If you don't kiss me I swear I'll die." And though
she could not see them, she felt the laughter of his eyes. But he did
as she asked, slowly bringing his lips to hers. They touched, ever so
gently.
Then with a sudden passion which surprised them both, he gave a deep,
despairing sigh and crushed her to him, his hungry mouth devouring
hers. "My Mary," he said. "My beautiful Mary."
Then just as suddenly he broke away and stood up from the bed. He
began to pace back and forth, cursing himself, so afraid he had in
some way wounded her. She lay still, feeling the loss of his flesh
like the loss of a limb. And two months later. . .he was no more.
She found herself hopelessly, hatefully back in the present. Alone.
Convulsive sobs shook her as she lay across the mound of uncaring
earth. Her tears wet the rough grass beneath her, flowing like blood
from a mortal wound. One word, one thought only existed in the whole
of her being.
"Michael!"
A fresh burst of wind whistled through the heath and fretted the
fallen leaves around her, carrying with it, or so it seemed, a faint
strain of bagpipes.
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