Knives had not really changed, he had just sent so much of his spirit forth in spite that he was spent and could cause no more harm than smashing the scorpions that he found in the bath at dawn. It was with her usual impulsiveness that Milly decided enough was enough. "It's time to air out this house of ghosts," she said.
She declared an end to all the overlaid periods of mourning, swept out the cobwebs and red ants with ceaseless determination and exchanged her black dresses for yellow and blue ones. Even Meryl and Vash called a truce to their big time production of bickering and dodging in order to lend a hand to the mad restoration.
After Milly helped Knives to a rocking chair on the front porch which was shaded from the heavy afternoon sun by roses and geraniums that grew only because Milly talked to them, he began to show some signs of recovery. When Milly brought him some black coffee at midmorning he would talk about his days in the sky. Milly only wanted to talk about tomorrow. After a while, he actually started to listen. In the late summer, when birds were falling to the ground from the heat, Milly brought him sweet lemonade instead of coffee and noticed that his skin had taken on a pinkish glow and his hair had grown out glossy and the hue of daffodils.
"Soon, you'll be leaving us I guess."
"No," he answered smiling kindly, "I don't think so."
She did not even look surprised. Meryl raised her eyes with a tiny pity as he shuffled to where Milly was embroidering little violets and yellow daisies into handkerchiefs and took her hand.
"You've done what I never thought anyone could do."