After the first time he hit me, a gulf formed. All of the intimacy and love that had filled the house after we were married was replaced by contempt. Somehow we carried on with the pretense of a marriage, at least on my part. He almost postured himself as loving, in an effort, I believed to assuage his own guilt. We continued to sit together at the table for meals when he was home. He'd ask about my everyday activities, talking less about his own passions. He'd ask me to sit with him when he got home. I would but I'd just smile a dead smile. I wasn't that way with everyone, just him and he knew it. I refused become like Margaret or who I'd been years ago--weak. Somehow I thought I was strong enough to endure being hurt by him, it almost fueled me in keeping up the marriage. I wouldn't let myself die, a walking corpse. But, I wouldn't be his companion or lover either. I knew he was still with the girl. I could smell her fragrance. He was often gone at night and weekends. When he'd come home late, he'd come into the guestroom room where I'd moved in permanently. He'd wake me. Regardless of what time of night it was, he'd ask me to sit up. I would pull myself up. I was tired, "what is it?" I'd ask, pulling the sheets up tightly around me.

He used his most gentle voice. His eyes were compassionate and he'd sit on the edge of the bed. He'd say "I want to know if you had a good day. If you're all right? I'm worried."

I'd close my eyes and stop myself from crying, convinced that hurting me was what he was looking for each time he returned from being with her, each time he woke me in the middle of the night.

One night I woke to him on the side of the bed, right next to me. He was tracing my lips with his fingers. I opened my eyes and was startled to see him there.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He pulled his hand away and watched me. "Eve, we shouldn't have done this."

"What is it?" I asked pulling myself up and sitting up against the headboard. He was still so close to me.
"We should never have married."

I froze and felt the few threads that held my heart to his. They ached from holding on to something so tightly. There were too few of them and they were far too delicate to keep my feelings much longer.

I nodded. "All right." I said.

"I've gone crazy again." He looked down. He shook his head. "You've made me go crazy again. Just like before."

I felt frightened of him. At the same time I knew that his words were true. I felt that I had caused the chaos and heartache in our family. It was not something I'd done deliberately, but it was simply who I was.

He reached for my hand and held it. I was still frightened but didn't pull away.

I whispered, "Why would you say such a thing? I didn't do this to our marriage."

"No." he admitted. "but I shouldn't have brought you here. I should have just kept you with me in my art. Sketching pictures of you in the evenings, drinking scotch and thinking of you."

I put my hand on his face and gently turned his gaze towards me. "Are you drunk?" I asked him.

"Yes. Eve, I'm very drunk tonight."

I don't know why but I guided him into bed next to me. As soon as he lay down he closed his eyes. I kissed his forehead and watched him as he slept. He looked exactly like Charlie. Charlie, more than the other children resembled Jeff, since the moment Charlie was born, he had an uncanny likeness to his father. I touched Jeff's hair just as I would Charlie's when he was feverish or frightened. I held my cheek against his forehead and closed my eyes.

The next morning, the sea of hatred rose around us again, on all sides. I realized much later that we may have been able to return to that closeness at any time. Instead we resumed as it had been. Anytime we were around the staff or children he'd turn stern and cold. I didn't act fearful. I'm sure that bothered him more than anything. I was reasonable and strong which angered him even more. There were several occasions when I disagreed with him that he'd call Elise or Marian into the room, ask them to remove the children if they were present. Then in almost the code for what he was going to do he'd say, "I'd like to speak with Mrs. Lambert alone." Then I would defend myself. I never backed down to him and perhaps that was why he couldn't control his aggression with me. Each time it seemed to go further. The trajectory from anger to violence was short and steep. Often I'd get away after one strike, run into our bedroom and lock the door.

After every violent incident, he would calm down so quickly. It was as if once he'd done it, hurt me, he released all of his built up anger. He'd go have a scotch and leave me alone. I could even come out of my room and he'd just glance at me as I walked past him. Not compassionate, but no longer furious. Sometimes it was really bad. My face would be so bruised that I'd have to cancel my meetings with customers and Marian would have to deliver the flower orders or I'd hire someone to deliver them and collect the money.

Still, despite my resilience, a darkness was infecting my heart. It was becoming all I could think about. It was mixed with how things had come to be with us and how they had been all my life. There was no longer what we'd had before his affair and violence. All of it was pulverized with each attack on me whether it was his blatant infidelity or his violence towards me. I had no feelings left except an intense weight. I felt it must have been fear rising, but I couldn't comprehend what more there was to fear.

Then, it came to me. I continued to work in the garden and one day I found more of the nightshade, the belladonna plant. I was so worried that the children would somehow get into it. I put on my gloves and began pulling it out. I'd planned to burn it later that day to destroy it. By that time the berries had formed. Luscious looking black pearls. I stopped tugging the plant out of the ground and stared at the vines, berries and bell shaped flowers. At first I kept thinking about what my gardening encyclopedia had said "10-20" berries will kill an adult. It was an unconscious mantra. I wasn't aware of it for a time, but then realized that the word kill kept lingering in my thoughts. I knew I didn't want to kill Jeff, but I thought I should prepare for the worst. At that moment, I named the weight and fear that had been growing silently inside of me, a cancer that was destroying my waking moments. Of course, I was anticipating that he would have me sent away again, this time forever. The nightshade had led to a path of realization. The thought of poisoning Jeff was the natural answer to the descending shadow of fear. I realized standing out under the clouds my acres of gardens surrounding me in every direction, I should have a plan that I could execute quickly, that was in case he were to try to send me back to the hospital. It made sense in that moment. It was logical. If the asylum was his trump card, the belladonna was mine.

As much as my plan gave me a sense of power over my fate, it also stirred the most frightening kind of unease. The hospital and my experiences there held a direct electrical current to a kind of insanity in me. It was a secret insanity because I knew the episodes I had were abnormal, mostly they were dormant but when they happened I was suddenly transported to another place. I lost track of time. As Jeff once had said I was damaged-it was only in that one way. I wasn't a raving lunatic, but rather, I understood how terrible life could become. I'd had a glimpse into the most gruesome and hellish of fates. I had narrowly escaped it. I knew what Jeff would do that to me again without any sense of remorse, without a second thought. Carmen had been right, he was my husband he could have me sent away whenever he wanted.

My mind flashed on Suzanne, what if he wanted to bring her to his home? Make her his wife? All he would have to do is have me committed. A bolt of rage, jealousy and fear ripped through me. I imagined Suzanne taking over the house, being the children's mother. It wasn't even imagining her in the same bed with him. It was her replacing me in my life. I couldn't breathe and I felt as though I would faint. For a moment, I thought perhaps some of the belladonna poison had seeped through my gloves. My heart pounded and I couldn't breathe.

I looked back down at the pile of nightshade, the vines were tangled and even though I'd pulled them down to the roots, they were still alive, not limp and wilting. They seemed supernatural to me, alive with an abundance of potential. I frantically pulled out the roots and soon and filled the wheelbarrow. I was sweating and I removed my straw hat. I was careful not to touch my face with my gloves as they had been on the belladonna plant. There were even purple berry stains on the leather. I walked to a nearby bench and sat down. I was so tired.

Once I'd eradicated all I could find, I gathered brittle sticks and branches that had been downed by the wind. I created a pyre and then heaved the nightshade on top. I lit a match and watched the vine catch. It crackled and spit out embers because it was still alive. It was a morbid feeling watching the white smoke rise from the ground. I'd read that even through the skin, the plant could cause harm. I wondered about the smoke. If I breathed it in, would it make me crazier?

I moved back towards where I'd removed the plant. I found I was exhausted. I sat on a bench and my field of vision was interrupted with the illusion of Suzanne, her young face. She was wearing my gardening clothes, my straw hat. She was the one pulling out the nightshade; it was no longer me struggling with the roots, but her hands gripping and tearing. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, the cool breeze passed my face, caused my hair to move and I felt it's faint touch against my neck. I opened my eyes again and my garden had returned. The silence of the daytime, alone outside. I looked down and there was yet another small belladonna plant in the patch where I'd removed the rest. It was just a tiny vine but there was a flower and I noticed a dark, black berry. I notice there were more berries covering the ground having been shaken off when I pulled up the plant. I continued to smell the smoke as I stared at the belladonna sprig. My entire body was numb as I walked closer to the plant. I picked up a handful of berries, still plump and intact. I placed them in my apron. Then, I leaned down and carefully dug out the sprig. I made sure to keep the roots attached. I then made my way into the smaller of the two greenhouses. The thought of Jeff and Suzanne was no longer just pictures that flashed before me, but I was a corpse-already buried in one of the dark rooms of the asylum-I was a corpse and I was haunting their new life, the one I envisioned them having together. I placed the berries in a bell jar and filled it with a little water so they wouldn't dry up. I put the glass jar up on a shelf and hid it behind other jars of seeds I'd collected. There really was no need to conceal its location, Jeff would never have come in and even if he did, he never would have suspected anything if he'd found them. After I put the berries away, I planted the belladonna spring in a small pot and placed it in a warm spot in the sun where it would flourish.

I never really planned on using the poison. As unlikely an excuse as it may sound, at that time it just put my mind at ease to know it was there. The planning itself which was hardly a premeditated intention; it was just an exercise in keeping myself rational. Of course, at times I recognized that it would have sounded crazy to say ruminations of killing my husband kept me able to keep up appearances. But, the other option would have driven me crazy; sitting with him day in and day out waiting for him to send me away, having him flaunt his infidelity, hitting me. The plan became etched in my mind. I would give him some of the berries, just enough to make him ill; while he was sick I would have enough time to escape with all three children. I would never give him enough to kill him, just enough to make him bedridden for several days. But, the problem was I didn't know how many berries that would be. All I'd read was that it would take 10-20 berries to kill an adult. How many to incapacitate one? I wish I'd had a confidant, but really it wasn't the kind of thing one could share with anyone else. It was crazy. I knew if I'd told anyone, it would sound completely insane to even be considering doing it. But, I told myself I was only a fantasy to comfort myself. I was working the rage and jealousy out of my system. The unrelenting terror

I stood in the greenhouse not wanting to go back inside. The Christmas before Jeff had bought me a new gardening book. It was a thick tome of information about plants all alphabetical. I removed it from the shelf and opened it to "N" I was looking for nightshade, but when I found it the book referred me to "Atropa Belladonna." There was only a small paragraph, but I hung to every word. I found the description of Belladonna in the encyclopedia. There was a black and white sketch of the plant with the flowers in one drawing and the berries in another. I could feel my heart beating as if this were a Perry Mason radio program. I felt both foolish and powerful.

Atropa Belladonna is one of the most toxic plants found in the Western hemisphere. Children have been poisoned by eating as few as three berries. In adults 10-20 berries is fatal. Ingestion of a leaf of the Belladonna can also be fatal to an adult. The root of the plant is generally the most toxic part, though this can vary from one specimen to another. Belladonna leaves, if handled carelessly, can cause skin blisters. The berries pose the greatest danger to children because they look attractive and have a somewhat sweet taste. Symptoms of belladonna poisoning include dilated pupils, hallucinations, blurred vision, loss of balance, a feeling of flight, staggering, a sense of suffocation, flushing, husky voice, extremely dry throat, severe abdominal pain, constipation, and confusion. Heartbeat and breathing can become extremely irregular. Profuse sweating is common.

As had become the pattern, after my episodes of darkness and insanity, I would return to the rational woman I'd always been. I couldn't predict how I would come and go in my mind. It was as if I didn't know I'd been experiencing an episode until it was over. That was the case, once I read the words in my gardening book. An unbearable fatigue overtook me and after I read the description, I felt enormous shame. The symptoms of poisoning were so horrible. I would never be able to execute my plan. I could never see him in so much pain and suffering, caused by my own insane preoccupation with revenge and the desire to escape.

I was sitting with Jeff at dinner one night. I could smell the girl's perfume on his shirt, even from a few feet away. He was acting so confident and I knew somehow he'd had a good day. Was it the residual of being in love with this young girl? Did she inflate his feelings for himself? He was arrogant and I kept my stare on him for some time as he spoke. I was frozen with disgust. He kept going on and on, telling me how he was planning a trip to New England to visit old structures, for his work on his paintings inspired by 18th century architecture.

"Really, there are places there, you wouldn't believe it Eve. There are places built in the 1700s. The hardware is incredible. All hand forged iron." he was so excited and he made me want to vomit. I moved my fork around my plate of steak and potatoes.

I had slipped into one of my terror states, then back to myself again just as suddenly. In that moment, he was like a film reel caught in the projector. His face appeared then disappeared. I imagined him on film, stuck in front of the hot projector bulb. I imagined the plastic film melting him away.

He had potatoes on his fork and as he put it in his mouth, I imagined it. I imagined him swallowing poison. "Really, Eve there's something so beautiful in these old places."

"That's absolutely fascinating," I mocked. But, he was so happy about something that he didn't even notice.

"Isn't it?" He asked and then he looked at me with the most open expression of affection. Not husband to wife, but companion to companion.

I let out a deep breath and he reached across the table for my hand.

"What is it?" I asked, expressionless as always. "What do you want me to say to you? That you have my blessing to take the girl with you? Do what you want. I don't care."

His expression didn't even change. "I didn't know you felt that way."

I nodded, and my eyes met his. His blue eyes tried to burn through my exterior. But then suddenly, it was all clear to me. Really, it had been there all along. It was as plain as day. He wanted me to be jealous. "Well I do. You should take her with you to New England. She makes you happy."

"Why would you say that?" he asked. "I wouldn't take her, really."

As I looked at him, I could see Jeff's hands on me. Touching me as if I were clay, making love to me. "No." I said, "I'm sure you wouldn't. But, really I wouldn't mind if you did."

"Jesus Eve, what a thing for you to say." He put his fork down and stared at me. He looked concerned.

"What did I say that was so wrong?"

"I would take you, of course."
I laughed at him, "what makes you think I would go anywhere with you?"

I expected him to grow angry but he didn't. "I think we should go for the summer. Bring the children. That's exactly what I think we should do. I can do my work and you and the children will spend your time on the beach."

I was pulled back into time and place. "I simply don't think you'll be able to go that long without your muse."

"Jesus Christ, Eve. What's wrong with you?"

I didn't hear anything else he had to say. Why was he suddenly trying to win me back in his favor? Was it because he sensed that I had disengaged from him? Certainly, I was preoccupied, but it wasn't what he'd thought. Most of the time I was fantasizing about poisoning him.

After the conversation about New England, after my rejection of Jeff, he upped the ante. He became flagrant in his infidelity. Despite my jealousy I'd almost forgotten about my plan to poison him. Really, it had never been a plan, it was just a side-effect of the terror over my fear of being committed. When he said that he'd want to take me and the children to New England, to go as a family, I felt more secure. I continued to think he was a cruel husband, but I knew he wasn't considering replacing me with Suzanne as horrible as that sounded. The idea of using the belladonna as poison had mostly evaporated. There was no plan. Instead, when I was especially angry at him or if I had been drinking, I would indulge in the fantasy of poisoning, imagining his suffering. The two were very different.

Somehow I continued to socialize with our group of friends despite the fact that everyone knew what a fool I was. I kept my demeanor and there were situations where the girl was there, at some event with Jeff. On those occasions, people moved away from him like oil on water. They just spread away and instead drew themselves closer to me. Some of the girls would usher me into another room and pour me a strong gin and tonic. One drink would follow another and I would find myself laughing at some tidbit of gossip, but really we were laughing at Jeff. He always positioned himself so he could see me. We'd all keep one eye on him too, watching the girl stand beside him like a child, sometimes holding his hand. As we grew loud and rowdy, his attention on me would increase. I would turn to him and just smile a saccharine, insincere smile. All the while imagining him lying in bed, sweating profusely and hallucinating from belladonna poisoning. From across the room, he'd glare at me with such fury I thought he'd rush over and hit me in front of everyone. I didn't care. My revenge fantasies provided me with so much satisfaction. When I was drunk or near drunk, I felt no shame for imagining causing him such misery. Likely it was that when I'd been drinking I'd lost the inhibition to censor my thoughts. At the parties, eventually he'd pull away from her and enter the room I was in. I imagined that he felt completely shunned. The girls were all drunk and raising their eyebrows when he came towards me. One time Eleanor, another professor's wife, an artist in her own right, looked right at him and said "look what the cat dragged in." When she did, I put my head in my hands unable to stop the laughter. Another girl put her arm around me. Of course none of them knew he was hitting me, shoving me against walls when we were in private. None of them saw or imagined his abuse. Often when I was cloistered with the women, he'd come over to me and glare at me. On one such night he approached me and said, "may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course darling."

He pulled me over to a corner, "Don't mock me."

"All right," I'd whisper not in resignation but in strength. I was buying time until I found a way out.

I felt I'd used restraint but really, I sneered caustic sentiments at him. "Yes, it must be very embarrassing for you to have to endure a wife whose making herself perfectly happy despite her husband's blatant adultery. No. It's worse than that. I don't even know what to say about you-you're vile."

"I'm finding someone to take you home."

"Why don't' you bring me home? For once?"

"Because I'm not drunk. I'm not making a fool of myself."

"I don't' think anyone would agree with you."

"God damn it, Eve." Then he circulated the room, asking one of the married couples we knew to give me a ride home and they did. The entire ride back, they made small talk in the car. I knew it was to avoid the obvious facts of my marriage. I'd talk about the flower business and how I was looking for shops in town. Just a small place that I could work out of.

When I arrived home I fell into bed, still dressed, too exhausted to change. As I was sobering up, the poisoning fantasy receded and I felt guilty again. I realized at the end of the every single fantasy about poisoning him, he never died. Instead, he'd wake from a deadly sleep. Then, as my story always ended, he'd realize how much he'd loved me. The poison would change him back to who he really was. I would no longer be alone in the world, have that emptiness that I'd known so often in the past. I had to do something. I didn't know what to do. I felt I could endure his anger towards me for a while, but I couldn't take watching him with that girl who seemed to be starting to enjoy hurting me too.

One night we went to an art opening. We drove together as we always had and I expected that he'd meet the girl whose name I came to know. Suzanne. I didn't even object anymore. Jeff and I had truly become bound by a contract. He'd stopped being so violent and I ceased pretending to make small talk with him. We hadn't been intimate in months and he no longer came home and interrupted my sleep. I continued sleeping in the guest room, in fact I'd moved in permanently. Our conversations mainly centered on the details of managing our home and family. That night, I was dressed in a straight skirt and sleeveless collar shirt. I wore open toed pumps. I felt older and more sophisticated. I had been almost completely transformed on the outside. I wasn't the girl, as I had been when Jeff and I first met. I was no longer a child, as Suzanne still was. We made our usual small talk as we drove to the opening.

"You'll be sure to tell Marian to make roasted lamb for when my sister and her family come for dinner next week.

"Of course" I said removing my gloves. "Yes. Of course."

"And I'd like for you to go to Julia's baby shower. I'll give you extra money to get her something nice."

"I already knew about it, Jeff. I've already talked with Julia's friend who has been planning it."

"Well its important to me."

"I understand." I looked out the window as we left the suburban landscape and drew closer to the city.

"Clara will need a uniform for school," I said.

"Oh for Christ sake, Eve. Are we really going to keep doing this?"

I was stunned. He hadn't expressed that much emotion to me in months. Then, I realized that's what I had been thinking too. A wave of relief washed over me. I wanted to leave just the marriage, and now it seemed that's what he wished for too. Perhaps, he wanted to be with Suzanne the way he had wanted to be with me. Unlike Margaret I wouldn't object. I thought if I made things easy for him he would let the children stay with me. I'd remain close by and of course make sure he had as much time with him as he wanted. Of course, this speech, this plan for separating had unconsciously been running through my head for months. I softened towards him because I didn't hate him. Just as it had been before we just couldn't be together no matter how much we wanted to because he slipped in and out of love with me. I'd forgiven worse.

I touched his shoulder, "I feel the same way too. I think we can do this amicably."

He looked surprised at my moment of affection. He softened his voice too and turned to me. I saw intimacy in his eyes. "What are you talking about Eve?"

"I thought you said you couldn't take this any more."

He squinted. Then he raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought you were saying you wanted to be with Suzanne. That you wanted to end things."

He turned to me and fixed his gaze on mine, "Have you lost your mind?"

I felt myself grow flush. I put my hand over my mouth and turned towards the window, away from him. I stared out and silent, tears ran down my cheek. He reached for my arm, "look at me Eve."

I turned to him.

When he saw I was crying, he softened towards me again. "You're crying," he consoled.

"That's what you wanted isn't it? For me to finally break. For me to show you how much you're hurting me. I want you to leave. I want you to take up with her. I just want to live without being hurt so much. I want the children and the gardens."

"You want the children?" he tone was turned steely. "Eve, they are my children."

The sting didn't go away all night. The words repeated in my mind. I wouldn't have any say in who got the children if I left him. They were his children.

"All right then," I conceded, "I know you won't stop sleeping with the girl and humiliating me but please stop hitting me. Just stop hitting me."

We arrived at the gallery and the usual people were there including Suzanne. As soon as we got through the door Jeff left me standing with a group of friends. Our group of women had stepped up their reactions to Jeff's flagrant cruelty. "Here darling, have a drink," Eleanor said. Ordinarily drinks were constantly replaced every time I finished one. But I didn't want to get drunk that night. I wanted everything to sink in. I wanted to let myself watch them. I asked the girls to stop plying me with gin and tonics.

I sat on a bench in front of a row of photographs, velvety black and white images. Mostly women. Mostly nudes. A large photograph hung on the back wall just behind Jeff and Suzanne. Ed sat down next to me. "How are you Eve?" he asked. I shook my head and shrugged. "If it helps everyone feels bad for what he's doing. They're on your side."

"I don't understand," I said. By that time Jeff had turned back towards me. He moved his position and he kept his eyes on me most of my conversation with Ed. I didn't care if he was jealous, I don't think Ed did either.

"It's cruel," Ed remarked.

"Was he like this to Margaret?"

"Not openly. He's doing it for your benefit. It's not even about the girl. Everyone sees that."

"Why would he?" I asked, almost to myself.

Ed gave me a weary smile. He looked at me for a moment. "Jesus, Eve. He's acting crazy."

I nodded. I don't know why but I thought about the sketches he had shown me, the ones he'd kept in the drawer of his study. It wasn't until that moment that-for some reason-I realized how unusual it was. Not that an artist wouldn't draw portraits of his love, but the number of them. It seemed to be from the same level of frenetic emotion that fueled his attempts to hurt me and make me jealous.

"You know, " Ed said "I don't know what happened to him. I don't mean to pry but did something happen between you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"Eve up until this started with Suzanne, I'd never seen him as happy as he seemed to be with you. I knew he hadn't loved Margaret. He was miserable. That's why -or at least I thought that's why he cheated on her."

"That's not why he cheated on her. You know that as well as I do."

"Ya, I guess I do. He was never like this though. I just thought maybe you two had a disagreement or-It's none of my business."

"It's a long story." I confessed, "This isn't the first time he's-It may be something about me that makes him so mean."

Ed opened his eyes wide and started to say something but didn't. Of course I was referring to the rape. His destruction of my life in Bend.

"It happened the same way. He was completely in love with me and it seemed to eat away at him, then he was heartless." Ed was still focused on our conversation, but I felt I'd gone too far disclosing this much of our problems. "But let's not dwell on the subject of my marriage." I smiled and without knowing it put my hand on his. At that Jeff approached and stood above us. I removed my hand.

"What is it?" I said acting as if he were an impatient child.

He shook his head and glared at me. He turned to Ed. "Ed why don't you bring her home then? I think she's had enough to drink."

"Then what?" Ed snapped back.
Jeff looked directly at Ed. "Since you're holding my wife's hand."

"There's nothing going on. If that were the case, why in the hell would you want me to bring her home?"

"I haven't had but one gin and tonic. I want to stay." I said to him.

Jeff ignored me. Ed stood up and motioned for a private moment with Jeff. Despite their distance away I could overhear their conversation. "Jeff, take your wife home. Come on. Knock this off. You know damned well there's nothing going on."

My gaze switched from Jeff to Suzanne. I had a moment to inspect her without Jeff by her side. She really was very young. She looked completely uncomfortable and out of place without Jeff there, using her to make a point. His intention that no one but me understood. And, even at that it wasn't something that could be put into words. It was something between us. She turned to me and our eyes met. She looked down and back at me again. She let out a deep breath. I didn't know what to think or to if there was anything to do.

I turned back to Ed and Jeff. I heard Ed saying. "Come on Jeff. Stop doing this to her. She doesn't deserve it."

Jeff didn't seem to care. I felt as if he hated me. "If you don't want to pal, someone else will."

Why would he ask Ed to bring me home? He was so jealous of interactions I'd had with Ed. Clearly threatened by him. I didn't know if Jeff could conceive of me having an affair and I certainly had not entertained the idea.

"All right," Ed said, started to walk away and turned back. "Jeff why can't you stop doing this? What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Don't lecture me."

Jeff walked back over to me. "Get your coat, Ed's bringing you back."

"I'll get her coat for her," Ed said as Jeff turned to leave.

I reached for him, I took Jeff's hand. "I don't want to go home with him. It's just going to make you Jealous. You'll start a fight with me over it. Cant you bring me home?"

He shrugged me off and walked back over to Suzanne.

Ed and I pulled into the driveway. He looked at me. I knew he was attracted to me and I recognized my feelings of attraction for him. If things had stayed the way they were with Jeff then it would have remained a secret affection that wouldn't go anywhere. Just an innocent, fleeting connection that eventually would have transformed into a platonic friendship; but that wasn't the case.

"I'm so sorry Eve. I wish I knew what to tell you. How to advise you. I don't know what the hell is going on."

I nodded and removed my gloves. I turned for the door handle then I turned back.

His green eyes were fixed on me, still a compassionate friend. "I'm going to drive back to the gallery so he doesn't think anything happened between us."

"Why don't you come inside?"

It seemed I had caught him off guard. "Eve," his tone was so kind. He knew what I was trying to do. "If you weren't married, I would in an instant." He offered a brotherly smile. I knew it must have made him feel good to protect me from my impulse to sleep with him. A reaction to my bad marriage.

"I'm serious," I said.

He was quiet. He looked out of the driver's side window for a long moment. It was dark and the night was still. The moon was reflected in the pond. I wished we were teenagers as Nick and I had been when we were together. I wished we could walk the grounds, cross the footbridge. I wanted in that moment to be innocent again and kiss him there under the blue light then nothing more.

"Aren't your staff awake?" He finally said. His eyes met mine and in the dark I felt dizzy from the intense attraction, from the danger and desire.

"There's a cottage, a guest cottage on the far end of the property. If you turn out the lights and back out, we can enter down a separate path."

"Won't the staff wonder?"

"No. Jeff's friends bring me home all the time. You know that. After they drop me off, I walk down to the cottage and sleep there."

He leaned closer and touched my hand, "Eve. I have to confess. I've always found you so beautiful. I've always been so attracted to you. I've tried to hide it."

"You haven't hidden it very well." I smiled at him and touched his hand.

I felt a wave of passion or infatuation run through my body. It was a terrible thing to feel and even worse to do. Ed turned the car lights off and before he shifted into reverse he touched my face tenderly and leaned forward. His lips touched mine and it was so unlike Jeff, even though I'd always found Jeff so passionate, Ed was as I'd imagined. He was a sculptor and his touch was a gentle over my skin, along the curves of my face.

The more I met Ed in the cottage, the more life returned to normal at home. I hadn't realized how much my burden had seeped into the other parts of life. I could see now that the children were again rambunctious and giggling where they had become more subdued over the past months. Marian and Elise were also cheerful and we resumed our old routines. I was completely infatuated with Ed and after spending an afternoon with him, I was full of energy by the time Jeff returned home. I started fixing myself up again, applying make up. Instead of eating with the children and then retiring to a bath and early bed. I would wait for Jeff and he began returning home early again. We'd have dinner together and things in most everyway seemed the same as before. Jeff at first responded to it in kind. He softened again and we'd sit across from each other listening to jazz and him drinking scotch. He would once again share his artistic passions with me.

One night he shared his new ideas for a series. "I want to do nudes again, but not in repose. I want to use light, moonlight or blinding sun like in the morning when it's rising. I want to capture something beautiful but more anthropological."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean?" I was genuinely interested. "Isn't anthropological primitive?"

He looked up and thought for a moment. "Well, it would be" he looked back at me, "it would have that aesthetic but also-yes. it's primitivism, I guess and natural light and landscapes."

"Oh," I said. I watched him as he calculated the idea in his thoughts, arranged them in order to share them with me.

He continued, "I can see the whole series already. They're of you Eve." He turned to me and when he looked at me it seemed as though the idea had just struck him. "I want you to model for me again. We'll go out into the gardens at night and very early in the morning. The moon reflected on the pond, your body will be illuminated with everything else in the gray and black hues of nighttime or dawn."

Unexpectedly I became numb, frozen in between moments. It was near to the feelings that descended on me before an episode, but it was also different. It was the collision of my buried affection for him and his renewed interest in me. He seemed to be the old Jeff, as if none of the problems had ever existed, and he was responding to me as if I were the same too.

"Will you do that for me?""

Suddenly, I felt flush. I felt shameful and asked myself why I hadn't waited for him to return to me. I let out a deep breath and bit my top lip, I was starting to tremble and all I could do was stare into his eyes as mine filled with tears. I ran out of the room and into the guest room. He didn't follow me and I was thankful. I lay in bed and thought of Ed. I didn't know why I'd started the affair with him. As always, it was hard for me to recall exactly what was so bad in my marriage. This amnesia felt frightening to me. Anyone else would have been able to name it, but when Jeff expressed interest in me again, that was what I saw. His attention was so inexplicably intoxicating to me. I let out another deep breath and lit a cigarette. I knew Ed would understand if I ended things.

For some reason, despite my guilt, Ed and I continued to meet in the cottage. Whenever Ed knew Jeff was with Suzanne, he'd call me and we'd make arrangements. The calls were coming less often which I knew meant Jeff's time with Suzanne had nearly run its course. Still, when we were together, Ed and I would lay in the bed in the guesthouse making love. He would undress me slowly as if he were removing the canvas from wet clay the was working day after day, molding into what would be his final piece. What he would later cast in bronze or copper. I could hardly wait to feel him against my body, but still he was methodical in removing my clothes. When my shirt was finally unbuttoned, he would peel it open slowly. He would place his lips on my stomach and apply gentle kisses while his hands moved carefully over the rest of my body.

After we made love, I would lie in his arms, I would stare into his eyes, coming to know him as a lover. Sometimes he would bite his lip and lean into me. He'd whisper, "you're so God damned gorgeous" before he kissed me again. "every time I look at you...you take my breath away"

I'd kiss him on his lips and stare into his eyes. I ran my fingers over his strong arms and again across his lips.

One afternoon I told Ed about how Jeff hit me, although he hadn't in months. Ed stared straight ahead and his look was not rage, it was akin to panic, a deep worry for my safety. Neither Ed nor I were in love with each other but we'd grown to love each other. It wasn't an affair that would end in marriage or escaping together, but it wasn't likely to end any time soon. He clenched his jaw, he sat up and shook his head. Later still, as we lay on the pressed sheets, the winter snow starting to fall in flurries outside the windows, bare branches scraping against the guest house, I told him about what had happened in Bend. I didn't provide most of the details but I recounted how Jeff had come and told Frank about Charlie's illegitimacy, how he forced me into sex and then made me so distraught that he'd convinced Frank and others that I'd gone crazy. Ed watched me with disbelief, keeping his hand on my back. He didn't stop shaking his head slowly. I told him how the people from the hospital had dragged me out of my house. How they tore me from Charlie. And that Jeff stood there in my house, smoking a cigarette, watching me scream and struggle to free myself.

Ed took a deep breath; he ran his hand through his dark hair. "Eve," I'm not blaming you, but why the hell would you come back?" I felt guilty again as I had when Carmen asked me the same thing.

"I wanted the other side of him," I whispered. "I had no place to go. I was alone."

"Still, Eve. It doesn't fit together. I'm just being honest. It doesn't fit."

"It was good for two years. Better than good. You said it yourself."

"I don't think I can be his friend again."

I couldn't help but laugh. Here he was sleeping with Jeff's wife. He wasn't exactly being a true friend. I didn't say it.

"Eve. I'm worried. Why would you do this with me? I'm not worried for myself, but for you. From what you say, he's likely to hurt you very badly if he knew about us. I don't want to imagine what would happen. Maybe he'd even have you sent away again. Eve, he's your husband now. He wouldn't even need a reason to have you committed. Just get a doctor and sign a paper."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." I finally whispered.

He kissed my forehead, lifted my chin and kissed me again on the lips. "Eve, if anything happens I want you to go straight to the lake house. Don't tell anyone. Before you go call me at the museum or home and let me know. I will go directly there. If I'm not at the Art Institute. If I'm out lecturing or at a gallery just wait there. I'll check the messages every day. As soon as I get a message from you I will come and help you and I'll take you and Charlie out of town and get you on a train away from here so you're safe."

"What about the other children? I can't leave them. I love them as if they're my own."

"You can't take them. Not at first. Once you're safe you can either come back for them or... don't know. Maybe by then Jeff will give you a divorce if that's what you want. But you aren't going to stop being their mother. Eve, in the meantime, we can't do this any more. I think I should leave right now. It's snowing and he may be leaving the studio early to get back before the roads are impassable. I don't want my car stuck here either. Why didn't you tell me all of this sooner?"

"I don't want stop seeing you."

"I would like to continue too but we weren't going to take this anywhere. I do love you Eve, but it wasn't going to ever turn in to anything."

It didn't hurt me to hear him say it. I knew it too. I felt the same way. I kissed him and then looked at him and touched his face. "Thank you. I feel much safer knowing I have some place to go and that you'll help me."

I stayed in the cottage for a couple hours after Ed left. The snow came down hard and covered Ed's tire tracks completely. I cleaned the little house, looked for any traces of Ed, not there ever were any. I sat on the couch drinking a tea, prodding myself to go back home. I wondered if Jeff was back at the house yet. If he was he'd know where I was. He likely wouldn't' bother me until I decided to return. Although with the storm, he may venture out and bring me back to the main house. I stared at the falling snow. I'd made a mistake with Ed. It had been so dangerous. Was I so possessed by anger and revenge? I shook my head to erase the thought of myself for the last few months, carrying on, so elated and charming to everyone. My skin so often still flush from Ed's touch as I'd sat beside Jeff on the couch and pretended to listen. Instead, I was recounting each second of love making to another man. So full of infatuation over Ed and then showering it all on Jeff to dissipate the excitement. A grave guilt descended on me. I felt it would completely paralyze me with Jeff. I wanted to go back to the main house but couldn't. It was nearly dark and it would be cold walking back, trudging through the snow. I looked out the window and caught the sight of lights coming down the lane towards the cottage. I walked out on the stone porch, under the steady amber glow of light within the brass fixture that hung on the wooden overhang that covered the porch. The snow was now falling heavily and it was hard to see even a short distance away, all I saw at first were the two white headlights illuminating the flurries. It was heavenly. Once the car pulled up closer, I saw it was Jeff's alfa romeo. I took a deep breath and folded my arms to keep warm. He stepped out of the car and the door closed with a muffled thud. He was wearing his felt hat and long coat. He raised his hand and offered a slight wave, then held his hand up near his face to block the wind and snow. When he got to the porch I stood without saying anything, without inviting him in. Really it wasn't my cottage. It was ours, but I had made it mine. He started up the stairs and I stepped to the side.

"How are you, Eve?"
I usually felt anxious when I didn't know what he was thinking or about to do. My guilt was so strong that when I saw him, I could still feel Ed's hands on my skin, I imagined Jeff speaking with him, he would soon. They'd talk as friends and colleagues. Maybe it would be sitting at a bar after they left the institute. How would it be for Ed to cover things up and remain cordial?

"Can I come in? You should get out of the cold too."

I walked into the house without responding. When he came inside, he folded his coat over the kitchen chair. He set his hat on the table. The cottage was small compared to the house but it wasn't that much smaller than the house I'd lived in in Sellwood when Jeff and I had started our affair. It had the same feeling with the dark wood and the fireplace. The kitchen was smaller and more rustic, but still it felt familiar in the same way. I hadn't realized it until we were standing there just at that moment. It was the first time. The first time we'd ever been alone in the guesthouse.

"I feel as if I'm visiting you. As if this is your home and I'm a caller." He smiled.

I walked into the wood paneled living room. He followed me. "It's your house too, Jeff. You're hardly a caller."

"I know. I'm trying to make conversation."

"Oh I didn't realize we were on speaking terms again."

He closed his eyes for a moment and waited a moment before he spoke again, "Can we talk for a little while?"

I sat on the couch. It was a plush burgundy velvet. Despite the two other comfortable chairs across from it, Jeff sat on couch too, but left space between us. I just looked at him. He rubbed his hands together unconsciously, gently. I watched his expression. Had he found out about Ed? I didn't think so. I knew if he had, it would be a violent cyclone. He'd come in and destroy me.

"It's over." He said looking at me, raising his eyebrows, looking as if he were examining my reaction. I could see he was nervous."

"What's over?"

"With Suzanne. The girl from my painting class."

"Oh I didn't know she was from your painting class. I'm sure you inspired her."

"That's glib, isn't it? You and I have been getting along so well. Why are you speaking to me like this?"

I smoothed the fabric of my skirt. I knew he was thinking about himself in that moment. He was thinking about the affair with this girl. I knew how he could throw someone out, once he lost interest they meant nothing to him. Except for me, he'd pull me back and forth always tethered but sometimes inside his orbit and he'd close that door and keep me far away. Far enough away that I'd be convinced I was set loose, he'd come back. Then he'd keep pulling on the string that bound us, and soon I'd slip down into his influence.

I couldn't keep my mind on Suzanne. I didn't fully absorb what he was saying. Instead a panic was growing inside of me. I was coming to understand the gravity of what had transpired in this house, in the small bedroom just steps away. The sheets probably held the scent of Ed's spicy cologne. My skin still felt the sensation of Ed's hands on it. The reality of what I'd been doing completely dawned on me in that moment. I looked up at Jeff and felt as if I were going to explode. As if a grenade had been tossed and landed at my feet. As if it were going to go off no matter what, in a matter of moments.. I'd done the thing that would destroy me.

I returned to Jeff. He'd started apologizing. "I want our life back. We've been angry at each other for so long. Believe me I know how unfair I've been. All of our friends have told me. They love you. They really do."

"Tell me what to do." I was numb. I'm sure my words were emotionless.

"About what?"

"Tell me how to be your wife. How to continue doing this with you."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"You're a horrible husband. I can't leave because of the children. Your children that I love as if they were my own. I don't want to give up what I have here. I don't wan to have to leave this new life, to have to go somewhere else all alone. I'm tired of leaving and failing. I can't start over any more. I should never have come here." I covered my face with my hands. Jeff gently pulled my hands down and leaned towards me.

He said softly, "I'm not a horrible husband Eve. You have everything you want. I let you choose whatever house you wanted. You have these enormous gardens-which I love-but not once have I objected to any expense on the house or garden. If you would go out and buy new things for yourself, I would give you as much as you wanted. I support you and the children. I'm not horrible to you. It's just been a hard few months. Ok. It has, but I've taken good care of you and our family."

"I know you have." I looked down at my hands. I was beginning to lose track of whether husbands did the kinds of things Jeff did. Even if normal men didn't, Jeff was an artist, prone to swinging temperaments. I was so different from him. His family was so aristocratic. What did I expect? And, over and over Ed's words burned their way into my thoughts too. "Why the hell did you go back to him?" Perhaps, I caused the whole thing with my decisions as Carmen blatantly said. The fault was in the choices I'd made, not the things that had happened to me. There was something wrong inside of me. The affair with Ed only convinced me more that my role in these problems was perhaps even bigger than Jeff's. The only difference between us was that he could leave whenever he wanted. I was trapped.

"You've hit me so many times. You struck my face. You made me bleed and my face swelled up. Most husbands wouldn't ever--"

"I know I have. I know."

'Why do you? Do you really hate me so much? It's one thing to have affairs, it's another to make a fool of me, to flaunt it and make me watch you, right in front of me. You are a horrible husband."

He leaned over to touch me but I pulled away. "Don't." I crossed my arms. "Just tell me what to do."

"I can't tell you. I want you to want to. Just as you have been these past weeks. It started to feel normal again. I thought you were forgiving me. I know it wasn't easy knowing what I was doing. And Eve, I haven't struck you in a long time. We've been getting along so much better. I've been starting to feel as if you love me again."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. He said it as if it were my fault. I could feel my lip trembling. I let out a deep breath and summoned the power to stop the tears. I swallowed hard and let out another breath. Jeff moved closer to me and touched my cheek. I opened my eyes.

"You've needed to cry Darling. You've needed to for a long time."

I moved away from him a little on the couch.

"I don't have to tell you how to be a wife. You are a perfect wife--are all I've ever wanted. I haven't appreciated how much you've done. I haven't' told you in so long."

"Will you be kind to me? Not hit me or -" I regained my composure. I looked at him, "I suppose you won't stop with other women. That' you'll always have other women when you become infatuated."

"I don't think I will. Eve, you make me crazy. That's how I end up doing these things. I know you don't mean to. Maybe you don't do anything at all. Maybe it's just me. I feel you rejecting me and I don't know what to do. I've felt so betrayed by you." He looked at the ground.

I didn't know what he was saying. "Why would you?"

"You just garner so much attention. Sometimes I think I need proof that you'll love me no matter what I do."

"I've never rejected you or gave you reason to be jealous."

"Maybe you didn't realize it, but you were. With Ed. Dancing with him. Flirting with him. I watched you Eve."

"That's not true. Jeff you think dancing with someone is equal to what you did? Besides, I'd never flirt with Ed. Do you expect me not to be cordial?"

"I don't completely believe you Eve. Since I've known you, you've always kept things from me. For years you'd tell me that you didn't love me. Even that you hated me. I would come to you and tell you my feelings and you'd--"

"Did you hit Margaret too?" I asked.

He looked away and stared out the window at the snowfall. It was accumulating and piling into little hills on the windowpanes. I wished things weren't the way they were. He was always the only one I wanted to talk to. He was my closest friend. Things were ruined. They were completely ruined. I was sitting on a powder keg. It was going to blow up and there was no way to stop it. Even his vulnerability in that moment was increasing the pressure. A part of me wanted to confess to him, just get it over with. He'd done the same as me. I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been so cruel. Yet, somehow I knew different rules applied to me. I didn't even know if people would blame him for beating me after what I did. Maybe not even for killing me.

He moved closer and when I pulled away he gently took my hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. He put his hand on my neck and pulled me towards him. He was about to kiss me but I couldn't. "I don't want to." I whispered.

"You don't want to do what?" he asked.

"Please don't force me."

He pulled away a little and his expression changed. It wasn't angry, it was more paternalistic. I started to rise but he kept my hand in his and motioned me back to the couch. "Eve, let's get one thing straight. It's not force -or rape-- when it's a husband with his wife. You say that so easily, but really you know a man can have his wife? You always said I forced you in Bend."

"I wasn't your wife in Bend. You came into my house when I asked you not to. I ran away from you. You held me down while I begged you-"

"You were the mother of my child. We were like husband and wife."

"I didn't want to be with you then." I felt the rage rising. I stood up and ran my hands through my hair. "I always feel like I'm in prison with you. Maybe I've always been in prison." I started to cry. I thought of everything that had happened over the years. Not just Jeff, but before that. From the start. The years my mother was ill and my father living away with his timber business. I took care of her often all night. Then I'd get up early in the morning and get dressed, I'd go high school classes all day, seeming perfect and normal. Then I'd go home and watch my mother dying. When I was older, it was the same. Meeting Nick, believing in the person I was supposed to be, his wife. I loved him and had a happy life. Then when he was killed. Then Jeff came. He seduced me. I could finally see that even during the affair, it was a kind of prison but I didn't know it until it was too late. I was too intoxicated to understand that it would go exactly where it ended up. It would end horribly for me. Pregnant. No where to go. I'd lost everything. My whole life.

I was still crying and I looked at him. "I trusted you again and came back to you. I fell in love with you again. I was so happy and tried to do everything you wished. I forgave you and for two years I tried so hard to make you happy."

He rose and stood in front of me and adjusted my hair. He took out his handkerchief and wiped my eyes. "I know you did. I won't force you Eve. I'll wait for you. I know you did all those things for me, and I won't hurt you again. Darling, I'll wait until you believe it's true."

I looked up at him. I knew that no matter what I did, it was too late. It was over. I'd ruined my marriage with Jeff. Maybe it had no end point. As much as I wanted to leave, there wouldn't be a last line to cross. Even with all that had happened, I would have stayed, but I knew with all my heart there was no way of ever fixing my indiscretion.

"I won't force you, but may I kiss you? I have to kiss you."

I kept my eyes on him as he leaned towards me and gently at first, then more passionately he kissed me. He pulled away and touched my cheek. "I will wait however long it takes."