Chapter 45
He limped painfully toward the white smudge. As he came closer, he could make out long blonde hair flying free in the wind. She sat on a blanket, staring vacantly at the snow-capped mountains. She was singing something that sounded Welsh. A nursery song.
“Kate,” he said. His voice choked, and he felt his chest tighten.
He saw her shoulders stiffen. She turned her head carefully. She seemed fragile, wrapped in a white garment that was far too large for her. Her blue eyes were wide, frightened. She did not look like herself. He suddenly realised that perhaps she no longer was herself. Perhaps she had gone mad. Perhaps she had lost the child. Perhaps she would never be the Kate that he had known.
“Jocelyn,” she said. Her lips trembled. Then she smiled a little. “You have found
