Hand over hand the four men lowered the casket into the open grave. One by one, those in attendance picked up a handful of the moist earth and dropped it in. Gloria heard each grain hit the wood and, unable to bear it, turned her ear to Adele's voice.
“E'en the hour that darkest seemeth
Will his changeless goodness prove;
Thro’ the gloom his brightness streameth:
God is wisdom, God is love.”
As the final note was carried away with the autumn wind, John William cleared his throat and said, “Thank you all for comin'. We'd like to invite you all to stay to dinner.”
“Yes, please,” Maureen said. “You all have been so generous. Please stay.”
The women began to make their way back to the house to set out the food they had brought; the men, including John William and Reverend Fuller, stayed behind to fill the grave and place the marker—a simple wooden cross—at its head. Gloria lagged behind. Perhaps Danny's impending nap time would be an excuse from setting up platters of meat and slicing bread. She could quietly go into her room to nurse him and put him down.
“Katherine Celestia MacGregan.” Big Phil read the inscription with a bit of a chuckle. “That's a big name for a little girl.”
“Yeah," John William said, his voice equally amused, “that's what her mother said.”
Gloria stopped midstep and turned on her heel. “No she didn't,” she said, barely unclenching her teeth.
All four men stopped and stared at her, David Logan holding the shovel aloft.
“Her mother was dead before that child had a name. I was the one who said she had a big name for a little girl. Remember? It was cold and it was raining and she was starving and you came to me?”
“Gloria, please.” John William walked to her and put his hand on her arm, but Gloria shrugged him off violently
“Don't touch me. You have no claim to touch me. You have no claim on me at all.”
Danny was jolted from his dozing reverie and let out a halfhearted wail at Gloria's raised voice.
“Phil, would you take Danny inside?” John William said over his shoulder.
“Sure thing,” Phil said, his voice full of relief. “Why don't you come with me, Logan?”
“Right behind you.” David Logan dropped the shovel and fairly trotted behind Big Phil as the two men made their way back to the house.
Once Danny was out of Glorias arms, John William grasped her elbow and no amount of flinching or twisting on her part could release his grip.
“Shame on you,” he hissed into her ear after pulling her close.
“Let me go!”
He jerked her arm again. “What are you thinkin’ makin’ such noise?”
“I said let me go!” Gloria brought her free hand up, but he easily caught her wrist.
“Woman, if you ever raise your hand to me again I'll—”
The gentle sound of Reverend Fuller, clearing his throat brought them both to an uncomfortable silence, and they turned to face him, their hands still clasped together. Reverend Fuller stood calmly, looking first to one and then the other, and after a time the pounding in Gloria's heart and her head soothed as she looked down and stared hotly at their entwined fingers.
“We was," John William shuffled his feet like a child caught in a lie, “we was goin’ to talk to you on Sunday To see about get-tin’ married. You see, my wife, Kates mother, she died and—”
Reverend Fuller held up his hand, and John William lapsed back into silence.
“This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion.” Reverend Fuller's voice rang with authority, and the Bible he grasped only added to the weight of his words.
“I just didn't want you thinkin'—”
“Please, Mr. MacGregan. Let us remember the reason we are all gathered here today. Let us respect the solemnity of the occasion.”
With that, he brushed past them and walked back to the house. Once alone, John William dropped Gloria's hands and raked his hair off his face in the gesture of frustration and despair Gloria had grown so familiar with.
“John, I'm sorry,” Gloria said. “It just seemed that these past days you've forgotten I'm here. That I was ever here.”
A bitter laugh escaped John Williams lips, a sound chilling to Gloria's heart.
“Forget you?” he said. “I doubt there's a man out there who could ever forget you.”
“Stop it.”
“Do you know why King Davids son died? Ah, look who I'm askin'. Of course you don't.”
“I know a little,” Gloria said.
“David lusted after Bathsheba. Desired her. So much that he forgot the kind of man God wanted him to be.”
A sudden burst of wind brought a smattering of autumn leaves to rest along the hem of Gloria's skirt. She folded her arms tight against her chest and bent her head against the chill.
“God took his child away” John William brought a finger to Gloria's chin and forced her to look up at him. “To punish him. Because he lusted for this woman. Because he murdered her husband.”
“What does that have to do with all of this?” Gloria said, gesturing toward Kate's open grave.
John William turned his back to her, casting her into shadow Gloria felt a tightening in her throat when she saw the defeated stoop of his shoulders; the same man who once frightened her with his physical power now appeared utterly crushed.
“Reverend Fuller talkin’ about our last days with Kate,” he said without turning around. “Her last hours.”
His shoulders convulsed once, twice, and then he turned to face her. Gloria braced herself for the sight of tears on his scarred face, but nothing could prepare her for the twisted expression she encountered, and the bitterness in his next words made her flinch.
“How do I forgive myself for where I was, what 1 was doin’ while my baby girl was…”
“What's to forgive, John? How could you possibly have known?”
“But if I hadn't been there with you—”
“You'd have been out in the field. Or in the barn. Or to Centerville.”
“But I wasn't any of those places, was 1?” John William turned again and took a few steps farther away. He flung his head back to face heaven straight on as he shouted, fist in the air, “I was with her! Lustin’ after this woman after tryin’ so hard—”
“How dare you!” Gloria said, grabbing his upraised arm and forcing it back down to his side. “After all you've told me about God and his forgiveness? Is this God who is supposed to love me the same God that would kill a child? Out of spite? To teach you a lesson?”
“That's not what I'm sayin'.”
“You think this is my fault?”
“If you had been here—”
“What? What could I have done?”
An endless moment passed as she waited for him to answer. She thought about that summer afternoon on the shores of the Umatilla River when she fought off the swarm of bees. Would Kate have died there, on that afternoon, if a bee had found its way through Gloria's defenses? If she had, would Gloria be here now? Would she have been a part of this home?
The late afternoon sun crept behind the small grove of trees, casting shadows across the little white grave marker. The smaller branches waved in the ever-present breeze, creating a pattern of. motion across the little girl's name—Katherine Celestia MacGregan—one moment in sunshine, the next in shadow
Still Gloria held onto his arm, until his coiled muscles relaxed and she was drawn into an embrace, his arms encasing her utterly. “I suppose this changes everything,” she said, her face pressed against the rough texture of his woolen shirt. She felt his cheek come to rest on the top of her head, felt his lips move against her hair.
“Not so. If anythin', Danny's more precious to me than ever.” He dislodged her from their embrace and held her at arm's length, oblivious to the large, cold stone he had just lodged somewhere inside her. “God blessed David with another child. Danny's the blessin’ given to me.”
“What about me, John? What about Sunday and Reverend Fuller?”
“I don't know,” he said. “I've got to finish some threshin'. Get a load of wheat into Centerville. 1 planned to be there and back by Sunday but now…”
“Are you saying not this Sunday? Or ever?”
“I don't know.” He wouldn't look at her.
When they walked into Maureen's parlor, the only sound was Danny's insistent cry Gloria made her way past the curious stares of her new neighbors and collected her son to take him into the bedroom to nurse. Nobody said a single word until she was well out of the room, and then all she heard was Adele Fuller's honey-sweet voice offering John William a piece of her famous chocolate cake.