The old man sat in the rocking chair on the porch of his ancient home. He looked out across the fields towards the blue mountains in the east. He found himself doing that a lot lately. The cool spring breeze blew through what remained of his feathery hair, and he knew that even though the sun was shining, there would be rain before the day was out. He watched the grass dance across the expansive plains and marveled at the beauty of the scene before him. He could almost see the replenishing energy of spring; the youth and vigor inherent in it. The harsh winter had been banished, flowers were in bloom and life had returned once again.

He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, taking in all the splendor of nature -- of life. When he opened them again there was a gray car pulling up to the cabin across the field. He didn't recognize the car, nor did he recognize the girl -- young lady, really -- that stepped out of it. She complimented her surroundings perfectly, blonde hair flowing through the air like liquid gold. It took her several minutes to cross the field, and all the while she never looked towards him. She glanced at the mountains and watched the grass as it cascaded over itself, but she mostly looked at the ground in front of her. He thought she looked sad.

When she reached the porch she looked up at him and smiled, almost hopefully. "Hello George," she said.

"Hello young lady," he replied. "Might I say you are looking quite lovely today?" She smiled at him again, but then he said, "I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name. Are you John Rather's daughter?" and her face fell. "What's wrong dear?"

"Nothing," she said. "I'm not John's daughter. My name's Ellie. I'm a friend."

"Nora and I haven't had many friends out here lately," he told her. "D'you see those flowers she picked and put in that bucket? Did that just for me, she did. We don't get many visitors out here y'know."

"I know," the girl said, smiling.

"Where're my manners?" he asked. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you George," she replied, pulling up the wicker chair next to him.

They sat there for a while, in silence, just staring out into the world. They watched the line of trees at the end of the field, their branches swaying in the wind. The leaves were all perfect green -- the color of life; the color of renewal. He turned to the girl and smiled.

"Amazing isn't it?" she said.

He nodded in agreement. "The world is a wonderful place," he replied. "Just the way he wanted it. Some folks say it's becoming a terrible place, but I look out across that field and into those mountains and I just can't believe that it's true, can you?"

"Sometimes I can," she said. He wanted to ask her more about it, but decided not to.

They sat like that for a long time, just looking out into the graceful expanse before them. He was grateful for her company, and neither of them felt the need to fill it with empty talk. There was something about her that put him at ease.

After a while she told him that she had to go. He was sad to see her leave, but he knew that she must have other things to do besides look after an old man.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "I've really enjoyed it."

She smiled and said, "It's been a pleasure." She sounded sincere enough, but he couldn't help but think maybe there was some pain behind the words. He watched her walk back to her car, get in and drive away.

Eventually, the rain came.

* * *

He was sitting in the house sobbing when there was a knock at the door. He heard the first knock but hoped whoever it was would go away. After the third knock he got up to open the door.

"Hello?" she called frantically. "Hello?"

"I'm coming," he replied, upset at being bothered -- today of all days. "Hold on!"

He opened the door and there stood a young woman of about twenty with long blonde hair that shone like gold. She was wearing a green sundress.

"Who are you?" he asked bitterly.

She saw the tears in his eyes and gasped a little. "What happened?"

"Who are you?" he asked again, louder this time.

He could tell that his question had upset her and his face softened.

"My name's Ellie, I'm a friend." She said it all in one breath.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But my- my wife has just died and I'm not myself."

This news upset her even more, and he was even sorrier.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she told him. "Could I come in?"

"Yes, of course," he said. "Where're my manners?" He opened the door all the way for her and invited her into the living room. She sat down on one end of the couch and he sat down in his favorite reclining chair.

"Do you want to talk about it George?" she asked.

"I want to talk about her," he said. "I want to remember her."

"I'd love to hear about her, would you tell me a story about you two?"

He hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go ahead with it. There wasn't much harm in telling stories, and there was just something about this young lady that set him at ease.

"Did you know she painted that picture?" he said, indicating a canvas over the fireplace that depicted a sunset over the mountains. "Made that one up all by herself. She must've just watched so many that they were already painted in her memory. We used to sit out nights and just watch the sun go down over the mountains together."

"Did she always enjoy painting?" the girl asked.

"Oh yes," he replied. "Even before, when we lived in the city. She painted my portrait hundreds of times, it seems like. Most of those she sold for a pretty good price. Always told me it was my picture that sold the paintings, but I never let her get away with that nonesense. It was her skill, you know. She always painted, and I always loved her paintings." His voice faltered. "There won't be any more of them."

They sat silent for a while, staring at the oranges and pinks of the dying sun that had given birth to such resplendence. There was no sign of the sun anymore, and it seemed as if God Himself had painted the sky.

"That painting was my favorite, and she always said she painted it just for me," he continued. "She made me promise never to sell it, and we went through some rough times when we could've used the money, but I never did. That painting has meant more to me than any amount of money I could ever have received.

"Truth was she never did paint for the money. She couldn't not paint; she had to. When we moved out here she just about had an aneurism. She said God'd given her such a wonderful gift -- an unending source of inspiration for an unending number of works."

He stopped talking for a bit, and the girl asked, "She was a believer then?"

Probably to keep me talking, he thought, but he didn't mind. He wanted to keep talking about her.

"She was indeed," he replied. "But she wasn't set in her ways. People tend to think of us old folks as fogies who can't have things any other way than they were all those years ago. Nora was different, though -- that's what attracted me to her. She kept challenging her beliefs and her faith stayed with her all those years. She helped me recover mine from time to time.

"I remember once," he began. "I was in an accident. I was -- well it's hard to recall now, but something terrible had happened. I was scared, and she read me a verse from the Bible. I know it word for word: 'Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord God will be with you wherever you go.' She spoke those words to me every time I was afraid, and my fear would vanish."

He stopped, trying to hold on to what he'd just remembered. The tears welled up in his eyes again. "Whatever will I do without her?" he sobbed.

* * *

"Thank you for dinner," he said.

"It was nothing," said the girl with the golden hair. "Really it was my pleasure."

"It was incredible, but surely your husband and children will want you home soon."

She smiled and said, "I'm not married, and I don't have any children."

"Oh," he said, a little surprised. "But you're so beautiful."

"Sometimes beauty's not all it takes. I haven't met the right man yet."

"Then you've got a little time?" he asked.

"For you, George, I've got all the time in the world," she replied.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me? It's been a while since I walked and looked at the stars. That field seems to be calling to me tonight and there's just something that makes me think you'd enjoy a stroll."

Her eyes twinkled for a moment, as if tears had begun to form when she'd held them back at the last moment. "I'd love that, George," she said in a hushed tone.

She dried off the last dish and they walked to the door together. She reached for the door and he said, "Oh! Where are my manners? Let me open that, dear." She stepped back and he pulled the old wooden door open for her.

"Why thank you," she said. "That was very kind of you."

"It's no kinder than you've been tonight," he responded as they walked out into the warm night. "I just wish I could thank you somehow. I mean, I don't even know you and you've done such a wonderful thing for me –" he trailed off.

"Ellie," she said. "My name's Ellie."

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry, but my mind isn't what it used to be. You understand."

"I do."

They walked on for a bit. He stopped after a while and they looked into the sky together. "You know," he said, "They say there's a star in the sky for every pure soul in heaven and on earth. What do you think of that?"

"I think that if that's true, then there must be one up there with your name on it," she told him.

"Oh dear you are so very pleasant. Tell me, what organization sent you?"

"None," she said. "I came on my own."

"That's perfectly wonderful of you dear," he said. He looked into the diamond-studded sky and marveled at this precious young girl. She had so much compassion for someone her age. They said more often now that young people were growing less and less kind toward their elders, but he didn't think that was true. This girl was evidence.

"God truly does love us, doesn't he George?" she asked.

"He truly does."

They were silent for a while, and then just as he was about to suggest they go back inside, she began to sing. It was as if a host of angels had somehow arrived while he wasn't looking; her voice was like every good thing he'd ever known. It reached inside him and soothed him so that he felt better than he had in a long time. She sang a beautiful song, but the words didn't matter, because all he heard was the magnificent euphony.

Something sparked inside him for one brief second, but as soon as he'd gotten a hold of it, it left him. He let some time pass before he spoke. After such elegance and beauty, he hardly felt he could say anything.

"Your voice-" he said. He couldn't see her well, but he heard her choke back a sob in the darkness. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she said, regaining her composure. "It was nothing at all. Let's go back inside."

She took his arm and they walked back to the house together.

* * *

He was sitting on the porch, thinking that summer must've shown up early this year. The flowers were in full bloom, the birds were singing and it was just warm enough to keep him comfortable. The rains had stopped since a few weeks ago, and summer was setting in no matter what the calendar said. There was a gentle breeze blowing through the field that made the grass dance more beautifully than any choreographer could.

A gray car drove up to the cabin across the field and parked. A young woman with long, flowing hair got out of the driver's seat and walked around to the trunk. She took out a box and began to walk towards the porch. As she got closer he could see that she was wearing paint-spattered jeans and a T-shirt that was several sizes too big for her. The clothes were unflattering, but they couldn't hide the grace of the person wearing them. There was something about the girl that made him wonder for a moment, but then it passed and he returned from his thoughts.

She arrived at the porch and set the box down. "Hi," she said. Her tone was warm and soft, like the summer breeze. "How are you today George?"

"Can't complain," he said. "How are you dear?"

"I'm alright," she replied. "I've come to paint the posts today," she said, and he saw that the old paint had been scraped off of the pillars of wood standing across the porch.

"When did that get done?" he asked her.

"Oh I did it yesterday," she explained.

"Did my wife call you to do this?" he asked. "Because I've told her time and again not to bother–"

"She didn't call," the girl said with what appeared to be a forced smile. "I'm a friend, Ellie, and I'm doing this because I want to."

He was speechless for a second. "Why thank you dear. That's quite a noble thing to do."

"Believe me," she said. "It's nothing. Let me get the ladder and I'll be right back."

She walked around the side of the house and out of sight. A few moments later she returned with an old wooden ladder and opened it next to the first post. She took a can of white paint and a paintbrush and climbed up to begin painting.

"You know," he said, "My wife is an excellent painter."

"Really?" she said.

"Oh yes," he said. "She loves to paint, but whenever I ask her to paint the house she tells me to hire someone. She says she's too artistic to paint houses, and you know what?"

"What?" the girl asked, grinning.

"I believe her," he said. "She's painted so many brilliant things. Why just a week ago she painted a sunset for me -- didn't even need to watch one as she did it either. She painted it at noon right from her memory."

The girl didn't reply, but began to sing. He stopped rocking in his chair; in fact he stopped moving altogether. Her voice was like the sound of a pearl; like dawn on a cloudless day. Its beauty was almost tangible, and he felt he could breathe it in. His heart began to fill with gladness and love for this young woman. A tear streaked down his cheek.

When she was finished singing, he said, "I've heard you before, I must've."

Her brushstrokes stopped. "What did you say?" she asked without turning around.

"I said I must have heard you before. I remember that voice." She didn't respond, and he said, "Maybe not. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, though."

"Thank you," she said softly, beginning to paint again.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of a bird chirping outside his window. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong; he could feel it. When he did open them, he saw a young woman in a light blue sundress sitting in a chair by his bed. She had long, golden hair that was covering her face. It seemed that she'd fallen asleep in the chair and for the life of him he couldn't tell who she was.

"Dear?" he said, his voice weaker than he expected it to be. His mouth was almost completely dry and he tried to lick his lips before he spoke again. "Dear, are you awake?"

She arose with a start and ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, looking at him. He could tell by her eyes that she'd been crying before she fell asleep. She looked at him intensely.

"I'm awake," she said.

"I don't feel right," he said. "Are you a nurse?"

She looked disappointed, and said, "No, I'm not a nurse. You aren't well George."

"Tell me your name first," he said. "Then give me the bad news."

"My name's Ellie," she explained. "I'm a friend."

"So tell me, what've I done now?" he asked, smiling weakly.

"It's your heart, George," she said. "It's failing."

He nodded solemnly. "I thought it might be like this in the end." he said. "I'm in good shape, but I'm an old man and my body is well-worn."

"The doctor gave you-" she started, "she said you didn't have a lot of time."

"Where's my wife?" he asked.

At this, a look of absolute dread came over her pretty face. "Oh George."

"What's wrong?"

"George, I’m sorry, Nora's dead."

He didn't believe her. "What do you mean she's dead?" he asked. "She just picked me a bunch of flowers yesterday. She painted them first and then she put them on the nightstand." He looked over towards the nightstand, but all he saw was a lamp. "Where did they go?" he asked. There was a kind of terrible familiarity to the words.

"They were never there," she said. "Nora died a long time ago. Please, try to remember."

"No," he said. "No that's impossible."

"Don't get too excited," she said. "Your heart-"

"To hell with it!" he exclaimed. "What good is my heart without my Nora? Where are my children?"

"Amy is dead, and Nathan is in Europe. He's on his way, but his flight got delayed and– I don't know if he'll make it."

His face broke into a thousand pieces. "Amy, my little princess. She can't be dead. She just – she can't. What have I done to deserve this?"

"Nothing," she said. "You haven't done anything wrong. I'm telling you this because I love you and because you need to know before you die. I– I just can't stand for you to be in the dark when you die."

"Who are you?" he asked. The tears were more frequent now.

She hesitated for a moment, and he thought she wasn’t going to tell him. Then she said simply, "I'm your granddaughter.”

"Ellie? Ellie?" he gasped. He tried to say something, but it was too late. There was a sharp pain in his chest as he slid away from her.

* * *

When he woke again, he found her sobbing into his chest.

"Ellie," he said softly. "I remember now."

"Do you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I remember everything – everything important at least. I remember my wife’s death; your mother's as well. I remember taking you for walks under the stars at night when you were still young. I remember your voice -- your beautiful voice. I remember you coming to see me. I remember your love."

Her sobs had grown stronger as he spoke to her. "Hush, hush now." he said.

"What will I do without you?" she asked through the tears.

"You don't need me Ellie," he said. "It's my time to go and your time to live. I want you to remember to live. Do you know how proud I am of you, Ellie? I need to tell you that now, before–" he couldn’t finish.

"Thank you," she said.

"You mustn't stop talking to him, either - no matter what happens to me. Never, ever forget that he loves you."

"I won't."

"I know you won't," he said, smiling. "You were always so very faithful. He has plans for you, Ellie. Wonderful plans."

"I love you grandpa."

"I love you too, my darling," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

He blinked. "Where are my manners,” he said. “I haven’t even introduced myself. My name’s George. I'm sorry, but I’m very bad with faces these days, have we met?" he asked.

Her face stiffened. He couldn't figure out why this girl was crying. Her face was streaked with tears and her lip had begun to quiver again.

"My name's Ellie, I'm a friend," she replied.

"Can I tell you something dear?" he asked.

"Anything."

"I'm afraid," he said. "I think something is wrong."

"I think I know just what to say," she told him. "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

His heart softened. She was right – he did feel better after hearing those words. They seemed familiar, comfortable somehow. "Thank you," he said.

"It was my pleasure." she replied. "Could I sing to you?"

"I think I'd like that," he said, closing his eyes.

Her voice pierced the darkness within him. Its soft radiance poured into him until he was overflowing. He closed his eyes and tears streamed from his face. He was sure he'd heard that voice before, but he just couldn't place it.

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