Fall had come, settling itself in Wisconsin. There from the sky, you were quite able to see the pattern of orange, red, and gold that so defined the season. A leaf broke from one of the many oaks, catching in the wind right before it hit the sparse grass. It was carried forward in sudden spurts, carried like so for a long time, until at last the breeze gave and it fell beside a lonesome shoe. The person turned, stepping forward and accidently crushing the leaf to bits.

There were a lot of people leaving this place, all of them wearing dark colors, and they got in their cars and drove away until only a young couple remained. One was a handsome man, with defined features and a memorable face. The other, a plain woman. Her brown hair was tucked up under her black hat, and her dress was on crooked. But she didn't care.

The stood together, hands twined, looking down at a fresh mound before them. Stiffling a sob with one of her black, lacey gloves, she turned to her spouse.

"I'll never want another baby as long as I live! None can ever be as precious as our Joey."

"I know, love," he said, struggling not to cry. "We can't stay here forever, you know. The guests will be waiting for the party."

"Party? Party! I haven't any need for a party. She fell down to her knees, coddling the dirt, mussing her dress. "Leave me."

"I cannot," he mumbled helplessly, bending over and struggling to pull her away. "We must leave him now, my sweet."

"No!" She sobbed, struggling in the arms of her husband. "No! I can't leave him! I can't!" She turned to the face she knew so well, pleading. "Oh, darling. If you just...if I may stay the night..."

He looked indecisive, but right then the rain picked up. Soon were both soaked, and the battle began again. She fell to the mud, trying to dig the little box that held her baby out. He stopped her with firm, knowing hands.

"I'll hate you for this," she declared, standing up. "I know I will."

The poor man looked ready to burst into tears. "He's gone, Lydia, gone!"

She shook her head. "Not gone. Not here. He's..." She looked skyward. "Somewhere, flying with the angels and birds. One day, I will see him."

They turned, bracing themselves for the long, wet, walk home.

"I'm sorry for what I said," she whispered at last, as they closed the rusty gate to the cemetary. "I love you, Ronald, and I need you."

"I need you," he said, pulling her close. "Whatever may happen from here, we'll be together, and at the moment that's all that matters. Alright?"

"Of course," she whispered into his coat. "Yes, that will do."

"We need to go," he said, staring with alarm at the darkening sky. "My love, we must leave him now. But we'll visit on the 'morrow."

"This will be a hard October," she said with a shudder. "And I really do never want another baby, Ronald. Never."

He dried her tears on the walk, as needed, and even shed a few of his one.

"Nor I," he sighed at last. "No, I will never want another."

But they got one, I'm afraid.

Her name was Bree.