Fourteen
I got up and reached for Anna’s coffee cup. Taking hers and mine into the kitchen I refilled them. Returning to the living room I handed Anna her coffee. She took it wordlessly. I sat back down on the couch.
“How did Joan handle everything,” I asked.
Anna gave a slight shrug. “As you’d expect a thirteen- year-old who had found her Daddy dead. Devastated. She cried for days. The funeral—the funeral was difficult for everyone. We couldn’t have a funeral mass for him because of the circumstances. We opted for a quiet graveside service, just family.” She looked at me. “I have had masses said for his soul every year on the anniversary of his death. That’s appropriate, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “God’s mercy is boundless.”
Anna nodded. “I believe that.”
“So Joan,” I said.
