"Thank you," she said as she snuggled her arms about his neck. "That was the sweetest thing to do." She kissed him. "Now scratch this one so there are two messages! I'll pretend the other one was really what Annie wrote here so long ago."
Later, as they descended the stairs to the hall, Dean commented, "It's nice to think Annie and her friends are up there in heaven smiling down on us, probably thinking that we're nuts for always taking on everyone's problems."
"Yes," Cynthia answered. "So much for not getting involved."
Dean paused to turn out the lights as his wife walked ahead of him toward their room. He turned and glanced up at the top of the stairs. There, in the fog of semi-darkness, stood a white-clad figure, smiling down at him. At least in his mind's eye.
The End