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“I’m not sure. He said he’s with Northeastern. Maybe he’s on the faculty.”
He took her arm and they started toward the gate. “Your mother called in a panic,” he said. “The caterer hasn’t shown up at the house yet.”
“Oh, you know her. She can whip up five hundred finger sandwiches all on her own.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost ten. We don’t want to be late for Sofia.”
For Sofia,who would never know that they were there. Yet somehow it mattered that theywerethere. That on this gloomy day, those who knew her would stand beside her grave and mourn her passing.
“Think you can walk the whole way?” her father asked. “The grass might be a little tricky.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she said, although the damp air made her leg ache. It probably always would. Even when a broken leg mended, the memory of that fracture remained crystallized in bone, the pain throbbing back to life with every change in the weather. But Amy didn’t complain. She kept this pain to herself as she and her father walked arm in arm through the cemetery gate.
