She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. “Prom committee does this, silly. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. She really must not go to that affair. One must be on guard. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night.
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