Leah's Journey
Page 51
by Gloria Goldreich
After some minutes she joined him, her hair once more replaced in its soft neat bun, her face set again in the comfortable lines of accepting age.
“We can start back now,” she said. “Perhaps we will reach Odessa in time for a late lunch.”
As they neared the city, she leaned forward.
“Do you have a daughter?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Perhaps she would like this.”
She handed him a wreath of woven flowers, of the tall buttercups entwined with the dark-hearted red blossoms which, he remembered now, were sometimes called “The Blood of Russia.” He thanked her and she leaned back. She had reached journey’s end and had no need for souvenirs.