“This is the title of this book,” she said. “It is, ‘Ivy Walls’, and it is one of the most intriguing novels I have read, bar none.”
She pushed her hair back. One suddenly understood that Lillian had come full circle into womanhood after
being a full time companion to the boys and young men in the small town where she lived. Thoughts about her flew, like silent zephyrs of lightning, through the room.
“What is the title?” I asked. “Oh yes, here it is, ‘Ivy Walls.’ Hmm?” I looked at the book’s plain front cover, stroked it with my finger tips and then felt the back cover. “Nothing to give you any information.” I said to her. “Is it a book about college life?”
“No,” she said and smiled again. “It’s about life now and in the future. It is a book you will
never forget...I promise.” She looked at me and gazed directly into my eyes. “You will never forget it.”
She kissed me softly on my cheek, caressed my head, affectionally, turned and walked to the front door. I
looked down at the book and gazed again at the large oak carved double wood door. I didn’t hear it open or shut. But
she was gone. Nowhere in sight. No footsteps on the front porch. And, as I recall that event, I don’t know her and I didn't know her.
