An empty street. An empty house.

The howl of the harsh winter wind whistled down the darkened alleys between each still home, a sinister silence settling over the shrill deafness of its solitude. His footsteps echoed hollowly on the cobblestone path. He was not afraid. And why should he be? She was dead to begin with, had been for years, and no manner of chill or gloom would deceive his senses. Hed buried her with his own money, for shed long since borrowed against every policy shed bought rescuing him from financial ruin. Hed watched as they placed her bodycold, stiff, and lifelessinto an ugly pink suit; hed watched as they lowered the box steadily into an encasing of hardened earth. Hed stayed late into the night as the gravediggers covered each corner of the pine box with loosened soil. Hed said his goodbyes. Hed cried. And now she was gone. They all were. His stride was long and steady. He could see the black windows of the house as he drew nearer, staring at a white sheet of paper fluttering wildly in the bitter wind. He drew near the door, keys jingling tersely as he readied them for the dead bolt lock. His name was written on the outside of the folded sheet. He snatched it from the door, sliding his key into the first lock. But it stuck. He tried to jiggle it, adjusting the width of insertion repeatedly. Suddenly, the bulb blew on the street lamp, ineptly positioned at the end of the cul-desac. Out the corner of his eye, a shadowed movement was there then gone as he stood clamoring impatiently with his keys. He jerked his head with a jolt as he turned in disbelief. But the street was silent and as empty as always this late hour of the night. Growing annoyed, he removed the key still stubborn in its lock, anxiously determining if it was indeed the correct one. He reinserted its copper grooves. Finally, the lock gave way, and he stumbled into the house. The darkness he encountered inside was oppressive. He shut the door behind him and felt eagerly for the switch. The front hall illuminated, casting a subtle glow on the emptiness and quiet of the remaining rooms. He removed his coat and hung it in the hall closet. He tossed his keys on the side table by the door then secured the dead bolt and door knob locks. He was tempted to call to her, but he was sure it would be useless. She clearly wasnt there. He marched down the hall to the kitchen, frowning at the fruit-littered peach wallpaper leftover from his fourth wife. His stomach growled as he examined the room. The stove was as empty as the rest of the housethe oven tooindicating that wherever shed gone, shed had no intention of cooking anything. He rummaged through the fridge, searching for something that he could consume quickly. There was nothing made but a loaf of bread. He sighed with exasperation, removing the loaf and placing it on the counter. He whipped up two quick peanut butter sandwiches, poured himself some milk, and took his meal back to the front hall. He slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom, careful not spill his meal. At the top of the stairs, he headed gently round the length of the banister and down the hallway to his bedroom at the end of the hall. He checked the time. Nearly ten. The bedroom was a mess. Her clothes and shoes were scattered everywhere and the bed was left unmade from earlier that morning. He could not mask his disgust. Sweeping the clutter onto the floor, he sat down on the bed and tried to enjoy his meal. The milk would upset his stomach he knew, but he was prepared to take the risk.

He ate while watching the news network, mindful to chew slowly lest he potentially choke. But as he got halfway through the second sandwich, a yawn crept upon his lips and an exhausted crick slid up his back. He stretched, tossing the remainder of the sandwich into the trashcan. Then, he headed for the master bathroom to complete his nightly shower. As the minute hand gradually ticked closer to the large, bold twelve on the clock, he slid into his pajamas then into bed. The late night news was going to begin soon, and although he usually watched it, he was insanely tired. The day had been long and tedious for him. He was ready to recuperate. As he smoothed the sheets to lie down, he noticed another folded sheet of paper nestled between his alarm clock and the lamp. He grumbled fitfully, snatching the paper from its resting place and opening it: I knew you wouldnt read the note I taped to the door so I decided to leave this one as well. Ill be brief. Im leaving you. Its obvious that our moment has passed. Ill be by tomorrow morning to pick up the rest of my things. Cathy He tossed the note back onto the nightstand, not noticing as it slid precariously to the carpeted floor beside the bed. Grumbling about Cathy, and the note, he switched off the light and settled beneath the covers as the minute hand on the clock gently slid onto the twelve. His eyes fluttered open in the darkness as his ears pricked at the slight creak he could hear on the stairs. Staring through the slight opening of the bedroom door, the hallway was as dark as before, and there was no sound but the whir of the ceiling fan above him. Not a superstitious man, he closed his eyes again to settle back into sleep. A second slow creak on the stairs led him to sit up, a nervous chill rustling the hairs on his neck and back. He was tempted to call for Cathy, but her letter warned that she would not return til morning. He ran through his mind the possibility that perhaps he had not locked all the doors, but on a second mental check, he was again sure that the house was secure. Once more, he tried to settle beneath the blankets, confident that the sounds were all tricks of the mind, his evening snack cheating his senses at such a late hour. He had just begun to settle into a tender rest when a third lengthy creak roused him from his sleep. His eyes darted to the doorway; he leaped into a sitting position, scrambling backward against the headboard in paralyzing fear. There stood a pale phantom figure, only half of a ghostly body visible through the crack in the door. He scurried to the other half of the bed, anxious to grab a weapon with which to fight off the ghoulish visitor. The door creaked open as if of its own accord. He could see the full-length of the apparition glaring blankly in his direction. Her face was transparent, her eyes overcast and gray. She wore a pearl-colored nightgown, but the area at her abdomen was soiled with bright red blood. She was barefoot, her shoulder length hair cascading into the face of a miniature baby, coddled loosely at her hip. In stiff, staccato-like steps, the woman and child entered the room. Hello, Murray, she said, her voice hollow and resonating like the echo of a cave.

He paused, fear gripping the pounding notes of his heart, slowly recognizing the face before him. Brooke? She smiled wanly. Im not here for pleasantries, Murray. Ive come to warn you. Warn of what? he snapped, the terror that previously gripped him slowly slipping away as the ghost of his third wife spoke. Youre doomed, she said. Your heart is as ice. And without its warmth, you reek of the grave. Well, you should talk. Another wayward smile seemed misplaced as she came closer. You drive her away, as you did us all. What was wrong with Cathy? Didnt she give blindly to you? Humph, he replied. She left this mess. She didnt even cook before she left. He sneered at the ghost before him with a defiant snarl. And what do you know about it anyway? Such a bitter heart, she said with a slight shake of her head. Youll burn for it, Murray She slowly pointed a crooked, dirt-covered finger in his direction, unless you change. Ive suffered and yet I must change? he demanded. I work hard. I pay the bills. I buy the clothes, the food, her toiletries! Yet Im asked to change? Ridiculous! The apparition took two steps back, sliding the baby on her hip into her arms, rocking it gently to the hum of an ominous melody. The once silent baby then slid into high-pitched song, its head tossing softly back and forth to the swing of its mothers arms: Although your heart is riddled with pain Its caused your love to become disdain And if you continue to refuse to change Doomed forever your soul will remain The child continued its song softly as the ghastly ghoul looked up, piercing eyes settled on her target. You will be visited by three spirits, Murray. He sighed, clearly vexed at the ghosts news. Your presence alone has been quite enough. Without these visits, you cannot hope to be saved, she said. Expect the first when the clock strikes one. And in that moment, both the apparition and its baby were gone, leaving him once again alone in his room. Visibly shaken, he dashed into the dark hall, checking for any signs of his dead wife on the stairs, hallway or rooms. But she had completely vanished, baby and all. He tried to settle his nerves, attempting to ignore the rattle still jarring his fingers to quake. Humph, he muttered, shutting his bedroom door behind him. Humph. He settled into his bed once again, explaining away the apparition that had just appeared, and dismissing her warnings of doom. He fell into a pleasant sleep, gentle whispers of peace and success littering his slumbered musings. He dreamt of clouds and flowers and pleasant walks in the meadow. He dreamt of singing and smiling faces. He dreamtof a toilet.

His eyes peeled open, the silent room as silent as it had been when hed first laid down to dream. But his bladder was screaming for release as he rose gently from the covers and proceeded toward the bedroom door. As he reached out for the handle, the bright red numbers on the bedside clock behind him began to blinkone-zero-zero. He leaped back from the doorway, stumbling over a shoe Cathy had left in the floor, slamming the back of his head against the nightstand. Another apparition stood precariously in the doorjamb, staring blankly. Her hair was stringy and white. She was saturated from head to toe, dripping dry drops of water. Her nightgown was bright jade in color, dramatically illuminating the paleness of her skin. Her eyes matched her gown; her faux smile was wan and insincere. Hello, Murray. Her voice was a whisper, like the wind on a summer day. He knew her. Natasha? he said. First Brooke, now you? We dont have all night, she said. Come. The window behind him flew open as she approached the spot where he had fallen. He scrambled to make himself smaller as she drew near, clutching his knees to his chest. As she extended her hand to him, she said, Do not fear me. You know me. He shook his head in disbelief. That was years ago. Indeed, she responded. In life, I was your second wife. In death, I am charged to show you the past. And so I shall. Reluctantly, he took her hand, standing to his feet in front of the window. The street was dark; not a creature stirred, no windows lit with restless neighbors. The ghost lifted herself through the window, but he stood back, petrified. Turning to him and again extending her hand, she said, You must trust, Murray. This is your journey. You have to be willing to make it. He paused, eyeing the distance from the second story to the ground. But I could fall. It is not your time to join us, she said. A touch of my hand will ease your mind. He took a deep breath, resting a socked foot on the windowsill. Her hand seemed so far out of reach from his position. Gripping the sides of the frosted windows frame, he stretched out, reaching for Natashas hand. Just as he felt himself slipping, she caught hold of his fingertips and lofted him into the air. She smiled, Let us go. A blinding white light lingered in front of them, and he followed Natasha to the other side of it. He suddenly recognized the farmers market extending for a mile below him, descending gently with Natasha into the midst of the town some twenty years previous. He saw Natasha in front of him, her youth still vibrant, her waves of hair blowing in the autumn wind. Thats you! he said excitedly, pointing at the young beauty before them. And suddenly there he was, browsing the rows of fresh grown fruit and produce, a bland expression upon his face. The young Natasha called to him, but he did not answer. The memory of the scene in front of him flooded to the forefront of his mind. No, he muttered to himself, jerking his head to the right, looking for the young girl he knew was approaching. She had a smile like the summer sun, skipping merrily through the aisles, a basket of purchased fruit in her hand. She could have been no more than nineteen, not

accompanied by any family members or friends. She bumped into him, her innocent gaze capturing and holding his attention. Oh, excuse me, the young girl said with a giggle. His younger self nodded, mesmerized with her smile. Nono problem, he stammered. Im Murray. Brooke, she giggled. Its funny. Ive never seen you around. Ive never seen you either, young Murray said. Well have to remedy that, Brooke chuckled with a wink. She slipped a piece of paper in his pocket and grinned. Call me sometime. Well see more of each other. Murray! young Natasha called. Do you want plums or peaches? Ta-ta, young Brooke said, fluttering away in the same manner she had come. Young Natasha was clearly pretending not to notice the banter that had taken place some yards away from her. She blinked back tears as young Murray approached, pretending that he had an interest in whatever she had begun to say. He turned to the apparition at his side, blinking in disbelief. You knew? The scene of the market changed almost instantly, revealing young Natasha at the kitchen table of the home in which he still lived. The wallpaper was blue; the same blue his first wife had picked when they bought the house. Young Natasha was crying, flipping through a series of black and white photos of young Murray and the beautiful Brooke. Sliding the pictures across the table, she reread the note in his handwriting: I hope youll understand, but Ive fallen in love Young Natasha rose silently from the table and ascended the stairs. In the bedroom they had shared, she slipped into the jade nightgown hed bought her for Christmas, remembering that hed told her how beautifully it matched her eyes. She ran a tub of water and slid into the scalding basin, slowly lowering her head and body beneath the rising flow. He gasped for breath, sloshing in the inch of water in which he stood, nearing the edge of the tub, sitting precariously on its edge. He wanted to lay a hand to her drowned head but found he could not feel her. These are scenes from the past, Murray, Natasha said. In this world, you do not exist. Why did you show me this? he mumbled, blinking back the burning threat of tears at the corners of his eyes. Why did you bring me to this awful place? Why did you do it? What did you gain from entertaining Brooke? she asked. What pleasure did she bring you that I could not? He stood warily, shaking his head. Ishe was adventurous, he mumbled. She wassexual and inviting. I was mesmerized He turned abruptly to the apparition, compassion in his eyes. I did not realize how deeply Id hurt youuntil And Brooke? Natasha said. Did you love her better? The scene before them changed, to an emergency room with screaming doctors and nurses surrounding a pale, weakened girl lying legs agape on a gurney. Wheres my husband? she called. Did somebody call my husband? We called, a nurse reassured Brooke. But we need to get the hemorrhaging under control or youll lose this baby. Were begging you to cooperate please.

I need my husband! she screamed as they passed towel after towel to the sink, saturated in blood. Were losing her! another nurse cried, frantically eying the young womans dramatically declining heartbeat. Shes losing too much blood! shouted another. Where were you? asked Natasha. You should have been there. Defensive, he cried, I tried. It was the end of the year audit. They wouldnt let me leave. They? Natasha said, eyebrow curiously raised. Does the company not bear your namesake? Itsits much more complicated than that, he replied defiantly. That place depends on me. She depended on you, Natasha said. We all did. And look how you let us down. And now Cathy You dont know what Ive gone through with Cathy, he snapped through clenched teeth. Take me home now. Ive seen enough. Natasha nodded. In a moment, she said, as the scene once again changed. His heart wrenched as the past played out before him. She was frail and quiet on the bed. He sat by her bedside, gripping her hand, kissing it gently, stroking her hair. The bedroom was quiet, a subtle peace settling about the two of them as they gazed into each others eyes. Im ready, Murray, she whispered. You have to let go. Tears in his eyes, he could barely speak. Not now. Not yet. Her shallow breaths were almost too much to bear. Im in so much pain, she gasped. I dont want to hurt anymore. Let me take it from you, he echoed with his past self, drawing near to the bed, his hand extended toward his dying loves face. You cant, my love, she said. To be here with you. That is my peace. She drew in a rasping breath. Now say goodbye. His heart exploded with remorse as his younger self erupted into a torrent of sobs. Goodbye, he managed as, with a sigh, she closed her eyes to be gone from him forever. He clutched at his heart, watching himself grieve over his young wife, lying there in memory only in front of him. His eyes reddened with grief as he turned on the ghost which had brought him to this place of pain. Why do you torture me? he demanded. Why do you show me these things that cannot be changed? You loved once, Murray, the ghost whispered. You loved hard and strong. Love is a myth, he muttered. Love comesand goes even more quickly. Will you never open your heart again? she asked. Not evena little? Before he could respond, he found himself once again in the quiet of his room, clutching the corner of the comforter on his bed. The apparition was gone, as immediately as shed come. He attempted to gather himself and his senses. He did not feel whole in that moment, swatting at memories long forgotten that now nagged at his soul. He grabbed the glass of water, yet untouched on his night stand, and took a series of gulps. It was at

that moment he remembered his neglected bladder and stepped cautiously into the silent hallway. He had never moved. He had lived here, with all of them. He hadnt wanted to leave the house she had loved since the day she first saw it. He rushed his bladder through its work, trying his hardest not to look at the tub. Hurriedly, he reentered his room, shutting the door behind him. Hello, Murray. He clutched his chest, feeling it thudding through his rib cage. You guys have got to stop doing that. This spirit was pretty, not nearly as harrowing as the two that had preceded her. She was wearing tight jeans and a glossy, revealing top. Her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders in bright, shiny ringlets. But her neck bore a hideous gaping gash clear across it. It was dark and bloodied, though she smiled pleasantly despite the injury. The clock behind her flashed three am. Im just glad you remember me, she said with a flighty bounce. Her voice was shrill, like a tiny butlers bell. How could I forget you, Lachelle, he mumbled. The one woman who broke my heart. Oh dont be silly, Murray, she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. You dont have a heart. She bounced from the bed, reaching for his hand. Come, come, she said. Were running out of precious time. Youre going to take me on a journey, too? he grumbled. Maybe Im tired of thesevisions. And I grow tired of you, she said. Now lets be going. The night is waning. Lachelle opened the bedroom door and he found himself in his office at work the day before. Lachelle crossed her arms, looking at his yesterday self in front of them. Tsk, tsk, she said. Youve gotten so old in just a few years. Yes, he snapped. Im not at all like the muscle-bound murderer you cheated on me with. His secretary stepped in the room. Cathy on one, sir. His yesterday self groaned and thanked her. Snatching the phone from its cradle and pressing line one, he said tersely, What is it? He paused then continued. No, I wouldnt wait up, he said. Ive got too much to do. Another pause. I dont know why this has to be an issue every time you call. You knew I was a busy man when we met. I was busy then, and Im busy now. Give me a break. He slammed down the phone and returned to the papers on his desk. Lachelle turned to him. She only wanted to have dinner, Murray. Did you have to be so rude? I was busy, he replied. She knew that! Was she asking for so much? You dont understand, he snapped. I had been dealing with that nagging all week by then. Ah, Lachelle said. The way you claimed I nagged. Well, lets see what lack of attention gets us, shall we? The scene before them changed to a parking lot of a cheap motel uptown. She came here? he said with a frown.

He heard voices coming from the room nearest them. Stepping up to the window, he peered through the slightly parted curtain. Cathy sat on the edge of the bed, partially nude, coughing deeply, holding her chest. Robert? she called. Can you bring me that bottle of white pills on the counter? A handsome rugged man emerged from the bathroom carrying the bottle. Whats wrong with you? the man called Robert asked blandly. Just a cough, she said dismissively. Nothing to be concerned about. That idiot, he whispered. I cant believe he bought that. Shes had that cough for months. He turned to Lachelle. What is that shes taking? A pain killer, she replied as Cathy coughed harshly into a tissue. A flash of bright red blood singed it as she heaved into the tissue, alarming him immediately. Whats wrong with her? he demanded. Whats wrong with her, Shelley? She crossed her arms, leaning against the brick wall that was the motel. Cancer, she said. In Cathys case, lung cancer. His stomach tumbled out through his socks into the meager grass that crawled along the motels foundation. He gasped for breath, remembering his greatest love, the one who had escaped him, the one he couldnt save. How serious? he stammered. Willwill she live? Lachelle shrugged. I was charged with the present, and that is the future, she mused, gazing at the woman on the bed. But if the shadows of the present remain unaltered, I see a headstone in Harpers Cemetery that bears her name. Again, tears struck the corners of his eyes. Why is she so stupid? he cried. She always hated the doctors. Always needed me to go with her. And youve been too busy to do that, Lachelles shrilly voice accused. Work, fatigue, lazinesshow many other excuses did you make? Do you love her at all? Of course I do, he whined, staring at Cathy who was now lying peacefully on the bed. I lovedI loved you all. How oddly you showed it, she mumbled. Workaholic, never home, inattentive when you were home. How closed off you were It was hard for me, he sighed, still gazing at his wife asleep on the bed as the scene slowly faded from view. Hard to admit I couldfeelagain He fought tears as he found himself once again in his room, cross-legged on his bed. The house was again silent. Lonely. He couldnt erase the memory of Cathys face, void of color, the bright red blood. Lachelle and the others had been right. How hed ignored them all. How distant he had been. He loved them all in his own right, but it had been hard to show thembecause his love for another had been so much greater. How hed forced that pain from his mind! He lay down, clutching his pillow as he began to sob. He could still feel the softness in her face, the gentleness in her voice, the gaiety in her laugh. She had been the most precious thing to him. And shed been taken so suddenly, so instantaneously. It was a void hed sought to fill. Not to be alone every night in that bed, thinking of her, missing her. He grieved daily, and theyd never known. Theyd never known that he loved them each for reminding him of her, of her sweetness, her love, her patience. He reached out for her pillows, to remember, to breathe her inand then, she was there. His eyes fluttered open; he swiped anxiously at his tear-stained face. But it was no

illusion. Her beautiful face was there, smiling back him, resting softly on the pillows, her hair fanned out around her face, the glory of perfection he so fondly remembered. EhElena, he sighed peacefully. Hello, Murray. Her voice was angelic and sweet, the glow about her face bathing him in love. How Ive missed you so, he said. She shook her head. You promised me, she whispered. You said youd let go. His chest heaved with sadness. He shook his head. II couldnt. I carry you with me. In my spirit. Im not coming back, Murray. But youre here. Youre here now. To spare you, she said, sliding an index finger along his cheek. To keep you from continuing on this path to nothing, to misery. Im not miserable, he lied. She smiled. Close your eyes. No, he said. I dont want you to go away. Its a journey, Murray. For this, Ill be with you. Reluctantly, nestled against the pillows in the glow of his first wife, he slowly closed his eyes. A soft whisper in his ear prompted him to open them, and they stood side by side at Harpers Cemetery. Why are we here? he whispered, clinging to Elenas hand. She pointed. Look. A group of onlookers watched as a casket was lowered into the ground. She will be missed, said one. Indeed, said another. She was a wonderful woman. Not much to say of that widower she left behind, said yet another. They should call him the Black Widower, said the first. Somehow all his wives seem to die. More of grief than of true ailment, said the third. Drove them all to the grave, he did, said the second. Such a shame, said the first as they all shook their heads sadly. He looked to Elena. What do they mean by that? he demanded. I didnt kill them, any more than I killed you. Elena nodded. Theres more to see. Suddenly, they were transposed to his living room. But the image of himself he saw before him was old and decrepit. The house was worn and in dire need of repair, but he merely sat before the fire, saying nothing, never moving. There was no phone, no light, no sound. Just the crackle of the fire, and the creaking of the walls. You dont marry again after Cathy, she whispered. The divorce would have left you with the house of course, but she dies shortly before the proceedings are final. His heart pounded in his chest, the shell of himself in front of him leaving him breathless. After losing youI didnt think I could get much lower. Elena nodded. What took me was beyond your control. It was beyond anyones control. Cancer is oftentimes the silent killer. But those other womenthey only wanted your love.

And I gave it to them, he refuted. I wouldnt have married them without loving them. You didnt love them the way you loved me, she whispered. I could never He paused, gazing into her eyes lovingly. I could never love anyone the way I did you. She sighed. But you never gave love again either. I loved them. Yes, but you never gave your love to them, Elena said. You buried it, and only acknowledged it within yourself. And so you harvested that love for you and you only, and in that selfishness lost them all. He drew in a breath. It was hardto watch them all go before me. I know, love, she said. It was hard for them to leave. She sighed. If you continue this way, youll lose Cathy, too. He brightened, his eyes lit up with a glow. SoI can change this? Unlike my life, she said, taking his hand, yours is certainly not over. Will you stay with me? he asked. Always? She smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his hand. My heart will always be yours. His eyes fluttered open. He groped at the pillows beside him, inhaling them, clinging for any small sign of her. But she was gone, as were the others. He clamored from his bed, trying to calm himself from his night of horror and beauty. Sunlight poured through the windows and illuminated the mess in the room. With a soft sigh, he made the bed and began gathering Cathys clothes. He hung her blouses and folded her undergarments. He placed the shoes back on their racks and organized the closet. Gathering his plate and glasses, he started down the stairs to the kitchen to begin breakfast. He was just finishing when Cathy came bursting in through the front door. Im not staying, she said in a rush, heading for the stairs. I just came for my things. Wait, he called, chasing her into the front hall. Let me talk to you. Theres nothing to talk about, Murray, she said angrily. Theres nothing else to say. I have something to say, he said, if youll hear me out. She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. What? A deep resonant cough escaped her lips as she tried to retain her bitterness. He paused momentarily then began. I was wrong. Cathys eyes fluttered in disbelief. What? she exclaimed. You never apologize. I did once, he said with a sigh. I wasnt always so cold and bitter. IIve told you aboutabout Elena? she said gently. He nodded. I had given up. I was afraid to love that way again. I wanted to save it for herbecause I feltshe was the only woman who had ever deserved it. He paused, taking Cathys hands in his. But now I know that you all do, every bit of it, and theres more to give if Im willing toand Im willing to now, Cathy. Ifif youll still have me, Id like to try. Cathy looked down at the floor, her defenses wearing thin. II dont know, Murray.

I swear this is isnt a bunch of bull, he pleaded. Ive had the most insightful night of my life. And they taught me what I was missing, what I was hoarding to myself. How selfish I had been. Who are you talking about, Murray? she said curiously. Were you sipping from the liquor cabinet last night? No, no, he said with a laugh. Lets just say Ive learned from the experiences that preceded you, and Im better for it. Overnight? she said skeptically. Just yesterday you said I know what I said, he replied apologetically. If you let me make it up to you, youll see. Im sincere. I swear. Cathy paused. Then I shouldI should tell you that I spent the night Ssh, he said, pressing a finger to her lips. I know all about Robert. Her face grew pale, and she coughed hard into her fist. Dont worry about that, love, he continued. If you can forgive me my arrogance and abrasiveness, Ill forgive your indiscretions. Lets start over. I really cannot lose you. She looked down at the floor. Well, I guessI guess we could start over. She smiled. Id like that. He smiled back. We could start with breakfast, he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. Good, she said, because Im starving. And were gonna have to go to the doctor, he interjected. Tomorrow. Tomorrow? Yes, he insisted. That coughdoesnt sit well with me. Then were gonna have to talk about this wallpaper, she said as they sat down at the kitchen table. I think we need to strip it, and go back to the blue. He looked up at her with tenderness in his eyesand smiled.