Gary Stevens parked as far from the door as he could, beneath an overhanging tree that shaded the spot from the glow of the street light. He turned off the headlights yet kept the motor running as he sat there staring at the door of the funeral home, hoping someone would go in or she would come out.
After fifteen minutes of sweating in silence except for the sound of his own heartbeat, a blue Camry turned into the drive and parked next to her car. When the priest climbed out and opened the funeral home door, Gary turned off his car’s engine, took a deep breath, which caught in his throat, stepped out and walked into the mortuary.
He was pretty sure his mom wouldn’t mind if he was late to her wake, but didn’t want to confront his sister without backup.