It was going to happen. Anyone could have seen that. Carmen had predicted it all along. Any of our friends would have had to admit it if asked. Even I knew there was a door in our lives, it was there all along I had just never chosen to open it. As long as I left it closed things stayed in that suspended story that I loved. I felt I was always genuine, but perhaps I wasn't. Perhaps, I should have admitted to myself that I was lying too. Taking from the fabrication what I wanted. If had just been honest, then, maybe I could have carried on in that way forever.

One Saturday morning I was out working in my garden. In the two years that we'd lived in the house I'd slowly taken over several acres. I had cutting gardens and large plots of vegetable beds. I had planted a small orchard of plums, apples and pears for their blossoms as well as their fruit. I had a steady business of customers wanting floral arrangements for weddings, funerals and other events. I had many more customers in the Chicago area than I did in Sellwood. Word had spread about my work and I found myself spending all of my time filling orders when I wasn't with the children or Jeff. We also had two large greenhouses built so I could continue through the winter, only having to supplement my supply of flowers on occasion. I began to see that I could open a shop of my own and as the children grew older, I would be able to run my business, spending my time there managing things. I loved being in the greenhouses in the fall and winter, they were humid and held the scent of earth and fragrance of flowers. They were obscured by a row of hedges and trees so that the view from inside was a wooded border to our yards. It took a short stroll to get there from the house but the greenhouses were near enough to the guest cottage that I also spent some time cleaning it up and furnishing it so it too was an extension of our home. Although it seemed I was the only one who ever used it. If no one were home and I had been out gardening I'd go to the guesthouse and take a bath and then read on the couch that looked directly out to the greenhouses. The main house wasn't visible at all.

I also wanted the yard to be a magical place for the children. Often they ran out to the woods and had adventures in the wilder natural spaces where Charlie built forts, and now that Jeffery was four and a half he could join him, Charlie had a little partner who would do anything he Charlie told him to. It was Clara mostly who loved the garden rooms I'd created. She'd bring her dolls out to a shady spot under a pergola over which jasmine grew. Every time I walked through the little garden rooms, I thought of her, her precious face and smile. When had a seriousness when she sat the dolls on the cement benches or iron tables and chairs. She planned out elaborate dances for them and then had one doll put on a show for the remaining doll audience. Clara also meandered through each area of the garden some that I'd designed with open fields and only the borders with plantings of wildflowers and occasionally trees. She would run through the fields or I'd look out from the other side of the greenhouse and see her sitting just at the edge of the wildflower patches. She'd be out alone talking or singing and absentmindedly twirling a poppy or daisy between her fingers. Her red hair caught the sunlight and sitting there she looked like an illustrated page from a children's book.

I planted grapes and berries throughout the gardens, weaving them into other areas so the children could pluck fruit as they wished. One morning I was clearing out an area of brush so that I could have some hired help come and clear a path and pave it with gravel so that we might be able to get a small tractor down to the farthest ends of the garden. As it was, when we had to hire a grounds keeper they had to circle the dirt road on the other side of the property, coming through the alternate route to the guest house. It was difficult to navigate. Besides, I wanted to be able to attach a wagon and bring back vegetables of transport stakes and tools.

I turned and saw Jeff walking down through the grass towards where I was working. He was barefooted and walking carefully over the wet lawn. Before he reached me, he navigated a small patch of gravel. I couldn't help but laugh. He looked just the same as Charlie in that moment. I was a striking resemblance. The same light brown hair and blue eyes. I loved the rare occasion when Jeff ventured out of his role as the strict husband and father.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" I called out to him affectionately. "You look as if you're walking over coals!"
He laughed and called out "I didn't realize you were out so far or I would have called for a driver! Or at least worn my slippers!"

When he reached me he held out the coffee for me. "I'm surprised it's still hot after the distance I had to travel to find you."

"Well, thank God you got here before anything happened to me."

"What were you doing out so early? It's almost nine. You've been out here for at least a couple of hours." He walked up to me and kissed me. I removed my sun hat and tossed it on the ground. As soon as I took it off he reached over and smoothed my hair. "Look at what that hat's done to you."

"It's all right."

"Why don't you come inside and take a bath. After you're dressed we can sit and talk before I go to work. It's Saturday morning, I thought we would have coffee together and talk for a while."

"Do you have to go today? I was thinking maybe we could take the children somewhere. Just us."

"I wish I could. I've got to go into the studio, at least for a few hours."

"Maybe I could go with you? I haven't been but once. I promise I'll keep quiet. Don't you remember I used to sit with you for hours in my garden while you sketched?" I walked over to him and ran my hand over his hair. I kissed him and remained close with my arms around his neck.

"No. The children will be expecting you to do something with them. I'll have a driver take you somewhere."

I pulled away. "Really, isn't it about time I drove myself around? Even Elise could drive the car."

"I'm not having a girl whose practically a teenager driving you around. No. I'll call before I go."

"All right. Elise and I will take them out for the day."

"Or...Eve, why don't you take the day for yourself? Call Margie or someone else? You don't need to be with the children every moment. It's better for them to learn a little independence."

"We'll see." I said making it obvious I wasn't really considering his suggestion. "I would love visit campus and spend time with you there."

"You will soon. As soon as I have things put together. After my next show."

I knew Jeff was a different person when he was at the Art Institute. It was a side of him that I almost didn't know at all. Although there were glimpses when we spent time with his colleagues and friends. The few times I'd been on campus, I felt as if I'd entered a magical world. I'd hold my breath as Jeff held my hand and led me through the art building. We'd pass classrooms full of student sculptors and painters sitting in rows looking at the front of the class at a model or staring intently at their work. It seemed like something so important, and that was what I felt when I imagined Jeff walking slowly past each student at their easel. Stopping and examining their work, their technique, talent. I knew he could be very critical and cold. Well, that was according to Ed who often teased Jeff about his reputation for being harsh, and as Ed had put it "insanely demanding. Jesus," Ed once goaded Jeff, "how many girls have you sent running to my office crying hysterically telling me they'll never pick up a paintbrush again?"

"Do you believe them Eve? Am I so horrible?" he'd asked me affectionately, with his group of colleagues watching me. All of sitting around couches at another professor's house. I could tell, they all knew that what Ed was saying was true. I knew it was too, except maybe not the part about all the young girls crying. Or why they would.

It was evening, a few couples were staying the night. We'd been drinking scotch and gin and tonics. The light was dim and Jeff was beside me. He touched my face, "Tell them Darling. Tell them the truth about me."

"What do you want me to tell them? Do I believe that you are hard on your students? That you make young girls cry?"

Ed had laughed out loud. "You're wife knows you very well!" Ed said holding his drink up in sarcastic toast to Jeff.

Jeff was beaming. I could tell he liked his reputation. He raised his eyebrows and inspected me. "Well tell them the truth."

I smiled at him and then looked at the group who were eagerly awaiting my ingenious way to defend my husband's enigmatic and domineering ways. "He's a very brilliant artist. I imagine anything he says to the students is absolutely inspiring. No wonder girls cry. They're inspired!" There was a lilt of sarcasm and teasing in my tone. "Besides Ed, I'm sure its an exaggeration, I find it very hard to believe he pays much attention to the young female students. At all."

Ed actually choked on his drink and then spent a moment coughing trying regain his breath.

"Oh God Eve!" Jeff cried out in feigned embarrassment, as though my obvious sarcasm and exaggeration was the worst possible response.

"See there, even you wife knows you! Oh you're terrible. But, she's right. You are a good painter." Ed held up his glass in a toast to Jeff.

Jeff pulled me close to him and kissed me. "I'm crazy about you," he whispered. "You make me happy."

Out in the garden, the light was growing warm and it was one of my favorite sorts of times. This was my second year in the garden and the second time I'd witnessed the arrival spring. In the distance, the little orchards I'd planted were full of blossoms and when the breeze was just right it encouraged a sweet fragrance to waft past us. The soil was wet and fertile. The air was still cool though.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I won't be all day. I promise." Then he looked around the area. "What are you doing?"

"I want to make a narrow throughway so we can get a tractor. He smiled at me. I knew he wanted nothing to do with a tractor or any other farming activity.

"You aren't expecting me to drive a tractor are you?"

"No, but when gardener cuts the grass has to drive all the way around the guest cottage and even then its hard to navigate. Besides that way I can use it to transport vegetables or tools."

"My wife is going to be driving a tractor?"

"Stop teasing me. You're embarrassing me. Come here," I took his hand and led him to vines and bramble that had taken over an old wooden fence. He walked slowly watching out for his bar feet as we traversed gravel. The fence was leaning to one side and all rotted out. "Look at this. Do you know what it is?" It was an abundant vine with dark purple flowers all shaped like little bells.

"I have no idea." He drank down more coffee.

"It's nightshade." I said. I was concerned. It was poisonous.

"All right. It's nightshade."

"It's deadly night shade. Belladonna plant. You spent years studying botanicals, I'm surprised you don't recognize it."

"I hardly know anything except the flowers and plants I drew back in Sellwood. You knew everything about plants and flowers not me. Besides, you can't expect me to keep up, I've moved on from drawing plants and flowers. I'm now sketching architectural details. Ask me anything about a 18th century hinge."

"A hinge? Is that what you're drawing?"

"Not a hinge, lots of them. They are so beautiful. " He smiled. He shifted his weight. "My feet are cold. Come inside with me."

"All right, but I want you to understand about the night shade. It's poisonous. Little berries grow on the vines. Its very hard to get rid of the vines once its taken root. I'm afraid the children will see the berries. They look like they'd taste good. And what's worse they're sweet."

"Well just have someone come and remove it all and take it away."

"I will but now I'm worried that it may be somewhere else. This property is almost 40 acres. It could be everywhere."

"Why are you so worried?"

"Because I let them run out here alone all the time. Clara sits for hours by the raspberries and eats them and paints her arms and hands with the juice. Even the Belladonna leaves and roots are poisonous. The berries especially."

"Why is she painting her arms and hands with berries? She shouldn't be doing that anyway."

I just stared at him. We disagreed so much about raising children that I really hadn't bothered to let him know that during the day the children ran wild and explored and made messes. I even had a set of clothes he didn't know about so that they could climb trees and skin their knees and wade in the pond. I couldn't understand why he thought small children shouldn't do any of those things. He believed they should be schooled and disciplined. Whenever he criticized me I thought of poor Abigail and George, they were more like undertakers than little children. But, for Jeff's sake every afternoon, Elise and I would polish them up and present them to him when he came home from work. They were convincing little impostors, playing piano or reciting math problems.

"Really Eve. I don't want her doing things like that."

I let out a breath. "Will you walk the grounds with me and help me find all the night shade?"

He looked at me for a long time and shook his head slowly. "You're worrying for nothing. Are they dangerous right this minute? I may freeze to death out here. I'm the one in imminent danger not the children."

I smiled at him and met his gaze. His eyes were so full of affection. He had been this way towards me for almost two years. There were almost no hints of his darkest side. It was there between us, what had happened, but each month, each year the evidence mounted in his favor. It must have also meant that I was recovering from the tragedies in Bend. I no longer had episodes of terror, leaving my body only to exist in my mind. Suspended alone in a solitary madness with images of the terror. Disappearing and waking moments later back in my real life; time sputtering until I regained my senses. I knew that side of Jeff was there, sometimes I'd catch a glance if I said something that contradicted him, but really I didn't contradict him very much at all. I didn't question him and I catered to his stubborn demands.

"Come inside and sit with me. Take a bath and get dressed and sit with me for a little while."

That afternoon the children were absolute pills. Charlie and Clara fought incessantly over any little thing. Clara's bath was first and Charlie threw a fit. He didn't think it was fair. I had to take him and Jeffery to the bath on the other side of the house. He was fit to be tied. Yelling that Clara got to take a bath by herself. Jeffery, compliant as always, tried to give Charlie his toy boat to appease him. Charlie threw it on the ground and the little sail broke off. That sent Jeffery into a screaming fit. There I was on the floor trying to calm two little boys, one splashing me as he tried to get out, the other yelling about the injustices he'd endured that morning. I was about to lose my temper. I grabbed a towel and pulled Charlie out of the tub angrily. I set him down on the bench under the window. "You sit and don't move!" I pointed my finger at him. I rarely scolded him and he seemed surprised because he quieted down as I picked up Jeffery's boat and leaned back over to him in the but. I kissed Jeffery's head and rubbed his back. "Look darling, I can put the sail back on. Why don't we go on a little day trip and when we get home I'll put it back together." Jeffery was calming down still taking deep stuttered breaths and maintaining a grimace.

Charlie whispered "momma?"

"What is it Charlie?" I was still stern but I'd softened.

"I'm sorry momma." He said. I turned to him and he looked so angelic sitting there wrapped in a towel. He looked so small and his lashes were wet and clumped making them look almost black, making his eyes a glowing blue. I held out my arm for him and he rose and came over to the tub. I lifted Jeffery out and wrapped him in a towel. Charlie put his arm around Jeffrey and gave him a hug as I lifted him towel and all into my arms. Charlie had his towel wrapped over his shoulders like a cape. He was so small it covered his little body. We walked out of the bathroom and Charlie followed right next to me talking to Jeffery while Jeffery looked down with adoration, holding on to Charlie's every word.

"I'm going to give you two of my trains. Then momma and I will fix your boat." I could feel Jeffery nodding against my shoulder and I knew he was smiling. All he wanted was Charlie's approval and love.

Jeff had arranged for a driver to be at the house at noon. It was starting to infuriate me to have to have someone else drive me places when I was perfectly capable of doing it myself. It was so outdated and soon I'd have a business to travel to and I certainly wasn't going to be driven back and forth into town and to customer's homes for consulting about flowers. I would look absolutely ridiculous.

The children were dressed. "A miracle!" I said to Elise who walking out the door with me. Already it was starting up again. Elise had told Jeffery he could hold on to one end of the picnic basked, Charlie was insisting on teaching his brother how to do it correctly. I could see Elise's arm being pulled this way and that as Charlie tried to overtake Jeffery's grip on the handle.

I knelt down and took Charlie by the shoulders. "You stop it this instant!" I snapped at him. He started to say something but instead shot a contemptuous glance at Jeffery who was at that point contentedly commandeering the basket.

Mr. Fields, our driver was standing outside leaning against the car when we walked out of the house. He stood up and smiled, "Good morning Mrs. Lambert." He said and opened the back door for Elise and the children. The children climbed into the back of the station wagon. Elise climbed into the back seat and put the basket on the empty side. Mr. Fields opened my door and I moved into the front passenger's seat. Once I was inside the car he gently closed it behind me. I was used to Mr. Fields, he was a nice enough man. He was about Frank's age, likely around 60. He had a gentle manner and a great deal of patience. At the moment that Mr. Fields started making small talk with me, Jeffery had climbed into the back seat over Elise and interrupted our conversation trying to show Mr. Fields a drawing he had made of the subway car on the L he had ridden a few weeks ago when we visited the city last.

Mr. Fields took the paper but didn't look down at it. "thanks son. I'll look at it when we stop. I have to drive right now." Elise scolded Jeffery and he settled down.

"Did Mr. Lambert tell you? We're going to Washington Park?"

"Yes, he's given me all the details."

The children had settled down by mid afternoon. They exhausted themselves as we ran around Washington Park, around the sunken gardens. Elise always kept them so active and the five of us played a long, sometimes tedious, game of hide and seek. She would run after them, her long hair in a braid down her back, her skirt stained with evidence of crawling around on the grass and under shrubs to surprise the children. She was so pretty and full of life. I adored her.

"You're so wonderful," I said to her, putting my arm around her while we sat on the blanket. The three little ones taking tiny bird bites into their ham sandwiches.

She smiled brightly.

"You really are." I said again. I removed my sunglasses and looked into her eyes. "It means so much to me to have someone like you love the children so much. I don't have much family. I wish they had more aunts and uncles on my side."

Elise started to break a smile and looked down.

"What's funny?" I asked her, teasing.

"I was just thinking of their aunt Julia."

I raised my eyebrows and rolled my eyes. "Yes."

It was nearly four o'clock and we'd be taking the children home soon. I had an idea. "Elise, I was thinking of surprising Jeff. We're not so far from the art institute. He's working in the studio today."

"That's fine with me." She said. "Would it be all right, if Marian was with the children. I was going to go out for a while tonight."

"Of course. I won't be late either."

She smiled again. She was in between a child and a woman even though she was almost twenty three. I always thought about that when I looked at her. Did I look like that when Jeff and I'd had our affair?

I stood up and put my sunglasses back on. I hugged each of the children. Clara stood and put her arms around my waist then looked up at me. "Mommy, will you bring us a souvenir?"

I laughed. "But I'm not going on a trip anywhere."

"I've missed souvenirs for so long." She was almost pouting. I gave Elise a quick glance and shook my head affectionately. "I think you'll survive if I don't bring you a souvenir from Chicago darling."

I started to leave and turned to Elise. "Where are you going? Do you have special plans?" I asked her.
"Yes. I have—" she smiled again and her flash flushed a little. "I have a new boyfriend."

"That's so wonderful!"

I made my way out o the park. I knew Mr. Fields could have dropped me off before he took the rest home, but I needed some time alone. Time in the city. Remarkable, even though I had never spent much time in a large city like Chicago, I felt a certain energy as I made my way through downtown, in the maze between the tall skyscrapers. I liked the cars and taxicabs. I rode the subway from the park to the campus. I felt a little nervous about just showing up at the studio and surprising Jeff. He didn't really like me in his private worlds, even his study felt off limits. Whenever he spent time alone in the study, I thought of the nights he must have been working on the sketches of me. I wondered where Margaret had been in the large apartment. Had she simply built a wall around herself, kept safe in a tower of numbness, even from the children? Had she sunk into melancholy as I had after Nick's death, and again after the hospital? I knew that darkness. It seemed remarkable that when I'd met Jeff back in Sellwood --in the beginning--that had been my state of mind. Escaping into darkness, clutching Nick's letters to my chest. Disappearing from the world, hoping I would slowly bury myself so far in my pain that one night I might have just stopped existing. It was morbid and why did I torment myself thinking about the same horrible conditions for Margret? I thought. It was self-torture because no matter what road of blame I walked, it always led back to me. Still, as the train moved upwards to the elevated tracks past buildings stained with dirt and grease, I wondered why Jeff would have wanted me back then when I was in such a condition. If it was to give me a second chance at life, it certainly had worked. He was successful in bringing me not just out of darkness, but into such exuberance that I never wanted it to end. How desperately attached to him I was in the beginning. He could say and do anything. He'd become angry if I objected to his implication that I felt like his mistress and nothing more. Had I really begged him to love me? Had he really stood before me cold, looking down on me, reprimanding me for being irrational? The train continued along the elevated tracks; we were done with the subterranean route and then it occurred to me that this deluge of feelings may have been a premonition. Maybe I knew that things would turn again, maybe that's why I went to the Art Institute.

I walked into the building. It was quiet because it was Saturday. I walked past Ed's studio, the canvas curtain that covered the windows in the hallway were open. Although the lights were off I could see inside where the rows of pedestals and stools. Even they seemed sculptural, in and of themselves without the students in focused concentration working with plaster and clay. Ed's own sculptures populated the room. Figures of women and men, turning from naturalistic to abstract. White smooth plaster, one was cast in some kind of shiny silver medal. That sculpture was abstract, but still figurative I thought. All of the poses were so passionate despite their ambiguity. I always imagined Ed's hands on the clay. I imagined his hands on flesh.

Jeff's studio was at the end of the hall. My heels clacked on the tile floor. Instinctively I slowed my pace not realizing I was trying to conceal my presence. The long wall of windows was obscured by the drawn canvas curtains. I stood at the door and listened. I didn't hear anything. In a moment I felt shame for being suspicious, then I told myself if there was nothing wrong then he should be exited to see me; to show me his architectural drawings and prints. He would take me through his studio and explain his series. We could go have dinner afterwards and spend the evening in the city.

I started to knock on the door but held my fist just an inch from it for a few seconds. Instead, I turned the knob and opened the door. I scanned the room and as I turned I saw Jeff on the sofa that he had in the far end of his studio, near the long wooden table he used for his desk. He lying was on top of a young woman. She was nude and he was still dressed. Her long blonde hair hung over the side of the couch. She, herself, could have been the subject of a painting. Jeff's shirt was unbuttoned. His tie was on the floor. He looked up at me and he remained expressionless.

"What are you doing? I was able to say. "What are you doing with this girl?"

Her long hair moved first, the locks a pretty golden, long and loose. She tried to sit up but Jeff kept his hand on her shoulder. He kept her from getting up. From getting dressed. From stopping their interlude. I felt old in that moment in my dress, although pretty and stylish, it was the dress of a woman, a mother. A woman almost thirty. I bit my lip. It was a moment that was suspended. The air between us growing thick, I was having trouble breathing. I said, "Let me speak with my husband alone."

Again the girl tried to get up. Again Jeff kept her still. "You leave." He said to me. He expressed no emotion towards me what so ever.

"What did you say?" I was beginning to break down.

"You aren't supposed to be here. Leave."

My legs were numb and I backed away, as I did I saw him turn to the girl again and lean forward and kiss her passionately like he had done to me in the car. It wasn't tender. It was full of desire. I let out a sharp breath as I closed the door. I began walking back through the empty half-lit hallway. I wanted to escape the building. The walls were closing, certainly I would die before I made it back outside. I rushed down the street not knowing where I would go. I didn't' want to go home. I didn't want to wait for him, watch him behave as if he'd done nothing, handing his coat to Marian, having her fix him a late dinner. I couldn't' sit up waiting for him, take him into my arms. I could never feel his hands on my skin again. I could never believe him. Of course he'd been sleeping with his students. That was what Ed's comments about the girls crying meant. He was pushing the bounds of deception. He had wanted me to piece it together. He could see I was blind. And then for Jeff to ask me to defend him at the parties against the teasing "Jeff brings young girls to tears." It was as though I was the object of a joke. I had been. It was all a torrent of disgust, anger and pain. I wasn't at all who I'd been. I sat on a bench and waited for a decision. What would I do? I noticed as the cars and taxis rushed passed. The thunder of busses, I realized that the anonymity of being in Chicago was what was drew me in so much. Suddenly I feared the darkness that could invade me, but it wasn't hovering. I wasn't jerked down into shards of memory. His hands on me, twisting my arm. His grip on my chin bruising me as he—that's when I realized that Carmen was right, I'd always referred to what he'd done to me as "forcing" me, but as terrible as that sounded, it was a gentle description. He had raped me. I shuddered realizing that I'd married a man who could do that. I was filled with self-reproach and self-blame.

Those were the feelings I had sitting on a park bench in the middle of Chicago that Saturday afternoon. Dusk moving in in over the city. I watched people pass and I knew they were going home, it was almost dinner time. I looked at my watch, 4:45 in the afternoon. Somehow even the time was imbued with significance, just a few minutes before was the exact moment I knew that Jeff didn't love me. It gave me such an emptiness that finally I cried. I put my hands over my face and shook my head as I let the tears fall. After a little while, I stood and walked towards the bank. I had saved almost every cent of the money Jeff had given me every week to buy new clothes. But, I didn't buy clothes; how ridiculous a thought, that I would run into town with Margie and spend my days purchasing expensive dresses and shoes. Instead, I continued to sew my dresses. I spent only a small amount of money on clothes and it was a rare occasion. I had enough money in the bank to purchase a hotel room. Even though it would be indecent for me to check myself in, a woman alone, I was anonymous. I really didn't care. Once I obtained the money, I walked to the Silversmith Hotel. I checked myself in and to my surprise the concierge didn't seem to even notice I was alone. He handed me a key and smiled. I met his eyes and I thought he could see my desperation. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

I nodded. "Is there a telephone I may use?"

"There's one in your room and there's a courtesy phone over on that table."

I walked through the lobby and sat down on one of the velvet-upholstered chairs. I picked up the phone and dialed the house. Marian answered. My voice was trembling but I regained composure. "Hello Marian."

"Eve, is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course. But, I won't be home tonight. It's a long story and I don't have time to explain. Can you take care of the children? I'd told Elise that I would put them to bed, but I won't be home to do that."

"Yes. Of course. Should I call Mr. Lambert. Is everything all right?"

"No don't call him. I'm at the Silversmith Hotel if you should need me. But, please only ring me if there's an emergency. I'll be back in the morning."

I hung up and looked out the glass widows at the city. All of the buildings were lit up and with glowing yellow lights from the rows and rows of windows. On the street level, the shops had bright, colorful neon illuminating their entrances. I looked around at the other guests. They were well dressed and most were couples sitting and smoking or milling about. Bellboys moved carts from here and there. I entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. A young bellhop smiled at me. "No luggage?" he asked. But I gave him a reprimanding look and he glanced down for the remainder of the short ride to the third floor.

When I got into the room, I closed the door and sat on the bed. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to feel anything, just as I'd learned in the hospital but the image of his hand on her shoulder, her naked body, it came to me in obsessive flashes. Then, I felt his hand on my thigh, unhooking my stockings. His possessive eyes looking into mine wanting me because he was jealous of his friend. I couldn't say why these two incidents were linked. I took off my coat and placed it and my purse of a chair. I crawled under the covers and buried my face in the pillow. I wept for over an hour, the thought of his hands on her. His words echoing over and over "Leave. You have no right being here." It was back. His horrible other side was again revealed. I stopped crying but stayed in bed. I thought about the children, my life in Chicago. The beautiful house and how I'd furnished it. And, the gardens. Being Jeff's wife was but one of my acquisitions. As everyone had told me before I left Bend, "you don't need him. You can start a life on your own." The life they spoke of still seemed worse than the one I'd built with my new family. I'd known all along that I couldn't live that way.

I fell asleep and was awakened by a firm knock on the door. I heard Jeff's voice, "Eve open the door." I opened my eyes. Before I rose, I summoned my strength. I told myself not to fly off in a fit of rage. I also told myself not act in deference to him, but in a solid calm so I could maintain self respect. I was strong, he was a coward. I was the one who overcame impossible odds to have what I wanted, he never had to overcome anything in his life. In my mind he was weak. I walked to the door and opened it. He looked almost like his usual self. He made his way in.

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

"You have no right to ask me any questions," I countered.

"Is that so?" he walked over and picked up my coat and purse. He draped my long coat over his arm. I saw his jaw clenching.

"You have no right to even speak to me. I'm staying here tonight." I said firmly.

"To hell you are. My wife isn't staying in a hotel by herself. You are not going to humiliate me in front of our children and the house staff."

"Humiliation? Disrespect? You were making love to that girl. You told me to leave. You didn't even have the decency to stop. You turned to her and kissed her, right in front of me. There she was naked. If you think I'm the weak person you knew eight years ago, you're crazy. I'll don't want you anymore."

He looked back at the door and grabbed my arm forcefully. It all came back, the absence of myself. The memory of that afternoon. I looked at him and he must have seen the immediate change in me. He released my arm and said softly, "let's go Eve." He put his arm on my waist and led me out the door. In the elevator the images of the hospital floated above me. There was a woman in the bed next to me. Her moans rose and I touched my own cheek as if the moans were coming from me, as if I knew I would never leave. He took my hand and led towards the concierge desk. He dropped the key and led me out the turnstile doors. I couldn't remember anything from the ride home but as we turned into the lane that led to our house, as we pulled up in front of the house, suddenly I'd returned to myself.

"Are you all right?" He whispered. "You don't seem as though you're all right."

I looked at him with a sharp glance and as much as it seemed to stir a contempt for me, I could see he was relieved that I was back from that dungeon in my mind. Once out of the car, he tried to put his arm on my waist and lead me into the house. I pulled away and sneered, "Don't touch me."

He moved away as if I'd pushed him physically. We started walking again but stopped on the stairs. "Don't ever touch me again. I hope you know you can never be with me again."

"Don't tell me what to do." He countered.

"I hope you know that you're despicable. How could anyone love you?" I knew those words were the only thing that could pierce his exterior. I knew those were the words that put me in danger, but I didn't care. Instead of escape, the first seeds of a new tactic were forming. I didn't know it then, but it was revenge. I didn't know my mind could conceive of cruelty the way he seemed able to without thinking, just a reflex in him.

The door opened and Marian was standing there. I knew if I'd come in alone, just as soon as I'd crossed the threshold she would have said something like "Eve, I was worried when you called." But with Jeff there I knew she would slip into formality, afraid of him too but only intimidated—I knew she was in no physical danger. Jeff and I walked in and he handed her his hat and our jackets. She took my purse from me. "Can I make you a late dinner Mr. Lambert?" she asked him.

"Yes. Thank you. Just something light."

"I'll do it." I interrupted. As much as I liked Marian that was not why I said it. I knew Jeff hated when I treated the staff equally. "You must be tired."

"Jesus Eve would you stop acting so damned common?" he said, "I'm not hungry Marian." As much as I'd restrained myself, convinced myself in my mind to remain calm, I couldn't. In front of Marian I walked right up to him and practically shouted.

"Why do you have to be so mean to everyone?" I raised my voice. "I've done my share of hanging laundry, washing dishes, changing diapers!" Then I walked up closer to him and looked him in the eyes, "Don't you ever tell me how to behave again. I hate you!"

"What did you just say to me?" he asked. His voice was cool and his words precise.

I looked at him, glared into his eyes for a second. He looked like a child, a frightened child anticipating his mother's ultimate rejection. This time I lowered my voice, and slowly, accentuating each word, "I said: I hate you."

Then, he didn't look vulnerable any more. His face was full or rage and contempt. He raised his hand and in an instant it came down hard against my face. So hard that I was pushed backwards. Marian let out a gasp but looked frozen. I brought my hand to my cheek. I was both stunned and hurt.

"I'm not hungry Marian. That will be all. Leave me with Mrs. Lambert." She hesitated for a moment then left the room.

I held my cheek. I forced myself to stand tall. I started for the bedroom but he grabbed my arm. "How dare you say that to me."

"Get your hands off me."

He raised his hand and hit me again and continued to hit me until I pulled away and rushed down the hall to our room. Once I was safe in our room I took a deep breath and walked over to the dressing table, I had red welts forming, my lip was split and bleeding in two places. I let out heavy breaths, hyperventilating. I didn't know what to do.