Flowers In The Rain & Other Stories - Plot & Excerpts
She was in her own deliciously comfortable bed, in her own flower-sprigged room, and with all her pretty and personal possessions about her. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, but even before she opened her eyes, she knew that something was wrong. The black anxiety, the worry that she had taken to bed with her, had not retreated. It had probably spent the entire night sitting on her pillow. She turned over, shut her eyes, and longed for Harry to be there; to say, “It’s all right, it doesn’t matter. I’ll see to it.” But Harry wasn’t there, because he was dead. He had died five years ago, and their daughter Vicky was getting married in a week’s time, and Mary was at her wit’s end, because the wedding dress still had not materialized. She didn’t know what to do, and Harry would have. For, with his going, Mary had lost not only lover and dearest friend, but a competent and kindly husband who dealt with every problem. Mary, happily content with the day-to-day demands of house, garden, and one small child, had been delighted to let him.
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