Beneath the Trees

I should have known better than to go running in the woods after dark like that. Maybe that's why the storm came-why I found the wood nymph huddled in the wreckage of our barn the next morning. My wife had been fading fast; I could hardly recognize whatever was looking out of her eyes these days, and it was just the wrong time for painful old memories to come knocking at our door. I let the darkness into the house-into my thoughts-and before I knew it, I was losing not just Molly but the sp...