Dad’s lips trembled, and the whole church leaned forward. “I do,” he said, slow and rough, but every person in that building heard it. A wave of gasps rolled through the pews. Lorraine’s hand flew to her mouth. Dad kept going, pushing each word out like a heavy stone. “Her mother and I. We give her. With all our love.”

I could not breathe. He had not spoken more than three words in a row since February. Then he turned his head toward Lorraine and said, clearly, “Lorraine. Please. Tell her.” The pastor stood very still. Lorraine rose from the pew, pale as paper, holding her purse against her chest. Then she walked up the aisle toward us with something in her trembling hand.