As we had previously agreed, the men picked up the small headstone and laid it in the empty grave. It would be filled in and left. I hadn’t told my mother this, so she let out a little cry as she realized they meant to leave it there. But she did not protest. I couldn’t imagine what else to do with it.
My father was away on business, and I had asked Mother not to tell him, as he would have disrupted his work to come. Having the four women there made it feel more sacred, the way tombs were once cared for in antiquity. The power of what we were doing felt timeless.
The male and female caretakers moved forward to lift the box. They were supposed to carry it to the hearse waiting on the narrow road that wound through the cemetery. But when they bent to reach for it, Stella said, “I wouldn’t mind taking one of those handles, if it’s okay with Tina.”
I nodded. As she walked over, Corabelle followed her and took the other side. And so, it turned out that the two women who knew best where I had been, my old friend and my new, carried my baby across the lawn to the black car that waited.
My mother and I followed. This was the easy part.
The caretaker held open the back door for me in the town car that would follow the hearse. The crematorium was a few miles away. Mother slid in next to me, and after a moment, Stella sat in the front and Corabelle joined us in the back.
No one spoke. Mother pulled a handkerchief from her purse and handed it to me. I spread it out on my lap. Along one corner, in pale blue letters, she had embroidered the word Peanut. The outline of an angel blowing a horn was below it in gold.
“Thank you,” I said. I had precious few keepsakes for the baby, just the blanket he had been wrapped in and a hospital bracelet. Each thing was something to hold on to. I found that I wanted to remember things now. I wanted to feel them again. My scars were healed over, but the wounds in my heart were open wide.
I longed, stupidly, ridiculously, to see the baby’s father, jerk that he was. At least he was connected to all this, even if only by DNA. At one point, he had been interested in the baby. But now, my life had moved far from here.
Suddenly I was so grateful for my mother. She had been there. She had seen him. She knew what he looked like, how heavy he felt to hold.
A picture. I should have brought a picture.
My stomach heaved and a sob escaped me. It seemed silly now, just riding in the car, to start getting emotional. But it happened anyway. Mother took my arm and held it tight. I hadn’t intended to actually use the handkerchief, but now I pressed it to my eyes.
My mother had known.
Corabelle leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. I was surrounded with love and support. So different from the first time, when I felt utterly alone. I had refused to let anybody in.
We pulled up to another funeral home and stopped beneath the canopy by a side entrance. This place was vast, with wings stretching out on either side.
A funeral director in a somber suit came out and shook hands with the ones from the other home. Two more men in suits rolled out a small velvet-covered trolley and headed out of our view. The woman opened our door.
“This way,” she said.
By the time we all got out of the car, Peanut’s casket was waiting atop the trolley. When we were all assembled, the two men rolled it into the building and the director gestured for us to follow.
They had cleaned the casket during the journey. It caught the lights as it moved down the whisper-quiet halls. We passed two empty viewing rooms, then a set of closed doors. Behind them, I could hear a man speaking.
Our journey continued beyond the offices and to an elevator.
“It will take two trips, or some of you can take the stairs,” the director said.
“I’ll go down the stairs,” Corabelle said.
“You stay with the baby,” Stella said to me. “I’ll go down with Corabelle.”
“You will be well taken care of,” the director said, and shook my hand before heading back down the hall.
Mom and I filed into the elevator next to the trolley, the two men, and the woman from the other cemetery. The doors closed behind us.
We went down a floor. When the elevator opened, we were in another wide hall. A few chairs lined one side. At the end was another outside entrance, nothing fancy, just double doors that could open wide, and two metal doors to a room. Otherwise, it was one unbroken wall. The door to the stairs opened behind us and Stella and Corabelle rejoined us.
The woman’s face remained placid and calm as she turned to us. “We’re going into the crematorium now, where the casket will be opened and the baby prepared for cremation. You may go in, or you may wait out here.” She gestured to the chairs.
Corabelle’s face grew pale, but I could tell she would go in if she was asked.
“You all can just wait here,” I said. “This might be hard.”
Stella dropped into a chair and folded her hands in her lap. “We’ll be right here,” she said.
Corabelle sat beside her.
The men rolled the trolley forward to the metal doors. I followed behind them.
“Tina?” my mother asked.
I turned to her.
“I would like to come.”