Giacomo gave a very Latin shrug. "I needed to come confer with Master Wendell and Master Atwood about some of the Grantville Music Trust matters, and I wanted to read through the church music libraries again and see what I can use." Another moment of silence, then, "And I miss the children. " He swallowed.". and I miss you."

To see him again, to hear him say that, tore at Elizabeth's heart. Oh, how she wanted to embrace him. But she couldn't. He started to shift position, and she held up a hand. He froze.

"Nothing has changed, Giacomo. The answer to your question is still 'No.' Understand?"

Carissimi looked down, and nodded.

Despite the pain, it was still good to see him. He still looked like Doug Drake, and he was still the same gentle man he had always been.

Elizabeth gave a small smile, and said, "The kids miss you, too. You're welcome to stay for dinner." He looked up in surprise. She held her hand up again. "But that's all, and you leave before they go to bed."

He nodded again, this time with a little lighter expression.

"Come on, then. You know where the piano is."

Giacomo headed for the music room. Elizabeth returned to the kitchen to finish the carrots. She found herself humming along with the music that poured from the piano. She couldn't even be mad at herself for her spirits being lighter than they had been in months.

Dinner was simple; a piece of smoked ham, carrots and some green beans that someone had canned and given her last year. But the meal was almost festive, as Daniel and Leah competed for Giacomo's attention. Elizabeth found herself smiling again as she watched them. They really did like the Italian master, and he obviously liked them as well.

Once the kids were through pushing green beans around on their plates, she sent them back to the music room to finish their homework. Giacomo drifted along behind them, and the piano began singing again while she cleared away the dishes to the kitchen.

Just as the last of the dishes were placed on the counter, the doorbell rang again. Wondering who it could be at this hour of the night, Elizabeth headed for the door. Her heart sank when it opened to reveal Preston Richards and Harley Thomas framed in the doorway, both in uniform.

"Press? Harley?"

"Can we come in?"

A chill settled in her soul.

"Sure. We're back in the music room."

They followed her. Daniel and Leah, both sprawled on the floor, looked up from doing their homework. Giacomo was seated at the piano, but he stilled his hands as soon as he saw who was with her.

"You know Signor Carissimi. He. "

". wrote the song about Hans Richter's death." Press reached out his hand. "I haven't had the pleasure, before. Pleased to meet you. Um. " He looked at the children.

"Whatever it is," Elizabeth said through the gathering cold shroud, "they'll need to know. Bad or the worst?"

"The worst," Press admitted. "They're bringing him back."

She sat down on the end of the piano bench. "What goes around, comes around, I guess." She clasped her hands together so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Last week. Last week I was actually feeling-sort of good, maybe even a little bit smug-that Fred was over there in Ohrdruf. Safely away from what happened at the hospital and the synagogue. As safe as a man could ever be, in his line of work."

She gestured vaguely with her hand. "I'll need to call Jenny Maddox at the funeral home, I guess. To be expecting him. I don't know who else, really, since Reverend Wiley is dead."

Elizabeth felt Carissimi stand up behind her. "Orval McIntire," he said. "The man who preached the state funeral. Admirable eulogies-the ones he delivered for the mayor and your minister. Stay with Daniel and Leah. I will call them both. That much of the burden, Elizabeth, I can take from your shoulders."

Both kids looked scared, and Leah was crying. Elizabeth could hear Giacomo making the first phone call. She opened her arms, and the kids came to her, huddling together within the circle of her embrace. She felt the tears starting in her own eyes as she looked at the two men who had brought the bad news, and who obviously wished they hadn't had to.

"What happened?"

Press shrugged. "We haven't received a full report yet, but what we know at this point is he fell off a roof and broke his neck."

"What was he doing up on a roof?" Elizabeth demanded.

Press shrugged again. "From what we can tell, he was doing some kind of protective over-watch on people that were being persecuted by some of the citizens of Ohrdruf. He seemed to have slipped and lost his grip, and. " Press stopped for a moment. There really wasn't anything else he could add to that. Elizabeth's stomach churned as she thought of that fall. "I'll let you know as soon as we know more," Press finally finished.

"Please." She bent her head over her children, all she had left of Fred, and let her tears mingle with theirs.

The doorbell rang again, and Harley answered it. That was the beginning of neighbors, friends, and family coming to see if they could help.

The next days passed in a blur. It took longer to schedule the funeral than normal, because they had to wait for Fred's body to arrive from Ohrdruf. There was a constant flow of family and friends. She and the kids were never left alone. In her lucid moments, she understood that and was thankful for it. And the food kept coming. Everyone brought something: ham, roast beef, potatoes, vegetables, breads; even desserts, although the cost of sugar these days made those really extravagant.

The nights, however, were very dark, and very lonely. More than one night found her crying herself to sleep, muffling the sobs with her pillows. And more than one night found her facing her guilt in the darkest hours before dawn-guilt that she had not loved Fred like she should; guilt that she had chased another man, that she had been unfaithful. Yet in the cold light of dawn, she always knew that whatever her thoughts, when it came to the test she had been faithful to her vows. More so than Fred had been, she suspected.

The one constant theme in those days-the one thing that Elizabeth always remembered afterward besides the feeling of being possessed by ice-was that Carissimi was always near. Not hovering; not butting into meetings with the family or the consultations with the funeral home and the minister; not intruding or obtruding in any way. But always near.

Finally the day of the funeral arrived. The funeral home Cadillac arrived to take Elizabeth and the children to the church for the memorial service.

The service went as well anyone could desire for that kind of thing. It was a closed casket service. Jenny Maddox had suggested it, given the state of Fred's corpse on arrival at the funeral home in Grantville.

The music was beautiful. Orval McIntire did an excellent eulogy, and his recitation of the promises of eternal life and the resurrection were of some comfort. But the hole in Elizabeth's life was still there when he was done.

Daniel and Leah, one on each side of her, were her main concern at that moment; the one silent and still, the other gripping her mother's hand like an iron clamp and sniffling occasionally. At the end, they walked with her to the Cadillac for the ride to the cemetery.

The old-fashioned graveside service was brief. Orval said the final words with grace, and they lowered the casket into the ground. Elizabeth stood and picked up a handful of dirt from the mound at the side, and poured it into the hole.

"Goodbye, Fred," she said, tears trickling down her cheeks, almost like liquid ice.