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with a split lid. The upper part of the lid was hinged so it could be opened for viewing the body. According to tradition among the Lancaster Amish, Grandma’s dress had been covered with the same white cape and apron she had worn on her wedding day many years ago.
    Grandma’s funeral service would be held after breakfast, right here in the house, with a second service going on in the barn simultaneously if there were more people than the house could hold. For two days prior to the service, Grandma’s body had been available for viewing, but after today, Rebekah would never look on the dear woman’s face again—not until they met in heaven someday.
    Rebekah gulped on a sob and guided her chair out of the room, knowing her help would be needed in the kitchen and hoping the action of doing something constructive would take her mind off the pain in her heart. She discovered Mom and Nadine scurrying around the kitchen as they made preparations for breakfast.
    “Are you all right?” Mom asked, casting Rebekah a look of concern. “Nadine said you’d had a bad dream and seemed quite upset when she woke you.”
    Rebekah’s only reply was a quick shrug. She didn’t want to talk about the terrible nightmare that had left her nightgown and bed sheets drenched in sweat. Talking about it would do no good, and it certainly wouldn’t bring Grandma back.
    “Rebekah?” Mom persisted. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” Rebekah rolled her chair farther into the room. “Want me to set the table?”
    “If you don’t mind.”
    “I would have done it, but Mom’s got me squeezing oranges for fresh juice,” Nadine said from her place in front of the counter. “Simon says he’s comin’ down with a cold, and he seems to think the vitamin C he’ll get from the oranges will lick it quicker than anything.”
    “Grandma used to drink a lot of orange juice whenever she had a cold,” Rebekah said, swallowing hard in hopes of pushing down the awful lump that had lodged in her throat. She guided her chair quickly over to the silverware drawer, determined to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t dwell on the funeral service that would be starting in just a few hours.
    ***
    Rebekah didn’t know how she had made it through Grandma’s service, but she had—and without breaking down in front of everyone. All too often, she got looks of sympathy or curious stares from others because of her handicap, and the last thing she needed today was anyone’s pity. All she wanted to do was get through the graveside service, which would soon take place, mingle with their guests awhile during the afternoon meal, and retreat to the solitude of her room.
    As Dad’s horse and buggy pulled away from the barn, Rebekah glanced out the back window. In perfect procession, Grandma’s close family members followed the simple horse-drawn hearse, with the other buggies coming up behind them. Single file, the Amish carriages wound their way down the Stoltzfus driveway and continued onto the narrow road. The mourners passed fields of growing corn, soon-to-be-cut alfalfa, and Amish farmsteads dotting the countryside. The long column turned down an even narrower road and finally came to a halt at a fenced-in graveyard.
    The drivers got out first and tied their horses to the fence. Soon everyone was assembled at the graveside, and the pallbearers slid Grandma’s coffin from the wagon and carried it to the grave that had been dug the day before. Right beside the new grave was the small, simple headstone of Grandma’s husband, Henry Stoltzfus, who had preceded her in death some thirteen years ago.
    Wooden poles with long straps extending the width of the grave had been placed across the hole for the coffin to rest upon. Rebekah’s family mourned openly when the box was lowered into the ground and the hole was covered with dirt. Their beloved grandma was laid to rest. After the men had all removed their hats, Bishop Benner conducted the graveside service,