One

She heard the rush of wind on wing

Steal hope into the night,

And though she called and called his name,

She could not make it right.

The scent of roses permeated the sanctuary of Parkview Christian Church. Andrea Lewis sat in the front pew with Jack's family and listened to the organ play softly. From somewhere in her childhood the words to the hymn flowed through her mind.

When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll.

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Andrea's soul was far from peaceful, and she fought to control her emotions while the ritual continued. If she allowed one tear, it would surely be followed by a torrent. Andrea didn't dare listen to the proceedings, so she forced herself to think of something else, anything else. Dickins.

Dickins had been a sweet old dog and had lived his entire life with Andrea. Her father had given her the beagle pup when she was fifteen. She'd named him Dickinson after her favorite poet, but the last two letters were soon dropped. When she and Jack married, the dog came to live with them in the modest house on Twenty-third and then later to the lovely two-story colonial on Willow Creek Lane. Dickins died only a couple of years ago when Robin was in first grade.

Andrea remembered the old dog's last day. He ate a good meal, collected his tennis balls and lined them up along the edge of the courtyard, then settled down in his favorite place in her flowerbed and went to sleep. She found him there later among the irises with his affairs in order. That's the way it should be at the end of a life, thought Andrea, with all the loose ends tied up neatly.