Great elms, oaks, and pines, heavy with branches, bowed as she drifted among them; hyacinths and roses showered her with perfume; and the squirrels, raccoons, foxes, and bears smiled at her with greenish-brown eyes as she passed. She wandered out of the forest and down to the beach and dug up a handful of sand but, when she tried to sift it through her fingers, it wouldn’t leave her palm. Four little black dolls that she had crocheted for the Edwin Gould Foundation to distribute to poor children at Christmas danced around her. And from somewhere far away, Mason called her. But his voice was such a lovely masculine velvet that she didn’t want to answer for fear he’d stop. She smiled in joyful appreciation. The animals ran away, the dolls disappeared, and the forest, beach, and ocean dissolved into a lovely white cloud. “Darling, talk to me. Let me hear your voice. Answer me, sweetheart. How do you feel?” The blur slowly disappeared, and he was there, close.
