It was an old dream she knew by heart. No sound at first, only images. Not a movie kind of dream, but an old slide show. The pictures always flashed into her mind in quick succession. The first was the house where she grew up, a two-story gray-shingled house in Nadine, Alabama. It was an August afternoon, and she was on her way from Texas, where she had just defended her doctoral dissertation, to her new teaching position in South Carolina. She would soon be twenty-eight years old. She was sitting in her car in the driveway, staring at the house she hadn’t seen for almost nine years. It had a neglected, vacant look, though she knew her parents had occupied it every day since she had last been here. And now she was returning to lay her academic trophies at her father’s feet. At last she had achieved something that outshone anything Jeremiah had ever done, as far as she knew. By then Jeremiah had been gone almost as long as she had, without a word of communication.
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