When nine-year-old C.J. Walker touches the arm of his mother's dead friend at her wake service and whispers the wish that she wouldn't be dead, he's just trying to do the right thing. But when the undertaker sees the woman's rosary sliding off her outstretched fingers and tumbling down her raised left arm, the firestorm can't be held in check. Frightened people near and far demand to know how many of their own loved ones might have been buried alive by the same undertaker, or by any undertaker.
"Essential Reading" "Highly skilled writer of prose" "Initiates a mesmerizing and provocative story"
"There, in the darkness, in the middle of the night, to his mother who was sleeping beside him, and to whatever else might be there listening in the dark, C.J. whispered, "It was me!"
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