“She didn’t want to call. He did. I talked to him. He said he is a Christian and believes in forgiveness, and now that the end is near, he asked my forgiveness.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said, of course, and thanked him for his years of service. He was a faithful servant. I said I’d never forget him. Besides”—he seemed to sigh—“Denise . . . might have started the fight with her unfortunate remark about his nephew.”

“Terrence.” I didn’t want to shatter the peace I had achieved with my family, but I wasn’t going to pretend he was just some nameless nephew. “Can’t you, both of you, please just say his name?”

“Terrence,” said Irene begrudgingly.

And in the same tone, Leon echoed, “Terrence.”

I gave the keys to Irene. I was too upset to drive. I tried to fathom what this moment meant to Terrence’s family. All those thirty Christmases that Clarence had stood at attention for the Greenes while his own family waited for him. How they must all begrudge us those Christmases, how Clarence himself must regret them as he now lay dying.

Chapter Forty

The vast Baptist church was packed, everyone stifling in the September heat, sweating in their dark suits and dresses, their black gloves. I too wore black: a black sheath, Julia’s pearls, and a broad-brimmed black hat that had been battered on the drive here with the top down. I arrived late due to traffic, and the choir was just finishing a hymn as I slid into the last pew at the back. Despite giving me some strange looks, people scooted together to make room for me in the pew. Far ahead, in the front, I could see the back of Leon’s head, his wiry gray halo of hair, and beside him, Denise’s bright blonde shingle. Irene and Gordon too sat there. They were not the only white people at the funeral, but they were the only ones up front with the family. Typical Leon.

The preacher gave long opening remarks, and Booker played several soul-stirring hymns, solos backed by his sax man and a pianist, hymns I recognized from hearing Terrence pound them out on the upright. The choir director signaled the organist; the choir and congregation stood, and everyone sang together. The lady next to me handed me a hymnal. She didn’t need it, and I did. I wished I had one of those little fans all the ladies were using to cool themselves. The fans advertised the funeral home.