They stood before an open grave, where Michael Andrews intoned the dirge: Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. The men lowered John’s casket into the deep hole, and the first shovelfuls of dirt were thrown on it. Charmaine closed her eyes and wept pitifully into Frederic’s shirtfront, his strong arms encircling her. The twins were wailing. Paul was at their side, his eyes stormy. Flanked by Rose and Mercedes, George’s head bowed farther to hide his tears, though his shoulders shook with grief. Charmaine couldn’t bear it. She was going to die, too … Oh God, let me die, too!She awoke, her heart pounding and her body saturated in a cold sweat. She was staring at the ceiling. It had been a dream—just a dream, yet she knew John was dead. She struggled out of bed, rolling with her cumbersome belly, but as her feet touched the floor, she doubled over in pain. She was in labor.Elizabeth smiled at John as he approached, but oddly, the distance between them remained constant.
