Chapter 23: The Chapel

The garden chapel was a glass room at the back of the hospital, and in April it smelled of wet earth and hyacinths.

There were twelve folding chairs, and every one of them was full.

Imogen stood at the front in a charcoal pantsuit and a corsage, holding two rings in a handkerchief.

A pastor with a gentle, tired face waited by the little arch.

The gray cat, who had not been invited, sat at the end of the aisle looking furious in a bow tie.

In the front row, in a wheelchair, sat his grandmother.

She wore a lilac hat with a feather in it and her best lipstick.

She was fanning herself with the order of service, though the room was cool.

Behind her sat three teachers from my school and two of my first graders with their parents.

A card from Mallory had come that morning from Seattle, where she had a job in an office and a studio apartment.

It said: I'm doing better. I'm so glad for you.

I had read it twice, and put it in my bag.

The doors at the back opened, and I walked down the aisle alone in a plain ivory dress that skimmed the small round curve under my ribs.

I was nineteen weeks along, and it showed now, and I let it.

Elias was waiting under the arch in a black suit with his thumbs hooked in his pockets.

He did that when he was trying not to cry.

He lost the battle before I reached him.

"You look..." he began, and stopped.

"Say it."

"I can't. I'll start and I won't finish."

"Then start."

"You look like the whole rest of my life."

Someone behind us blew her nose.

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