He looked down at his phone and grimaced. The previous evening after he left her the voicemail regarding the weekend plans with their sons, he turned off everything while he grieved. He sat in pitch blackness in his office, reminiscing and trying to accept the unacceptable. More shit about the divorce, or just to argue, no doubt. She would’ve left a voicemail if it was about our children. Valerie walked back into the room with the obituary information and sat down next to him. “So the funeral is on Wednesday at noon,” Saint repeated as he hugged Valerie and held her hand. “Do you need anything else?” “No, Saint, thank you. The government is handling everything else. The funeral will be inundated with people, not a private ceremony as I would’ve liked but that is to be expected. It’ll be televised but I’m urging all of you, not that you wouldn’t already know, to be mindful. Don’t discuss the organization while you’re there. James wanted to keep it private, especially after he passed…for my own sake.
What do You think about When Saint Goes Marching In?
