The baby was so close. I started sleeping later and later. Less than a month left to go; my mind and body felt so ready. Some nights I willed him to come. I concentrated and rubbed my belly. Tried to coax him out. The excitement was building. I wanted to hold him in my arms. I felt that once he was born, my life in Bend would be secured. It had been two months since the letter from Jeff Lambert. It remained in my winter coat pocket in the armoire. I hadn't looked at it since the day it came. At first I was afraid that because I never wrote back he would be angry with me and do something vengeful. I didn't know what he could do from Portland, but I knew he could be cold and mean. As time wore on I realized that things were different. What could he do if I didn't write him back? I wasn't living in a house in Sellwood, having an affair with a married man. The worst thing that could have happened had already happened.

One day another letter from Jeff arrived. That day was like the others late in the pregnancy. I felt as if I hadn't slept at all, but I made myself get out of bed and get ready for the day. That morning I opened the armoire and removed a slip and one of the adorable maternity outfits Mary and I had made back when we couldn't have imagined I would be so big. I pulled the slip over my belly and powered my chest and neck. It was so warm those last days of my pregnancy. I pulled the skirt on and then the smock. The smock had barely any give. The skirt fastened with ties so adjusted to my size. Even pregnant, it was a smart looking outfit. Navy blue with tiny flower print, a white color and a red bow. It was simple but made me feel pretty and somehow suggested that at one time I'd had a girlish figure. Charlie was so big by then that instead of little kicks to my ribs, he seemed to fill up my belly, tightly secure in there. My skin around my stomach was like an inflated balloon. I could feel a little part of his foot just under my rib causing some pressure but barely moving. I knew that little round lump was his heel. I would rub it gently throughout the day. I was sure he was big enough to be born, but Mary's friend Lenore who had four children told me that the last month would take forever. "You feel ready, as if it will happen any moment. Then it takes weeks before labor starts." I had such a feeling of love and contentment when I ran my hand over my stomach. It was all I could do to wait for him to arrive. I picked up the hairbrush and bobby pins and started putting my hair up.

I turned when I heard a gentle rap on the door. The door opened slowly, it was Mary. "I thought you were sleeping. I just brought your mail. I'll leave it up here. You can take your time getting ready. No need to rush." She placed the letters on the dresser.

"Mail? From Carmen?"

"Yes. And, there's another letter from that man who wants to buy your house."

"Jeff Lambert?"

"Yes, that's what it says. Portland Museum of Art."

"He's a professor there. An artist. He teaches."

"Well, here it is." Mary started out the door. She lingered for a moment. "Do you want Frank to help you with your business affairs? Like we talked about? When you decide to sell the house in Portland. If you end up staying here in Bend? There's a lot he can do to help you Eve. He's a very good businessman. He's done a lot of work with the bank for the farm."

I was paralyzed. As much as I didn't want to let on that there was anything other than a letter from a persistent buyer, I felt almost as if I couldn't speak. I had to muster words to keep Mary from worrying or suspecting something else was going on.

"I do, Mary. When I decide to sell, I will have Frank contact Mr. Lambert."

She nodded. "I keep meaning to tell Frank about his letters and the man's interest in the house. I was going to ask Carmen if she knows him. Maybe she can talk to him for you when you decide."

"Mary," I tried to sound earnest. "Would it be all right if we didn't just yet, Can we just let the letters sit, not bother Frank or Carmen until Charlie gets here? The baby is all I want to think about. The house will be there. You haven't seen it, but its very lovely. There'll be no problem selling it. When I do, I'll need Frank's help. And Carmen's. I so much appreciate—"

"All right darling. I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose I want you to stay here. Get you settled here. But, I know it's not that easy. You're right. Let's get Charlie here safe and sound. Should I bring you some coffee or orange juice?"

"I'll come down. I'll finish getting dressed then I'll be down."

"Oh good, some of the girls will be over for tea. Come sit with us for a while."

"I will. It'll be fun."

Mary left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. When I heard the metal click I walked over to oak dresser and picked up his letter. I moved to the bed and sat down. All I felt was anger at his arrogance. What if I hadn't been able to make up a story about him to explain the letter? What if Frank had seen it? What if he or Mary had opened it? I felt as if Jeff was controlling my life again, or trying to—even from so far away. The letters were a reminder that he once had so much power and that again mine was slipping. I feared I would lose everything all over again. I began crying. I turned and sobbed into the pillow, drowning the sounds but feeling a weighted pain consuming me. After a short time of imagining the worst possible fate --having to live as Jeff's mistress, endure a life of shame-- I began to panic. I thought of packing my things and taking the train somewhere and settling there, telling my lies in complete anonymity. Suddenly, something descended on me, woke me up from my despair. Both fear and clarity causing a piercing calm. Were my emotions overtaking me? I sobered quickly, recognizing a certain danger in expressing such strong feelings. It must have been the pregnancy. I realized I needed to remain calm and in control of my emotions. I wished Carmen had been there to remind me that Jeff really didn't have any control over me. He was a bully. He'd never really had power, it was me. I was just too afraid to say no to him. It was true that I'd done something very wrong in having an affair and carrying on as if nothing had been at stake. I had been like a girl in the movies, behaving as if I lacked morals or integrity. I didn't know why I'd done it, but all of that ended with little Charlie. Jeff was not in a privileged position. He wasn't my husband or a part of my close circle. He was nothing to me. In truth, I'd grown to find him revolting.

I was already exhausted and couldn't imagine moving through the whole day. I didn't know how I'd muster the energy. After I composed myself, I opened the envelope. Inside was his letter. A photograph fell onto the quilt as I removed the stationary. I didn't want to look at the photograph just then. Not until I'd read what he'd written. I was afraid of everything. The letter. The photograph.

Eve,

You've surprised me. I've waited so many days for a response from you, but no letter ever arrived. Please write me so I know how you are. Eve, I don't want anything except to know that you've forgiven me. Although we have been lovers, we have never been correspondents. I look forward to reading your thoughts on paper. It would mean so much to me, becoming intimate with your handwriting, coming to know the lines, and loops and curves of your cursive. I want to see you through your words and how you compose your thoughts to me. Then, I will come to recognize you in your writing. I'm selfish. I want words you choose when you write to me. Ones meant only for me. I want to know what secrets you'll tell me.

As you know I'm not a believer in fate or luck but last night, I stayed awake for a long time, almost till morning. I was thinking about you and, just as if I'd summoned them, the next day I found photographs of you. I opened my desk drawer to retrieve my stationary and write you this letter, and there under my papers were the pictures of us at the beach last summer. I put one in my wallet and I keep it with me. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how often I look at it. It was one I took of you by the shore. Do you remember our weekend together? You were so lovely, Eve. You always take my breath away. I'm enclosing one of the photographs. One of the two of us outside the crab shack. Remember we asked that man at the restaurant to snap a shot with my camera? I always thought we looked like film stars, in that picture. The two of us in front of the car with the building just behind us and beyond that the sea. Well, perhaps it's only you that resembles a film star. You were so lovely in your swimsuit, the scarf in your hair and the sunglasses I bought you at the beach shop.

Eve, I want you to take the train and meet me in Eugene. I've found a hotel for you to stay. I'll register you as your brother and I will purchase a second room for myself. I realize that you may not be well enough to travel, immediately. We should wait until the baby is a little older, but not too long. I'd like to take you on a tour of the town. I've traveled up there several times and driven through neighborhoods and looked at houses. It would be perfect. That way I can make sure you are taken care of. In the meantime, write me about you and your life in Bend. Please don't forget to tell me when you can make the trip. Once the child is old enough come and let me look at you. Let me see you as the mother of my child. I know that my coming to Bend would be full of complications, so I won't bother suggesting it.

Eve, please write something. Don't ignore my letters.

I love you.

Jeff

I rose numbly and folded the letter. I was about to place it in the old wool coat along with the first one, but instead, I put it along with the photograph in my skirt pocket. I retrieved a straight pin and secured the pocket so they wouldn't fall out. I knew I'd need to reread the letter; that there would be moments throughout the day when a panic would come over me. Or, I would question what I remembered he'd written.

I needed to go for a walk, maybe through the orchards or out to the woods. I wanted to contemplate this new development. I straightened the quilts on the bed and puffed the pillows. I tidied the room. I realized I was too tired and frightened to go sit with the ladies. I moved to the window seat and stared out over the orchards. I could see that the trees were full of apples. They'd be ripe and ready to harvest in a month or so. There was a man down below; he was raking around the trees, cleaning up the orchard. He had a wheelbarrow into which he was transfering leaves, sticks and early fallen fruit. As he raked, little parallel lines and grooves were formed. The lines followed the path of the trees and curved and looped around, a short distance between each curve the tracks were straight.

Coming to know the lines, and loops and curves of your cursive.

I returned to myself when I heard the sound of the ladies gossiping downstairs in the parlor. I didn't feel much like putting on my charade. I didn't want to be the heroine, the war widow with a hero soldier's baby. Doing my part for the country. No matter how they felt about me, I was filled with shame. My lies made it worse. Jeff's letter had cast a terrible curse over my life. All I could hope was that it would fade. Perhaps he'd find another woman. All I wished was that I would forget about him and he'd leave me be, but after the second letter I recognized he wouldn't. His letters gave no indication that he would stop until he had me. What that meant, I didn't know. I opened the door and started down the stairs, I could hear Lenore and Susan going on about a lady named Mrs. Phillips.

"She really has some nerve! I wasn't three feet away with her going on about the bridge group!"

"It couldn't possibly surprise you—her rudeness."

"Well, she wasn't outright rude—"

"She wouldn't be, now would she? No, there's always a smile in her face and an insult in her eye. I 'v seen..."

I slipped on to the back screen porch. August was hot in Bend. It may have been the baby that made it especially unbearable. My heaviness, the heat. My back hurt so. The thought that a solid month of pregnancy remained made the whole thing seem unbearable at times. I kept my hand on the top of the pocket, feeling the stiff paper of the letter and photograph. I strolled out through the orchards, under the shady canopy of leaves and growing fruit. The worker was no longer raking. I walked over the loops and lines, parallel tracks in the earth. My mind was bubbling with a response to his letter. Not a word of his seduction stirred me. He wrote as if I were still in love with him. As if it would be a natural secret correspondence, just as our affair had been. As if I was still so thirsty for his slightest attention, that his deluge of words would fill my empty, lonely life. As if each of these letters would satiate me for a while, until finally I would run back to him. How could he know I'd changed and I wasn't that person any more? How would he ever understand how a woman is transformed when she is about to have a child? All of the months conceiving, not just a new life for my baby, but also a new role for myself. I didn't think he would even like this new person I'd become. I knew I didn't like him any more. I feared if I wrote anything to him at all then it would cause him to act. But, in not responding, it left me with a sickening fear that he may just show up in Bend. If he were to do that, I knew what Frank's reaction would be. I could imagine the two men talking calmly and with each word, my status lowering and lowering until I was nothing but a disgrace. I found myself panicking again. I stood under one of the large trees and looked up at the sky through the branches. As much as fear ripped into me, a maternal side was growing stronger. It was hopeful. It came in these unexpected dreams. Like looking up into the blue patches of sky through sturdy branches, I saw my son in the future. A little handsome face staring down at me. I could feel my heart rise and fall "be careful darling." I imagined myself wanting to protect him, as all mothers want to protect their little sons from all any harm that could come to them.

I walked a bit further and found a spot under a large apple tree, one of the last in the orchard. An expansive field opened up before me. Despite my aches and pains, walking through the orchards and gardens seemed to return me to my life there in Bend, at least a little bit. I managed to lower my heavy body to the ground and sit in the shade of the tree. I took off my shoes and let my swollen feet rest on the cool ground. Although I hadn't looked at the photograph, I couldn't get Jeff's description of that day on the beach out of my thoughts. I removed the pin and retrieved the picture from my pocket. I loathed myself when I looked at it.. I hated to think I had been the kind of girl to behave in that way. Looking back on the girl that I was, I felt as if I were dancing on someone's grave. Wasn't that what anyone else would see too? There I was with a married man, away for a weekend. Taking a picture in my swimsuit. He said I looked like a film star. That wasn't how I looked. I had the arrogant look of a woman who was sleeping with someone else's husband. It was plain as day. Jeff was the glamorous one, truly looking like a film star, celebrating his victory. I continued to stare at the photograph. If I had been a child, I might have convinced myself to rip it to pieces, bury the letter and the picture in the woods. Once it was out of my hands, hidden, I would have been able to tell myself, that it didn't exist. I would no longer be guilty of anything. There would be no Jeff. If I somehow destroyed the picture, then none of it would have ever happened. I ran my finger over the image. Then, I returned it to my skirt, fastened the pocket with again with the pin. Of course, the grown up me knew there were more letters, more pictures; more drawings. I couldn't destroy the evidence against me.

I looked up again at the forest and then at the little field just in front of me. This was the part of the farm Mary had asked if I wanted, in order to create my own garden, just like I'd had in Sellwood. This would be the only place on their property dedicated to flowers and garden rooms. The rest was farmland, orchards and a dairy farm. She had taken me to this spot on the edge of the forest, just past the orchards. It was sunny with a little slope. In truth, the plot itself was larger than my gardens in Sellwood. Mary and I had come out here with twine and little stakes. We sectioned off the part of the farm that would be mine to design and take care of.

I looked over the empty earth. It was the potential my life held. It was a beginning. It would be the start of a new existence. Realizing that, I came back to myself. I even found I had energy. I stood and walked around the perimeter marked by twine. I dragged one foot along the dry ground to mark how I might organize the outdoor rooms. I took steps to count my way from each corner to the center. I marked a large circle at the very middle of the space. Here I would place a sturdy round pergola, big enough to cover a table and chairs. Frank had told me he would build it when I was ready.

I'd planned to grow wisteria over the top of the pergola and lay a brick patio underneath. The circle of brick under the pergola would create a lovely, cool space to sit and think. "Contemplate life" as my father used to say. That was to be the center of the flower gardens. I would create four rooms around the area. Little paths would lead to each. I had planned to use shrubs and topiaries in one section. I'd plant wildflowers in the area directly in front of the forest so that when you looked out towards the trees from the patio, it would be preceded by a natural field of poppies, daisies' brown-eyed susans and lupine. Pretty wildflowers moving with the wind. Of course I would create a rose garden, but this area would be farther back, through a curved path of hostas and ferns. I'd plant larger shrubs and trees to shade the path to the roses. Frank said he'd build a small picket fence to surround my rose garden. Once inside, it would be in rows of three semi circles, in the center a stone bench with lattice. Climbing roses. The fourth garden, the smallest, would be reserved for cutting flowers and shrubs. Bulbs: Daffodils, crocus, gladiolas, iris. Shrubs too: hydrangea, lilac, forsythia. It would be wonderful to have the baby near me in a bassinet. While he slept I could tend to the garden. It would be a wonderland for him once he was old enough to dig up worms and play in the mud. The little trees I'd plant would be tall enough to provide shade by the time he got to that age.

There was only so much I could do in my condition but, as I always did, I'd brought a small pad and colored pencils with me on my walk. I stood for a moment and added notes to my sketched out plans for the garden. The colors, the rooms and even the most minute details. Slate paths or moss growing over rocks in the shade were coming into focus. Maybe even before Charlie was born, I'd have the whole thing conceived.

I felt the comforting feeling return as I started back towards the apple orchard. I loved the order of the orchards, all the trees evenly spaced in long shaded rows. I would have loved to run around there as a child. Even far from ripe, the apple trees had a sweet scent. Even in the heat, it was pleasant. I stopped and looked back towards the dry, empty field that would someday be my sanctuary. Once I moved to a home of my own, the garden would be my gift to Mary and Frank for their kindness.

I stood for a moment and looked around to see how the views might inform my garden design. The forest was in one direction, and directly behind the lot. The house was just past the orchards. The barn, the farm and the animals were not visible from where I stood. It was so quiet and private, far enough from the house that someone would have to come looking for me to find me. They knew I'd be here if they needed me and couldn't find me in the house. Often, after an hour or so out there, I'd hear Frank's tractor coming up the dirt throughway. He'll pull around the orchards and avoid the thin path between trees. For a time, he'd allow me to sit beside him on the large seat and taxi me back. As my pregnancy wore on, my size prohibited it. Instead, I'd see him or Mary, small figures growing larger as they made their way to find me.

Even before I made it back to the house, Jeff's letter began haunting me again. I hated how he wrote to me as if we were still lovers. I didn't like how he forced me into intimacy just by reading his words. And, maybe worse was his suggestion that Eugene would be well suited to our family. It scared me. Why would I ever move to Eugene? I wondered if he believed I was still as vulnerable or gullible as I had been. I was sure that was it. Why wouldn't he think that? The first time he'd met me I was in a lesser predicament than being alone and pregnant with my reputation always in jeopardy. Back then I was sad and weak. I was his perfect prey and things weren't nearly as desperate as they had become. He must have thought I was even more vulnerable. He didn't know how strong I'd become.

I pulled my hair up and let if fall back down over my shoulders. I stood frozen in one place and I looked up at the sky. I wanted the large, dramatic clouds to move more swiftly. I wanted time to pass. I wanted life to go where it was taking me. Just get there. The afternoon was cooling off and a breeze had picked up. It felt lovely. I let my mind wander back to Jeff's letter. Just as fickle as the clouds I began to wonder if I did in fact, deep down love him. If for some reason things turned bad in Bend with Mary and Frank, I wondered whether I could I live with him in Eugene? His words always had a hypnotic quality. His wanting to know my penmanship seemed so intimate to me. A part of me wanted to give that to him. Something I would have never equated with love or intimacy. But, I realized that we do grow intimate with the way our lover speaks or how they write. I would still be able to recognize Nick's cursive if I were to come across and old letter. I'd recognize my mother's too. Of course Carmen's. These thoughts of Jeff and the possibility of love were just an ember and I knew they would go out before ever catching fire. I knew that if I believed Jeff, if I were to follow him to Eugene and we were to find a little house, for a time I'd believe he'd marry me. We'd be an enviable family from the outside. Then, the affair wouldn't matter. Charlie wouldn't be illegitimate. Or no one would know that he was. My mind entertained the fantasy, playing it out. Even imagining the small home. Maybe I wouldn't even have a garden. Perhaps I could have been be happy just being a housewife. We'd have more children. As I started to drift towards Jeff, the image of the day at the museum interrupted me. That day drew the line between Jeff's words and the truth. He'd just made love to me in his studio. Which one of his seductions had he used that day?

"I don't know where I end and you begin."

"You must be akin to what inspired Shakespeare's sonnets."

"I'm crazy about you. Don't drive me crazy, Eve."

Afterwards, running his fingers through my hair, adjusting it around my face. The way he liked it. Kissing my forehead. "When I first met you," he had whispered, "You looked so much like a girl. Now you are somehow a woman. It's just wonderful."

But not five minutes later, when I told him about the baby. He'd stood up, buttoned his shirt. When he turned to me, his eyes were steely. "What am I supposed to say to you, Eve? How did you let this happen?" Stupidly, I had apologized, and then I'd begged him. But, when he said he already had a family. I flew into a rage. I stormed out. Weeks passed and he never returned any of my calls.

That decided it. Sobered me up. I was angry again. I knew he would leave me in Eugene. Come and go as he wished. I knew I would be locked up, away from any kind of life. Of course, I would tell people that he was my husband and he traveled for business. But another lie? Another false life? As much as I looked forward to each day in Bend, to this new life, it was so lonely pretending to be someone more virtuous and to hold a secret that could destroy everything in an instant. And being alone in my secret made it unbearable.

As I walked closer to the house, I could see the ladies leaving. They were still laughing and chattering away. They were a ways in the distance otherwise I would have waved and yelled out "hello," despite my melancholic mood. By the time I got close enough to the house, their car was already half way down the little dirt road that led to the main street. I saw Mary go into the screened porch, the door swinging back and slamming shut. The door had a terrible habit of slamming whenever someone entered or left. It was the springs. Frank said there was some sort of stopper that could prevent it and it was on his list of things to do. As I approached the house, I could hear Frank and Mary talking. Mary must have sat down with Frank while he took a break from the heat. They must have been sitting out having an iced tea or lemonade. They often did. I don't know why, but I stopped on the side of the house and listened for a moment. Crickets chirped, I could hear Mary's rocker creak as she rocked back and forth. The air felt hot again. Frank was telling Mary that he felt I was hiding something.

"Why would the girl come all the way out here if there wasn't more to it?"

"I don't know Frank, what does it matter? You saw pictures of her husband. She's telling the truth about that."

"What did Carmen say about it?"

"Just as I told you. Eve was her friend and needed a place to stay while she had her baby."

"I don't understand," Frank insisted, "her in-laws were back in Portland weren't they? Why on earth wouldn't they help the girl? Or Carmen for that matter. Didn't she practically grow up with Carmen?"

"What's the difference? She's here now. You should be a little more understanding. Just let it be. She's a wonderful girl. I, for one am, glad she's here."

"I don't have any problem with Eve being here. If there is something more to the story, I don't want a girl who'd get herself into that kind of trouble. It isn't right."

"Oh what kind of trouble is that Frank? If its not one thing, it's the other. You're well respected. Nothing is going to change that. Helping care for a war widow and her baby would just raise you up."

"I like Eve. I don't trust her story."

I could picture Frank's long serious face. Deep lines around his eyes, places you could see he had been squinting. Years of questioning. Staring at something for a long time, thinking hard on a subject. Untangling the knot.

Frank was a tall man with an almost awkward gait due to his size. He was always kind to me and I knew he wasn't being duplicitous in the things he was saying to Mary. While he was polite, he hadn't accepted me whole-heartedly. From the first day we met, I could tell he didn't trust me. He had sat across from me, welcomed me. Then he had examined me for a long time, asking me about Nick and which company he was in. Where he was stationed. I told him, truthfully, I didn't know. I mentioned that he had sent me earrings from Italy but that was quite a while back. Soon after that Nick was hit by enemy fire. That wasn't what killed him though. His leg was injured badly. He was on his way home when he acquired a blood infection from the wound. He died in a hospital in England. Of course I couldn't tell Frank all of the details, because I was afraid my lie hadn't been that well thought out. When I showed him the pictures of Nick and I together, I was sure Frank recognized the genuine love between us. I was also sure he could imagine me as a wife, a young mother. It was plausible that our future had been cut short, leading me to to Bend and into his home. Still, being in their home often reminded me that really I was a stranger. Perhaps, it would have been better to have stayed in Portland. As horrible and impossible as it would have been to have a baby out of wedlock, with everyone knowing the father, I would have at least had Carmen and Harry. They would have remained my friends even if my life were destroyed while Jeff's stayed intact. At least if I had stayed, the truth would not always be looming in the shadows of my elaborate lies. I knew my lies were such a vulnerability and I don't know why I continued to indulge in the pretense. The night after my first conversation with Frank, I couldn't sleep. I had been afraid my timing was off and my story about Nick buying me earrings in Italy would give me away. That night, I had lain in bed, inhaling the scent of the clean, starched sheets. I'd stared out the window in to darkness, the moon casting a blue glow into the room. For a long time I stared at the crib, remembering Frank had built it for Charlie. Realizing somehow there must have been a hope in his heart that things were as I claimed. It was just that he wasn't as eager as Mary to let his guard down. As I stood by the side of the house, hot sun beating down on me, the light so bright and the grass so dry and yellow, I could smell the scent of the abundant white roses that grew along the house. It made me hopeful remembering my own garden and how things always changed with the seasons.

The rocker stopped squeaking on the porch floorboards. A bolt of fear ran through me. Did Mary know I was there? I stood, frozen waiting to explain why I was standing there, listening.

"Can I get you more lemonade?"

"No. I've got to go out and see what they're doing out there. We've got to get the milk to town before it spoils."

The rocker started its rhythmic creaking and squeaking. Mary must have settled back down.

"Leave it be, would you Frank. You're snooping around and there's nothing to find. You trust my brother don't you? He'd know the truth."

"I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm just talking to you. What would I do anyway?"

"I don't see what there is to do anything about."

"No I don't either."

Hearing him, a fear settled inside of me.

Quickly, I turned and headed around the back of the house so I could come down the long path in front. That way they'd see me and not suspect I'd been privy to their conversation about me. I walked past the chicken coops and then between the barn and the house. It smelled of fresh hay and manure. The goats were scattered all along the large fenced field that went up a little hill just to the perimeter of the woods. They were grazing and one of the farm hands was rounding them up for milking. Frank was making his way up the path towards the gate when he saw me.

"Lovely day. Isn't it Eve?"

"Yes. It's beautiful. I was out by the garden Mary wanted me to design."

"I see you've got some drawing paper there. Maybe you'll show me what you've come up with."

"I'd love to," I said.

He stopped in front of me. His straw hat cast a shadow over half of his face. His overalls were clean despite all his work outdoors. He examined me for a moment and then smiled a gentle smile.

"Eve, I've been meaning to tell you." He paused and shuffled his foot on the dry path. A little cloud of dust rose and then dissipated. "I'm glad you're here. Mary and I both are happy you're here."

"I want to do whatever I can to earn my keep."

For some reason that caused Frank to laugh. It was paternal and sweet. I think the idea of me at eight months pregnant earning my keep struck a humorous note.

"I mean repay you for your kindness—"

"Eve. Mary is over the moon. You've given her someone to dote on. She cares deeply for you." Just as his attention on me was sudden and intense, so was his distraction when one of the workers shouted out to him.

He looked up abruptly, raised a hand to the man in the field.

"Hang on just a second. I'm comin' to help." He looked back at me, "all right, Eve. I'll see you at dinner and you can show me your drawings of the garden."

He turned and walked briskly up the path. I watched him as he reached over and unlatched the gate. He pushed his way in and locked it behind him. I could see that one of the goats had gotten out and was wandering on the hill on the outside of the fence. The man handed Frank some rope and he jogged over to the edge of the field. I headed back to the house. I was tired again, but I wouldn't have minded sitting in the kitchen and helping Mary chop vegetables while she prepared dinner. I never seemed to tire of Mary's company.

Mary was still in the rocker as I approached the house. When she saw me she let out a yell "there she is now!"

I decided, right in that moment just as I made my way down the front walkway, a path that was becoming familiar to me. The little rock gardens and petunias, overflowing. A stream of purple and white directing me up to the screen porch. I decided then and there I would tell Mary the truth and suffer the consequences. Frank was right. Carmen and Harry would have taken care of me. No, my in-laws wouldn't have. They would have shamed me like everyone else. They'd never acknowledged how much I'd suffered after Nick's death. It was their tragedy not mine. I was left little room to grieve around them. On the few occasions I'd seen them in the past couple of years, Ann ended up in tears and I had to comfort her. Make her tea and go through old photographs of their family. Pictures of the times they had before Nick and I were wed. I'd let her relive stories. Daniel was no better. He'd interrupt and abruptly end any time I broached the subject. After a few months I stopped going to their home. I stopped listening to Ann cry on the phone. Instead, I would close my curtains, gather the letters from Nick. I would keep them on the table beside me and fall asleep. Days and nights were no different. I couldn't remember know how long I'd grieved like that. Carmen would come by every day and force me to eat. She'd grown very worried about me, tried hard to usher me back in to my old life. At the time, I couldn't explain it to Carmen but I couldn't "return" to a life that's been lost. There was no road back. She had been unable understand it because she had Harry and a house full of kids. She had her loving but dramatic mother to contend with. Carmen had a full, normal life and as much as she wanted to me to model mine after hers, show me how to be a housewife, and fill myself with all the rituals of womanhood, I was not Carmen. I was the exact opposite of Carmen. When I'd tell her I felt this way, a worried look would descend on her face, her eyes would tear up and her voice would falter. Then, she'd force herself back to time and place and act as if nothing were wrong at all. It all changed when I met Jeff Lambert. I'd been transformed into a flower in full bloom. When Carmen had asked me how I could do it --do something so indecent, have an affair with a married man, ten years older than me-- I had wanted to say, "What else was I going to do?" I supposed in the end she understood in her way. She wasn't ever going to stop loving me and taking care of me. She settled on an explanation that suited her Screen Romance and New Love Magazine sensibilities. Before I left, she'd confessed that she was a little jealous. That Jeff Lambert was so handsome and she'd never had anyone that handsome pay any attention to her. She said she deep down wished it would be like a movie star affair. That somehow our love would triumph.

My new life in Bend was something I wanted. Seeing Mary rocking on the porch, ready to welcome me into conversation, I needed to know if she would still care so much if she knew what had really happened. I'd hoped she'd offer me a lemonade, hear my story and understand. We could go back to sharing excitement about Charlie. I could fully welcome her as family, as Charlie's grandmother. Weren't these the things I wished for, childish dreams that had never been fulfilled? No one could understand what a child meant to me. I'd never had real family. I had no way of understanding the complete fulfillment that comes from nurturing a baby, being responsible for a new life. I didn't know that carrying a child would heal my sorrow. I wanted Mary to be a part of that. The possibility was sitting right next to me, extending a warm hand, offering love for only love in return. Unless she knew the truth and still loved me, I didn't want my dreams to expand any bigger. If there was going to be a bond between us then I wanted it to be honest. If it wasn't going to happen I needed that information too, in preparation for the day Jeff showed up in his aqua, fancy convertible. I imagined him walking up this same path in his impeccable suit. He'd stand before Mary and Frank in one of his felt fedoras, removing it, holding it behind his back as he flashed his perfect smile. His warm gaze, and his charm. Perhaps it was the heat, and my emotions, being pregnant, but I felt sure he would do it sometime. Mary needed to know so she could tell me what to do. If she turned on me, if I would be shamed here, then I would take the other path before me. The only one left open to me. I would meet Jeff Lambert and hear what he was offering. If I couldn't stay in Bend, I'd set up home with him, knowing it would be terribly unfair to me, but a chance for Charlie. I would keep secret that I wasn't his wife. I'd try to lie to myself knowing that he went home to her. That her children were legitimate and mine would never be.

Mary couldn't have known the abundance of fear in me that was rising to the surface. She just saw the girl she wanted to love and adopt into her life to share a mother-daughter bond. I started up the stairs to the screen porch. I opened the door and it shut with a slam, startling me. I jumped and took a deep breath.

"Oh my, why are you so jumpy?" she teased. "Come in Darling, its much cooler in here." She stood and walked over to me. Placed a hand on my forehead. "You're warm. You've been out in the sun too long, haven't you? Let me get you a cool drink."

I was so tired and her touch caused me to break down. Frank's words were lingering, growing stronger in my heart. Tears flowed down my cheek. When my eyes met Mary's I could see her worry. "Eve, what is it? I've never seen you so upset."

I wanted to tell her the truth. The real truth. I wanted someone to know in case something threatened to spoil things. In the event that Jeff lambert showed up in his fancy convertible.

"I need to tell you something." I said.

She grew serious. For a moment the way she looked at me, I thought Carmen and Harry must have already told her the truth. She, like Frank, would have had questions. How could she not have? She would never have blindly accepted some pregnant girl into her home. My moving to Bend in itself would have been a signal that something immoral was involved. If they'd shared the truth and Mary had known all along, then maybe she was protecting me. Maybe she had grown to love me in the four months I'd been in her home.

"Eve, let me get you a lemonade. Have something cool to drink. Then, let's get in the truck go over to Mirror Pond. We'll bring a jar of iced tea. We haven't left the house since you've been here, except to rush to the fabric store and back. Let's talk somewhere else."

When Mary and I walked of the house, I headed towards the truck and she turned in the direction of the barn where Frank was working outside.

"I won't be a minute Eve. I've got to let Frank know where we're off to." With that she half ran down to the barn. I climbed into the passenger's side of the truck. I sat down in the sticky vinyl seat, rolled down the window and waited as Mary ran to the field to tell Frank. I looked back and they were conversing over the white corral fence. They looked like they were talking seriously. Frank removed his straw hat and looked up at the sky. I saw him take out his wallet, take out a bill and give it to Mary.

I noted how different Frank's truck was than Jeff's car. The inside was nothing compared to Jeff's shiny and new interior with an aqua blue dashboard in the shape of a triangle that extended towards the windwhield. Jeff's car had a polished wooden control panel. A clock, radio, a row of white buttons along the bottom. The radio grill above the glove box was sparkling chrome. I remembered riding in the car with Jeff out to the beach. That was one of the few weekends we'd spent together. He had the top down and I had my hair up in a turban so it wouldn't fly around as we drove, so I wouldn't be a mess when we got there. I remembered running my fingers across the row of white buttons under the radio grill.

"Don't pull those," he had said gently, taking my hand and pulling it back from the dashboard and lifting it to kiss it before he let led it back to the seat.

"What are they?"

"This one's the throttle. Here's the choke. Headlights," he pulled the button out and back in again. "And this one here lights up the dash." He pulled it out and the controls were illuminated but barely visible in the bright daylight. He pushed the button back in.

"I'd like to see the inside of the car at night time with the everything lit up."

"You would, would you?" He smiled, lifted my hand and kissed it again. "Well that's not a very hard wish to fulfill. We'll drive out to an overlook tonight and act like teenagers."

"Are we staying the night?"

"Would you like to?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Come here," he said.

I moved closer to him in the seat.

"Kiss me."

I leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek, then on the lips.

"You're a silly, silly girl and you drive me crazy. I want to pull over right now and make love to you. I want you every minute."

I didn't object, but that was the last he said of it. Instead I moved in closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder as he navigated the windy and hilly roads to Cannon Beach.

After a while of silence, he had said "Come to think of it, I've never seen you in a swim suit."

"Well there's not much to leave to the imagination," I teased.

"We'll see about that" he said then kissed me on the forehead.

The door to the old truck opened with a loud scraping sound. Mary hoisted herself up into the seat.

"You'd think Frank would keel over and die, the way he parts with a dollar."

"Do we need money?"

"You never know love, we may want to get some fabric or even an ice cream cone. All right. Are you ready? Up for the drive?"

"Of course," I said softly.

Mary put the key into the ignition and backed the truck out. She turned the wheel and started down the bumpy road from the farm to the main street. She was cautious in how she handled the truck. It was the way she leaned in close to the windshield as she pulled on to the main road, how tightly her hands gripped the wheel and when she put her foot on the brake there was a jolt each time.

"Oh Eve, you seem so upset today. Can you tell me what's the matter?"

I looked at her and her intent focus on the road it made it easier. I mustered my courage and put my hand on my belly instinctively. I could make out my reflection in the rearview mirror as we bumped along. How much I'd have liked to rest my head on my arm and just watch my own expressions in the side mirror as we drove. It was something a young girl would do, but I wanted so much to understand what I should do and know who I was in that moment. I needed to study myself and figure out which life I should choose.

Finally, I opened up, "I heard you and Frank talking on the screen porch today."

I could see Mary's face grow flush and she turned to me for just a moment and looked at me. Then she turned back to the road. I watched her expression grow worried as we passed by a thicket of fir trees that looked like a blurred palate of greens as we drove past.

"Eve, I'm sorry about Frank. He doesn't know what he's saying. He's so darned concerned about his standing in the community. He always has been. He's a very honest man. He's panicked like this before over other matters. It's just an old man's worry."

"I know." I whispered. "May I tell you something Mary?"

"Of course."

The blood rushed out of my head and I felt terribly dizzy. I thought I might faint. I was jeopardizing all of this. The things I wanted. A life I hadn't ever imagined existed. Perhaps, I was placing too much weight on this life and on Mary. But, we did have an instant friendship, just as Carmen had said we would. On the other hand, at that time I'd only known her a few months. No matter what I wished, in reality I was not her daughter. As I looked at her, before I spoke, I realized there was no reason she should she accept what I've done. Even a mother might not accept it.

"What is it Eve? Whatever it is it doesn't matter to me. I'll help you."

My lips trembled and it was difficult to get the words out. "What Frank said was true."

She let out a little laugh. "Why would you say such a thing? There is nothing to be ashamed of. If anything you should be honored to have Nick's baby. Frank and I should be honored to be a part of it. I've told you that so many times, darling."

"No. He was right about me. I lied to you."

Mary bit her lip and pulled the car on to an overlook and turned off the engine. I could see a ravine not a few yards from where we parked. It was quiet and the air was thick. I could hear water rushing from some unknown location.

"Tell me what you're talking about, Eve." I couldn't tell if she was stern, angry or just impatient for the story.

"It's all right, no matter what you have to do." I said. "I have another option and it's not what I want, but I'll do anything to protect and care for my baby."

She softened again, "Of course you would Eve. I know that. You'll be a wonderful mother. You're strong. How many women have your fortitude? Honestly? You practically raised yourself; you've lived through the war, your husband being killed. You had your own little business back in Portland. Eve there isn't anything you can tell me that would change my respect for you."

"Do you remember the letter from the man who wanted to buy my house in Sellwood? Jeff Lambert?"

"Yes. Of course."

"I lied to you about him. Yes, he's an artist and fairly new to Portland. He had moved there a few years ago with his wife and young child." I could feel whatever was in my stomach tightening, causing shooting pains into my abdomen. Through all of this I could feel Charlie's weight shifting, it was difficult to explain; perhaps he was dropping lower in my womb preparing for birth. I wondered if I was already subjecting him to the shame I felt.

"Well then who was he? If not interested in your house?" I could tell by the way the words slowed and quieted that the realization hit her.

"Nick died two years ago Mary. That's why I left Sellwood. He died in 1943. Everything else about Nick was true. The pictures, the house. I loved him very much."

"And Mr. Lambert. Is he Charlie's father?"

I nodded. She let out a heavy breath. Blew it out slowly and turned to look outside of her window. She stared out at the forest for a few moments. I couldn't find a word to say, not even one. There was nothing left to say. The next word had to come from her. I knew all along; it was a moral dilemma, but there was nothing else I could do. Once she knew the truth, maybe she would be a defense, just as Carmen was, should Jeff show up. I needed her.

Mary turned to me, again. She still had a softness and an affection towards me. I thought she looked so beautiful in that moment, the way the sun was lighting the trees in the afternoon hue just behind her. She had such a pleasant face with beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was always up but a few tendrils fell around the back. She looked pretty in her white dress with little daisies on it. The color contrasting against her slightly burned skin. "Summer skin" she had called it.

"Why did he write you?"

"I don't know. I'm frightened."

"Does he want to marry you?"

"I don't think he does, Mary. No I don't think that's what he wants. He has a wife."

She straightened her hair with her hands. I could see how nervous this made her. I also knew Frank would not have it. He'd make me leave. I was so frightened of the idea of staying in a house in Eugene with Jeff. I knew he would keep me there and come and go between Eugene and Portland. I wouldn't have any life what so ever. Certainly not the life I'd started imagining in Bend. Not a week before, Mary had told me that if I ever decided to settle there, she knew of a small piece of land with a farmhouse on it. It wasn't three miles away from their place. A friend of hers from the bridge club owned it. It had been the woman's father's property and after he died, it had just been sitting there. Mary had taken me over once and when I walked through the house, I'd fallen in love with it. There were large paned windows that looked out on to empty fields. Mary and I had planned to harvest seeds while I stayed with her after Charlie was born. We'd have all the flowers I'd need to create an expansive garden. She said we could separate the bulbs and hostas and replant those too. She told me Frank would happily give me fruit tree saplings. Often I laid awake at night daydreaming about the house, how I would furnish it. Charlie's room. Mostly I was in the garden in my mind, constructing rooms. Imagining my baby out there with me in his carriage, sleeping peacefully in the shade of a grape arbor or a row of fruit trees. Mary and I had the whole plan figured out. That was how we were; we schemed and plotted and planned and it didn't take long before we believed we could accomplish anything we had set out to do. We both knew we'd have to tread carefully when considering any financial transactions. We decided Frank would buy the house with the money from the sale of the place in Sellwood. Once Carmen found a buyer, Frank could sign the papers and handle all of the legal papers from here.

Once the business of selling the house was settled and Charlie and I moved into the new place, I'd slowly start setting up a business selling floral arrangements. I'd give it a couple years of course, but maybe by the time Charlie was two or three, I'd do what I'd done in Sellwood, work arranging flowers from my garden. If I worked out of my home I wouldn't garner too much attention as a young mother trying to conduct business. There was no doubt in either of our minds that I would fall in love when the timing was right. We scoured pictures in the movie magazines to find my "type." Mostly it was just for fun, but I believed it all. Finally, I would have a home that wasn't haunted with terrible memories. The thought of returning to the house in Sellwood, no matter how lovely it was in appearance, caused a sick feeling in me.

After a few moments, I broke the silence. I was afraid of what Mary might say.

"Mary?"

She turned to me and the light was touching her face. She looked radiant.

"Oh Eve. What are we going to do?"

I felt a calm wash over my whole body. She was the first one in this whole predicament who'd said We. What will we do? No one else. Not Jeff. He simply said "I don't know what to tell you to do, Eve." Even Carmen "What are you going to do?" But, Mary was different. She was extending a hand; it felt like a warm embrace. It was a feeling that was unknown to me and I was almost afraid to trust it.

Then, she slipped back into her smart, strategic Mary. "Well, we can't tell anyone else about this. Certainly not Frank. Not yet anyway. Besides why does he need to know? It's your business Eve. Who else knows about this?"

"Well anyone in Sellwood would know the baby was illegitimate. If I were to go back, it would be apparent. They all knew when Nick died. It doesn't add up."

"But they don't know now and if you were to marry in the next couple of years, it would be entirely believable. How would they know anything about the timeline then? Who else?

"Carmen and Harry."

"They're not a problem."

"What about this man, this Jeff...?"

"Lambert."

"Yes, what about this cheating, horrible person? I honestly don't know how a man could do this to a young girl like you. "

"I did it too."

"I know but—Darling, I imagine he was quite a bit older than you. I also imagine you were still grieving the loss of your husband."

"Both are true. He was ten years older and I was very sad, but still Mary I was not an angel. I knew better. As the months with Jeff wore on, I chose to do what I did."

"Well it doesn't matter. What did he want in his letter?"

"He said he missed me. I think he said he loved me. He has this idea that he'll buy a house in Eugene and I'll move there with little Charlie. I suppose that way, it would look as if I were married to him."

"That's ridiculous. Is he going to marry you?"

"He may have implied it, but I really don't believe him."

"No. I wouldn't either."

"He wants me to meet him there soon to talk about Charlie. To talk to me. He said he would come here to see me if I didn't go."

Mary raised her eyebrows and a look of panic crossed her face. "That would be very bad, Eve." She looked back out towards the trees, thinking.

"I don't want to leave here, Mary. I love it here. I've always been a very good person. Honestly, I never broke any rules as a teenager. Then, I married Nick. He was my high school sweet heart. We wanted to have a baby of our own, but then he was left for the war. I was the chairwoman of the garden club—even at my age. I was very well respected in Sellwood."

"There is no doubt in my mind that that is true. No doubt. I love you, Eve. I love you very much. I know I haven't known you long but I feel a motherly affection towards you. I'm not gong to let this man hurt you. If you say you really don't want to see him, if you really mean that then I'll protect you. But, you have to think long and hard. If you do want to move away and try to start a life with him, then you have to tell me."

"I don't want to. I did think I loved him during our affair. As I said, I was selfish. I wanted his attention. He was so handsome and charming. I was so lonely and sad. Mary, I can't say I regret it. I think the pregnancy was a blessing. It doesn't make my life easy, but it led me here. It helped me get what I wanted in my life. I don't want to leave."

"We have to make sure he stays away. What did the letters say?"

I removed the pin that kept the letter and photograph secure in my pocket. I retrieved the letter and handed it to Mary. Her eyes looked up at me for a moment. "I don't understand what this man wants."

"Read the letter and tell me what you think I should do. What you think is going to happen."

"All right." She slowly opened the envelope and slid the letter out. The photograph was still in my pocket. I sat quietly watching her expression as she pulled out the linen stationary, gently opened it. She placed a hand near her temple and gently rubbed as she read. She turned her head to one side and bit her lip. She let out a heavy breath. There was quiet and I thought she must be finished with the letter. I could hear a ticking noise from inside the motor. We were so quiet other sounds began to rise. Birds calling, rustle of the wind through the trees. I looked out of my window at the ravine, the afternoon light was soft. A hawk or eagle swooped down.

"Eve." She said.

I turned and looked at her.

"Do you love this man?"

My heart dropped for a moment. "I don't think so."

"This is a love letter. I am not judging you, but it's hard to believe there isn't still an affair."

"But I haven't tried to contact him this entire time. I've tried to get away."

"May I see the photograph?"

I pulled the black and white picture out of my pocket and gave it to her. As much shame as I felt, it was also a great relief to have the secret out of me. The tightness in my chest and throat had softened.

"Oh geeze Eve." She shook her head. "Well he's right. You look like a film star."

It didn't seem so much like a compliment. It didn't seem like a judgment either. It was simply more of the problem. Who was that girl? Despite who I'd become or was before Jeff, the pictures and nude sketches of me told a different story.

"If you haven't contacted him, then I'm worried about his intentions."

I nodded.

"Eve. I'm going to ask you again. Do you love this man? He's offering you at least the appearance of legitimacy for Charlie. You would be well respected in Eugene even if he was lying, I'm sure he would play the part of your husband—well, I think I'm sure of that."

"I don't want to do that."

"I know, but you have to consider it. I don't want you to go. I can tell this man is arrogant, but would he be so terrible to be with until Charlie's older?"

"Mary, he was so cruel to me in the end. He was always cruel. I was like a puppy. You'd have to know how sad I was back then. He came into my life and right away made advances towards me. He was the one who was married, not me. The second time he visited me, he put his hand on my face. He stared into my eyes and told me I was beautiful. I came back to life after that, but the more I loved him, the more affection I showed him the colder he was. The day I told him about the pregnancy we had just made love. The minute I told him he stood up and gave me the most horrible look. I begged him to help me. He just told me I wasn't his wife and he didn't have advice for me. He didn't want me to ruin his reputation."

"Could it have been his first reaction?"

"I stayed in Sellwood for more than two weeks, packing and putting things together. I called him at the museum so many times. He never returned my call. The day I was leaving, he walked by and made small talk with me. I was cold, of course."

"He sounds like a cruel person. But, sweetheart, I don't know why he's sending you these letters now. I do know this needs to stop. If you aren't going to Eugene, he needs to let you be." She looked angry. "And I don't understand all this baloney about falling in love with your handwriting or whatever he said." She gave me the letter back.

"What if Frank finds out?"

"He won't. We have to keep it from him. But, the important thing is to get this man out of your life. You'll have to call him on the telephone. I'll be right there with you. You have to tell him that you want nothing to do with him and to leave you alone."

"I can't. You don't understand. The minute I speak with him, if I were to see him, I get confused and childish."

She raised her eyebrows. "I don't completely understand Eve. I'm trying to."

"That's not all of it."

"What else?"

"I let him draw pictures of me."

"What sort of pictures?"

"In the bedroom, after we made love. He mailed one to me in the first letter. You can tell it's me. You can tell it's my bedroom."

Mary's eyes grew large. "We have to get this man out of your life. We'll call him. I'll have Harry talk with him. Shake him up a bit."

"Mary, I want to be here. I want you and Frank to be Charlie's grandparents. I want the farmhouse. I want to fall in love and get married again, to someone who loves me."
"We have to make sure he stays away. If you can't call him yourself, Harry will scare him a bit."
"I don't think he'd be afraid of Harry. He's very arrogant."

"Don't underestimate my brother. He can see right through this Jeff Lambert. You're talking about a fast-talking man that hurt someone Harry loves very much--you. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry didn't knock his block off."

I couldn't help but laugh. A part of me wished he would. But even with all this trouble, I felt sympathy for Jeff. I ignored the feeling.

That night I prayed. I prayed that God would let the past be gone. That He'd make Jeff Lambert forget about me and I prayed that the truth would never come out. I sang a lullaby to my baby, my voice absorbed by the darkness of the room until I fell asleep.