"You're coming home with me__"
John, holding Margaret's luggage, closed the compartment door. Almost at once, the train began to move.
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They sat side by side as the greenery outside the windows began to speed up around them. Looking at the pretty yellow flower in the palm of her hand, Margaret began to reminisce.
"It's going to be awful."
"We will manage, Mother."
At that time, she was stroking this flower while going to Milton with a desperate feeling. But now, it was with hope that she was traveling north.
John had been watching the delicate profile of Margaret's face and said to her calmly:
"One time at your house, Helstone came up in conversation... Mr. Hale was talking about those roses."
"Father was?"
Margaret turned to him who nodded yes.
"When in season, the house would be surrounded in yellow and green because of them. When I asked if it was the work of a gardener, he said he hardly did anything."
A smile entered John's voice.
"He laughed that the flowers were strong and wild like you."
"Oh, father..."
She smiled, lowered her eyes, and then looked sad.
"I also went to Helstone, not long ago. It was to visit my old house...but..."
Her eyes were distant, clouded with memories.
"There was nowhere for me to return. It was no longer my place. My house and even my favorite path were the same as they were back then... I suppose I was the one who has changed."
Margaret was silent for a moment and then raised her eyes.
"Why...were you in Helstone? It wasn't...to go looking for roses, was it?"
John thought for a moment and then answered.
"I'm not sure why...but I felt as if I could get to know something if I went there, like my problems and the answers to them."
Margaret blinked.
"Did you find it? What you wanted to know?"
John gave a small nod as he looked her in the eye.
Instead of answering he moved closer and gently kissed her.
Margaret closed her eyes.
The light came in through the window, the shadows of the trees flitting across their faces.
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