Wordlessly Elizabeth offers me her small hand, raises me up again to my feet, and together we leave these soulless shores behind us.
At the crossroads I turn only once, as I did so long ago, to find that empty spit of sand no longer holds the shadow of threat nor fear. Those restless grey waters churning endlessly under the moon's pale sheen are merely wind-tossed waves, nothing more. And at that moment the bell in the tower tolls, clear and calm in the crisp winter air, free of doubt, free of guilt, free of fear.
It is midnight, Christmas morning. Nearly fifteen years to the day since my sister's death, I have finally found my forgiveness.