CHAPTER 6: Mara's Perfect Mourning Cracks

Mara tried one last time to become the grieving wife again.
She lifted her hand to her mouth. She made her eyes shine. She looked at the guests as if begging them to remember how tenderly she had stood beside the coffin.
"This is monstrous," she said. "You are letting a child destroy Daniel's memory at his own funeral."
No one answered.
That was worse than accusation.
The black veil that had made her look elegant now made her look hidden. Every time the wind lifted it, the cemetery caught another version of her face.
The men who had courted her favor stared at their shoes. The women who had whispered over her diamonds slowly stepped away. Even the minister looked down at the open grave as if the earth itself had become evidence.
Arthur handed the vial to the family attorney with two fingers, as if touching it any longer might contaminate him.
"Call the medical examiner," he said.
Mara's face emptied.
Lydia took Lily's wet hand and felt the child flinch before relaxing.
That tiny movement broke something in her more completely than Daniel's coffin had.
Her son had not only died scared.
He had left behind a child who expected grown people to hurt her for telling the truth.
Lily stared at the coffin, not at Mara, as if she had been trained to fear attention more than death.