“I’ll ask her to move,” he said.
“No,” I whispered.
My whole body was shaking, but I would not give that woman the satisfaction of seeing me break.
The priest stepped to the pulpit with a sealed envelope in his hand.
“Before Arthur passed,” he said, “he left me a letter to read today. He said it must be read before the eulogy, with everyone present.”
Vivian lowered her eyes.
My heart stopped.
Then Father Michael opened the letter and read my husband’s final words aloud.
“My dearest Eleanor,” the priest began.
The church became so quiet I could hear someone crying in the back pew.
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