Another
old photo, digitally transferred to me, had shown Rebecca herself, in shades of gray,
wizened and very grim.
Another
old photo, digitally transferred to me, had shown Rebecca herself, in shades of gray,
wizened and very grim.
But as I stood there, drinking in the lush October scent, a breeze stirred like a silent sigh, and an invasive feeling came over me. Then I knew that Rebecca was not the grim old woman of the photo, but a strong and robust creature whose essence had survived the long sleep of the grave. Rebecca had been waiting for me.
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