 11
“Y OU’LL BE AS good as new in no time,” Doc Melville said, patting Madeline’s hand, and she looked up into the smiling face that hovered above her. His fingers gently touched her wrist, his eyes on his watch as he checked her pulse. Then he patted her again. “Things seem back to normal already.”
Normal?
Madeline pressed her eyes closed, afraid the tears that had been building up inside her would suddenly gush freely. Even worse, a wave of nausea engulfed her though she fought it, trying hard to stay calm. She couldn’t give in, couldn’t break down, not yet. Not in her father’s office.
“No doubt it was the strain of the service,” Fanny Melville said as she began stroking Madeline’s hair, her touch so tentative, as if Maddy were a fragile china doll that might crack. “It’s too bad Emma MacGregor’s arthritis was so bad this morning, else she would have been at the organ and you, sweet girl, could have stayed home.”
Maddy’s chest tightened suddenly and she found it hard to breathe. Her heart felt so heavy, like her father’s enormous Bible had fallen on top of her, crushing her lungs and ribs.
Oh God, she thought, oh God, it had all been her fault, hadn’t it? Would things have been different if she’d kept her secret to herself?
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Her father’s voice no longer seemed so strong and even as it had been throughout the eulogy. There was a catch to it, a trace of fear. Or was it guilt she heard?
She forced her eyes wide open to find him peering down at her anxiously, his skin pale above the gray of his beard. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “A glass of water?”
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, and struggled to sit up. She laced her fingers in her lap, pressing her hands together to steady them. “I’m sorry if I caused a scene,” she added, the words a low whisper.
“You think you caused a scene?” Fanny Melville chuckled. “My dear, you’d have to stand in line for that honor. The two Mrs. Grones are well ahead of you there.”
“Maybe it’s the flu,” another voice suggested, and Maddy caught sight of Helen Evans peeking at her from over Fanny’s shoulder. “I’ve heard there’s a vicious strain going around.”
Doc scratched his jaw. “She doesn’t have a fever, and her pulse is fairly steady. Her throat isn’t red, her glands aren’t swollen, and her lungs sound clear.”
Madeline flushed beneath the scrutiny. She hated how they talked over her as if she wasn’t even in the room. All she wanted was to get out of there. To be alone. “For the tenth time,” she told them, “I’m okay. I just got a little dizzy. It’s no big deal.”
“I’d like you to come in for a full physical,” Doc Melville said. “It wouldn’t hurt to give you a thorough examination.”
“No,” Maddy said, reacting quickly. She swung her legs off the couch, her knees wobbling as she put her feet on the floor. “It’s not necessary, I swear,” she added, avoiding her father’s eyes. “I’m just tired. I didn’t have any breakfast.” She’d been too sick to her stomach to eat.
“She’ll come in, Doc,” her father interjected, and his frightened expression from moments before was gone, replaced by features as firm as granite. “I’ll see to it that she gets an appointment.”
Madeline wanted to scream at him, to argue that it was her life to live, not his. And hadn’t he done enough already? But her strength seemed to have left her for now. She stood, brushing away the hands that petted and stroked her, wishing she could run away until this morning was left far behind.
“Can I go?” she said, not caring if she
Instead, she swiveled around to see Madeline Fister crumpled on the floor near the casket, apparently out cold.
Chapter 11
“Y OU’LL BE AS good as new in no time,” Doc Melville said, patting Madeline’s hand, and she looked up into the smiling face that hovered above her. His fingers gently touched her wrist, his eyes on his watch as he checked her pulse. Then he patted her again. “Things seem back to normal already.”
Normal?
Madeline pressed her eyes closed, afraid the tears that had been building up inside her would suddenly gush freely. Even worse, a wave of nausea engulfed her though she fought it, trying hard to stay calm. She couldn’t give in, couldn’t break down, not yet. Not in her father’s office.
“No doubt it was the strain of the service,” Fanny Melville said as she began stroking Madeline’s hair, her touch so tentative, as if Maddy were a fragile china doll that might crack. “It’s too bad Emma MacGregor’s arthritis was so bad this morning, else she would have been at the organ and you, sweet girl, could have stayed home.”
Maddy’s chest tightened suddenly and she found it hard to breathe. Her heart felt so heavy, like her father’s enormous Bible had fallen on top of her, crushing her lungs and ribs.
Oh God, she thought, oh God, it had all been her fault, hadn’t it? Would things have been different if she’d kept her secret to herself?
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Her father’s voice no longer seemed so strong and even as it had been throughout the eulogy. There was a catch to it, a trace of fear. Or was it guilt she heard?
She forced her eyes wide open to find him peering down at her anxiously, his skin pale above the gray of his beard. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “A glass of water?”
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, and struggled to sit up. She laced her fingers in her lap, pressing her hands together to steady them. “I’m sorry if I caused a scene,” she added, the words a low whisper.
“You think you caused a scene?” Fanny Melville chuckled. “My dear, you’d have to stand in line for that honor. The two Mrs. Grones are well ahead of you there.”
“Maybe it’s the flu,” another voice suggested, and Maddy caught sight of Helen Evans peeking at her from over Fanny’s shoulder. “I’ve heard there’s a vicious strain going around.”
Doc scratched his jaw. “She doesn’t have a fever, and her pulse is fairly steady. Her throat isn’t red, her glands aren’t swollen, and her lungs sound clear.”
Madeline flushed beneath the scrutiny. She hated how they talked over her as if she wasn’t even in the room. All she wanted was to get out of there. To be alone. “For the tenth time,” she told them, “I’m okay. I just got a little dizzy. It’s no big deal.”
“I’d like you to come in for a full physical,” Doc Melville said. “It wouldn’t hurt to give you a thorough examination.”
“No,” Maddy said, reacting quickly. She swung her legs off the couch, her knees wobbling as she put her feet on the floor. “It’s not necessary, I swear,” she added, avoiding her father’s eyes. “I’m just tired. I didn’t have any breakfast.” She’d been too sick to her stomach to eat.
“She’ll come in, Doc,” her father interjected, and his frightened expression from moments before was gone, replaced by features as firm as granite. “I’ll see to it that she gets an appointment.”
Madeline wanted to scream at him, to argue that it was her life to live, not his. And hadn’t he done enough already? But her strength seemed to have left her for now. She stood, brushing away the hands that petted and stroked her, wishing she could run away until this morning was left far behind.
“Can I go?” she said, not caring if she
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