didn't go to church, the first time since winter of the previous year when they'd all had the flu. Elizabeth went to church every Sunday because she believed. Her belief was sincere. Randy went out of deferment to his wife. His belief was one of convenience. Timmy went because he wasn't offered a choice. He didn't know what he believed yet.
For the next few days, they moped around the too-quiet house. It seemed empty without Dane Graco's lively presence. Randy and Timmy were too stunned to do more than stare at the walls. Both cried off and on and Elizabeth did her best to console them, trying to stay strong for her husband and son. It wasn't enough. Randy took a few days off work from the paper mill, contacted his father 's friends and distant relatives; he made the funeral preparations and tried to keep busy. It wasn't enough. Timmy stayed in his bedroom a lot, consoling himself with comic books, trying to escape his grief by escaping into stories of men in brightly colored costumes so that he wouldn't have to think about his own reality. It wasn't enough.
The funeral was held the following Tuesday at the Golgotha Lutheran Church. The weather was chilly for summer. The sky was gray and overcast, and a cold light drizzle fell all morning long. It suited Timmy's mood. When he walked inside the church for the viewing, Timmy heard muted voices.
He followed his parents through the vestibule doors and into the church itself, and stopped in the doorway. He was stunned by the turnout, and for a few moments, the crowd's size took his mind off the fact that his grandfather was lying in a casket at the front of the church. Everybody was there. Barry and his parents. Clark Smeltzer appeared sober and sincere, and offered his condolences to the Gracos, shaking Timmy 's hand as if nothing had happened between them the Saturday before. Timmy noticed that in addition to his new gold watch, Barry's father was also sporting an antique-looking solid gold tie clip. Doug and his mother, Carol, who wore a skirt several inches too short and dark sunglasses to hide what were no doubt even darker circles beneath her eyes, were there, as were Bill and Kathryn Wahl, the elderly couple who lived next door to the Smeltzers. There were several distant relatives of his grandfather whom Timmy had either never met or barely recalled. He hadn't even known his grandfather had cousins until now-- his grandfather had never mentioned them. Others in attendance included Luke Jones, who owned the farm bordering the cemetery and the Dugout, and some fellow Freemasons from his grandfather's lodge. Dane had achieved the rank of a fourth-degree mark master in life. There were friends of his grandfather's from within the community, church members, and the LeHorn family, who attended the Brethren church in Seven Valleys. Mr. LeHorn's father had been a good friend of Dane Graco's. Even Mr. Messinger, who ran the newsstand in town and sold the boys their comic books and cards, was on hand, looking both solemn and uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
Reverend Moore was there, too, along with his wife, Sylvia, and their youngest daughter, Katie. She looked pretty. She always did in Timmy's eyes. Her flowing brown hair was hanging down over the back of her long black dress; not what she normally wore to school, or even to church. Katie was one year younger than the boys, and though she didn't hang out with them, Timmy had started to notice her more and more often, and found himself thinking about her when she wasn't around. Surprisingly, he also found himself attending more and more youth group functions lately, just so he could spend time with her. Timmy didn 't see Karen, the Moore's older daughter (whom he, Doug, and Barry had spied on from the bushes with Doug's binoculars last summer while she was sunbathing topless). The Moores seemed sad --not just solemn, but genuinely depressed, as if affected by something more than just one of their parishioner's death.
Katie
For the next few days, they moped around the too-quiet house. It seemed empty without Dane Graco's lively presence. Randy and Timmy were too stunned to do more than stare at the walls. Both cried off and on and Elizabeth did her best to console them, trying to stay strong for her husband and son. It wasn't enough. Randy took a few days off work from the paper mill, contacted his father 's friends and distant relatives; he made the funeral preparations and tried to keep busy. It wasn't enough. Timmy stayed in his bedroom a lot, consoling himself with comic books, trying to escape his grief by escaping into stories of men in brightly colored costumes so that he wouldn't have to think about his own reality. It wasn't enough.
The funeral was held the following Tuesday at the Golgotha Lutheran Church. The weather was chilly for summer. The sky was gray and overcast, and a cold light drizzle fell all morning long. It suited Timmy's mood. When he walked inside the church for the viewing, Timmy heard muted voices.
He followed his parents through the vestibule doors and into the church itself, and stopped in the doorway. He was stunned by the turnout, and for a few moments, the crowd's size took his mind off the fact that his grandfather was lying in a casket at the front of the church. Everybody was there. Barry and his parents. Clark Smeltzer appeared sober and sincere, and offered his condolences to the Gracos, shaking Timmy 's hand as if nothing had happened between them the Saturday before. Timmy noticed that in addition to his new gold watch, Barry's father was also sporting an antique-looking solid gold tie clip. Doug and his mother, Carol, who wore a skirt several inches too short and dark sunglasses to hide what were no doubt even darker circles beneath her eyes, were there, as were Bill and Kathryn Wahl, the elderly couple who lived next door to the Smeltzers. There were several distant relatives of his grandfather whom Timmy had either never met or barely recalled. He hadn't even known his grandfather had cousins until now-- his grandfather had never mentioned them. Others in attendance included Luke Jones, who owned the farm bordering the cemetery and the Dugout, and some fellow Freemasons from his grandfather's lodge. Dane had achieved the rank of a fourth-degree mark master in life. There were friends of his grandfather's from within the community, church members, and the LeHorn family, who attended the Brethren church in Seven Valleys. Mr. LeHorn's father had been a good friend of Dane Graco's. Even Mr. Messinger, who ran the newsstand in town and sold the boys their comic books and cards, was on hand, looking both solemn and uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
Reverend Moore was there, too, along with his wife, Sylvia, and their youngest daughter, Katie. She looked pretty. She always did in Timmy's eyes. Her flowing brown hair was hanging down over the back of her long black dress; not what she normally wore to school, or even to church. Katie was one year younger than the boys, and though she didn't hang out with them, Timmy had started to notice her more and more often, and found himself thinking about her when she wasn't around. Surprisingly, he also found himself attending more and more youth group functions lately, just so he could spend time with her. Timmy didn 't see Karen, the Moore's older daughter (whom he, Doug, and Barry had spied on from the bushes with Doug's binoculars last summer while she was sunbathing topless). The Moores seemed sad --not just solemn, but genuinely depressed, as if affected by something more than just one of their parishioner's death.
Katie
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