By eleven o’clock the next morning, every wooden pew inside St.

Jude Church was filled with friends, neighbors, and extended family.

The heavy scent of the white lily wreaths, the two-hundred-twenty-dollar arrangements from the funeral home, hung in the warm sanctuary air.

The organist finished the final hymn, and the guests began walking toward the aisle in two slow, quiet lines.

I stepped out of our family pew to help Aunt Clara get her black wool coat from the bench behind us.

As I reached down for the coat, the top button of my linen collar came undone, revealing two inches of thin steel chain around my neck.