They hadn't asked her anything about the trip, about Washington, about her sketchbooks, which they had unpacked and must have looked at. Several times she had started to speak of the river, the ruins, and each time she had failed. There was no way she could make them understand. Presently she would have to get to work on the sketches, using them as guides and drawing in detail what she had seen, what it had been like from start to finish. But she didn't want to speak of it. Instead they talked of the valley and what had happened in the seven weeks of Molly's absence. Nothing, she thought. Nothing at all. Everything was exactly as it always had been.

The sisters had been excused from work in order to speed Molly's recovery. They chatted and gossiped and caught up on mending and took walks and read together, and as Molly's strength returned, they played together on the mat in the middle of the room. Molly took no part in their play. Toward the end of the week, when they dragged the mat out and opened it, Miriam poured small glasses of amber wine and they toasted Molly and drew her to the mat with them. Her head was spinning pleasantly and she looked at Miriam, who smiled at her.

How beautiful the sisters are, she thought, how silky their hair, and smooth their skin; each body was unmarred, flawless.

"You've been away so long," Miriam whispered.

"Something's still down there on the river," Molly said foolishly, wanting to weep.

"Bring it home, darling. Reach out and bring back all the parts of you."

And slowly she reached out for the other part of herself, the part that had watched and listened and had brought her peace. That was the part that had built the clear hard wall, she thought distantly. The wall had been built to protect her, and now she was tearing it down again.

She felt she was speeding down the river, flying over the water, now swirling brown and muddy and dangerous, now smooth and deep blue-green and inviting, now white foam as it shattered over rocks… She sped down the river and tried to find that other self, to submerge it and become whole again with her sisters… Over her the trees murmured and beneath her the water whispered back, and she was between them, not touching either, and she knew that when she found that other self she would have to kill it, to destroy it totally, or the whispers would never go away. And she thought of the peace she had found, and the visions she had seen.

Not yet! she cried silently, and stopped her race down the river, and was once more in the room with her sisters. Not yet, she thought again, quietly. She opened her eyes and smiled at Miriam, who was watching her anxiously.

"Is it all right now?" Miriam asked.