The roar of John Carl's truck woke Maggie. Next, she heard Billy's angry voice, “You big fat coward. You jack ass, get back here!”

What was happening? She sat up and stared down the road. John Carl's truck disappeared in the distance. The screen door slammed as Billy stormed back inside. He didn’t look at her. He opened the front door and slammed it too.

Maggie got up and stumbled into the house. After the warmth of the sleeping outside, the cold inside air was numbing. Garnet, Billy and Grandma Marcy stood in the living room.

"He should go," Billy shouted. "You know he should."

Grandma Marcy said, "Billy, you calm down. You're upsetting your mama."

Billy sputtered, "I'm upsetting her. What about him?"

In a soothing but firm voice Grandma Marcy said, "We all grieve differently, boy. You go on and get dressed."

He grunted, “Some don’t grieve, they just run away.”

Grandma Marcy warned, “Billy, I said get dressed.”

Sulking, Billy left the room.

Grandma Marcy turned to Garnet who stood silent, staring at nothing. She hugged her and said, "I'm gonna call Woody, honey." She let go of Garnet and tilted her chin up. Gently she said, "He'll look after John Carl."

Garnet nodded.

Maggie had to pass through Billy's room to get to her clothes. In his room Billy was angrily opening and slamming drawers. His dress clothes were in a messy heap on John Carl's bed. He didn’t even look at Maggie as she walked through his room.

In Daniel's room, Mama was ironing. She looked up at Maggie when she entered and said, "John Carl's not going to the funeral."

"He's not?" Maggie asked even though she had figured that out already.

"No." Mama resumed her ironing.

As Maggie got her dress out of the closet her mind filled with questions. Wasn’t everybody supposed to go to funerals? Surely there was a rule about it wasn't there? She didn't want to go either but she had never considered not going. What would people say if John Carl didn’t go to his brother’s funeral? He just had to change his mind.

*

Back and forth, Maggie paced in the drive. Her high-heeled shoes made tiny prints in the dust. "Dear God," she prayed over and over, "please send him home." She was worried about John Carl. Where was he? Was he all right?

Daddy called, "Maggie."

It was time to go. John Carl wasn't home. He wasn’t coming home. She walked slowly to the car. Daddy honked the horn. Chickens flapped squawking into the air. "Hurry up," he yelled.

Maggie got in. Skeeter fidgeted in his dress clothes. He tugged at his collar and fiddled with his sleeves. "Sure are slow," he said to Maggie.

Mama sat in the front seat. Her face was tense. She wore a dark blue dress with little red flowers. She stared straight ahead. A shredded tissue lay crumpled in her lap.

Maggie's feet were sandy from pacing in the drive. She dusted off her new dress shoes. She hadn't planned to wear them until school started. A few days ago, school was the most important thing on her mind. A few days ago seemed like a hundred years ago. Daddy started the car. She looked into the cloudless sky. It was just another summer day for most people. She watched houses, cows and fields rush by. Soon they would be there. Soon she would look upon Daniel for the last time. She shuddered.

*

The chapel was packed. Garnet asked Maggie to stay in the foyer near the phone in case John Carl or Uncle Woody called.

The organ began to play. The service was starting. The phone rang. Maggie’s hand trembled as she answered. She whispered, "Hello."

"Maggie is that you?" It was John Carl's voice.

"Yes."

"I'm at Uncle Woody's trailer. He's here with me. Would you tell Mama?"

"Okay."

"Bye," he said.

Maggie raced down the hall where the family section was. She whispered the message to Aunt Betty who passed it on. Maggie searched the packed pews. There was no room for her.

She walked back down the hall alone. She didn't want to sit by herself. She slid into the back pew beside a blonde woman she had seen at the house. The woman smiled at her as she sat down. She was one of the many women in hot pursuit of Uncle Woody.

A woman in a lavender dress moved behind the pulpit. She began to sing.

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,

naught be all else to me, save that thou art

Thou my best thought by day or by night

Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word;

I ever with thee and thou with me Lord;

Thou and thou only first, in my heart,

Great God of heaven, my treasure thou art.

Great God of heaven, my victory won,

May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's Sun!

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall

Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.*

The woman closed her music and sat down beside Brother Stephens. Maggie had never heard that song before. She looked over at the Wills. She could barely see them through the white latticework that separated them from the rest of the congregation. Why hadn't anyone saved her a place? She clasped her hands together.

Brother Stephens rose. He raised his dark hands heavenward. "Let us pray," he said in his deep booming voice.

"Dear Father,

We thank Thee for being with us this day. We miss Daniel, but we know he has been released from the limitations that bound him here on earth. Hold these grieving friends and family. Comfort Garnet and Bill. We ask this in Your Son's precious and holy name, amen."

Brother Stephens lifted his head and looked out at the congregation. His voice was soft. "Friends, we're here today to pay tribute to one of God's children. Daniel Woodrow Wills was a fine young man and a credit to his God. He loved all God's creation, all God's creatures. He had a depth and a wisdom that was often amazing." He paused and turned to look at the family. "His ways were gentle and Christ-like. I remember the night I baptized Daniel. I had never seen such a glow on a young man's face."

Memories of Daniel filled Maggie's mind. She saw him waving from his red and white truck. She heard his laughter. She remembered the feel of his hands upon her shoulders. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell.

"There are many of us here who feel as Mary felt when she said Christ, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.

When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and was troubled.'

Jesus wept with Mary and Martha. Those watching said, 'Behold how he loved him!' Still the question echoed and re-echoed among the mourners, 'Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind, have kept this man from dying?'"

Maggie's mind hung on the phrase, “kept this man from dying." Why hadn't God kept Daniel from dying? She couldn't see any reasons. She wanted Daniel to come back. Jesus had raised Lazarus. She knew he wasn't going to raise Daniel.

She stared at Daniel's casket. She could only see the tip of his nose and a little of his forehead. If only he could get up and get out of there.

Brother Stephens read Ecclesiastics chapter three. "To everything there is a season." She didn't want to listen to the rest. She had

heard it at all the other funerals she had ever attended. Daniel's season had been too short.

The music began to play. Brother Stephens said, "Amen." It was over. This evening Daniel's body would be in the ground.

The people stood and filed passed Daniel's open casket. Maggie didn't want to see him like that again. Besides it wasn't really him anymore.

When it was her turn, Maggie forced herself to look down at Daniel. A tremor ran through her. Death was ugly. It was puffy and cold. She didn't blame John Carl for not coming. He would never have to remember Daniel in a box. She looked away and rushed out of the chapel.