I have ever since been grateful for the memory of Margaret’s coos and cries that rang out through the summer. If such an idyllic interlude as we had...shared throughout our time in Westfordshire City had to come to an end, I am most thankful that its final days were marked by the hope and joy that only a baby can bring. The cries of three babies were ringing out in Uncle and Aunt’s sitting room on the afternoon that summer truly began. Little Joy – now fourteen years old and unusually mature for. I wanted to -- but I didn't. Dora walked into my apartment and sat in a big over-stuffed chair that faced the door. When I turned toward her I noticed that she was sitting with both feet planted firmly on the floor, her arms folded across her chest. A small, anxious smile on her face. She looked unsure of herself.I walked toward her until my knees were touching hers and, placing my hands on her legs, bent to lightly kiss her face. First her check and then her lips, softly running my tongue over. More

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