Chapter 24: Ham in the Basement

On the Sunday of my wedding, the church basement smelled of ham and floor wax and four hundred daffodils.

Eliana had bought every daffodil in three counties.

She stood in front of me in a green dress, with a silver wren on her collar.

She held a clipboard she had no use for.

"You're sure about the shoes," she said.

"They're boots."

"Good." She straightened the wren on my dress, and her hands shook.

"Hattie. I want you to know that I was terrified the whole way here. The whole drive, a month ago."

"I know."

"You said come see the kitchen."

"I know what I said, Elly."

She hugged me hard, and the clipboard dug into my back.

Through the door, I could hear the neighbors and the union steward telling somebody it was his pie.

Under it came a cough I'd have known anywhere.

Finbar was standing at the front of the room next to the pastor, in the gray suit, with his hands clasped.

He didn't look at the door.

He looked at the floor tiles, and I could see the muscle moving in his jaw.

My father was waiting for me at the top of the steps.

He wore his gray cardigan under a good jacket, because he had refused all other options.

"Dad," I said.

I had never called him that out loud, and he turned his head very slowly.

"I'm told," he said, in his quiet, scraped voice, "that one of us is supposed to walk you down."

"All of you are."

"All of us?"

"My brothers asked me last night," I said. "They said they came for me once, and they'd like to finish the job."

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