Chapter 19
It took us twenty minutes to arrive in Peoria from Glendale and my mother’s directions proved helpful when Philip pulled into Redding Funeral and Cremation Chapel on Clear Water Road.
It was a modest, three-story, 19th century building, with brown painted shutters and a well-tended lawn. Philip pulled into a spot in the glaring sun and cut the ignition.
“Ready?” he asked, unbuckling his seat belt and opening his door, letting in a wave of heat.
I shook my head, sat in the front seat, my hands rolled up on my lap, uneasy. I closed my eyes, listening to the blaring horns on the highway behind the building and the chattering of birdsong in the adjoining trees nearby.
Philip shut the driver’s side door and reached for my hand. At his touch, I leaned forward and started crying,
