-c- 2008 Mcgraw-hill Ryerson Limited -

But that was a question for another summer.

It looks like my mother. But my mother is dead. -C- 2008 mcgraw-hill ryerson limited

The cabin was one room. A cast-iron stove, cold. A bunk with a wool blanket rotted to threads. On a pine table, a journal lay open. The handwriting was small, precise, desperately tired. But that was a question for another summer

Delilah circled once, landed on a small lake that hadn’t been there before, and taxied to the shore. She looked at him for a long time. desperately tired. Delilah circled once

“Did you know Tivon stayed?”

The woman’s face flickered. For a second, he saw something else underneath—not bone, not muscle, but a kind of deep, slow movement, like sediment at the bottom of a river. Then she was his mother again, stepping closer.