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Show 411 Katy came in from the chapel. "Come on, you guys, they're waiting for us." Her husband was behind her, an apple-cheeked youngster with short sandy hair, who would always look as though he were just back from his mission. Lorin stepped to the side of the casket and put an arm around his mother. She was running her hands across his father's face and arms and chest. She made quick, darting little movements, as if she were trying to get the feel of him into her nerve endings while there was still time. He felt the muscles in his brother's back go hard. "I think they want to close it," Sonia said. "That's all right, Sister Hood," one of the men said. "We'll just wait till you're ready." "I don't think I'll ever be ready," Lorin's mother said. She had taken her hands off her husband's chest and stood looking down at his face. Lorin watched Stephen's hands whiten across the knuckles where they rested on the edge of the satin lining. He knew he would have to act. Still with an arm around his mother, he reached in and patted his father's rigid hand just below the wrist. He tried to touch as much of the coat sleeve as possible. "Okay, Pop, R.I.P.," he said. He kept his hand there and watched Stephen's hand let go of the edge of the casket. He had never noticed before, but Stephen's hand had a number of tiny scars, like checkmarks, across the back, disappearing into the crevice between his thumb and first finger. He wondered how long he had had those. The hand shook as it touched down on his father's hand and closed its fingers around it, so much so that it made his father's hand move, which was startling. Lorin let go and stepped hack, reaching into his pocket to feel for his keys, and then Stephen let go. Lorin kept an |