Fatigue wrapped itself around her, or maybe it was peace, she couldn’t tell the difference, and she thought, Oh, to live like this, with no decisions, no deviations. The faint smell of woodsmoke and something bready baking in the kitchen. The books of the Bible, the order of the day, the same clothes, the same furniture. If she lived like this she would be comforted by the notion of Annie in heaven waiting for her so they could put their heads together and make gossipy comments about the angels. She wished she could live like this. She would go out of her mind, but she’d done that once
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