Chapter 16
Zion Hill Cemetery, March 1896
Out, out, brief candle!
V.v
Concordia stood next to Mary’s grave as the minister read the prayer. The March wind tugged at her hat, and dried her damp cheeks. It was difficult to stand for so long. Her head throbbed and her legs ached. Her mother stood next to her, rigid, dry-eyed, and pale.
Perhaps they should not have come. She had seen a few eyebrows lifted in surprise upon their arrival. Concordia knew that many still held to the custom that women--even female relatives--did not attend the graveside service of a departed loved one. But she had to come today, even if no one else understood. She could at least keep watch over her sister this final time, when she was put to rest. Her mother, surprisingly, had insisted upon accompan
