“Different? How? You the best mama I know. I ain’t going nowhere.” Doll squeezed her mother’s hand.
Queenie squeezed back. “I just wanted to make sure, baby, that’s all. Just wanted to make sure.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
A funeral was held for Purnell Trout at the True Love Baptist Church a few days later. When Fannie and Ibby arrived, the funeral procession was about a block away from the church.
The grand marshal, dressed in a black tuxedo and a peaked hat, was leading the procession, taking slow, measured steps. A group of men in black pants and white shirts with bow ties marched behind him, playing “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” Ibby spotted T-Bone alongside a trumpet player, just behind a man beating a large drum with “Excelsior Brass Band” painted in gold on the side. T-Bone’s arm moved as if it were an extension of his instrument, his cheeks puffing out as he blew into the trombone with his eyes closed and his head bent low.
Following closely behind was a group of men wearing pastel suits and sashes embroidered with “The Duke of Wellington’s Walking Club.” Crow was leading the group in a cotton-candy-pink suit set off by a sash edged with pink and blue satin roses and a pink bowler hat. He looked proud as he waved a fan decorated with pink and black ostrich feathers.
Doll was following them, her arm around Queenie’s shoulders, and Birdelia walked alongside, holding Queenie’s hand. Behind them, two white stallions in heavy black harnesses pulled a magnificent black carriage on wooden wheels. As it rolled by, Ibby noticed the side of the carriage was inset with a large oval plate-glass window, the coffin on full display just inside.
The church was standing room only by the time they got in the door. The sickeningly sweet smell of lilies filled the air as the band members spread out along the altar behind the minister, the open casket sitting on a gurney in the middle of the aisle just in front of them.
The church was stuffy. The woman next to Ibby was fanning herself furiously. Just as the door to the church closed and the Reverend Jeremiah was about to begin the service, Doll turned and scanned the audience. She put her hand up.
“One moment, Reverend.”
He glanced up from his Bible as Doll made her way up the aisle.
When she got to the back, she called over the crowd, “Miss Fannie! Miss Ibby! You come with me. Family sits up front.”
“Don’t mind us,” Fannie said, trying to wave her away.
The whole church turned to see what was happening.
“Come on, Miss Fannie,” Doll insisted.
“Oh, all right.” Fannie sheepishly scooted past the people along the back wall.
Ibby followed Fannie down the aisle as the congregation whispered among themselves. As soon as they took their seats, the Reverend Jeremiah cleared his throat, and the murmur began to subside. The church became so quiet that Ibby could hear Fannie breathing next to her.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Fannie,” Reverend Jeremiah said.
Fannie gave a brief nod, keeping her gaze on her hands folded in her lap.
From her vantage point in the front row, Ibby had a close-up view of the body in the casket. She tried to look away but couldn’t help but notice a metal saucer perched on Purnell’s chest.
“What is that for?” Ibby whispered to Fannie.
Fannie bent over close to her ear. “In the old days, it was a custom to put a saucer filled with salt on the chest of a corpse to keep the body from purging.”
“Purging?”
“After people die, sometimes the body fluids come out.”
“Come out where?”
Fannie gave her a sideways glance. “Wherever they can, dear.”
Ibby’s attention was soon drawn to Reverend Jeremiah’s magical voice.
“Brother Purnell’s time in this hard cruel world is over,” he began. “No longer will he be sitting in the back of the plane, flying coach. No, brothers and sisters, Brother Purnell, he’s flying first-class now, swaggering up to the pearly gates in all his glory.”
“Amen,” the congregation said.
“Brother Purnell had a short life that did not do justice to all that he was, all that he stood for. He was a proud soul, not one to back down easily in the face of adversity. I draw your attention to the Second Corinthians, chapter eleven, verse nineteen. It says, ‘For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are wise.’ A fitting eulogy for our Brother Purnell, don’t you think? As we all know, Purnell Trout was not one to suffer fools gladly. What I want to say to you, my brothers and sisters, is that we are all fools, in our own ways. You know what I’m saying? But I tell you now, that it is in this very folly, this naked truth, that we find the basis of our affection, and even respect, for one another—”
“Respect!” someone shouted.
Ibby looked over to find Queenie rocking back and forth with her eyes closed, moaning.