He stood up.
And the whispering followed him the entire way up that aisle. Not loud. Worse than loud. That low continuous rustle that a hundred and forty people make when they’ve all decided something at once.
He got to the microphone and stood there. And he looked at that casket for a long time before he looked at anybody.
Then he pulled the mic closer and said:
“I know about half of you want me out of here right now.”
He Stopped. His Voice Cracked. And Then He Looked Down at Himself.
Nobody made a sound.
“And I know how this looks. It’s not even mine — I borrowed it from my sister.”
Some people shifted in their seats. A couple of them laughed in that awful uncertain way.
Daniel was still half out of the pew. I had a fistful of his sleeve.
And Theo swallowed and said:
