“She’s been hiding his bank accounts from the family!”

Three younger cousins stood near the aisle carpet, staring at my bloody dress in total silence.

Uncle Raymond took my elbow and guided me out the side vestibule door into the bright autumn air of the parking lot.

We walked over the gravel toward my Buick LeSabre, parked near the edge of the asphalt.

Uncle Raymond pulled a clean white cotton handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed my bleeding lip.

He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand as he held the cloth against my mouth.