Standing up, smoothing the creases from his trousers, he listens intently. The sound of the wind blew softly through the trees, as though to caress an... calm each fragile leaf. Closing his eyes, the deathly silence, broken only by the loving chorus of birdsong, calmed him. Wiping his now sodden cheeks, he turns to leave. Trudging his way up the grassy slope to the road, he pauses. A lone figure peering out from behind a mausoleum was staring directly at him. The figure, dressed in black, had his. Every now and then the rustle of the turning page would disrupt the quiet. Eliza wished Bethany would go somewhere else. Her anger with her younger sister was indescribable. How could Bethany do that to him? She just could not understand her sister, not matter how hard she tried. While it seemed he had no intention of asking them to leave, at least she didn’t think so, his lack of interest in anything frightened her more than anything else. What had Bethany told him, standing there in her. More

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