“I suppose the service doesn’t teach shame.” Wes’s hand tightened in mine.

I felt the whole cemetery lean toward us, hungry, and I understood that to a certain kind of person my children were not five human beings but a scandal that had arrived wearing shoes.

I looked at Elke and I did not raise my voice, because I have learned that the quietest thing in a room is often the thing everyone strains to hear.

“Move,” I said.