omed to the gray of the pigeon； she smiled at the chickadee's
black cap and white bib and the red breast of the robin。 She watched the
play of the sun through the boughs of thick； healthy trees。 The
crispness of the air； sharp without chill； invigorated her。
When she finally returned to the house； Mitch was nowhere about。 No car；
no man； no note。 Exhausted from fresh air and lack of sleep； she
stretched out on her quilt and fell into a deep and restful sleep。
The tension of the past weeks took its due。 When she awakened； it was
dusk。 After freshening up in the bathroom； she fixed a supper of soup
and crackers； then settled before the fire to finish the mystery she'd
started。 But the story's momentum had been broken。 She never quite got
back into the terror of it。
When she finished the last page； she sat back to watch the flames。 Their
play entranced her； calmed her； lulled her into a peaceful daze； and for
the very first time； and at long last； she felt removed from Jeff's
death。
It had been a nightmare…first news of the plane crash； then the limbo
when rescue teams set to work； hope when survivors appeared； total and
utter despair when the worst became reality。 But her heart felt lighter
now than it had at any time since then。 She didn't know if it was the
change of scenery； or the start of true healing。 But it felt good。
Of course； Mitch was still gone。 Though it was after nine； he hadn't
returned。 Just as well。 They were like fire and water。
She had to give him points； though。 He hadn't gone on and on about what
a shame it was； how young a widow she made； how tragic that Jeff had
been taken from
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