I gazed at the ceiling again. Cary was in pain, I
thought, and for a moment at least, I stopped feeling
sorry for myself.
May returned to her room to complete her
school work. After I finished mine, we practiced sign language until it was time for her to go to bed. I washed and dressed for bed myself and then Aunt Sara brought my glass of warm milk. There was something rolled under her arm. She took it out and showed me Laura's unfinished canvas of needlework. It was a picture of a woman on a widow's walk gazing
at the sea.
"Laura drew the picture herself," Aunt Sara explained. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes," I said.
"Don't you want to finish it for her, dear? I can't
get myself to do it," she said with a deep sigh. "I'd be afraid I would mess it up, Aunt Sara." "Oh, you won't, I'm sure. just leave it here and
bring up the threads tomorrow and show you the
stitch."
"I never did something like that before," I said,
but she didn't seem to hear or care.
"My goodness," she said, her gaze falling on
the two nearly identical stuffed cats. "Where did this
one come from?"
"It was mine, a present from my daddy. I
brought it with me in my suitcase."
"Isn't that remarkable. Cary won the other one
for Laura at a fair one summer. And this Teddy bear
you brought along, too?"
"Yes."
"Geminis," she said. "All of you."
She gazed around the room sadly, looked at me,
smiled and then left, after wishing me a good night's
rest.
I was tired. It had been an exhausting day, my
emotions on a rollercoaster. I had gone through the
tunnel of fear, been angry, sad, and curious. I enjoyed