She added Will’s name to hers and the date of their marriage.
At the very end, where the story is continuing still, she’s added a line:
SAJHESSE GRACE FARMER PELLETIER, 25 February 2001.
Alice smiles and walks over to the cot where their daughter is stirring.
Her pale, sleepy toes twitch as she starts to wake. Alice catches her breath as her daughter opens her eyes.
She plants a murmuring kiss on the top of her daughter’s head and begins a lullaby in the old language, handed down from generation to generation.
Bona nueit, bona nueit…
Braves amics, pica mieja-nueit
Cal finir velhada
E jos la flassada
One day, Alice thinks, Sajhesse might sing it to a child of her own.
Holding her daughter in her arms, Alice walks back to the window, thinking of all the things she will teach her. The stories she will tell her of the past and of how things came to be.
Alais no longer comes to her in her dreams. But as Alice stands in the lading light looking out over the ancient peaks and crests of the mountains and valleys that stretch further than her eye can see, she feels the presence of the past all around her, embracing her. Spirits, friends, ghosts who hold out their hands and whisper of their lives, share their secrets with her. They connect her to all those who have stood here before – and all those yet to come – dreaming of what life might hold.
In the distance, a white moon is rising in the speckled sky, promising another fine day tomorrow.
