An hour later, Sylvia passed through the historic town. This time, she didn’t stop, driving straight through and continuing on toward
] City.
It was afternoon by the tshe arrived. Instead of going home, she drove to Grandma Winters’s house.
She parked outside and walked down the quiet lane. In the distance, she could see the wisteria in the courtyard in full, glorious
bloom, filling the air with its sweet fragrance.
The vines were perfectly pruned, the flowers blooming right on schedule, but their owner was gone.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtSylvia gently pushed open the wooden gate. As she stepped over the threshold, a wave of sorrow washed over her, remembering
her last visit, sitting and chatting with the old woman.
Nothing in the courtyard had changed. Crabapple blossoms littered the ground, and the very shawl Sylvia had bought for her was
still hanging on the clothesline.
Eugene was sitting in the courtyard, in the swicker chair Grandma Winters always used. His head was bowed, his back
slumped, as if he were carrying an unbearable weight of grief.
He looked up at the sound of her footsteps. His face was gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed. “Sylvia,” he said, his voice raw.
Sylvia walked over and knelt in front of him. “I'm back.”
“I'm so sorry for your loss.”
Eugene's eyes grew redder. He choked back a sob. “Grandma’s gone. The person who lovedmost in this world is gone forever.”
Sylvia felt a deep empathy for his pain. “She hasn't left you, Eugene,” she said softly. “She’s just found a different way to watch
over you. The wind that blows past you, the rain that falls from the sky... that could be her,ing back to see you.”
He took her hands, pressing them to his forehead almost reverently.
“Sylvia, you're all | have left.”
“I'll help you,” she said gently.
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