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datatime: 2022-09-27 09:30:20 Author:jdIpaYhn

'Ah, do you smell it, Michael?' She looked at the white water lilies glowing in the dark.

'What is it, darlin'?' he asked. A low rumble from his chest.

She looked straight up at the pale sky and its few scattered yet vivid stars, and then the memory of the old woman came back again, and it was like the evil cloud wouldn't let go of her. She thought of the look on the old woman's face as she'd died. She thought of the words. And the face of her mother in the casket, slumbering forever on white satin.

The soft heavy smell of that flower came again, the one the old woman had called the night jasmine.

How sad he sounded. It was as if he had seen something confirmed that he did not quite believe. And to think how that name had struck her when Ellie said it in the final weeks of fever and delirium. 'Stella in the coffin.'

'What is it, darlin'?' he asked. A low rumble from his chest.

'What is it, darlin'?' he asked. A low rumble from his chest.

She pressed herself more closely against Michael. She locked her hands behind his back, resting her weight against him.

'What is it, darlin'?' he asked. A low rumble from his chest.

The shrubs closed out the kitchen light behind them as they climbed the low flagstone steps. Dark it was here, dark as the rural dark.

'I love you, Michael,' she whispered. 'I do. I love you.'

'I've loved it ever since I was a kid,' he said. 'I loved it when I saw it two nights ago. I love it now even though I know all kinds of things that happened in it, even what happened to that guy in the attic. I love it because it's your house. And because... because it's beautiful no matter what anybody has done in it, or to it. It was beautiful when it was built. It will be beautiful a hundred years from now.'

'Ah, do you smell it, Michael?' She looked at the white water lilies glowing in the dark.

How sad he sounded. It was as if he had seen something confirmed that he did not quite believe. And to think how that name had struck her when Ellie said it in the final weeks of fever and delirium. 'Stella in the coffin.'

'Rowan, let me get you away from here,' he said. 'We should have left before. This is my fault.'

'I love you, Michael,' she whispered. 'I do. I love you.'

He put his arm around her again, and she clung to him, nestling against him, and feeling him kiss her hair again. His gloved fingers touched her cheek. She wanted to rip off the gloves. But she didn't say so.

He looked down at her, struggling to make out her face, it seemed. 'Rowan, whatever happens, don't let this house go. Even if you have to go away from it and never see it again, even if you come to hate it. Don't let it go. Don't let it ever fall into the hands of anyone who wouldn't love it. It's too beautiful. It has to survive all this, just as we do.'

How sad he sounded. It was as if he had seen something confirmed that he did not quite believe. And to think how that name had struck her when Ellie said it in the final weeks of fever and delirium. 'Stella in the coffin.'

And it draws its strength, this big secret, from the same root from which I draw my strength, both the good and the bad, because in the end, they cannot be separated.

'Ah, do you smell it, Michael?' She looked at the white water lilies glowing in the dark.

And it draws its strength, this big secret, from the same root from which I draw my strength, both the good and the bad, because in the end, they cannot be separated.

'Ah, do you smell it, Michael?' She looked at the white water lilies glowing in the dark.

The shrubs closed out the kitchen light behind them as they climbed the low flagstone steps. Dark it was here, dark as the rural dark.

'What is it, darlin'?' he asked. A low rumble from his chest.

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