Beneath the Apple Leaves(110)

A new breeze entered, wrapped around Eveline’s shoulders and held her close. The beautiful, subtle scent of him entered. The goose bumps rose across her flesh and her hair stood on end. Her heart swelled and her mouth stretched in a pained smile. A tear dripped from her eye and trailed to her chin. “Hello, Wilhelm,” she whispered.

There was silence, warm and bright and thick. The energy moved up the left side of her body, filled her through the cells. She turned to him. He was there. She could see him and yet he was unseen.

I’m sorry I left you, came the words.

“I know.”

But I never left you.

Tears squeezed. “I know, Wilhelm. I know.”

The screen door from the porch opened and closed. The voice silenced, but the warmth remained. Andrew escorted Lily carefully over the walkway as if she were an invalid.

“Can you tell your nephew I’m not going to break?” Lily called sweetly to Eveline. The young woman cradled the child, smiled at her bald head.

“You just delivered a human being,” Andrew interjected, still in awe. “You’re lucky I’m not carrying you.”

Eveline stood, patted the old trunk of the apple tree. “Come sit. The fresh air will do you all some good.” With that she headed back to the house, looked back only once to see Andrew sitting down and Lily perched on his lap, her head nestled in his neck, their baby tucked within their embrace.

A burst of warm air cut through the cold, strong enough to blow the leaves up and around the stump of the tree. As they settled again, a vibrant green glowed from the base. Andrew bent, tossed the rotting leaves to the side, found the new shoots growing victoriously from the bottom of the cut stump, strong and firm and pulsing with new life.

Andrew and Lily smiled deeply, exchanged swollen hope. For life began anew, grew again, beneath the apple leaves.