EPILOGUE

She was there, in the light again, just as before. She sensed familiar spirits waiting for her somewhere ahead, felt herself weightless, free of pain and care, flying into the light.

And again, someone separated herself from the whiteness and moved toward her. Catherine squinted, and felt her heart turn over.

“Mommy,” a voice that seemed to be within her cried.

“Becky?” she asked, thrilled beyond all meaning. “Becky, it’s really you?”

She remembered then what Gabronski had said about her guardian spirit: without sex, without age. And knew who had been guiding her all along.

They embraced. Even without a physical self she could sense the arms encircling her, knew that she held her daughter to her breast once again, knew that her tears flowed.

“My darling, I’ll never let you go again,” Catherine vowed. “We will be together forever.”

After a moment, Becky seemed to retreat from her slightly. “No, you must go back.”

“No, no, I can’t, I won’t,” Catherine cried and reached out, trying to grab her daughter back to her, but Becky was receding. “Don’t leave me, Becky, don’t go.”

“You must go back,” her voice growing fainter. “You must take care of my baby sister. But I will be with you always, my love will never leave you, or yours leave me.”

“Becky,” Catherine sobbed again. The silvery glow was swirling, eddying about her. A drop of light, turned liquid, fell upon her cheek. She opened her eyes, and found herself lying in the snow, in Jack’s arms.

Beyond him, from a far, far distance, someone shouted, “They’re on their way.”

“Catherine, hold on,” Jack sobbed, kissing her brow, “Don’t leave me again, darling, I couldn’t bear it.”

Her lips parted, and she found the breath to whisper, faintly, “I’m here.” She closed her eyes, and felt another of his tears fall upon her cheek.