A white envelope lay unopened on Susanna's desk. Outside, in the vineyard fields -- awaiting nighttime harvest after the hot sun set -- ripe grapes hung from the vines. Somewhere, her brother was working in the vineyards.

She picked up the envelope. Opened it carefully. The photograph that the envelope contained was wrapped in watercolor paper. She removed the paper.

In the photograph, a familiar man, his brown hair tinged with gray, looked out -- past a thin white line of breaking waves -- to the flat bluegreen ocean.

Beside him on a portable wooden easel was the painting of Utah Beach that, now framed in gold, hung in the studio/workshop. In the painting, the beach was not seen, and no boats were sailing across the horizon.

Despite visible scars, his still handsome face was achingly familiar.

When he painted Utah Beach -- about twenty years after he was listed missing in the Battle of the Bulge -- Ted Treharne was alive. "Ted", Susanna said aloud. "Ted".