She looked up at him with that fey expression. “I’m scared.” He put his hand on her head. “Scared? Honey, what for? You’re not scared of the plane, are you?” “No,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m scared of. Daddy, I dreamed we were at Gage’s funeral and the funeral man opened his coffin and it was empty. Then I dreamed I was home and I looked in Gage’s crib and that was empty too. But there was dirt in it.” Lazarus, come forth. For the first time in months he remembered the dream he had had after Pascow’s death—the dream, and then waking up to find his feet dirty and the foot of the bed caked
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