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Alexander at the large table and then pushedme in.The table seemed almost too empty, but then I remembered that Mrs.Alexander had been recently widowed, and Mrs. Alexander had explainedthat her daughter Susan had decided to stay on the East Coast withfriends for the holiday.Everything about the mansion was beautiful; it was immense and decoratedwith ornate lace curtains and fresh flowers on every table. Never had Ibeen in such a wondrous place. As we chatted, Carolyn served the meal. Icouldn't help but steal glances at the maid as she scurried about, herbrief uniform showing off frothy white petticoats as she bent to placethe various dishes on the table. I delighted in watching her and wasdistracted and also noticed Mrs. Alexander smiled knowingly at Carolyn."You've had a long day, sweetie. Why don't you draw a bath for ourlittle guest, Carolyn, and he can get what I'm sure is some neededsleep. You'll be sleeping in Susan's room, Chrissy," Mrs. Alexander wenton to explain.I noticed. The Chaplain finished his sermon, his comforting words of eternal peace lost on the wind. The congregation began to drop items on to the coffin – objects they’d not been able to place in the coffin due to the lack of a viewing… the body had been beyond the skills of even the best embalmer: traditional soil and roses were followed by intimate knick-knacks: CD’s, clothes and finally the deceased’s Wife stepped forward. With the aid of those around her, she bent down dropping a parchment of brown paper, it’s crumpled form masking its relevance. She refused to stand until it’s gentle flight ended with its landing over the brass nameplate. He witnessed none of this -he refused to look up from his feet till all had finished paying their respect. When he felt people around him move away, he stepped forward, wanting to do what was right before it was too late. Suddenly, it was too late. No one else around the grave seemed to have heard the scratching coming from inside the coffin. But he.
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