Pet Sematary - Stephen King [94]
Ellie, resplendent in a navy blue dress bought especially for the occasion, dropped her head so abruptly that Louis, sitting next to her in the pew, heard her neck creak. Ellie had been in few churches, and of course it was her first funeral; the combination had awed her to unaccustomed silence.
For Louis, it had been a rare occasion with his daughter. Mostly blinded by his love for her, as he was by his love for Gage, he rarely observed her in a detached way; but today he thought he was seeing what was almost a textbook case of the child nearing the end of lifes first great developmental stage; an organism of almost pure curiosity, storing up information madly in almost endless circuits. Ellie had been quiet even when Jud, looking strange but elegant in his black suit and lace-up shoes (Louis believed it was the first time he had ever seen him in anything but loafers or green rubber boots), had bent over, kissed her, and said: Glad you could come, honey. And I bet Norma is too.
Ellie had gazed at him, wide-eyed.
Now the Methodist minister, Reverend Laughlin, was pronouncing the benediction, asking God to lift up His countenance upon them and give them peace.
Will the pallbearers come forward? he asked.
Louis started to rise, and Ellie halted him, tugging his arm frantically. She looked scared. Daddy! she stage-whispered. Where are you going?
Im one of the pallbearers, honey, Louis said, sitting down beside her again for a moment and putting an arm around her shoulders. That means Im going to help carry Norma out. There are four of us that are going to do it-me and two of Juds nephews and Normas brother.
Where will I find you?
Louis glanced down front. The other three pallbearers had assembled there, along with Jud. The rest of the congregation was filing out, some of them weeping.
If you just go out on the steps, Ill meet you there, he said. All right, Ellie?
Yes, she said. Just dont forget me.
No, I wont.
He got up again, and she tugged his hand again.
Daddy?
What, babe?
Dont drop her, Ellie whispered.
Louis joined the others, and Jud introduced him to the nephews, who were really second or third cousins descendants of Juds fathers brother. They were big fellows in their twenties with a strong facial resemblance. Normas brother was somewhere in his late fifties, Louis guessed, and while the strain of a death in the family was on his face, he seemed to be bearing up well.
Pleased to meet you all, Louis said. He felt a trifle uncomfortable-an outsider in the family circle.
They nodded at him.
Ellie okay? Jud asked and nodded to her. She was lingering in the vestibule, watching.
Sure-she just wants to make sure I dont go up in a puff of smoke, Louis thought and almost smiled. But then that thought called up another one: Oz the Gweat and Tewwible. And the smile died.
Yes, I think so, Louis said and raised a hand to her. She raised hers in return and went outside then in a swirl of navy blue dress. For a moment Louis was uneasily struck by how adult she looked. It was the sort of illusion, no matter how fleeting, that could give a man pause.
You guys ready? one of the nephews asked.
Louis nodded; so did Normas younger brother.
Take it easy with her, Jud said. His voice had roughened. Then he turned away and walked slowly up the aisle with his head down.
Louis moved to the back left corner of the steel-gray American Eternal coffin Jud had chosen for his wife. He laid hold of his runner and the four of them slowly carried Normas coffin out
into the bright still cold of February first. Someone-the church custodian, he supposed-had laid down a good bed of cinders over the slippery path of tamped snow. At the curb a Cadillac hearse idled white exhaust into the winter air. The funeral director and his husky son stood beside it, watching them, ready to lend a hand if anyone (her brother, perhaps) should slip or flag.
Jud stood beside him