Ellen reached down to pick up a handful of earth. Before dropping it into the open grave, she mouthed something inaudible, pressing the dirt to her lips. Then she collapsed, dropping to her knees and pounding her fists against the ground. She began to scream and one of her sons lifted her to her feet while the other spoke softly to her, trying to calm her down. Dr. Roberts pushed his way through the crowd toward them. Most of the people in attendance looked away out of deference, out of politeness, but Doug saw that the newcomer was staring boldly at the widow, bouncing a little on the heels of his shoes as if enjoying the sight.

A moment later it was over. The doctor held Ellen’s hand and she stood stiffly erect next to the grave as her sons dropped symbolic handfuls of earth on top of the casket.

The minister said a final prayer.

They walked up to Ronda’s family after the service, waiting in line to pay their condolences. After her emotional outburst, Ellen once again seemed dazed and drugged, and her teary-eyed sons found the strength to support her between them. The minister stood with the family, as did Dr. Roberts and Howard. Next to the postmaster, on the outer ring of this inner circle, was the newcomer. This close, Doug could clearly see the man’s features: the small sharp nose, the piercing blue eyes, the hard knowing mouth.

Tritia grasped Ellen’s outstretched hands firmly. “You’re strong,” she said. “You’ll get through this. It may seem as though the pain will last forever right now, but it will pass. You’ll survive. Just try to take things one day at a time. Just try to get on with your life. Bob would have wanted you to go on.”

Ellen nodded silently.

Tritia looked from one son to the other. “Watch your mother. Take care of her.”

“We will, Mrs. Albin,” said Jay, the eldest.

Doug could think of nothing to say that wasn’t trite and ineffectual. But then words from others at a time like this were bound to be meaninglessly superficial. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, taking Ellen’s arm for a moment, then shaking each of the boys’ hands. “We liked Bob a lot. We’re going to miss him.”

“That’s the truth,” said Martha Kemp in back of him.

Tritia was already talking to Howard, echoing similar sentiments. She gave him a quick hug. Doug moved next to her and clapped a sympathetic hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“He was the best friend I ever had,” Howard said, wiping his eyes, looking from one to the other. “Usually your childhood friends are the best, the people you grow up with. It’s not often you find someone who’s as close as that.”

Tritia nodded understandingly. Doug took her hand.

“I miss him already,” Howard said.

“We know,” Doug told him.