A dull metallic sound came from the bottom of the grave as chunks of rock dented the lid of the cheap coffin. I stood beside Daddy wearing a borrowed black dress and watched the grave diggers throw another shovelful of rocky red clay on top of Mama.

“Let’s get back to house now, Grace.” Daddy tugged at my sleeve. Mrs. Ellis’ niece, Aileen, was hanging onto his other arm. She was one of a handful of women who’d braved the graveyard. I didn’t have to guess why.

“I’ll be along in a bit.” I pulled away from him and stuck my hands in my coat pockets. I couldn’t leave Mama. Not yet.

     “Come on Gus, let’s go get warmed up. She’ll be fine for a while.” Aileen pulled on Daddy’s arm. The rest of the women folk had escaped to the warmth of our small house on the pretense of laying out a meal.

“Don’t be too long, Grace. The church laid out a nice meal for us back at the house.” As Daddy turned his hand dipped into the inside pocket of his coat where he kept a small glass bottle with a cork.

After he’d gone a few steps his head tipped back and then so did Aileen’s. I had a rock in my hand and was ready to throw it at Aileen before I realized it. She’d been hanging around Daddy ever since she found out Mama was sick.

She wasn’t there when I was alone with Mama. When I was cleaning up her vomit or she was having a shaking spell. But let Daddy come in off his sales route and in she’d bounce.

Mama saw it too. She told me Daddy was too young to be alone and after she was gone she wanted him to remarry. If that hussy Aileen was gonna be my stepmother pitching a rock at her wouldn’t be the best idea. All the energy went out of me, my arm dropped and the rock fell to the ground.

I never wanted to go back to that house.  It’d be full of people, all of them talking and laughing, poking and prying. I knew from the past few days that anyone bringing food felt it gave them the right to pilfer through our things. And there was a lot of food, mostly pies.

I’d found Mrs. Ellis, our next door neighbor, going through the bureau in the bedroom, “Just looking for a fresh table cloth,” she’d said.

I’d protected Mama’s things from them as best I could and was torn between the need to stand guard at home and the need to stay with Mama. Everyone was gone except the men who were covering her and me.

I stayed until the men gathered their discarded jackets from the limb of a nearby tree, rested the handles of their shovels on their shoulders, and left the graveyard. I stayed until the school bus I should have been on rumbled past. I stayed until it started to fall dark and cold. Until Daddy came back looking for me.

“Grace, you get on home. Everybody’s wanting to know where you are. She’s gone now and the last thing I need is a sick young ‘un on my hands.” His breath had the stink of whiskey on it.

I turned without saying a word to him, leaving my Mama behind under a heap of greasy red Oklahoma mud. There was no telling what would happen to me now. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.