The funeral Mass began, and as it did, Kathleen swore silently, damning Scott’s soul to hell and feeling the tear in her own being for doing it. Despite her efforts to forget the past, her hatred blossomed and finally surfaced: She could not stop weeping.
Charley put his arm around her, drawing her close; she took off her hat and buried her head in his shoulder, trying to stifle her sobs. The rise and fall of the prayers murmured for Scott’s soul filled her with desolation, and Kathleen felt herself lose control, shaking with the violence of her emotion. Those sitting in front of her moved uneasily in their pew as they heard Kathleen, some of them turning to look at her.
“Kathy!” Charley whispered, shaking her a little. “Get hold of yourself.”
Kathleen took a deep breathe, trying to muffle her sobs. After a few minutes, the tears stopped, but the shaking did not. Charley clutched her tighter to him until she began to calm down, and as she did, she focused her attention toward the front of the church.
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