promises of misty mornings and golden afternoons； newly ripening apples
and sountain air； it was a
perfect antidote for her malaise。 The small house on its high perch was
everything the rental agent had promised。 No matter that her small car
had nearly e apart jolting over bumps and ruts in the steadily
climbing dirt road； the house was charming。 It sat peacefully in the
arms of giant maples and towering firs； its brown weathered shingles and
silver slate roof blending with the earthen road and the gray of the
sky。 Low shrubbery； aged a fall green； bordered the house。 Taller lilac
bushes； their fragrant blossoms long gone but imagined； straddled the
ebony front door。
Inside； the cottage was as pact as its surroundings were generous；
with an open…hearthed living room at the front； a kitchen； bedroom； and
bath at the rear。 A narrow stairway on the far side led to a dormered
attic。 Decorated functionally and fortably； the whole was a far cry
from her elegant New York apartment； but the difference pleased her。
This was a neutral spot； a place of few luxuries and no memories； a
place where she could face life for the pleasure of the day。
And this had been a tiring one。 Its morning had been filled with
last minute errands…to the bank for money； to the library and the
bookstore for the week's entertainment； to the university for a delivery
and a pickup； to the market for food。 Its afternoon had been one of
steady driving； then storing groceries and unpacking bags。
The fireplace had beckoned。 Anne was bone…weary； had been lacking in
stamina for weeks。 As the wing…backed chair held her slim form； the
dancing flames lulled her into recollection of a dinner with her parents
the weekend before。
〃I don't understand；〃 her mother had tried to reason with her； 〃why you
have to take off all by yourself。 We've tried so hard to do what's best。
Have we failed？〃
Arodous to ease her mother's worry； Anne had forced a smile。 〃No； you
didn't fail。 I just want to get out of the city for a while。 You know；
get a little of that fresh…air…and…color…on…my…cheeks type of thing？〃
〃Well； you could certainly use that；〃 came her father's deep voice。 Tall
and distinguished…looking； Anthony Faulke's sturdy frame belied his
near sixty years。 Anne took the darkness of her hair and eyes from him；
though her willowed shapeliness was her mother's。 〃But we'd have liked
to have you join us on the shore in several weeks。 Won't you reconsider
and wait until then？〃
Anne shook her head。 Not a hair moved。 It was in a somber knot at the
nape of her neck。 〃Now's the time。 I've already made the arrangements
and paid for the place。〃
Her mother tried again。 〃But you've never enjoyed traveling alone。
Wouldn't it be better to have someone with you？ If I didn't have the
charity luncheon on Wednesday； I'd go with you myself。 You need pany；
Anne。〃
Anne hated worrying her parents。 They had suffered nearly as much as she
had； having to stand by and watch helplessly as their elder daughter's
life fell apart。 When they looked at her； Anne knew what they saw。 She
saw it in the mirror each morning； the pallor in an oval face framed by
pitch…black hair。
Still； she said； 〃I really have no choice； have I； Mother？ I've been
more fortunate than others； always having someone to be with。 When it
wasn't you and Dad； it was Peggy； then my roommates at college； then
Jeff。〃 Her voice caught on his name。 She had long…since cried herself
out； but that little break in her breath remained。
Marjorie Faulke grasped at straws。 〃Call Peggy。 She won't be starting
classes for another few weeks。 She'll make the trip with you。〃
But Anne shook her head。 〃No； Mom。 Peggy's terrific。 For a sister； I
couldn't ask for finer。 But she has her own life； her own friends。 It's
not her job to baby…sit me。 And I'd really prefer to be alone。〃 Her
voice hardened。 〃I'd better get used to it； don't you think？〃 Oh； yes；
there was anger。 Its only cure was through the courts； but it would be
months more before things were resolved there。
A silence had hung over the intimate round table； its elegant place
settings and fine food for otten。 This had bee a pattern； this family
gathering turned wake； but it had to be broken。 Anne had to start to
live again。 The trip to Vermont was a first step。
As the full blaze in the fireplace settled to a more sedate crackle； the
patter of raindrops broke through Anne's reverie。 Stretching her legs；
she stood； smoothed out her jeans； and padded barefoot to the front
window。 The darkness was dense。 Staring out through rain…spattered
panes； she was grateful that she had shut the car windows and locked the
door。 The idea of going outside to do it now didn't appeal to her。 As
she stood； hands by her sides； eyes straight ahead； she could see
nothing but the black of night and her own grim reflection。
She didn't need friends to tell her that she looked gaunt and spectral。
Her cheeks were pale； hollowed by a weight loss that had cut into gentle
curves all over her body。 Her mouth was more often drawn thin and
straight now； rather than curved in a smile。 Dark eyes that had once
danced with happiness； now spoke of loneliness； and her hair didn't
swing。 It fit her mood； which was restrained。 Even now she had it tied
back with a thin strip of black velvet whose ends were lost in the
ribbing of her black turtleneck sweater。
This； too…this ghostly appearance…would have to change if she planned to
start a new life。
She had been paralyzed for weeks after the previous January's debacle。
The thought of a future without Jeff was still alien。 They had been
married for seven years； though it had seemed forever。 Anne was a
sophomore in college； a language major； when she had met him during a
summer of study in France。 He was one of the few Americans she had seen
during her three month stay with a family in a small village west of
Limoges。 His means of transportation had been a bicycle； his means of
munication a brilliant smile； until he discovered she spoke English。
From then on they were inseparable。 He revised his touring plans to
acmodate her； and when they returned to the States at the end of
August； friendship became courtship。 He was also from New York； his
family home an hour's drive from her own。 By January she had transferred
to his midwestern university； they were married the following summer。
Only two years apart in age； they grew up together； passing through the
college years of flux and idealism with hours of carefree camaraderie
and first love。 Both had e from hard…working； upwardly mobile
families that helped them financially until they were on their own feet。
But money hadn't mattered； even when Jeff became a successful investment
consultant。 What mattered had always been Jeff and Anne； Anne and Jeff。
Then； abruptly； it was Anne； alone。
When the stupor finally began to wear off； she took stock of her assets。
She had a home…a spacious； well…furnished； stylishly decorated condo。
She had money enough to live in it fortably； with leftover to invest。
She had friends。 She had family。 She had her own car； one not as sporty
as Jeff's Audi； but small； reliable； and gas efficient。 And she had her
work。
Fluent in French and Spanish； Anne worked as a freelance interpreter
through most of her marriage。 At first they had needed the money； later
not so； but she enjoyed her work； and with nothing to keep her at home；
it filled the hours when Jeff was at the office。 When they planned a
trip； she took on less work。 When Jeff had a business trip； she took on
more and was busy until he returned。
More than once during those long； morbid months； she had wondered what
would have been if she had been with him on that last； fateful trip。
They might have been together still。
But they weren't。 She was alone。
Gradually she took on more work； branching off into textbook translation
for local universities。 As opposed to interpreting； where she had to be
personally on the spot at a given time on a given day； there was more
flexibility in translation。 Once the material had been picked up； she
could tackle the job on her own schedule； in the fort and privacy of
her apartment。
The work was plentiful。 She could pick and choose。 Between her
availability； her petence； and her promptness； she was in demand。
On occasion； she met overeager professors； even some young and
attractive ones who were aware of her situation。 She remained courteous
and professionally efficient； but she refused to date them。 It disturbed
her； even angered her； that men thought she would want to date so soon。
Memories of Jeff were too near； too vivid； too dear。 Those memories
would eventually settle in； she knew； and she might date then。 For now；
though； she'd had enough of love and pain。
This trip was good in that sense； too。 It gave her excuses to avoid
dating。 Between getting ready to leave with a million errands to do；
being physically out of state for the week； and eventually returning to
a huge pile of work； she was safe。 She didn't have to worry about men in
the backwoods of Vermont。 She was hoping she wouldn't see anyone in the
week she was here。
Pretty reclusive for a former socializer； she mused without a hint of
remorse。
From the hearth； the sudden crumbling of an ash…split log startled her。
She whirled from the window； eyes wide in alarm。 When she realized what
the sound was； she took a breath and uncurled fingers from fists。 After
months of being bitten to the quick； her nails had grown into nicely
tapered tips。 And there was her wedding band； wide and gold； gleaming
with deceptive brightness； on the third finger of her left hand。
When the fire spoke again； cackling for a feeding； she knelt before the
warm stone。 Taking a piece of dried birch from the large wood basket；
she laid it over the broken embers。 The log heated； then burst into
flame。 It was an omen； she vowed； as she picked up her book from the
floor by her chair。 Slipping large tortoiseshell glasses over the bridge
of her nose； she settled back between the chair's wide wings。 They were
a fort； these wings； serving to keep her sights on the fire before
her； rather than on the darkness behind。
Her ticket to freedom lay in her lap。 Ever an avid reader； Anne had
escaped into books in recent months； when all else failed to calm her。
As a friend； a book had advantages over the human variety。 It was there
whenever she needed it； it vanished as easily； and it never asked
questions； expected witty replies； made awkward suggestions； or
otherwise overpensated for its own inability to right the wrongs of
the world。 She had packed a friend…a…day supply for this trip。 That was
all the pany she needed。
The hardcover in her hand was a biography。 She opened it now； and was
suddenly caught up in the same world she was trying to flee。 On the
inside cover of the volume was an inscription that she hadn't noticed
earlier。 It brought back a storm of memories。
〃To my favorite sister…in…law。 Have a marvelous vacation and be sure to
spend a week with us when you get back。 Maryellen。〃
From the first； Jeff's family had adored her。 They had always insisted
that they would hold Jeff personally to blame if the m