The story never ends, it only changes
characters. And those who have left something beautiful behind them,
never die. They live on in the thoughts, the hearts, the very lives of
those who loved them." And the woman found that she too was crying,
the most profound tears of her life. For in this, most unlikely of
moments, she had seen beyond the grave, and touched the face of God.
"When you bear a child of your own, you will understand just how very
much that means. For now, my sad Mary, just cry. Cry, and love her."
"Oh, Anne, I'm so cold." And she began to shiver, her trembling flesh
once more asserting its will to live. Anne Scott took their two
blankets, joined them together, and sat with her closely huddled in
the straw. Both wept, and held each other, knowing fully and without
illusion, what it was to be a woman.
Twenty-Eight
Life would not go away. There was no room for fatalism or self-pity,
and he knew it. Nothing else mattered, nothing was real, until Mary
and his mother were set free.
Michael put on his coat, and climbed down from the loft.
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