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CHAPTER 1

Without mincing words, Cherry Piano was vain and shallow. She placed undo emphasis on material goods: nice clothes, glossy jewelry and fast cars. She never looked inside a person, judging his character instead on mere appearance. And yet, now matter how much she bought, no matter what brand name she wore on her body, her reflection in the mirror never changed. She still had the same tired look on her face, the same dull pain in her eyes and the same perpetual frown on her lips that made her look twice her age.

One warm day in September, sitting up in bed in a room littered with wrinkled shirts, unopened cosmetics and discarded tissues, Cherry came to a realization. It was not an overly profound discovery, because although Cherry was bright, she was also extremely self-absorbed. Most of her reflecting was therefore reserved for herself. But the discovery she made was nonetheless important: life is nothing more than a story, with a beginning, middle and ending. And only the ending is usually remembered; the rest is just fluff.

Cherry’s own life had unfortunately spiraled so far out of control that she couldn’t apply words of wisdom to herself. At 31, she had already made enough mistakes to last five lifetimes. One of her greatest faults lay in how she treated others, like every word they uttered was too boring to be heard. She was also fundamentally inept at managing relationships and was already on her second divorce. These failures clung to her like sticky cloth, not because she felt responsible, but because she didn’t want people to think badly of her.

She married the first time at age 25, to a man whose taste for hard living far exceeded his need for love. What Cherry was drawn to, however, was his appearance, which told the world he paid attention and appreciated fine things. His thoughts and habits would remain a mystery to her for the entire six months of their marriage. She decided to leave only after Nathan looked her in the eye and made this statement: “Every morning when I wake up, my first thought is of having a cigarette. My second thought is of work, and my third is of the people I might meet that night at a party or restaurant. You don’t even enter my mind until I see you, sitting at the kitchen table drinking another lukewarm cup of coffee.”

CHAPTER 2

That day, after Nathan closed the door behind him and got into his black Cadillac, Cherry went up the sweeping, hardwood staircase and entered her bedroom. She slept alone, an arrangement Nathan insisted on because of his late-night prowling. She walked into her closet and, shoulders squared defiantly, grabbed a series of dresses from hangers.

Before she got very far, though, a deep and trembling exhaustion settled in her bones. This was the first hardship Cherry had ever encountered, and she wasn’t able to face it. Instead, she dropped her dresses on the plush carpet and walked to her bed. She picked up the telephone and called Blaire, the housekeeper Nathan had haired after their wedding. “Please come over,” she said without her usual gusto. “I need some help cleaning out my closet.”

Blaire, of course, knew the truth. She had seen this day coming long before Cherry had…the tense exchanges between she and Nathan; the lonely dinners prepared just for Cherry; her bed that hardly got messy, made every day because it was simply part of Blaire’s routine. Nathan’s rarely required making because, she surmised, he rarely spent the night at home.

Upstairs, Cherry sat on her bed with a glazed look on her face. She didn’t understand the exhaustion that had come over her. And rather than reflecting on the ruins of her marriage, realizing the danger in marrying someone you hardly know, her mind was blank. She had wedded Nathan after just nine months of dating; he got into the relationship because Cherry, young and pretty, had seemed the ideal partner to help him achieve his goals. For Nathan, marriage wasn’t about family and knowing the footprints you left behind were part of a shared, rather than solitary, life. Instead, marriage was about catapulting each other into outer social and professional spheres.

Cherry married Nathan because, wealthy and attractive, he seemed to have everything she wanted. The possibility of raising a family never entered her mind. While he had worked and caroused, spending time at work and with his friends, she had poured over wedding dress designs. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t interested in the plans she made; she was happy just to be a bride.

The happiness quickly faded, though, and Cherry learned nothing from the hole she created with rapidly marrying and then leaving Nathan. With Blaire’s help, she packed her clothes, shoes and personal mementos into the SUV he had bought her as a wedding gift. Then, without so much as a backward glance, she left behind her life of luxury, her housekeeper and her mammoth house. She drove to her parents’ more modest home and stayed there until her divorce was finalized.

CHAPTER 3

“You need to find a job,” Cherry’s dad said once her bags were unpacked. She had moved into her old bedroom, the one in which she had happily spent her childhood. Staring at the pale pink walls, the ruffled curtains and matching bedspread, it was hard for her to remember the girl she had once been.

At first, Cherry ignored her father’s orders and instead spent her days idly watching television and driving around. She had to borrow money just to keep gas in her SUV, and her father kept a tally of how much she owed him. Without realizing it, she drifted aimlessly from one day to the next, half wishing Nathan would ask her to come back home. But he did not, and the divorce was finalized exactly 60 days after the date of Nathan’s filing. Cherry didn’t even attend the court hearing.

“The country club is hiring waitresses,” her mom declared one morning, barging into Cherry’s bedroom with the newspaper in hand. She opened the curtains to reveal a flood of sunshine, and Cherry struggled to sit up in bed. “You need to go there today and fill out an application.”

Cherry shook her head. She had left Nathan more than four months earlier. “I don’t want to waitress. I’ll wait until an office position is available.”

Cherry’s mom sat on the foot of the bed. “You don’t have that option,” she said quietly. “If you don’t find a job by the end of this week, you father is going to stop giving you money. You must go to work, and the country club is as good a place as any. Get dressed and drive over there now.”

Crushed by the responsibility now on her shoulders, Cherry got out of bed and showered. She dressed slowly and carefully, selecting a short dress and faded denim jacket. She felt bereft and lonely, as if the world had forgotten about her. It didn’t seem right to go job hunting when her life was in shambles. But Cherry knew she couldn’t put her dad off any longer, and after lining her eyes in brown and slashing bubble gum colored gloss across her lips, she left for the country club.

“Do you have any waitressing experience?” the hiring manager asked coldly during Cherry’s interview. She wore tortoiseshell rimmed glasses and elegant black trousers with a starched blouse.

“Yes,” Cherry replied quickly. For some reason, she couldn’t tell this woman the truth, that she had never even thought of waitressing. She looked like someone who didn’t tolerate excuses, and Cherry felt, for the first time in her life, it was important to make a favorable impression. So she lied.

CHAPTER 4

The manager was named Dana, and she eyed Cherry critically from behind her glasses. “So you’re comfortable with side work, like making salads and rolling silverware? And you can bartend?”

Cherry’s felt a rush of heat creep from the pit of her stomach to her cheeks. She nodded in answer, her mouth too dry to speak. The lies she told made her ill.

Unaware of Cherry’s discomfort, however, Dana jotted some notes on a piece of paper and gave a hard smile. “You’re hired. When can you start?”

Stunned, Cherry stammered on her words. She knew what her parents would want her to say (“as soon as possible”), and she knew what she wanted to say (“never”). Her mind moved quickly, and she found a compromise. “In two weeks.”

“That’s perfect,” Dana replied. She made several more notations, reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a packet of papers that she slid over to Cherry. “In there are some tax forms you need to complete, as well as a copy of our employee handbook and other information for you to read. Bring the signed forms back to me next week, and I’ll give you two uniform shirts and your nametag. We only allow black pants, black socks and black shoes for servers, so make sure you have the appropriate things. Any questions?”

Cherry shook her head. Her previous work experience consisted of arranging homes for high school foreign exchange students. She didn’t think she could make salads, mix drinks or even take orders. What was she supposed to do?
Two weeks later, though, Cherry showed up for her first shift with renewed confidence. She loved the white button-up shirt Dana had given her, tucked into bell-bottom black trousers. On her feet were dainty ballet slippers with bows on top. Anybody with a brain can wait tables, she told herself as she walked into the country club and looked for Dana.

By the end of the night, Cherry realized she was wrong. She had spilled wine on a woman’s dress and mistaken a gentleman’s sister for his wife. Her feet and back throbbed with pain, and she had no idea how to input orders into the computer. Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes as she sat in her car, too tired to even drive home. She had worked for seven hours straight, and she knew with absolute certainty she wouldn’t return the next day, or any day for that matter.

She was quitting, unable to endure a hectic job in which nobody cared what she looked like. They wanted only for her to perform her duties, and Cherry couldn’t. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this kind of work, and rather than force herself to persevere, she wanted to play dead.

CHAPTER 5

“Get up,” her mom said the next morning with forced cheer. With sure hands she pulled the blankets away from Cherry’s body and touched her cheek. She had seen Cherry’s work schedule and knew she was due at the country club in an hour.

“I can’t,” Cherry moaned. Although she was awake and had been for several hours, she didn’t want to leave the safety of her bed. “It’s too terrible.”

“That’s exactly why you must,” her mother replied. “We won’t allow you to lay in this bed day after day, your life here and gone before you know it. Get up and do something, face this challenge.” She paused and spoke more gently. “If you don’t do this, you’ll always regret it. I know you feel lost, but there’s only one way out of this tunnel. Keep going, Cherry. You need this job.”

Her mother’s words stirred something deep within Cherry. After thinking in silence for several moments, she at last rose from bed to take a shower. It was difficult to walk on her sore, tender feet, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. She showed up for work promptly on time, this time wearing a pair of black tennis shoes that didn’t look as pretty as the ballet slippers, but suited her feet much better.

For several weeks, Cherry did nothing except work, sleep and eat. She was exhausted all the time, but slowly her body adjusted to waitressing. Absorbed as she now was with work, she no longer sat around and blamed Nathan for her woes. Slowly, her attitude changed until she forgot to be sad and bitter and simply settled into herself.

After creating with Dana a schedule in which she worked six days a week, Cherry began to take notice of her co-workers. They were mostly young college students, which made Cherry one of the club’s oldest employees. She envied the carefree lives they led, worrying about deadlines and professors instead of bills and apartments. Despite the obvious differences, Cherry regarded several of her co-workers as close friends. They talked about their boyfriends and she shared details of her failed marriage. She had never belonged to a group before, and her new status filled her with a heady feeling.

The changes in her life gradually altered Cherry’s appearance, although she was too busy to notice. During her divorce, she had developed small lines on either side of her mouth, and black smudges filled the hollows under her eyes. These shadows disappeared as Cherry discovered a sense of contentment, something that had eluded her for most of her life. Her eyes were bright and healthy, her cheeks glowed with the physical work of her job.

CHAPTER 6

It was perhaps these traits that first attracted Matt to Cherry. He was a member of the country club, newly divorced himself and looking to fill the vacancy his ex-wife had left behind. He noticed Cherry working behind the bar and asked her out one week later. She accepted with a smile, and he was taken aback by the obvious sincerity of her happiness.

Their dates were simple, and that in and of itself soothed Cherry. After her experience with Nathan, she was ready for a relationship free of deception. She didn’t explain this to Matt because she was just content in his presence. But she began to look forward to their time together with increasing fervor. They shopped at the mall, ate at Applebee’s and watched television. For Cherry, the stately pace fulfilled her like nothing before ever had.

It was for this reason that she didn’t notice their lack of communication. They didn’t share their feelings or talk about the future. It was all surface discussions about what they’d done that particular day and how dreadful each of their first marriages was. If asked, she never could have told somebody his favorite color (orange), his favorite food (hamburgers) or his age when he got married the first time (31). Of course, Matt didn’t have the slightest idea who Cherry was either. He knew only that she was pretty and laughed heartily at his jokes. She boosted his ego.
She should have been surprised when after two months of dating Matt said, “I hope one day you’ll be my wife.” But she was thrilled. She wanted nothing more than to cement the comfort she felt with him, and marriage seemed the best way to do that. She blushed and accepted his proposal with tears in her eyes.

Six weeks later, she became Mrs. Matt Sottile in a simple ceremony attended by both their parents. She was certain on that sunny Saturday, as she stood under an outdoor arch wearing a glowing white dress, she had at last found her place in life. Unlike before, she didn’t gloat over her good fortune. She was grateful for Matt in a way she had never been for anything or anyone.

Their bliss lasted almost a year, a span in which Cherry had never been happier. She felt safe in Matt’s arms at night and looked forward to his phone calls during the day. Together they took weekend trips to small tourist towns and reveled in their discoveries. They opened a joint checking account and purchased new living room furniture. Cherry even reduced her hours at the country club to be home with him in the evenings. She cooked large, elaborate meals that Matt devoured.

She was so caught up in keeping house and being a good wife that she didn’t notice when Matt’s daytime calls stopped. He no longer wanted her to cook, so they began getting dinner from drive-thru restaurants. Even his appearance changed: he looked pale and drawn, and his eyes clouded over when Cherry tried to talk. Somehow, she had failed to see that something was fundamentally wrong with the relationship. She woke the morning of their one-year anniversary with a startling thought:

Matt is cheating on me.

CHAPTER 7

The thought exploded inside Cherry’s head. She didn’t have proof, and when she examined the relationship she couldn’t put her finger on what felt different. But certainly something between her and Matt had changed.

Like one who picks at a scab, Cherry tormented herself with finding the precise problem in her marriage. She recalled happy times and cried miserably at their loss. There was the thunderstorm during which she and Matt had lost power and sat in candlelight talking and playing cards. The breakfast she made and served to him in bed, complete with freshly-squeezed orange juice and thick, sourdough toast slashed with jam. The drive to Lake Michigan when they drove sang along together to Prince songs. Like a file of index cards, Cherry sorted through these memories and tried to find a particularly bad moment, a sign that would have told her Matt wasn’t happy.

She found nothing.

For a time, she convinced herself she was wrong. Matt would never have an affair, she told herself. He’s not that kind of guy. And he loves me.

Still, the nagging in her head told her otherwise, and finally Cherry could no longer pretend. She sought Matt out and pleaded with him. “Are you seeing someone?” she asked repeatedly. “Is there another woman? Have you found somebody else?”

His answer was always the same—no—and he shut her out with a growing detachment. But as Cherry began to watch him more closely, her instinct gave way to absolute certainty. Before he went to bed now, Matt turned off his cell phone, something he never did before. He texted frequently to an unknown recipient, and he started wearing cologne.

The most telling sign, however, came one afternoon when Cherry was getting ready for work. She slipped on her black button-up shirt as usual and walked into the bathroom. After pulling her hair into a ponytail, she brushed her lashes with black mascara and smoothed her cheeks with bronzer. Just as she swiped lip gloss across her mouth, Matt came into the room and stood beside her. Cherry never spoke a word to him, never paused in preparing to leave. But Matt, in a flat, even tone, said one cold sentence: “There’s more to attracting men than just wearing makeup.”

That was all it took for Cherry to know the truth. It pierced her heart like a knife, but she couldn’t deny it. Matt didn’t love her anymore. And that night when she got home from the country club, he wasn’t there waiting.

CHAPTER 8

Matt came home the next morning without a trace of guilt. He reeked of alcohol, his skin saturated with the odor. Cherry could see the stubble on his cheeks, his mussed hair and wrinkled shirt. “I fell asleep on the boat,” he said by way of explanation. His tone was light and breezy, as if last night could be quickly forgotten.

He was wrong, because Cherry was in no mood to forgive or forget. She stepped to one side as he walked past her into the bedroom, rumbling through dresser drawer for clean clothes. She stood there and watched, breathing hard, all but invisible to the man she loved and trusted.

“Why would you do this?” she suddenly lashed out. The weight she’d been carrying around for weeks dropped from her hands and spilled around her: terror, despair, anger. All this mess, she thought bitterly, because of one man who won’t be honest with himself and can’t be honest with his wife.

“Do what?” Matt shot back. He pulled on a pair of clean socks. “I told you, I fell asleep. Let it drop.”

Near to losing control, Cherry stepped forward. She wanted to trap Matt in the bedroom, force him to own his mistake. “Is that what you say to your girlfriend?” she asked in a trembling voice, hoping to stir some emotion in him. “Do you tell her to drop it when she asks if you plan to leave your wife?”

But Matt was unmoved by the accusation. His face bland, he stood from the bed and adjusted his collar. In that simple gesture, he revealed the truth of last night, and Cherry saw the unmistakable smear of lipstick on his neck. Fury exploded within her, and she pulled her left hand back.

CHAPTER 9

The resounding smack against Matt’s cheek filled her with satisfaction, and she went to slap him again. She longed to hit him over and over until her anger was at last spent. She wanted to leave marks on his skin for the world to see.

“Stop!” Matt yelled. With one swift movement, he grabbed Cherry by the wrist and held her so she couldn’t wrench free. “Stop now.”

At the sound of his voice, Cherry’s fury fled from her body. She felt her knees buckle, and she collapsed to the floor with her wrist still in Matt’s grip. She began to cry, a torrent that streamed down her face. “Why?” she sobbed, staring into his eyes. “Why did you let this happen?”

“Get up,” he said roughly. He let go of Cherry’s arm and stepped over her to reach the bedroom doorway. His lack of emotion only fueled Cherry’s anger.

“I should kill you,” she screamed, her face red and twisted with pain. The tears wet even her lips. “I should kill you for what you’re doing to me.”

“Get up,” Matt said again in a flat voice. “You look like a fool.”

But Cherry couldn’t get up. She felt her body fill with poison, and she knew nothing would ever be the same. She curled up in a ball and lay on the floor until, too tired to stay awake, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

After that horrific scene, a deep silence settled over Matt and Cherry like fog. The house grew cold, absent of Cherry’s passionate arguing and Matt’s firm rebuttals. Plenty could have been said, but neither knew how to say it. Their mutual yet unspoken resentment kept them at a firm but shaky distance, like two magnets that are repelled by and also drawn to each other.

Choked by the silence, Cherry thought about leaving. But thinking is all she did. Even with the knowledge of Matt’s adultery snaking its way through her soul, she stayed put. Sometimes the hardest thing is putting one foot in front of the other, and she wasn’t ready to walk.

CHAPTER 10

It would have been better for Matt and Cherry if she had left, for they lived separate lives under one roof. If one was in the bedroom, the other went to the living room. They never met each other’s gaze, never said a kind word. When they did speak, their words were brief and pointed. “The mortgage payment needs to be mailed today,” Cherry said one morning as Matt grabbed his work gear.

“I’ll do it,” he replied and walked out the door.

She half-wondered why he didn’t leave. Of course the house had been his before they got married, and Cherry wouldn’t have quibbled about ownership. But his leaving would have saved her from wondering if the love she felt was worth the pain it caused.

They never again addressed the affair, and Cherry watched Matt as if from afar. He was suddenly home every night, his hair neatly combed and clothes wrinkle-free. He carried no trace of alcohol, but still he didn’t speak. To keep their newfound distance, Cherry began sleeping on the couch and let Matt have the bed. Sometimes, if she walked by the bedroom late at night, she’d see him reading by lamplight. Other times she watched him carefully tend to his bushes and flowers outside. In the quiet of those moments, she stared at the diamond ring on her left hand and knew she should just give it back.

“You know this was all inevitable,” Cherry’s mom said. She poured two cups of coffee, the steam rising and swirling between them. “You never got to know him before your wedding.”

Cherry turned her head from the words. “I think you need to file for divorce,” her mom continued.

“I don’t want to be twice divorced before I’m 30 years old.”

“That’s not really the point, is it? Besides, there’s no marriage if only one of you is working at it.”

“Do you think he ever loved me at all?” Cherry asked.

Her mother concentrated on stirring cream into her coffee. When she answered, the words came out slowly. “Do you?”

A glimmer of the old vanity surfaced, and Cherry lifted her chin. “Of course he loved me. It’s possible the love affair has stopped, that he’s waiting for me to make the next move.”

Seeing the look on Cherry’s face, her mom sighed. “Yes, it’s possible.”

CHAPTER 11

The idea was so simple that it sent a shock through Cherry. Of course Matt’s affair was finished, that’s why he was lately home at night. And he had stopped drinking, smelling now of faint cologne instead of stale beer. Why didn’t I think of it sooner, she wondered to herself. He must’ve just had a fling, a passing desire. Now it’s finished.

At home, she stepped into the shower and washed her hair with sweet-smelling shampoo. After toweling herself dry, she smoothed rich, fragrant lotion into her skin. She dressed in a green cardigan and jeans, brushed thick mascara on her lashes and straightened her hair until it shone.

Matt would instantly recognize the effort she’d put into her appearance.

It was inconceivable to Cherry that he had never known her, never loved her. She knew only that she loved him, and because of the weed of vanity that grew in her heart, she expected he felt the same. She didn’t understand love must be cultivated, and although twice wedded, she knew nothing about marriage.

Her mind, suddenly free of the humility she’d learned at the country club, concentrated once more on the simple solutions in life: a pretty smile and nice clothes. It never occurred to her there might be more to earning and keeping a man’s love.

With an ear trained to hear Matt’s car in the driveway, she sat on the couch and waited. The glass of wine in her hand felt cool against the heat of her skin, and she kept glancing at the clock. “Hello, darling,” she would say as soon as he opened the door. “I’ve been waiting all day to see you.”

But Matt didn’t come home.

Cherry spent the night on the couch, staring at the television but seeing nothing. She felt numb all over, her head throbbing from the wine and life’s harsh realities. When her phone trilled at seven o’clock in the morning, it shattered the last of her nerves. She saw Matt’s name and number flash across the screen and fumbled to answer. But the voice on the other end wasn’t her husband’s. Instead, an unknown woman spoke in cool, calm tones. “You need to know Matt is in love with me. He wants a divorce so we can be together. Your marriage is over.”

Trembling, Cherry pulled the phone from her ear and glanced once more at the screen. Matt’s number stared back at her. This woman, however she was, had Matt’s phone. Breathing hard, Cherry returned the device to her ear. “Who is this?”

CHAPTER 12

Cherry’s question was met by silence. She could hear the woman on the other end breathing. An image burst into her head of Matt lying on a hotel bed with this person—his mistress—sitting languidly beside him. Cherry shuddered and forced herself to speak again. “Who is this?”

“I don’t want to get more involved than I already am,” the woman replied, her voice just as cold as before.

A bitter laugh escaped Cherry’s lips. Through the fog of wine, sleeplessness and despair, she managed to find her wits. “It’s rather late for that, don’t you think?”

“I called because you need to know the situation,” the woman replied. Cherry imagined her shifting slightly on the bed, perhaps crossing long, tanned legs. She’d have on Matt’s shirt, her hair long and rumpled, a slim hand spread possessively on his chest. These pictures bounced in Cherry’s mind, competing against each other for attention. She felt something inside her shift, a sense of innocence that only moments earlier had still been there. Now it was gone, leaving behind a void of loneliness and fear.

“The situation,” Cherry echoed. Her voice sounded thin even to her own ears.

“Yes.” Cherry heard the woman light a cigarette and inhale deeply. “Matt and I are in love. He wants a divorce. It’s not very complicated, and by doing this, you’ll have your freedom, too. There’s nothing of your marriage to save.”

“Where is Matt?” A storm of emotion began to brew within Cherry. She suddenly wanted to hear her husband’s voice, hear these words come from him rather than a stranger.

“He’s with me.”

“Put him on the phone.”

An uneasy pause drifted down the line. “No,” Matt’s mistress said at last, her voice low and deliberate. “And he’s not coming home either.”

“How am I supposed to divorce him if he won’t speak to me?” Cherry raged. “I don’t want to talk to you…I want his explanation. Put him on the phone.” When she didn’t receive a reply, Cherry pulled the phone from her ear and threw it across the living room. She watched as it bounced several times on the floor and landed with a thud. Even from a distance she knew it had broken, and she felt immediate panic. Then she burst into tears.

CHAPTER 13

After Cherry’s emotional storm spent itself, she drew a shaky breath and looked around. This home—this space—was Matt’s, and she felt like an intruder. If he wanted a divorce, he obviously didn’t want to share his life, and for Cherry that meant she was suddenly sitting in a stranger’s home.

Her stomach quivered, and she held a hand to her mouth lest she was sick. She knew she couldn’t stand to rush to the bathroom. Her body felt weak and limp, as if she’d just barely survived death.

The thought of survival sent Cherry into a tailspin. Where will I live, she wondered. I have no money. I’ve all but quit my job at the country club, and I’m soon to be divorced for the second time. What will become of me?

Cherry knew there were no answers. She no longer had the strength to manage fate. But even in the midst of her pain and confusion, she found herself repeating another question. It battered in her mind like rain, demanding attention not so much because the answer might help her, but because her vanity would not be denied.

Had Matt ever really loved her?

Three days later, he walked into a silent home that seemed at odds with the sun streaming through the windows. He found Cherry sitting on the couch, just as she had done every day since receiving the phone call. Their eyes met for a moment before she looked away. It hurt just to see him.

“I won’t apologize,” Matt said straight away, standing in the center of the living room. Cherry felt like he was declaring war on her.

“Of course not,” she whispered.

“Tell me one thing you know about me.”

The statement caught Cherry off guard. She hesitated, unsure of what to say. “What do you know of me?”

“Nothing,” Matt admitted. He sat on a recliner, the tan suede they had purchased before their wedding. “I don’t know anything about you.”

Cherry felt her throat close. “What is the point in saying this to each other?”

“Because you need to understand. We’re getting a divorce. I’ve found somebody to love, somebody who knows me inside and out, and I love her.”

“I can’t divorce you,” Cherry screamed, her hands trembling with Matt’s admission. “I’ll never divorce you. And you can tell her I said that.”

“Why?” Matt asked, his voice full of anger. “Why do you want to stay in this hellish marriage?”

Cherry stared at him and finally saw the truth. He didn’t love her. It no longer mattered if he ever had, because the past was lost to them. The only thing that mattered was now, and she knew irrevocably that his love belonged to someone else. Helpless to do or say anything that might get through to him, she whispered the only words that came to mind: “Because I love you.”

CHAPTER 14

Matt sat down once more, moving limply as if the energy had been drained from his body. “It doesn’t matter.” His tone was flat, and Cherry wondered why he hated her so. “It doesn’t matter, because we are getting a divorce.”

She felt desperate. She had to find the right words, some way to get through to him. Something told her this was her last chance. If she couldn’t make things right in this moment, Matt would be lost to her forever.

She looked around the room, searching for an object that might trigger a loving memory. Maybe he just needed to be reminded of the love they had once shared. Her gaze landed on a row of pictures arranged on the fireplace. Framed in white was a photo from their wedding. Although she knew this picture and everyone in it by heart, she squinted from the couch to see it more clearly. She and Matt stood in the center, arms around each other, with Cherry’s family beside her and Matt’s beside him. His mother, tall and regal in a dark dress, suddenly seemed more prominent to Cherry. She continued staring until her mind clicked.

Without warning, she knew how to reach Matt. Her solution was underhanded and dirty, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except keeping her husband.

Cherry turned to him and carefully hid a smile. Matt, meanwhile, sat slumped in the chair, his eyes dull. She drew a breath and spoke before she could stop herself. “If you try to divorce me, I’ll tell your mother.”

Matt stared. When at last he spoke, his voice was distant. “What did you say?”

She cleared her throat and repeated herself, this time with greater force. “If you try to divorce me, I’ll speak to your mom. I’ll tell her about the affair and your drinking. She’ll put an end to this.”

“You’re so low you would blackmail me into staying married?”

Cherry thought for a moment, remembering the story Matt had told her right after they met. “I started drinking when I was fifteen. I don’t know why…I wasn’t abused, my family was wealthy, I had everything a kid could’ve asked for. But I loved the way I felt when I was drunk. It led to other drugs, and I was addicted to cocaine by the time I was nineteen. I would stay high for days, eating nothing, caring about nothing. I dropped out of college, I couldn’t hold a job. The only thing I wanted was coke. My parents let me live with them, even though they knew was what going on. Finally my mother couldn’t take it anymore, and she flew me to California so I could go to rehab. She stayed with me for two weeks, and I was released after 90 days. When I came back to Michigan, she helped me find a job and bought this house for me. But her kindness came with a price. She warned me if I didn’t stay on track, she’d take everything. She’s not trying to control my life…just my addiction.”

The memory faded, and Cherry had to answer. “It’s not blackmail,” she said smoothly. “I just think you’ve gotten off the straight and narrow, and now you need help. Your mother will get through to you even if I can’t.”

“Name of God, Cherry, how could you do this? What’s wrong with you?”

“Should I call her?” Cherry knew without being told that she was in control. She fought to conceal her smugness.

But Matt saw the light in her eyes and knew what it meant. He stood abruptly, fists clenched. “You can go to hell,” he said and left the room.

CHAPTER 15

Cherry sat stiffly on the couch, unsure of what to do next. She knew Matt was angry, but she didn’t think it mattered. I finally have the upper hand, she thought. I’ve won.

But Cherry wasn’t in control, not the way she thought. Instead, Matt held her future in his hands, and he meant to crush her until she was all but defeated. “I should think you’d at least be uncomfortable, trapping a man into staying married,” he said in a low voice. “But I forgot you’re nothing more than a self-centered-“

“I think you’re overreacting,” she interrupted, hating to hear the words Matt used so often lately. She sipped her glass of wine and tried to smile. “I love you.”

Matt laughed, a harsh sound that scraped Cherry’s ears. “Save it. Nobody, including me, could ever love a person like you.”

Frozen by Matt’s anger, she sat immobile on the couch. The glass she held felt sweaty in her palms, her mouth dry as cotton. Unable to control herself, she drank. The cold liquid pass down her throat and throughout her body. After she had drained it, she rose just a little unsteadily and walked to the kitchen, carefully poured herself another glass and returned to the couch, hoping against hope that Matt might change his mind.

Alcohol, Cherry had discovered, took the edge off her thoughts. Too often she found herself imagining the other woman, the one who had called her and said Matt wanted a divorce. Was she tall and thin, short and curvy or somewhere in-between? Did she have wavy hair that cascaded down her back (Matt loved long hair) with doe-like eyes that no man could resist? Did she invite Matt to the pleasures of love with brazen confidence? Or was she sweet and demure, like candy on a stick?

The woman could be all or none of these things. Matt had probably fallen in love for a million reasons, none of which he would ever share with Cherry. So she turned her mind away from the affair and drank a fragrant, fruity wine that lightened her heart and dimmed Matt’s look of despair.

Self-medicating with alcohol was intended to be temporary. But as time went on, Matt’s will stayed strong and true. Cherry found the only way she could deal with him was to keep drinking. She frequented the party store near their house daily, always walking out with one bottle concealed in a brown paper bag. When she began drinking two bottles per day, she simply increased her purchase at the party store. After all, she reasoned, one bottle was only about three glasses, which she didn’t think was much at all.

Matt, on the other hand, noticed and used what he saw against Cherry. Whereas once he had been remote and silent, now he went out of his way to jibe his wife. “Your love of wine has added ten years to your face,” he said with a malicious gleam in his eye. “It looks like married life isn’t suitable to your complexion.”

Aghast, Cherry ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She studied her reflection for several long moments. You look just fine, she told herself as she smoothed her hair with shaking hands. She wiped at a smudge under her eye and realized it was a bruise-like shadow rather than makeup. Cherry quickly turned from the mirror, switched off the light and walked into the kitchen.

“Are you happy?” Matt asked in a hard voice. He watched as Cherry poured wine into a dainty glass and took a long, satisfied drink.

She couldn’t pretend the question was innocent. She knew what Matt meant, but she refused to cave. “Of course.”

“Give me a divorce,” he said. His voice was slightly softer. “You can get help, and we’ll both be free of this mess we’ve created. We’re no good together.”

Cherry watched him over the rim of her glass. Her answer was fueled by alcohol and a broken heart. “Never.”

Matt shook his head. “Then you deserve whatever is coming to you.”

CHAPTER 16

Cherry heard the warning note in Matt’s statement and decided to take action. The next morning, after a lonely breakfast of runny eggs and burnt toast, she thumbed through the phone book. Locating the number she needed, she reached for her cell phone and dialed.

“Mayor Margaret Sottile’s office,” a crisp voice answered on the first ring. Cherry faltered, her courage fleeing.

“Hello?” the woman on the other end persisted.

“Yes, um, could I please speak to Mrs. Sottile?”

A sigh bellowed down the phone line. “Who should I tell Mayor Sottile is calling?”

“Her daughter-in-law,” Cherry replied flatly.

“Hold please.” With her free hand, Cherry tapped her fingers one after another on the kitchen counter. In the background, she could hear the living room clock ticking. What was taking so long?

Finally, she heard a click. “Cherry, this is Margaret.” Matt’s mother spoke clearly and in a business-like tone.

“What can I help you with?”

Idly, Cherry tried to remember the last time she had seen her mother-in-law. Three months ago, she decided, at Matt’s birthday party in June. Margaret had worn beige linen pants and a tangerine-colored scarf around her neck. She spent most of the party chatting with friends under the large white tent she had erected in her backyard. Matt, Cherry recalled, had played volleyball with his relatives.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said now. “I wondered if we could meet up for coffee or lunch. I need to talk to you.”

Cherry heard Margaret speak to someone in her office before answering. “Apologies, Cherry. Today is rather hectic. Now, tell me what this is all about.”

“Matt.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, give me a moment.” There was silence, and Cherry heard noises in the background. When Margaret got back on the line, she inhaled deeply before resuming the conversation. “I just closed my office door for a little privacy. It sounds like we need to talk now. Has something happened with Matt?”

In less than several seconds, Cherry’s mind scanned a list of possible answers. She could tell Margaret the truth, that Matt wanted out of their marriage and had asked multiple times for a divorce. Or she might discuss Matt’s recent return to drinking and her own urgent need for wine. The best thing, Cherry knew, would be to confess all of this and ask Margaret for help. It seemed to Cherry that this strong, capable woman was the only one who could set things right.

But instead, she took the easy way out. “No, nothing has happened,” she said weakly. “I’m just worried about him. He seems…different.”

“Different how?” Margaret demanded.

A sob escaped Cherry’s throat, and despite herself, she blurted out an honest answer. “I don’t think he’s happy.”

CHAPTER 17

Margaret lost her patience. “What exactly are you trying to say, Cherry, without saying it? I haven’t time to play games. If something is happening with Matt, you need to tell me.”

Nervous, Cherry’s eyes darted to the refrigerator. Inside was a wine bottle with just a pinch of liquid left. As soon as I’m off the phone, she decided silently, I’ll get a glass and take a drink. I just have to wait a few more minutes.

“Cherry?”

She improvised an answer, any answer, to get Margaret off her back. It was a mistake to call, she realized. Margaret might be able to help, but it was just as likely she would discover Cherry’s problems in the process. “I guess Matt and I are going through a rough patch. I just called for some advice.”

“I see. And what sort of advice were you hoping to get?”

“I don’t know. I just want Matt to be happy again.”

There was silence on the other end, and Cherry felt suddenly fearful. Some deep and buried instinct told her Margaret was displeased. “Cherry,” her mother-in-law said at last, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I will be at your house tomorrow. Expect me around six o’clock. See to it Matt is there so I can speak to you both.”

Cherry started to protest, to tell Margaret that wasn’t necessary, but the phone line had gone dead. It was too late. She couldn’t possibly phone Margaret back and tell her not to come, and yet she couldn’t tell Matt about his mother’s scheduled visit. He’d be furious. He might even tell Margaret about Cherry’s own drinking. What would the woman possibly say to that?

Weak-kneed, Cherry made her way to the wine. She didn’t bother with pouring it in a glass, but slugged the remaining drops right from the bottle. The cold shot a path from her parched throat to her stomach. Damn, she thought as she threw the bottle in the trash. I’ll have to run to the store and get a few more bottles. I better get some for tomorrow, too.

She slid her feet into a pair of sandals and grabbed her purse. The party store was just around the corner, and inside she grabbed four bottles of wine from the cooler. Walk steadily, she reminded herself as she made her way to the register. Try to show some composure. She set the bottles before the clerk and waited with her wallet in hand.

But after a few moments, Cherry realized the clerk was merely staring at her. Eager to get home, she arranged her face into what she hoped was a look of nonchalance. “Can you ring me up?” she asked, her body tingling with embarrassment.

The woman behind the counter spoke slowly, as if to a child. “Do you realize you’re wearing a nightgown?”

Cherry’s face grew instantly hot, and she looked down at her clothing. The clerk was right; she had on last night’s gown, the short white one with flowers. In the agony of Margaret’s announcement, she’d completely forgotten to get dressed. “No, I didn’t realize,” she mumbled in response. A rush of embarrassment squeezed her chest until she could hardly breathe.

“I know I don’t have the right to say this,” the woman continued, “but it might help if you stopped drinking so much. I see you in here everyday, and now you’re buying four bottles at a time. What’s going on?”

CHAPTER 18

Cherry’s mouth went dry. She put a $20 bill on the counter, gathered her wine and hurried from the clerk. As she walked, the glass bottles pinged against each other in her arms, bouncing clumsily. The noise made her move more quickly.

“Where are you going?” the clerk demanded. “If you leave without being properly rung up, you’ll never be allowed back in this store again.”

Careless of what the woman said, Cherry pushed on the door with her shoulder and stepped outside. The sun shone overhead and streamed light and heat. She fumbled to get into the car, her body screaming for a drink. Without thinking, she slid into the driver’s seat and unscrewed the cap from one wine bottle. She gulped one, two, three mouthfuls of cold liquid, then slowly lowered the bottle from her mouth. She tried not to notice the quaking in her body. All she wanted to focus on was the wine.

After a few moments, a sense of calm began to settle over her. She placed the bottle in the passenger seat beside the others and put her key in the ignition. That’s when a man walking into the party store caught her attention.

He was older, although Cherry couldn’t have guessed his age. His face was weathered and wrinkled, his eyes nearly obscured by the folds on either side. He wore a dirty hat that hid part of his long, straggly hair. On his thin frame were a pair of corduroy pants and a lime green t-shirt.

Something about the man’s gait, slow and deliberate, bothered Cherry. She sensed he was drunk and going into the store for alcohol. He might even be sick, either from poor circumstances or drink. She leaned her head against the steering wheel with her eyes closed, wondering if she might one day end up like him. Was it possible her life could get so desperate?

When she finally lifted her head, she realized she’d been at the party store for more than thirty minutes. She took a deep breath and left for home. When she pulled in the driveway, she saw Matt’s car waiting silently. Despite the summer heat, Cherry felt a shiver travel down her spine.

She walked inside and found him on the couch. He glanced at her and quickly took in her hair, her clothing and the bottles she held. “I see you’ve already done some grocery shopping,” he said with a malicious grin. “We’ve become quite the model of married bliss, and you a citizen of pure elegance.”

“I thought we could have wine with dinner tonight,” Cherry said, flushing with embarrassment. The last thing in the world she had wanted was to be seen like this. But something else was wrong, something she couldn’t yet identify. The very air in her house felt…uneasy. What was Matt doing home so early?

“I’m sure,” he replied with a tone of disbelief. Cherry peered at him and saw his eyes were red and glassy. He turned away from her gaze and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m having a party here tonight, so dinner won’t be necessary. You can stay or go, it doesn’t matter to me, but people will be here this evening.

Cherry was at a loss for words. “Well?” Matt asked, his voice rising anxiously. “What are you going to do?”

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked tentatively.

He laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t want you in this house at all, but since you’re determined to ruin our lives and make us both miserable, I’m extending the invitation to my party. I think you might find it interesting.”

CHAPTER 19

Matt’s words punched Cherry in the stomach. Just months ago she would have retaliated, hurled punishing words at him until the two of them were broken and spent. But that time had passed, she felt too worn down now to fight. “Yes,” she replied quietly, unable to think more about the meaning of Matt’s words. “Yes, I’ll be here.”

That night she took a hot shower and sipped wine while she dressed. She had gained weight lately, and she hadn’t gone shopping in a long time. She dropped a yellow tank top over her head, but the reflection in the mirror showed how closely it hugged her newly rounded belly. This won’t do, she thought and pulled it off. She took another sip and dug through her first through her closet and then through her dresser. The t-shirts were too tight, the denim skirt cut into her stomach. She took still another drink to squash the rise of panic in her throat.

She finally settled on a peasant blouse with butterfly sleeves, hoping to conceal some of her weight. She brushed her hair until it shone, but she couldn’t ignore the dark circles under her eyes. Even with the wine coursing through her body, she knew the truth. I look terrible, she thought to herself. I look old and tired. This marriage is sucking the life out of me.

Cherry turned from the mirror. Voices floated to her from downstairs, and glass in hand, she descended the staircase. Several people were gathered in her living room, drinking and talking. Cherry felt the festive air and, determined to present herself as a young, happy wife, strode over to a couple she didn’t know. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Cherry, Matt’s wife.”

The couple glanced at each other, surprise on their faces. Before anyone could speak, a loud guffaw ripped from the foyer, and Cherry turned. She walked from the living room to find a small crowd of people gathered around the front door, laughing and talking. Peering over a woman’s head, Cherry caught a glimpse of Matt. A grin spread across his face when their eyes met. He cleared a path through the bodies and moved toward Cherry with evident purpose. A red-haired woman followed closely behind him.

“My wife,” he said loudly, sarcasm dripping from his words. Cherry watched as he walked unsteadily, wondering if he was drunk. The space around them was suddenly quiet, and Matt spoke again. “I’d like you to meet Giovanna.” The woman came forward and met Cherry’s stare with cool confidence. Cherry felt the floor shift beneath her and suddenly knew what this night was really about. “She’s the woman I plan to marry,” Matt finished, “just as soon as I divorce you.”

CHAPTER 20

The blood pounded in Cherry’s ears. She felt dizzy. Matt’s mistress, Giovanna, was standing in her house, surrounded by his friends. These people were not here to meet Matt’s wife…they were here to support the other woman. Cherry’s grasp on her wine glass—the one she had carried all night—loosened and crashed to the floor. Shards of glass separated her from the rest of the party, one splinter hitting her in the face. Cherry licked her lip and tasted blood.

Somebody from the crowd – a man? – moved toward her. She saw a hand extended and realized this person wanted to help. “No,” she screamed. She would not take anybody’s charity, she didn’t want pity. Her voice was raw with emotion. “Get out. Get out of my house. All of you get out.”

The person walking forward stopped, and in her narrow line of vision Cherry saw Matt reach for the woman with red hair. She turned on her husband, as savage as a trapped animal. “Get your tramp out of here, too,” she yelled. “Get everybody out of here. You have no right to do this.”

“Why?” Matt asked. He stood firmly at Giovanna’s side, both of them watching Cherry’s meltdown. He was, Cherry could see, buoyed by a new sense of confidence. She realized with a start that loving this woman had done that for him. “This is exactly what you wanted. Now I’m giving it to you.”

“How can you ask why?” she cried. She heard the anguish in her voice and began to cry. She cried for the loss of her marriage, yes, but for herself as well. Something deep within her, something that had once been pure and good, felt empty now. Her body shook as her sobs grew more intense.

But Matt was unmoved. “You wouldn’t listen,” he said. Cherry’s head snapped up as she listened to his cold, hard words. “You wouldn’t admit our marriage is dead, you wouldn’t let me be happy. So now I’m giving you exactly what you asked for. This party is my gift to you.”

Cherry drew in a sharp breath. She saw her husband’s hand wrapped possessively in Giovanna’s. She saw the curious stares of others. And she saw herself through their eyes. The crying stopped, leaving her bone tired. She knew she was defeated. Nobody stood on her side. Hoping to exact revenge in some small way, she played the only card left. Her voice was husky when she spoke. “You should have saved the party for tomorrow night. Your mother will be here for dinner.”

CHAPTER 21

Silence hung in the air, the guests staring at each other. Of course they don’t know what we’re talking about, Cherry thought in disgust. What difference should it make to Matt if his mom comes over or not? But I know the truth. I know what she’s going to say, and I can’t wait.

But this small victory, a revenge of sorts, did nothing to heal Cherry’s heart. She felt hurt and angry at the same time, a powerful combination that couldn’t be clouded even with drink. She longed to hurt Matt, to know she had caused him pain in some way. She also knew, however, that if she had ever possessed that power, it was long gone now.

Cherry felt her stomach crescendo and realized she needed to leave the party. She had to escape Matt and Giovanna. The redhead had not uttered so much as a word, and yet her presence had spoken volumes. Her short black dress, her long, cascading hair. Cherry knew she couldn’t compete with a woman like that. Seen from that angle, the question wasn’t why Matt had taken up with Giovanna, but instead why he had stayed married once the affair started.

She turned to leave the foyer and return to the sanctuary of her bedroom. But a quiet retreat would not be possible. She had underestimated Matt. He left his place beside his mistress and caught up quickly with Cherry, spinning her around with just a grip on her elbow. “What did you say?” he demanded, his eyes round and wild. Like an animal’s, Cherry thought from the back of her mind.

She stared at her husband, paralyzed by fear. He repeated the question, this time shouting in her face. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

Cherry found her voice, a thrill of emotion shooting through her body. Matt hadn’t touched her in months, and being so near him gave her a momentary strength. “Your mother is coming for dinner tomorrow night. You’ll have to introduce her to Giovanna. I’m sure they’ll get along perfectly.” Her voice was strong and triumphant.

Matt released her arm with a shove and watched as she fell to the floor. She heard several guests gasp, a noise that seemed to come from far away. The strength she had felt only seconds earlier evaporated, leaving her helpless. Without reserve, she gave herself up to an emotional storm and sobbed.

CHAPTER 22

Much later, Cherry woke in her darkened bedroom. She lay there for several moments, wondering how she’d gotten there. She had no memory of walking upstairs by herself. In fact, the only thing she could recall was the sight of her husband with the woman named Giovanna.

In a chair near the bed, Cherry made out the shape of a body. She knew from its posture the person wasn’t sleeping. Scared for a moment, she whispered softly in the dark. “Hello?”

The head turn toward her and seemed to gauge the situation. As if realizing it was safe to talk, a woman’s voice replied, “Hello, Cherry. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Cherry knew without being told it was Giovanna. She fought the urge to jump out of bed and claw the woman’s skin with her fingernails. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“First, I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Cherry first heard and then saw the spark of a match. She watched as Giovanna’s face was bathed in orange, her hand holding the flame to a cigarette. Giovanna took a long pull and blew smoke out of pursed lips. “And, I thought we’d better talk.”

“What is there to say? You’re in love with my husband. Except, he’s not my husband anymore, is he? We’re married only on paper. I lost him to you a long time ago.”

Giovanna nodded. “This is true.” Cherry was amazed at the woman’s lack of emotion. She was so smooth, so calm. Her voice never rose above a silky purr. “The question is, what do we do to remedy the situation? Obviously we can’t continue in this manner.”

Cherry held a trembling hand to her forehead. She considered asking Giovanna for some wine; she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her to the kitchen. But she didn’t want to appear weak before this woman, a woman who very likely knew Matt better than she did. She struggled for some leverage. “Matt’s mother is coming to dinner. I had hoped she’d find a way to save our marriage…”

“Yes,” Giovanna said. She held the cigarette to her mouth again. “You’ve already said that. But does Margaret know about your drinking?” When Cherry said nothing, Giovanna leaned forward and put both elbows on her knees. The room was completely still. “Or that Matt is so miserable he’s started using drugs again?”

CHAPTER 23

Cherry’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean Matt’s started using again?”

Giovanna swung her hair behind her shoulders. “You didn’t know, then?” Cherry shook her head, and Giovanna lit another cigarette. “I didn’t think so. He’s using cocaine again. He buys from my brother. That’s how I met him.”

Questions raced in Cherry’s mind, but she couldn’t find her voice to ask any of them. She felt dizzy, the skin on her face clammy. It didn’t feel like she was in her room, safely tucked in her bed. The situation seemed like a nightmare.

“I know this is hard to understand,” Giovanna continued calmly. “But some people live on a different plane. Matt craves excitement, he wants to feel the thrill of danger. You can’t give him what he needs.”

“And you can?” Cherry demanded. The room was suddenly too hot, and she threw the blankets from her body. “You think by stuffing Matt with coke you can keep him happy? All the while pretending you’re in love?”

“We are in love,” Giovanna quickly corrected. “We understand each other. I will get Matt the help he needs. Once he’s recovered from his addiction, I’ll show him a life filled with change and novelty. He’ll never hunger for cocaine again. He’ll be healthy and happy, but I can’t do any of this with you clinging to him. You’re just fueling his addiction.”

Cherry stared at her hands, pale and ghostly in the moonlight. Longing surged through her like a lightning bolt. She wanted those days back when love throbbed in her veins, when she would look up and see Matt watching her with a smile. She wanted to once more feel beautiful and desired, to have a man’s arms wrapped around her body all through the night.

What she didn’t want was what she had: a broken marriage more familiar to another woman than to her. Her heart thudded inside her chest. “I need to speak to Margaret,” she said at last.

Giovanna stood from the chair, her body straight and narrow even in the dark. “I thought you might say that. What do you expect her to do?”

A rush of emotion brought tears to Cherry’s eyes. She tried to speak around the lump in her throat. “Talk to Matt.”

“Then, I, too, will be here. Matt’s not well enough to do this by himself. We’ll all speak together at dinner tonight. It’s the best way, Cherry. You know none of us can carry on like this.”

CHAPTER 24

Cherry nodded, feeling powerless against Giovanna’s cool, common sense. The redhead went to leave but stopped in the doorway of Cherry’s bedroom. “You know, I’m sorry this had to happen,” she said, and even in the dark, Cherry heard the unvarnished honesty of Giovanna’s words.

“How did it start?” Cherry asked, driven to know the truth. She watched Giovanna in the dark.

The woman understood the question. “I already told you. Matt began using again, and my brother is his supplier. We met at James’s house one evening. I was…overcome. He seemed so sweet, so innocent. We fell in love almost instantly. He said he couldn’t leave you because you’d already been divorced once before. He felt he owed you better than that. But the affair became…complicated. Now we can’t be apart.”

Cherry felt sick at hearing the truth, and still she drove on. “But why?” she cried. “Why did Matt start using again? We were happy. I know we were happy. And if he wasn’t, he should have said so.”

Giovanna’s face was as smooth as milk in the moonlight, her hair the color of copper. Even now Cherry admired her beauty. “Perhaps he was happy at one time,” Giovanna conceded. “But the marriage changed. When he lost his job, he lost a part of himself. He said he couldn’t tell you, and he became depressed. Cocaine was his way of self-medicating.”

Cherry gasped. “But our bills. Our mortgage. He never said a word.”

The redhead shrugged. “I’ve been paying everything for him, and essentially for you, too. He has lately spent his days with me, not at work.” She hesitated before continuing. “Your entire relationship has been based on something other than reality. You’ll be better off after the divorce.” She looked at Cherry one last time before leaving.

Alone, Cherry stared at the wall opposite her bed. Her eyes burned with fatigue, but she couldn’t sleep. When at last the sun began to rise, she rose from bed and walked downstairs. Her body felt as heavy as lead, but she was determined. She went straight to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Inside was her last bottle of wine. She had the bottle to her lips before the refrigerator door closed. With the cold liquid coursing through her body, she moved to the living room. Cherry set the bottle on the coffee table and walked to a wall, where picture of her and Matt on their wedding day hung in elegant frames. She picked up one and threw it to the floor, rejoicing in the shattered glass. One by one she plucked the pictures from their spots and smashed them in the living room. She did the same in each room of the house, leaving behind a desperate trail of destruction.

CHAPTER 25

Cherry didn’t stop at the pictures. In her quest for vengeance, she tried to erase every last memory of her marriage to Matt. She snapped the lid off the seashell jewelry box he’d given her on vacation; ripped the seams of a shirt he had liked seeing her wear; pulled on the gift of a gold necklace until it split in half; and threw his favorite model car to the floor. She wanted the house to be as mutilated as her heart.

When at last she could do no more, she slumped to the floor in a ball. Nothing will ever again be as it was, she thought. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but it was no use. She couldn’t even give herself the brief escape of resting, of dreaming.

I have nothing left, she told herself, the wood floor cool beneath her cheek. She tried to remember the last time she had left the house other than to buy alcohol. Certainly she hadn’t been to work in weeks; she’d quit checking the schedule to see if she was on, and nobody from the country club had called in quite some time. Even her mother seemed to have given up on her. Their daily phone calls had stopped, and Cherry had made no recent attempts to contact her parents.

Thinking of her mom, a memory surfaced in Cherry’s tired mind. Although common knowledge in her family, nobody ever spoke of her grandmother’s suicide 20 years earlier. The woman, desperate for a younger man who had wreathed her with adoration only to drop her for a sexy saxophone player, had drowned her sorrows with an overdose of alcohol and pills. Her death had rocked Cherry’s mother, only 30 at the time, to her core. After, Cherry’s grandmother’s name was never mentioned, her pictures stored in a box in the basement. The younger man, meanwhile, had left town to escape the scandal, taking his jazz player with him.

Now the spark of an idea began to form inside Cherry. Everything else was lost to her, but she could still wield some control over her fate. She didn’t have to endure another day of Matt and Giovanna, of living a dark and empty life. She could leave behind everything, the mess of two failed marriages and her relentless sorrow. In mere moments, she could be in another place altogether. Just like her grandmother had done.

Using the palms of both hands, Cherry pushed herself off the floor. She walked into the kitchen weak-kneed and opened the cabinet where she and Matt kept unused medication. Her hands shook as she sorted through the bottles. She was looking for the oxycodone Matt kept in there for his unexplained back pain. Her hands grasped the bottle near the back of the cabinet. She retrieved it and unscrewed the cap, anticipation flooding her senses. But the pills she expected to see were not inside. Instead, Cherry found a hill of fine, white powder.

CHAPTER 26

Cherry knew what the powder was, although she’d never seen any before. Perhaps she wouldn’t have guessed so quickly without Giovanna telling her about Matt’s habit. But she knew everything now, and the cocaine she held in her hand seemed somehow familiar.

She thought about trying some, she really did. The fact that it was dangerous made it all the more appealing. Thoughts of ending her life had fled from her mind. Now, she realized what she sought was meaning, something that defined her. She wasn’t an employee, she wasn’t a wife, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t a friend. Why not, then, be a drug addict? That would show Matt, wouldn’t it?

But Cherry couldn’t bring herself to pour the powder on the counter and snort it. Instead, she raised the medicine bottle above her head and tilted it, twirling so the powder fell in a circle. It landed on her face, her skin, the kitchen floor. The fine particles created a wintry effect, and Cherry felt for a moment like she stood inside a snow globe.

When the bottle was empty, she let it fall from her hands and hit the floor with a clatter. She looked around for her wine bottle, unsure of where she had left it. She desperately needed a drink. But her eyes met those of Matt’s mother’s, standing just inside the kitchen doorway. Cherry’s heart gave a little jump, for Margaret’s face was an obvious mixture of fear and disgust.

Both women stood wordlessly. Cherry tried to image how she must look to her mother-in-law, standing in her pajamas amid a confetti of white powder. She wondered if the older woman had walked thru the rest of the house to see the wreckage Cherry had earlier created.

“How long have you been here?” she asked without thinking.

“Long enough.” The ice in Margaret’s voice chilled the room. “What is going on?”

When Cherry didn’t answer, Margaret took another step inside the kitchen. “Are you doing drugs?”

Cherry shook her head. She should have been able to speak, to tell Margaret the truth. But her lips felt glued together.

“This is my house,” Margaret said in a voice that shook with anger. “I purchased it in my name and allow Matt to live here on the condition that he behaves like a respectable citizen. Now, I demand to know what you’re doing and where he is. And don’t you dare lie to me.”

CHAPTER 27

Cherry’s face crumbled. It should have been a relief to have Margaret there, to have someone to at last confide in. But the woman’s presence only made the shambles of Cherry’s life that much more real. She gave herself over to yet more weeping.

“Why are you crying?” Margaret’s voice penetrated Cherry’s ears. The hard lines of her face matched her cruel tone. “What’s wrong with you?”

But Cherry didn’t answer. She was too choked up to speak. Through her tears, she watched as Margaret walked slowly and deliberately into the kitchen. When she reached Cherry’s side, she gripped her arm. A ripple of fear coursed through her as she heard the venom in Margaret’s voice. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will call the police. I know this is cocaine on the floor. I will tell them you’re in possession of the drug, and you will go to jail, if not prison. I will not lift one finger to help you. Do you understand?”

Fear turned to anger, and Cherry sobbed as the words poured forth. “Matt is having an affair. He’s in love with someone else.” She paused and tried to breathe. “He wants to divorce me. I’ve made it clear I won’t give him what he wants. ” Her eyes met Margaret’s accusingly. The woman who was supposed to help had only betrayed her. “Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?”

Margaret released Cherry’s arm. “How do you know Matt’s having an affair?”

She drew a shaky breath and tried to elicit some control. “I met his mistress last night,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She felt a headache emerging from behind her eyes.

Margaret turned away, took several steps and then walked back to Cherry. “I see. And what about this cocaine? Where did you get it?”

“It’s Matt’s,” she replied dully.

“My son is having an affair and has resumed his cocaine habit. Why did you find it acceptable to keep this from me?”

Cherry drew another breath. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand; her body felt too weak to hold her. “I was afraid.”

“You should be.” Margaret’s eyes were dark and cold. “I never liked you from the start. You’re not the kind of girl Matt needs. And now you’re telling me he’s been unfaithful and is taking drugs again.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Cherry. “Your story doesn’t ring quite true. There’s something you’re not telling me. What, exactly, are you afraid of?”

CHAPTER 28

Margaret’s words made Cherry sick. She’d had no idea that her mother-in-law didn’t like her. But now it made sense. Margaret never came over to visit, and her demeanor when she did see Cherry was always cool.

I’ve been a fool, Cherry thought to herself. Her knees buckled as one realization after another forced her to assess the situation. I shouldn’t be in this house. At the very least, I should be back with my parents. Matt’s in love with Giovanna, and Margaret isn’t going to offer me any help. I thought she would, but she’s not here for me.

“Well?” Margaret’s voice penetrated Cherry’s thoughts. “I asked you a question. What are you afraid of?”

Cherry licked her lips. There was nothing to do now but be honest. “I’m afraid of losing Matt. I love him.”

Margaret’s stare was as hard as stone. She pulled an empty wine bottle from her purse—the one Cherry had misplaced—and set it on the kitchen island with a clink. “I found this on the floor when I came inside. I presume it belongs to you, since my son isn’t here. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

The silence stretched so long that Cherry could hear the living room clock ticking. Certain that Margaret wouldn’t bend, she drew a deep breath and spoke at last. “It’s mine. I’ve been drinking wine to cope with my marriage.”

“Judging from your appearance, this has been going on for a while. Your skin is sallow, you’ve put on weight, your hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days.” Margaret paused for emphasis. “Are you an alcoholic?”

Cherry’s head spun. She couldn’t remember the last day she hadn’t had a drink. Even now her body trembled, crying out for a much-needed sip of wine. But Margaret didn’t need to know this. The bottle that stood between them was proof enough.

The words that Cherry couldn’t say somehow made their way to Margaret. She nodded brusquely and began to move about, setting her purse on the floor and grabbing the wine bottle. She threw it in the garbage and reached for other debris from the previous night’s party—napkins, beer cans and straws. “You will go into rehab,” she said as she worked. Her voice was no longer harsh, but Cherry understood that Margaret had issued an order. “A divorce will not be permitted. Even if you are the wrong person for Matt, you are the one he chose and he must stand by that decision. I will not allow the family to be tarnished with scandal.” She turned from her cleaning and faced Cherry squarely. “Shower and get dressed. You’ll meet me back in this room in one hour, and I will drive you to a recovery center with which I’m familiar. We’ll talk more on the way.”

CHAPTER 29

Cherry was alone, and she knew it. Margaret had made up her mind – there was nothing left to do except follow the woman’s orders. The problem was that Cherry’s thirst wouldn’t be denied. Despite herself, she asked Margaret a deadly question, even knowing before-hand what the answer would be. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Can we stop and get a small bottle of wine? I just need a sip to keep my nerves together.” She sounded desperate even to her own ears.

Margaret’s back had been to Cherry. When she turned to face her daughter-in-law, her eyes were two pebbles of black onyx. Her voice was as hard as ice. “There will be no stopping. The point is to get you off the wine, not continue your habit. Do you understand?”

Cherry felt her hatred bubble to the surface. She hated Margaret, she hated Matt and most of all she hated herself. Her life was in shambles, she didn’t have the capacity to feel anything but hate.

And thirst. Not normal thirst that could be quenched by water or soda, but raging, all-consuming thirst that threatened to shred her nerves. Her teeth had started chattering, not from cold, but from her urgent need. She tried again, speaking slowly and carefully in an effort to calm herself. “I need a drink, Margaret. It’ll be my last, I swear. But I can’t do what you ask without some wine. I haven’t slept-”

“You’re sick,” Margaret interrupted. She glared as she threw a cleaning towel on the counter and walked toward Cherry. “You’re sick, and you need help. This is why Matt wants to divorce you. If you could hear yourself, you’d be ashamed.” She paused. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Get dressed. We’re leaving now, right this moment.”

Fury burst forth, and Cherry felt her vocal cords pull. “No,” she screamed, elongating the word until she was out of breath. With the full force of her exhausted body, she smacked Margaret across the face. “No,” she said again, watching as Margaret staggered backward, holding a hand to her cheek. “I will not allow you to treat me like this. I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing!”

Margaret’s regained her footing and stood perfectly still, watching Cherry. At last her eyes narrowed, and she spoke in a low voice. “You will not allow it? Let me tell you about allowances, Cherry. If you don’t shut your mouth, get in my car and ride with me to the rehab center right now, I will not allow you to live as a free citizen. I will have you locked in jail, where you belong. And when you get out, I will now allow you to claim your freedom; I will commit you to a mental institution, where you’ll spend each day in a drug-inducted stupor.”

CHAPTER 30

The fight drained from Cherry’s body. She was too tired to go against Margaret. Perhaps this was her just dessert after remaining in a broken marriage. She’d made herself, Matt and probably Giovanna miserable. So she gave into Margaret and left her home, wondering if she’d ever see it again.

She was sick twice on the way to the clinic. Margaret had to pull to the shoulder of the road both times. She offered no assistance, not even to hold Cherry’s hair back. With a face carved from stone, she stared straight out the window as Cherry retched.

Cherry was too weak to walk; she couldn’t even leave Margaret’s disapproving form to be sick in private. She had to lean out of the passenger seat and stare at pebbles on the roadside as her stomach muscles contracted over and over.

When at last they reached the rehab facility, Margaret turned the car off and faced her daughter-in-law. “Can you walk inside?”

Cherry shook her head, her teeth chattering violently. Although it was close to 90 degrees outside, her body was freezing. She sat in the seat huddled inside her shorts and t-shirt, trying desperately to get warm.

Margaret sighed, as if she was forced at that very moment to carry the greatest burden of her life. “I will go inside and ask one of the staff to assist you. Do not move until I return. Do you understand me?”

Cherry closed her eyes and nodded. Margaret needn’t have worried; Cherry felt too tired to even talk. Margaret, of course, was focused only on the task at-hand, not Cherry’s deteriorating condition. She walked quickly from the car, up a flower-trimmed sidewalk and into the one-story brick building.

Moments later, a man and woman returned to the car, trailed by a pale-faced Margaret. The woman opened the door and greeted Cherry in a soothing, confident manner. “Hello,” she said, crouching so her eyes were level with Cherry’s. “My name is Honor, and this is Tim.” She gestured to the man standing beside her. “Do you know where you are?”

Cherry glanced from Honor to Tim, both of them normal-looking on a seemingly ordinary summer day. The sun shone, the sky was clear, and yet Cherry knew nothing would ever be normal for her again. She nodded her head in response.

“Good,” Honor said. “And can you tell me your name?”

Cherry swallowed, her throat sore and dry. She held her teeth together and moved her lips to form the words. “Cherry Piano,” she whispered hoarsely.

CHAPTER 31

For more than two weeks at the treatment facility, Cherry was caught in a vortex of misery. She couldn’t think clearly without the aid of alcohol, and the nurses and patients made her anxious. She stayed in her room and tried not to scream, in longing for a drink. Her nerves felt shredded. She couldn’t think about home or Matt or even Giovanna. Her memory seemed to have deserted her, and she was nothing but a wild animal with an addiction she could no longer feed.

Her body was exhausted, both from longing for alcohol and struggling to support itself. Cherry hadn’t had proper nutrition in a long time. She was able now only to sip broth; the sight of food made her sick, and she grew weaker still. From a dim recess of her broken mind, she wondered if she was dying.

“Cherry, it’s time for your medication,” a young nurse said. Every day it was the same routine; Cherry had been prescribed an anti-depressant to control her moods and Motrin for her headaches. They were excruciating, pulling at her temples until she felt sick to her stomach. She’d lost weight since coming to the center but didn’t even realize it. She knew only that her body craved nothing, not even water, except alcohol.

“Cherry,” the nurse said again, her voice a soothing singsong. Cherry stared at the flimsy paper cup in the nurse’s hand and knew she wouldn’t leave until the medicine was gone. She always had to take her medicine, given by nurses who all looked the same to her. This one caught her eye only because she wore a zip-up jacket over her scrubs. The center was air conditioned and often too cool. Cherry wondered if she could have something to wrap around her but couldn’t form the words to ask. Her skin felt clammy, and she shivered despite the sun outside.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s take these pills. They’ll help you feel better.” The nurse lightly touched Cherry’s cheek, and the touch registered. Cherry extended a trembling hand and took the pills, swallowing them both with the tiniest sip of water. Then she lay back against her pillows and stared at the wall as the nurse left. If only she could have some wine. She imagined the sweet liquid on her tongue, just a few drops, and felt she might leap out of her own skin from the thirst that racked her bones.

At night she woke screaming, the sounds and colors of her nightmares so real they left her breathless. A nurse would rush in and give her a sleeping pill to calm her. This vicious cycle – the insomnia, fatigue, mood swings, anxiety, nightmares and trembling – was because of her addiction. Cherry had brought it all on herself, every last moment of it, but she was too tired to realize it. She longed for peace, for restful sleep on soft pillows with thick blankets. Such a legacy, however, was not meant to be. For even though she had a nice bed at the center, she didn’t even feel it. She was cocooned in pain.

Then, after almost three weeks, Cherry woke one morning and found her head had cleared. The fog that had enveloped her just the night before seemed to have lifted. She rose from bed, used the bathroom and sat down in a chair. She didn’t feel sick to her stomach, and her head didn’t ache. Even the thirst, that profound desire for wine, seemed to have waned. For the first time in a long time, she could think. She reached for the phone on her bedside table and dialed Matt’s cell phone number. It was time they talked.

CHAPTER 32

After almost three weeks, Cherry woke one morning with clear vision. The fog that had enveloped her seemed to have lifted. She rose from her bed, used the bathroom and sat gingerly in a chair by the window. She didn’t feel sick to her stomach, and her head didn’t ache. Even her thirst, that profound craving for wine, seemed to have waned. For the first time in a long time, she could think.

She did not want to remember anything, she wanted only to stay in the present moment. With all her might she pushed down the memories that bubbled to the surface. There would be time for that later. Right now she concentrated on the sunlight streaming through her window. It seemed like a very long time since she had last felt the sun’s warmth. Maybe I can go outside, she thought to herself.

Her cheek itched, and she raised her hand to scratch it. The sight of her own pale, pulled skin shocked her. Her hands looked like they belonged to a 90-year-old grandmother, not a young woman in her 30s. She touched her face and felt gaunt hollows, so different from the fullness she was used to. For a while she’d gained weight from eating and drinking too much. Since coming to the center, however, she’d lost weight, and she wondered without caring what she now looked like.

At that moment a nurse strolled into the room and checked at the sight of Cherry. She’d lain in bed for weeks, dazed and sick, and now sat in the chair looking alert. “Good morning,” the nurse chimed in a cheerful tone. “I would have to say you’re feeling better today. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Cherry agreed. She looked around her room. It was sterile, not unlike a hospital room, with nothing more than a dresser, the bed and chair and a television. The window was covered with dull, striped curtains, and the floor was gray linoleum. Cherry sighed at her own predicament. “I think I’m doing better.”

“That’s wonderful,” the nurse said with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

Cherry felt an emptiness in her stomach and nodded. “I am.” She paused and thought about the day ahead. “Do I get breakfast in here?”

“You can eat in here or the common room, just let me know. I’ll tell Tim and Honor about your progress. They’ll want to start your therapy soon.”

“Therapy?” Cherry asked in a thin voice.

“All of the patients here have to attend therapy.” The nurse sat lightly on the bed and faced Cherry. “It will help you understand your disease so you can overcome it.”

“What disease?” Even to her own ears, Cherry sounded afraid. She had no idea what the nurse was talking about.

CHAPTER 33

The nurse stood from Cherry’s bed and straightened her shirt. “I think I better let Tim and Honor talk to you.” Her tone was short and crisp.

Cherry grabbed the nurse’s arm to keep her from leaving. “Please tell me what disease I have first,” she pleaded.

The nurse’s face softened. “Alcoholism, Cherry. That’s the disease you have. Therapy can help you manage it, but you’ll have to do the fighting yourself. Tim and Honor, the owners of this facility, have each battled addiction themselves, so they know what alcoholism is like. But they also know it can be overcome, so they’ll tolerate nothing but honesty and hard work from you.”

Cherry released the woman’s arm and leaned back against the chair. She felt exhausted just hearing about therapy.

Seeing the defeat on Cherry’s face, the nurse’s brisk manner returned. “I’ll return with your breakfast tray in a few moments. Why don’t you wash up and get dressed? Your mother-in-law sent some clothes for you. They’re hanging in that closet.” The nurse nodded, took one last look at Cherry and left the room.

Afraid of disappointing, but without any real effort in her actions, Cherry rose from the chair and did as she was told. She scrubbed her face with soap and warm water until her cheeks bloomed pink, then combed her hair until it shone under the bathroom lights. She brushed her teeth, rinsed with mouthwash and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She had no idea when Margaret had brought the clothes in, but it didn’t matter. They were there, her clothes in her room, and that was enough.

Cherry sat back down and waited. The minutes passed slowly, and despite herself, she felt the empty feeling in her stomach grow. After sitting in silence for almost 20 minutes, the nurse returned, walking quickly into the room, carrying a tray in both hands.

“Here you are,” the nurse said. She set the tray on a mobile table in front of Cherry. “Today you have oatmeal, wheat toast with butter, a banana, orange juice and coffee. Do you take cream and sugar?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Cherry replied. She picked up the toast and took a large bite, the crunchy bread and melted butter filling her mouth and taste buds. She chewed for several moments before asking another question. “What have I been eating for breakfast? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.”

“Not much.” The nurse wiped invisible crumbs from Cherry’s table. “A little Jell-o and some broth. You’ve been quite sick, Cherry. Today’s the first you’ve even spoken. After breakfast, I’ll escort you to Honor’s office. She’s waiting.”

CHAPTER 35

Cherry ate alone in her room, digesting what the nurse—she’d said her name was Sarah— had told her. This was the first she’d spoken? How could that be?

She began to wonder if anyone had been to the rehab facility to visit her. Did her parents know where she was? Did Matt? When would she be able to leave?

Cherry directed these questions to Honor. They met in a sun-filled office with mahogany-colored furniture: a desk, wall-to-wall bookshelves, a low coffee table and an end table with an elegant lamp. Around the coffee table were three dark, squishy chairs, and the bookshelves were filled with all sizes of books, framed photographs and miscellaneous knickknacks.

“Hello, Cherry,” Honor greeted her in a cordial tone. “The nurse tells me you’re progressing nicely. How do you feel?”

But Cherry didn’t hear the question. She was too busy thinking of her own. “When do I get to leave here?” she blurted.

Honor, who walked from behind her desk and sat in one of the squishy chairs, gestured for Cherry to do the same. She waited until Cherry was seated before continuing. “Do you feel you’re ready to go home?”

The question took Cherry by surprise. When she didn’t answer, Honor leaned forward. “I’m the president of this facility,” she said. “I, with your nurse and therapist, will determine when you leave. And I can tell you right now, without speaking to you for more than a minute, that you’re not ready to go anywhere.”

Honor’s frank words caused Cherry to blush. The older woman noticed her discomfiture and sighed. “I don’t say these things to upset you. I’m just trying to get through to you. You’re here for help, and I want to give that to you.”

Cherry thought for a moment. “Have I had any visitors?”

Honor’s gaze was hard when she answered. “No. I’ve spoken on the phone numerous times to your mother, and I’ve had two or three conversations with Margaret, your mother-in-law. But the truth is you’re here without much of a support network. This isn’t unusual for our patients, but you need to be aware of it.” Honor paused as the color drained from Cherry’s face. “You’re in a difficult position, Cherry. On top of fighting alcoholism, you need to build a life for yourself that is healthy and fulfilling. I’ve not told Margaret this, but I’m pretty sure you can’t do that with her or Matt at your side.” She leaned back and gave Cherry a moment. “Why don’t you tell me your thoughts?”

Cherry tried to collect the questions bouncing around in her head. “Have you spoken to Matt?” she asked at last.

CHAPTER 36

Honor tugged on the blond ponytail at the back of her head, and Cherry saw for the first time that this woman was all but immaculate. She wore a crisp, button-up shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt. Her face was void of cosmetics, but she had luminous skin and large brown eyes. Cherry felt a pang of jealously just from looking at her. Perhaps if she’d been that poised, that well turned-out, Matt wouldn’t have fallen in love with another woman.

“I have not talked to Matt,” Honor said at last. She watched Cherry carefully, monitoring her face for a reaction, and saw pain. Honor felt a flash of sympathy. She’d been there. She had once lived Cherry’s life. But she knew, from years of experience, that coddling Cherry would not help her. Right now, she needed stern discipline and a safe environment. That’s what Honor intended to provide.

“So,” Honor continued after a moment. “Knowing that I’ve not spoken to your husband, and that your mother-in-law only supports your marriage for the sake of public image, I want you to tell me how you feel.”

Cherry stared blankly. She didn’t feel anything except fierce, hot pain. She saw the vista of nothingness she’d left behind when coming to the clinic, and now she saw the very same nothingness unfold before her. What purpose did she have? What was the point of her existence?

“Well?” Honor persisted. “I’m not letting you out of this office until you answer me. Because I’m pretty sure you don’t know how you feel, and you’ve gotten so off course that you don’t know what you want. These are things we are going to explore, right now. If you don’t get in touch with yourself, Cherry, you’re going to end up right back on the bottle again. Do you want that?”

“How can you even say that?” Cherry exploded in frustration. Couldn’t Honor see she was already upset? “I thought you were supposed to help me.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

Honor’s voice softened. “I am trying to help you. But you’re nothing more than a wall, shielded first by wine and now by silence. You have to step away from yourself to get better.”

Cherry let her head drop and held it in her hands as she cried. All the emotion she’d bottled up—the embarrassment of her drinking, the unraveling of her marriage, the knowledge that nobody cared—burst to the surface. And when at last she stopped, she raised her head and glared at Honor.

Despite the red and swollen eyes that now faced her, Honor didn’t miss Cherry’s point. She steeled herself for the rush of fury that emanated from her patient’s body. Anger that strong, Honor knew, wouldn’t be contained.

CHAPTER 37

“How the hell do I step away from myself, when each time I turn around I’m reminded that I’m an alcoholic?” Cherry exploded. Her hands clenched the chair’s arm rests, and Honor watched as her knuckles turned white. “How the hell do I step away from myself when I know my husband doesn’t care where I am? And how the hell do I step away from myself when your idea of helping me is to insult me?”

After her tirade, Cherry sat breathlessly and waited. She wanted a response from Honor, one that would justify her anger so she could yell more. It felt good to release all the fury that had dragged her down for so many months. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would have realized she wasn’t mad at Honor. But her soul was weak and her heart was hurt…she hated the world and felt it was time somebody knew it.

Honor watched Cherry with a calm expression upon her face. She’d been yelled at before, she knew it was nothing personal. Cherry wasn’t all that different from the clinic’s other patients, except for her personal situation. That, Honor had to admit, was unique. Honor had worked with prostitutes, single mothers, doctors and actresses, but never a woman who wanted to stay married to an unfaithful husband. Still, Honor understood insecurities and knew Cherry was riddled with them. The key was to help her believe in herself, which would also keep her away from alcohol.

“Are you finished?” Honor asked after several minutes had passed. “If so, we can resume our work. If not, I’m willing to sit here and wait. But this is your only chance to get it out of your system. This behavior won’t be tolerated again.”

Cherry sat in the chair, anger spreading through her like hot molten. She stood abruptly, took her hand and swiped it across the coffee table. All of the knickknacks Honor had placed there fell to the floor. Without a sound, she turned and walked out of the office. She was finished with Honor.

She walked swiftly down a hall, unsure of the direction of her room. Her legs felt rubbery, her body strained with effort. I need a drink, she thought to herself. I need a sip of something, anything, to help me calm down.

And then, as if out of nowhere, she saw him. Her mind was too jumbled for her to register the sight, and there in the middle of the hallway she bumped right into him. But he wasn’t angry; he smiled and extended a friendly hand to shake. “Hello,” he said in a deep, liquid voice. “I’m Tim Chambers. You probably don’t remember me, but I met your car the day you arrived here. Cherry, right?”

Cherry tried to focus on this abrupt turn of events. Like water poured from a bottle, the anger drained from her body. She gripped his hand and relished the feel of his skin. “I’m Cherry,” she confirmed. And she smiled.

CHAPTER 38

It suddenly seemed as if Tim was in all the same places as Cherry. She saw him in the community lunchroom where she was forced to eat her meals. “Honor doesn’t want you sitting in your room alone,” the nurse told her primly. So Cherry sat at one of the room’s round tables, beside people she didn’t know, and ate breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tim, never far away, sat with the clinic’s other faculty members.

She saw him in the hallway that connected her room with the nurse’s station. Once he was in the clinic’s library, and another time he was in the exercise room. They never spoke, but Cherry was certain he saw her each time.

Her personal time started to dwindle as Honor dug her claws into Cherry’s schedule. She first requested that Cherry attend daily counseling sessions. “I’m going to manage your treatment,” Honor said on the day after their first meeting. “You’ll come into my office every morning at 10 sharp. That will give us almost two hours together before lunch, and on the weekends I’ll assign homework you must complete. Do you understand?”

Cherry nodded obediently, but inside she seethed. She hated Honor and would have just as soon walked out of the clinic altogether. But she couldn’t leave because she had no place else to go. She was, she knew, too sick to return to Matt, and her parents were obviously too fed up to take her in. So Cherry tolerated Honor just enough to avoid trouble.

During their sessions together, Cherry threw no more fits of anger. She sat in silence, avoiding Honor’s questions by staring at the wall. Honor didn’t push; she responded with her own silence so the two women sat together in gridlock obstinacy. Mercifully, at 11:45, Honor stood from her chair, walked to the office door and opened it so Cherry could leave. “See you tomorrow,” she said offhandedly. Cherry left without a word.

This routine continued for four days. On the fifth, Honor greeted Cherry with unexpected news. “I’ve decided it’s time for you to have a roommate,” she said in a hard voice. “We’re going to move you today. Then, after lunch, you’ll be assigned a job. All of our patients work here at the clinic, and you’re no exception. You are to attend this job from 1 pm to 6 pm everyday, including Saturday and Sunday. Do you have any questions?”

Honor finished talking and stared expectantly at Cherry. But Cherry didn’t know what to say. She’d been at the clinic for more than three weeks by this time. She knew what to expect from most days, even if she didn’t always like it. And she wasn’t ready for change.

Honor shrugged. “Fine. Tim is going to show you to your new room and help you get settled. I’ll see you tomorrow for your regular appointment.”

CHAPTER 39

Cherry wordlessly followed Tim back to her room. Once more, that all too familiar feeling of anger had settled in the pit of her stomach. She was furious at Honor for moving her into a shared room, and already she hated her new roommate.

“I don’t want to live with someone else,” Cherry exploded once she and Tim were inside her room. She looked around and saw her few belongings peppered on the desk and nightstand. “What’s wrong with Honor? Why does she hate me so much?”

Tim shook his head. “Honor doesn’t hate you. She wants to help you recover. If she let you sit in your room alone, day in and day out, she wouldn’t give you the opportunity to do anything except wallow. You know that, right?”

“I would rather be alone,” Cherry said quietly.

Ignoring this last comment, Tim rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get you packed and down to your new room. Before you know it, lunch will be served, and then you’ll start your new job. You have lots ahead of you, Cherry Piano.”

Cherry tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. Seeing the fear in her eyes, Tim capitulated at once and reached for her arm. His touch raised the hair on the back of her neck, and she looked up at him imploringly. Kindness had been absent from her life for so long. Tears filled her eyes as the familiar anger was replaced with another common emotion: sadness.

“Don’t cry,” Tim whispered as he drew her into a hug. The feel of his arms cradling her felt so good, so right. Cherry wanted to stay there forever, to bask in his attention and finally feel protected from the world. But Tim withdrew after several short moments. “Come on,” he said, tilting her face up with his thumb. “I’m here to help. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”

She didn’t answer right away, afraid to speak lest she start bawling. Once she regained her composure, she had to ask Tim a question. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Tim chuckled. “I think you’ve had enough sorrow to last a lifetime. Like I said, I’m here to help.” Sensing the pity party she was about to embark on, he spoke briskly. “Now, I’m going to grab some folders to put your papers into. You get out your clothes, fold them neatly, and collect your toiletries. I’ll find a bag so we can carry everything. Can you manage without me for a few minutes?”

The question was meant to be light, Cherry knew. But in the back of her mind, she was tempted to tell Tim no.

CHAPTER 40

Cherry’s new roommate was named Natasha. She had a striking look, with big dark eyes and eggplant-colored hair. Her lips were painted in a way that reminded Cherry of blood.

“Natasha, meet your new roommate Cherry,” Tim said by way of introduction. He set Cherry’s things on one of the room’s two double beds. “You two will be spending a lot of time together, so be good to each other.” He turned to Cherry and smiled. “I’ll find you after lunch and take you to your new job. Good luck.” With that he was gone, leaving Cherry to stare after him in wonder.

“Oh, girl, you got it bad,” Natasha said abruptly, breaking the silence.

“What?”

Natasha slid off her bed and stood up. She wore black tights, a short magenta dress and bangle bracelets on both wrists. Nothing about her seemed ordinary to Cherry, and she certainly didn’t look like she belonged in a rehabilitation clinic.

“You got it bad,” Natasha repeated, sauntering to the room’s mirror and peering at her reflection. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from her mouth and turned to Cherry. “For Tim. Not that I blame you, he’s really good-looking. But I don’t think he’s going to fraternize with patients.”

Cherry felt a tell-tale blush spread across her face and down her neck. Natasha, watching the reaction with a smug smile, laughed merrily. It was a rich sound, deep and throaty, and Cherry felt even more ridiculous. She stood awkwardly holding her bag of toiletries, wishing the floor would swallow her up forever.

“So, now that we’ve got the weird stuff out of the way,” Natasha continued, “how about we catch up on a few things? If we’re stuck together, we should at least make the most of it. Right?” When Cherry didn’t answer, the chatty roommate bounced back on her bed and resumed the conversation. “Well, don’t just stand there. Have a seat. You can tell me about your preference for poison, and then I’ll tell you about mine.”

Cherry sat on her bed like a lump. She felt as if she’d entered another world. So much had happened in so little time that it was hard for her to focus. She looked at Natasha and said blankly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Natasha laughed again. “Oh, but you soon will. This is my third visit to the clinic. I know the ropes here as well as Honor and Tim do. The only thing I don’t know is how to recover from my alcoholism.” She leaned back against her pillows and spoke cheerfully. “Now it’s your turn. How did you end up in this dirt hole? And what are you going to do about your crush on Tim?”

CHAPTER 41

Cherry looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to engage in a bout of 20 questions. She wasn’t ready to relay her life’s miserable sequence of events. And yet, as she sat in the silent room, feeling Natasha’s eyes on her, she realized she did want to talk about Tim. Just the thought of saying his name aloud gave her a frizzle of excitement.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a crush,” she said at last. Here she hesitated again. “I’m married.”

“And your husband?” Natasha prodded.

Despite herself, Cherry slowly revealed the history of her marriage. She talked about Matt, his love for Giovanna and his insistence that he divorce Cherry. She talked about Margaret and her callous dismissal of anything that might tarnish her reputation. She spoke, if not candidly, at least honestly. Some details, such as the morning she considered suicide and the failure of her first marriage, remained secret. She didn’t want to give away everything.

By the time she went to lunch, Cherry felt as if a burden had slid like gelatin from her shoulders. Talking had given her a small sense of relief. She attended her job—washing towels and bedding in the laundry room—with the most minute sense of accomplishment.

Buoyed by what she thought was her new friendship with Natasha, and grateful for the work provided by the laundry room, Cherry began to feel not exactly happy, but content. She fell into an easy routine of waking at five in the morning, taking a quick shower in the bathroom she shared with Natasha and having breakfast in the commons area. After eating, Tim usually walked her to the laundry room, and she was there by seven o’clock sharp each day. She went to counseling from ten to eleven-thirty, then headed to lunch and back to the laundry room by one in the afternoon.

She was released from work at four o’clock, and each day she stopped in the cafeteria before dinner for a hot cup of coffee. The incessant craving for wine no longer permeated her thoughts. She still thought about drinking, but now she was able to function “almost like a normal human being,” she told Tim.

The one person she wasn’t yet comfortable with, and who did nothing to ease her anxiety, was Honor. Their counseling sessions became more and more painful, as Cherry sat awkwardly and Honor waited somewhat smugly for a crack in her patient’s veneer. It was almost a relief the day Cherry walked into her therapist’s office and was interrupted before she could sit.

“Your mother-in-law wants to visit you,” Honor said without ceremony. “She’ll be here this afternoon.”

CHAPTER 42

Cherry swallowed. She looked down at her hands and saw they were shaking. She opened her mouth, which felt stuffed with cotton, and asked a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. “What does my mother-in-law want?”

Honor met her gaze without flinching. “My guess is she wants to see how you’re doing.”

Cherry tried to let this sink in, but she couldn’t. She could taste her fear. What sort of progress did she expect from Cherry? Would she bring a message from Matt?

“What are you thinking right now?” Honor interrupted, her mouth set in a thin line. Cherry stared at the other woman, trying to focus on what she had said. Her head was so jumbled she couldn’t formulate an answer. Honor saw this and repeated her question, this time more loudly.

“I was thinking about Matt,” Cherry confessed. She drew a deep breath. “I wondered if he might give Margaret a message for me. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks.” She looked at Honor and saw the cool expression, the folded arms over a soft, expensive-looking sweater. With her poise and position, she represented the life that Cherry wanted but couldn’t have. In that moment, Cherry felt an unexpected rush of hatred. She hated the cold and meaningless meetings she was forced to have with Honor and the counselor’s air of superiority. And mingled with that hate was a deep and impenetrable jealousy.

Once more, Honor interrupted Cherry’s reverie with her cold tone. “Have you ever thought, Cherry, that your marriage fell apart because you didn’t bother to understand your husband? That the woman he found – Giovanna – actually took the time to know him, and he needed somebody to do that?”

Cherry felt the room spin. She reached out her hand and grabbed hold of a nearby chair. “How can you be so cruel?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“I’m cruel because I can’t get through to you.” With that, Honor turned and sauntered to her desk. She sat in her black leather seat and leaned back, surveying Cherry as she continued. “You once came into my office and threw a hissy fit, and since then you’ve been dead silent. The truth is you haven’t made any progress, and that’s what I plan to tell Margaret.” She straightened herself in the chair and placed folded hands on the desk. “I might also mention this little crush you’ve developed on Tim.”

Cherry let out a cry and fled from the room. She walked blindly to her own room and, once inside, closed the door behind her. She leaned against it with her back and saw Natasha, lounging comfortably on her bed. The dark-headed girl glanced at Cherry’s haggard appearance and crooned, “Tell me everything.”

CHAPTER 43

Cherry walked to her own bed and sank down. Her chest felt like it was hollow. In between crying, she shared with Natasha what had happened with Honor. And when at last she was finished, she drew a final shuddering breath and said in a husky voice, “I hate Honor.”

“Well, of course you do. She’s antagonizing you. You should hate her.”

Cherry nodded as an idea began to form in her mind. Natasha was right…Honor was antagonizing her. Cherry imagined now the pleasure that had dripped from Honor’s lips when she said Margaret was coming to visit. She had seemed almost happy at being able to give Cherry such unwelcome news.

The thought of Margaret’s pending arrival brought Cherry quickly back to earth. She looked at Natasha. “What am I going to do about my mother-in-law?”

Natasha’s red lips curled into a smile. She stood smoothly from the bed and in a voice like warm milk answered, “I have something to show you.”

With Cherry watching, Natasha walked to one of two armoires that occupied the room. She opened the door, crouched so she could easily reach the bottom shelf and reached behind several carelessly strewn shirts and shorts. She stood and brandished in one hand a plastic container wrapped in a Ziploc bag. “What is that?” Cherry asked curiously.

Sauntering now, Natasha arrived at Cherry’s bedside and sat carefully beside her. She opened the bag and removed the container, inside which was a pale gold liquid with sediment at the bottom. “Tell me what that is,” Cherry ordered impatiently.

Natasha grinned. “It’s my special concoction, made with juice and sugar from the cafeteria. Remember how I told you I’ve been here more than once? I wasn’t kidding. I’ve learned every single rope there is. And this,” with the words she gently shook the bottle, “this is how I get through.”

“What are you talking about?”

Natasha’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m holding a bottle of fermented apple juice. I keep it hidden in my closet for about a week, until the sugars turn to alcohol.” She shoved the bottle in Cherry’s face. “Here, have a drink. It’ll help when you have to face your mother-in-law.”

Cherry stared at the bottle, longing to taste the liquid and yet afraid at the same time. Thoughts swirled in her mind: maybe I could have just a taste; if I drink this I might be able to cope; what if Honor finds out; how do I turn down what’s in front of me; how do I accept the very thing that put me here?

CHAPTER 44

Cherry wanted a drink of the apple juice. Her whole body cried out for it. But she clenched her fists and, struggling against herself, shook her head no. She was afraid if she opened her mouth she might tell Natasha that, yes, she would love a sip.

Natasha couldn’t hide her surprise. After a moment she composed her face and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” With that, she unscrewed the bottle cap, put her lips to the opening and drank. Cherry watched the woman’s throat move as she swallowed once, twice, three times. She imagined it was her own mouth into which the sweet liquid poured and felt her body quiver in response.

When she was done, Natasha screwed the cap back on and wiped a dribble from her chin. Cherry watched her every move, even catching the little smile that pulled at the other woman’s lips. “I have a feeling,” Natasha said, “you’re going to beg me for this later. From what I’ve gathered, your mother-in-law is pretty nasty. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cherry couldn’t deny it…Margaret was nasty. She intimidated Cherry with her wealth and power, leaving no room for a pleasant mother and daughter-in-law relationship. But Cherry no longer wanted to talk. Her thoughts of Matt and Margaret had cut too close to the bone. She felt ragged with emotion and wanted to leave the room, leave the apple juice and escape all temptation. She slid off the bed and walked to the doorway. “Are you coming to lunch?” she asked her roommate in an offhand voice. She put a hand to her stomach, barely able to breathe around the knotted muscles.

Natasha stepped over to her purse, pulled out a tiny pill bottle and waved Cherry away. “I’ll be there in a moment. I just need to take some painkillers for this headache. I’ll see you in the cafeteria.”

Cherry took her cue and walked down the hallway. Out of Natasha’s sight, she felt her brave façade crumble. She wasn’t hungry – just the thought of food made her stomach roil. And she realized she was dizzy; her nerves and the intense longing for Natasha’s apple juice were getting the best of her.

She stood in the hallway, trying to decide what to do with herself. She couldn’t go into the cafeteria, and she couldn’t return to the safety of her room. Now, knowing the apple juice was there, that didn’t even feel like her room anymore. Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled to the library. It was, at least, a refuge. She closed the door behind her and inhaled deeply, the quiet air filling her lungs.

But her relief was temporary. As she looked around, she saw three people sitting together at a wooden table. They were the faces of her past: Margaret, Matt and Giovanna. The blood rushed from her head to her feet as she swayed unsteadily. She couldn’t face them now, not in this condition. Blindly, she turned to reach for the door. But the unmistakable call of Margaret’s voice stopped her.

CHAPTER 45

“Cherry?” Margaret called. Paralyzed by fear, Cherry kept her hand on the library door. She wondered if by standing still, Margaret and the others would somehow think she wasn’t there.

It was no use. She heard a chair scrape against the linoleum floor and knew, without moving her body, Margaret was headed toward her. Sure enough, after a moment, she felt a hand on her outstretched arm. She turned her head and found herself staring directly into Margaret’s eyes.

“Hello, Cherry,” the older woman said in a neutral voice. She removed her hand, and Cherry seized the opportunity to move away from the door. With some distance between she and Margaret, she took in the sight of her mother-in-law and saw how well she looked: dressed in a white linen tunic top, wide leg taupe pants and a sunny scarf tied loosely at her neck. Her skin was golden brown, her white hair cropped close to her head. As always, Cherry admired the woman’s polish.

She did not, however, admire Margaret’s unmistakable thin-lipped disapproval. Cherry knew her mother-in-law didn’t welcome her own appearance, in jeans and a t-shirt with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Swallowing hard so she could speak, Cherry felt she should explain. “I have to wear the clothes you sent to me,” she said in a small voice. “We’re not allowed to leave the facility to go shopping.”

“You’ve lost a great deal of weight,” Margaret said crisply. It was a tone Cherry knew well, and her stomach rolled at hearing it again. 

“I haven’t been very hungry,” she murmured.

Margaret nodded and gestured to the table, where Matt and Giovanna sat side by side. They were silent, their faces blank, discomfort emanating from their bodies. Cherry knew without being told they were judging her. They were judging the facility and her distasteful need to be there. She felt like a criminal whose sorry position was too much for others to bear. It wasn’t just Margaret’s elegance, coupled with Giovanna’s easy style in a blue, ponte knit dress with full sleeves and a green sash tied at her waist, although both were beyond Cherry’s reach. It was also the fact that she had needed Matt so much that she’d become an alcoholic. Shame coursed through Cherry’s veins. Just being in the same room with these people, her one-time family, made her feel awful.

“Sit with us,” Margaret said, and Cherry understood this wasn’t an invitation. She was being commanded, she had no choice but to obey. With her heart in her throat, she followed Margaret. “We’ve been in here waiting,” her mother-in-law continued. “Did you know we were coming today?”

Cherry drew a shaky breath. “I knew you were coming, yes, but not Matt and Giovanna. And I didn’t know you were here in the library.”

“Well,” Margaret said confidently, “I think we’ve reached a solution that will please everybody, including you, Cherry. You should be quite satisfied.”

CHAPTER 46

Cherry heard the note of cheer in Margaret’s voice, saw the complacent look on her face and felt her heart thud with fear. Never once in this ordeal had Margaret devised a solution that weighed in Cherry’s favor. She had eliminated Cherry from their lives in order to avoid the scandal of her drinking, and now she was clearly arguing on behalf of Matt and Giovanna. Cherry knew that whatever came next would be ideal only for three of the four people at that library table.

“Have a seat,” Margaret said, and Cherry sat beside her mother-in-law across from Matt. He’s avoiding me, Cherry thought. He won’t even look at me. Cherry watched as he squirmed in his chair, changing positions several times before finally crossing his legs. Not even bothering to conceal the movement, he reached for Giovanna with his left hand. She eagerly clasped his palm to her bare knee and gave him a long, loving look.

It was too much. Cherry had to speak. “You two are still together?” she demanded. Of course she already knew the answer, but one of them—Matt or Giovanna—needed to acknowledge her in some way. They seemed content to let Margaret do the manhandling, but Cherry didn’t want them to get off so easily. Since when was it ok for a man to completely ignore his wife and give all of his attention, all of his love, to his mistress?

Giovanna opened her perfectly-shaped lips to speak, but Margaret interrupted. “Yes, Cherry, they’re still together. That’s part of the solution, you see.” She waited until Cherry had turned to face her. When next she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate. “Matt has agreed to stay married to you in exchange for keeping his relationship with Giovanna. They wanted to get married, but I made them realize there’s absolutely no question of that. So there will be no divorce, and to the world you and Matt will continue living as husband and wife. Giovanna will live with you—you’ll treat her as a sister—and I will let Matt keep the house I bought for him.”

Cherry felt her insides turn to mush. “What did you say?”

Margaret cleared her throat. “Come now, Cherry. We’re all adults. You see the situation for what it is. Matt is in love with this woman, and you’re in love with Matt. There’s no other solution. There can be no other way.”

Cherry’s mind moved rapidly, imagining scenes in which she slept alone in her bed at home while Matt cozied up to Giovanna in another room. She imagined the three of them sitting down to dinner, enveloped in silence until one had the courage to leave the room. She imagined days and weeks stretching into years, her knowledge of how Matt really felt wearing her down until, one day, she at last drew her final breath. Then and only then could she, Matt and Giovanna be free of each other and this terrible triangle.

“I won’t do it,” Cherry gasped. She stood from the table, her legs trembling violently. “I can’t.”

“You will,” Margaret hissed. Cherry watched from the corner of her eye as Matt gripped Giovanna’s knee, his knuckles white with force. The happy couple was obviously distressed by Cherry’s reaction. But Margaret continued, certain she would break Cherry’s will one way or another. “Sit down, damnit, and listen to me. If you won’t hear reason, you’ll hear this. I’m finished with your games, Cherry. I know you’re doing poorly here, I know you’ve made no attempt to get better. I won’t allow my son to consort with an alcoholic, so you’re going to do things my way. If you don’t, I’ll take you out of here and place you in jail.”

CHAPTER 47

Cherry looked at Margaret’s stony face. “That same story again,” she scoffed. “What will you do, lie to the police and tell them your son’s cocaine was mine? Remember that, Margaret? Your son’s drug addiction?”

“Enough.” Matt’s voice penetrated the library like a bell. Cherry looked at him in surprise and saw his face was settled into the same hard lines she knew so well. His voice, which she hadn’t heard in so long, was like ice. “I will tell everybody that you attacked me, right here in the library. I have two witnesses to support my story. Your reputation here is a joke. The cronies who run this hell hole will absolutely believe me, and they’ll tell the police. You’re stuck, Cherry. You don’t have a choice.”

His words touched Cherry in a way Margaret could not. She felt her feelings bubble to the surface. She couldn’t help herself…she loved this man. He was her husband, all she wanted was to be with him. Why didn’t he feel the same?

In her confusion, Cherry’s glance fell on Giovanna. She saw the woman’s brow furrowed with her hand on Matt’s arm to offer support. The two of them didn’t even have the decency to conceal their affair. All at once her sorrow turned to anger, and Cherry spat her words without thinking. “Go to hell,” she said, her voice strangled with emotion. The love she felt for Matt was at once mingled with hatred. “Both of you. Go straight to hell and rot there. I’m in this place because of you, and now you think I’m going to quietly spend the rest of my life watching you play house together? Hell isn’t even good enough for you. I hope-”

“Shut up, Cherry,” Matt interrupted. His tone was ragged. “Shut. Up. Nothing you say matters. You know the deal that’s on the table. Quit acting like a hurt child, and let’s get on with this.”

“Yes, let’s get on with this,” Margaret smoothly agreed. Cherry turned and watched Margaret pull a manila envelope from her purse. “All you have to do, Cherry, is agree to live with Matt and Giovanna. It’s not as bad as you’re making it. At some point, I’m sure the three of you will be quite happy.”

Outrage filled Cherry from head to toe. “You want me to sign a contract?”

“It’s the only way.” Margaret pulled two documents out of the envelope and placed an elegant pen on the table. “Sign so we know you agree, that you’ll do what you’re supposed to, and then we can all live in some semblance of peace. Wouldn’t that be nice, Cherry? To have peace?”

Heart pounding, Cherry glared at her mother-in-law with all the venom she could muster. “Screw you and your peace,” she said and turned to walk away. She was stopped by a warm hand clamped on her arm, firmly keeping her from leaving.

She found herself face-to-face with Matt, whose eyes were alight with hatred.

“Here’s the deal, Cherry. I don’t want to stay married to you. If you died tomorrow, I wouldn’t feel a damn thing. But I’m tied to you out of duty, and this is the best I can give you. If I have to be slighted in my happiness, so do you. Sign the contract.”

A cry escaped Cherry’s mouth. She wrenched her arm free and took several rapid strides back to Margaret and Giovanna. Trembling, she picked up the pen and scrawled her name at the bottom of the first document. She didn’t even read it,
she could barely see with the tears pooling in her eyes. Then she pushed away the first paper and signed her name on the second. It didn’t matter what she had just agreed to, only that the deal was made. She walked from the library and slammed the door behind her. It was done.

 CHAPTER 48

Cherry stood outside the library trying to catch her breath. A noise from somewhere in the hall made her start, and she scrambled away as fast as she could. She felt wobbly, panicky even. She couldn’t trust her own actions. Somehow she made it back to the room she shared with Natasha and closed the door. She had just sat on the bed when the door knob turned. For a terrified moment Cherry thought Matt or his mother might be coming to speak with her.

But it was Tim.

“Cherry?” he asked lightly. He walked into the room and stood in front of her. From his height he had to look down, but he could easily see the mottled tone of Cherry’s skin and the wild light in her eyes. When she said nothing, he touched her knee. “Cherry, you need to speak to me. Are you alright?”

She began laughing, low at first and then with a note of hysteria. “What a question,” she said, her nerves giving way at last.

Tim sat in the chair across from her bed. “Did you just speak to your mother-inlaw?”

Cherry stared at him, and he saw the answer in her face. “Listen to me. I know what your mother-in-law and husband proposed to you. It’s perverse and sick, but more than anything it’s wrong. Do you hear me, Cherry? It’s wrong. With your permission, I’ll tell them to not visit here again. They cannot be allowed to interfere with your progress.”

Cherry looked into his eyes, so brown and caring. She couldn’t help but wonder what Tim would think if he knew she had signed the contract.

“Oh, Cherry.” His voice was a soothing purr. “I’m here. It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.” He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re safe here.”

“I’m so ashamed,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“You’ve done nothing except try to love someone who only wants what he can’t have. Honor and I are going to speak to Margaret. They won’t come here again.”

“They’ll put me in jail…”

Tim pulled her head away from his shoulder and stared into her eyes. “Nobody’s going to put you in jail. It’s blackmail, Cherry. How could they possibly have thought you would sign that disgusting contract?”

Cherry stared back at him. The words she needed to say stuck in her throat. She knew a door had opened, but she didn’t know whether to open or close it. All she could think to do was lay her head back on Tim’s shoulder.

CHAPTER 49

After Tim left her room, Cherry laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. At some point she rolled over and dozed off. She slept right through her work shift, then through supper and finally through evening activities. Nobody bothered to rouse her from sleep. The whole facility seemed to understand she needed the rest.

When she woke at last, her chest ached from the thudding of her heart. She didn’t recognize her surroundings, she didn’t know what time it was. Her mind felt disconnected from her body, one too groggy and the other too alert. She tried to swallow and raised a hand to the back of her neck. It was sticky with sweat.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she realized she was in her room. It was just possible to see the outline of Natasha’s body on the other bed. Cherry sat up and read the fuzzy red numbers of her alarm clock: 12:26. She laid back down with a groan. More than 12 hours had passed since her confrontation with Matt and Margaret. How was that possible?

She realized her shoes were still on and pulled them from her feet. Careful not to wake Natasha, she set them gently on the floor by her bed. She flipped her pillow so the side that had been against the mattress now faced her cheek – the cool felt like balm against her hot skin. Slowly she breathed in and out, hoping to return to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about earlier events. Her body still felt warm, and she thought longingly of something cold to drink.

After several moment, she decided to wander to the cafeteria for a glass of juice. She eased out of bed with just the faintest creek of the mattress. Afraid to make noise, she left her shoes on the floor and slowly opened the door. Light from the hallway streamed
into her room, and she quickly stepped out and closed the door behind her. Then, padding in bare feet, she made her way to the cafeteria.

She had just passed Honor’s office when a noise made her stop. Curious, she listened for a moment as she stood poised to move. There. She heard the sound again and realized somebody was in Honor’s office. Stepping gingerly, she moved toward the closed office door and peered inside the window. The room was dimly lit by a small desktop lamp. In the cozy glow she saw two people
sitting side by side on the couch. Startled, she pressed her face to the glass and watched Honor lean in to kiss Tim. From the intimate curves of their bodies against each other, Cherry guessed the kissing was not only welcome, but also familiar.

The sight made Cherry uncomfortable, like she had deliberately intended to spy on two lovers. Cherry’s next thought curled her stomach. Of course Tim was with Honor. It all made sense now. She no longer wanted a drink – she wanted only the dark safety of her own bed.

CHAPTER 50

But the sight of Tim and Honor together would not leave Cherry’s mind. She realized she had liked Tim. He was kind to her when no other man, especially her husband, even noticed her. She could even admit she had harbored fantasies of the two of them
having an affair. It would have been revenge on Matt, yes, but Tim had a softness that Cherry found genuinely attractive. She tried to recall if Matt had ever been other than hard and hateful, but she couldn’t. Her mind had already absorbed so much.

She conjured an image of Tim in her head: dark brown hair, thick wrists and eyes like caramel. He was as complex as Matt but without the selfish forces that drove Matt until he destroyed everything and everyone around him. Still, Cherry knew she didn’t love Tim – she loved Matt – and the remorse in her heart now was caused by lust. It had been so long since a man had held her and offered comfort. She’d come to believe Tim was in her life at just the right time.

Cherry clenched her fists in frustration. She was angry – with herself for thinking a guy like Tim would notice her; with Matt for carelessly ruining their marriage; and with Honor for being so damn perfect. Of course she would nab Tim. The thought that Cherry had mistaken professional kindness for romantic interest fused in her mind like a scab, and she couldn’t help but torture herself with it.

After several moments, Cherry couldn’t help but compare herself to Honor. Jealousy was a long habit of hers, and it struck that night with a vengeance. Why would Tim even look twice at a rehab patient when he could be with somebody like Honor, she asked herself. Honor, so elegant and poised, able to demand respect from everyone. I can’t even hold a marriage together.

She continued in this vein for some time before turning her attention back to her immediate situation. I should leave here, she thought to herself. I can’t face Tim and Honor tomorrow after knowing what I know. I should just leave and never come back.

“You’re muttering to yourself,” came Natasha’s sleep-filled voice from the other side of the room. Cherry’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her roommate’s inky form roll over in bed. “What are you doing awake?”

Cherry thought about how to answer. She didn’t want to tell Natasha what she had just seen, but she wasn’t sure she could keep it to herself. If she said the words aloud – Tim and Honor are a couple – surely it would be like releasing the air from a balloon. All the pressure she felt inside her chest would leave, and maybe she could stop thinking that everyone in her life already had somebody to love. Everyone except herself.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she finally said in a hushed voice. The oddity of having a conversation at one o’clock in the morning struck her. Wasn’t the rest of the world snugly asleep?

“Well, no wonder. You’ve been in bed since yesterday afternoon.” Natasha’s hand slid from under the covers and fumbled for her bedside lamp. Thin, yellow light created a hollow in the room, so Natasha’s corner was lit while Cherry’s remained dark. “God, your face is all white.” Natasha pushed black hair away from her face. “Do you feel ok?”

“No, I don’t,” Cherry replied. She looked down at her lap. “The last twenty-four hours have been terrible.”

“I’ve got a remedy for that,” Natasha said slyly. She stood from the bed and looked down at Cherry. “You want some of my homemade moonshine?”

CHAPTER 51

Cherry hesitated no more than a moment. She thought of the relief in drinking —the gift of forgetting—and nodded at Natasha. Not too eagerly, she thought to herself, or your desperation will show.

Natasha smiled before turning to her closet. She retrieved the bottle and handed it to Cherry. “It’s not wine,” Natasha said with a wink, “but the effect is still the same.”

Cherry’s heart beat in anticipation. She raised the bottle to her mouth and smelled the sweet, pungent aroma of Natasha’s juice. The taste – it was grape juice, Cherry knew, but stronger than anything she’d ever had – hit her taste buds. She drew the bottle away and wrinkled her face. “It’s sour and-”

“Disgusting?” Natasha interrupted. She smiled cheerfully, half of her face hidden in shadow. “I don’t have any yeast to add to it, so the juice really is fermented. I put sugar in there to help the conversion-to-alcohol process, but that’s it.” She eyed Cherry in the shallow light. “It won’t kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Cherry nodded. She wasn’t worried about anything except the taste making her sick. But her need, as usual, outweighed her common sense. She raised the bottle once more, and rather than taking a sip, she took several long gulps. When she pulled the bottle away this time, she was breathless. “That stuff is terrible,” she said a little too loudly. She looked around the dark
room, at the barely-there light and the black sky gaping like a hole behind the window. The reality of what she had done came to her all at once.

She was drinking alcohol in rehab.

“Yeah, I was worried at first, too,” Natasha said, almost as if she could read Cherry’s mind. She sipped from the bottle and then stared thoughtfully at the wall. “It sucks having your life revolve around this stuff, doesn’t it?”

Cherry couldn’t find an answer to the question. But, really, what was there to say? She remembered something Natasha had once said. “I’m not ready to quit drinking. I don’t want to know what life is like without the dulling effect of alcohol. I’m afraid I’ll feel everything too sharply and will end up stark, raving mad. So for now, I give in to my habit.”

Cherry’s problem was much less complex. She hadn’t yet learned how to be happy with herself, and if she couldn’t have a man, she would seek comfort from the one companion that always gave it: drink.

CHAPTER 52

It was surprisingly easy for Cherry to start drinking again. She had forgotten about the lift alcohol provided, the ability to leave behind troubles. Just a little of Natasha’s juice in the morning, a few sips at lunch and the rest of the bottle in the evening helped her cope. She felt like a new person. She even started laughing again.

“I wonder why drinking is considered so bad,” Cherry said to Natasha on a dark, stormy evening. She licked her lips, the taste of sour grape juice strong in her mouth. “Alcohol makes me a better person. I don’t feel as angry.”

“Do you know why you feel angry when you don’t drink?” Natasha asked. They were sitting in the recreation room under guise of watching a movie. But Natasha had brought two bottles with her – one for herself and one for Cherry – and they were enjoying their beverages more than the showing of Casablanca on the center’s big screen TV.

Cherry shifted on the broken down couch. It had been a donation from the Salvation Army, and she wondered fleetingly about the couch in her own home. She hadn’t seen it in a long time…would she ever see it again? “No, I don’t know,” Cherry replied softly, trying to get comfortable. She finally gave up and leaned her head back against the flowered cushions. “How long do
residents usually stay here?” she asked.

“You’re angry,” Natasha’s voice was low so others wouldn’t hear, “because you have unresolved hurt. That’s the point of counseling, to help you deal with your issues. But I’ve heard your counseling sessions are pretty fruitless.”

Cherry turned to face her roommate. Her movements felt loose, almost watery, and she realized with a start she was drunk. How could that be? She’d hardly drank anything that day. She shook the bottle in her hand and discovered it was empty. No liquid swished inside. “Did you drink some of my juice?”

Natasha shook her head. “No, I didn’t drink any of your juice. You’re an alcoholic. You drank it yourself. You know you’re up to two bottles a day, right?”

Cherry giggled – Natasha’s statement struck her as hilarious. “How many do you drink?” she asked brightly.

“I can’t keep up with your demand.” Natasha was not laughing. Her voice had an edge to it that Cherry couldn’t place. “It takes time for the juice to ferment, and you’re drinking it faster than I can replenish the supply.” Here Natasha hesitated. “And to answer your question, I don’t drink anymore. I quit. I make the juice only for you. You’re in bad shape, Cherry. Really bad shape.”

CHAPTER 53

After that conversation, it did not occur to Cherry that Natasha wasn’t trustworthy. She knew nothing except how much she enjoyed the juice concoctions her roommate unfailingly made. They helped her shut down her emotions and push away the realities of her broken world. Rather than sort through her demons, Cherry had once again learned to cocoon herself in a sense of false protection.

She sat in silence during her counseling sessions, not because she was still rebelling, but because she couldn’t form more than a whisper of a thought. Honor didn’t even notice—she and Cherry never spoke. After leaving Honor’s office, Cherry went to work in the laundry room and performed her duties blankly. It was easy for her body to operate on autopilot, and still her ind slipped deeper into nothingness.

Her mother and father came to visit a week before Thanksgiving on Cherry’s birthday. Cherry heard her mother suck in her breath when their eyes met. They hadn’t seen each other in months. “You’ve lost so much weight.”

Cherry looked down. She knew her jeans were baggy, but she rarely bothered to look in the mirror. Now she merely laughed and told her parents to have a seat. They were in the rec room, on the same shabby couch Cherry and Natasha had sat upon.

“I know the furnishings aren’t very nice,” Cherry said as she flopped into a chair. “But this is my home for now, so I can’t complain.”

Her father eyed her closely, noting the slurred words and slack features. “Are you feeling alright?” He turned to his wife. “She looks awful. What’s going on?”

“Of course I’m alright,” Cherry quickly replied. She searched the room for something to say, but her mind was cloudy. She realized she was fidgeting in the chair but couldn’t stop herself.

Her mother cleared her throat and spoke with a note of false cheer. “We brought you something.” She slid a brightly wrapped package across the linoleum. It stopped at Cherry’s feet. “Happy birthday.”

Cherry laughed again. “Yes, it’s a celebration.” Her voice sounded odd to her own ears. “We should have a drink.”

Her parents said nothing, and a deafening silence fell over them. When her father at last stood from the couch, his face was red with fury. “What did you just say?” He stared at Cherry. “What the hell is wrong with you? Isn’t it bad enough that you’re in here? Jokes aren’t necessary.”

“I only meant…” Cherry floundered, unable to finish her sentence. She couldn’t stop staring at her father, whose face was a blur of color. She tried to reach for his hand but somehow missed. Instead he grabbed his wife and pulled her from the couch. “It was a mistake to come here. Let’s go.” He turned to Cherry. “I pray you get out of this mess you’ve made. I don’t know what else to do for you.”

CHAPTER 54

Cherry was floundering. Desperate, she asked Natasha to stop making the juice. Natasha raised an arch eyebrow and said, “You know you’ll go through withdrawal again, right?” Buoyed by a need to do right, Cherry nodded and left for the library. She thought reading might put her mind back on course.

In less than an hour her craving seemed to saturate the air around her—it filled her lungs each time she inhaled. By the time she got back to her room, her body had turned itself inside out. Natasha took one look at her pale face, strode to the closet and withdrew the bottle. Cherry gulped gratefully and lay down on her bed, the juice coursing through her veins with the velocity of lava.

Tim met her in the hallway three weeks before Christmas. He peered at her closely, his scrutiny warming her face and chest, and saw the heavy shadows under her eyes. Her hair hung limply around her thin face. “Cherry, where have you been hiding?”

She turned her head, unable to answer. But she had seen the concern in his eyes, the earnest turn of his lips. He cared, it was written all over his face, but she didn’t understand why.

He stepped closer, and Cherry took a wobbly step back. “Have you been drinking?” he asked incredulously.

She started to shake her head, she had to deny it, but he grabbed her arm. His touch burned through her cotton t-shirt as he steered her into his office. Once inside, he closed and locked the door. “Tell me the truth right now.” His voice was strained, and Cherry looked at him despite herself.

“What if I have been drinking? Would you take me in your arms and kiss me the way you kiss Honor?”

Too late, she realized she’d forgotten her place. But she didn’t care. Her heart felt numb and overloaded with emotion all at once. She didn’t understand anything about herself. She wanted only to smother her needs with alcohol.

“You’re here to get help,” Tim replied. His voice wobbled, and Cherry knew he was angry. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

Cherry dissolved into tears. She couldn’t articulate the pain caused first by Matt and Margaret, then Tim and Honor. She couldn’t articulate the sense of failure that threatened to push her to the point of no return.

She stopped crying and wiped a hand across her face. With a shaky breath, she spoke in anger. “It’s your fault. And Honor’s. You’ve done nothing to help me. Nothing. I don’t know why I’m here.” She was babbling, an effect of drinking and her overwrought nerves.

But Tim was undeterred. He knew the way to pierce Cherry’s soul wasn’t with sympathy. His gaze was hard as he asked one question. “Exactly what you done to help yourself?”

CHAPTER 55

Cherry never answered – she couldn’t. A knock on Tim’s door saved her from the self examination Tim wanted for her. Relieved, Cherry sat in the seat feeling sorry for herself. Tim stood and unlocked the door to allow Honor inside. She held her head high and wore a bright smile that vanished when she saw Cherry.

It took only several moments for the scene to make itself clear to Honor. Tim’s stern look, Cherry’s tear-stained face. When Honor at last spoke, she sounded cool and confident. “Am I interrupting?”

Nobody spoke, and Cherry wondered if she should say something. She did not want to open her mouth and reveal her state to Honor. With that thought came a dim but important question that Cherry knew would have to be addressed at some point: how had Honor never before realized Cherry’s drinking? They had spent one hour together every morning for the last two months. Wasn’t the woman paying attention to her patient?

Tim’s voice broke her reverie. “Yes.” Cherry looked up and watched him cross his arms. “I called Cherry in here because her mother-in-law telephoned. She asked about Cherry’s progress. I told her I’d get back to her because I didn’t have the answer. Now, while talking to Cherry, I learn her meetings with you have yielded nothing.” He turned the full weight of his stare on Honor. “Do you know why that is?”

Honor lifted her chin. “Cherry doesn’t speak during her counseling sessions, so I’d say that’s a problem.” She stared at Tim. “Why didn’t you transfer Margaret’s call to me? I’m the counselor assigned to this case. I could have provided the information she needed.”

Cherry felt her heart quiver. She had no idea what was going on—Tim hadn’t said anything to her about Margaret calling. She felt weightless, like she might float out of the chair and above Tim and Honor at any moment.

Tim brushed past Honor’s questions. “Here’s the thing,” he said in a voice like granite. He glanced at Cherry before continuing. “Cherry’s mother-in-law wants to see results for the money she’s paying us. There are no results, so I’m going to take over. I’d like your notes, if you have any. I’m on Cherry’s case now.”

Without meaning to, Cherry released a long sigh. The relief of not having to face Honor again—of being able to work with Tim—brought fresh tears. She hadn’t realized until that moment how uncomfortable Honor made her feel.

But Honor was far from pleased. “What do you mean, you’re taking over her counseling sessions?” she demanded. She glared at Cherry, disgust written plainly across her face. “She’s my patient. You can’t just take over, Tim. You’re stepping out of bounds.”

“She’s not your patient now,” Tim said smoothly. “You should have excused yourself from the case when you realized you couldn’t handle it. Please leave my office so I can begin our first counseling session.” He looked hard at Cherry. “I would say we have a lot of ground to cover.”

CHAPTER 56

Tim began by changing Cherry’s routine. “Instead of working in the laundry center every day, you will walk in the courtyard with a nurse for 30 minutes. When you come back inside, I’ve arranged for you to work in the library with the administrator. In your free time I’ll give you books to read.” He shook his head, and a note of regret crept into his voice. “I can’t believe Honor didn’t already do this. What a waste these last three months have been for you.”

She felt fear settle in her stomach, but she couldn’t think about that. All of her attention went to the addiction that even now made her long for a drink. Her head felt too heavy to hold, her body too limp to move. She wanted only her juice, sitting strong and silent in Natasha’s closet. Cherry knew a bottle was in there, waiting to embrace her with arms as soft as clouds.

“Don’t even think about alcohol,” Tim continued, as if reading her mind. “This is your last chance to get straightened out, Cherry. No more excuses.” He crossed his legs and met her gaze. “I lied for you once, I won’t do it again.”

Cherry had nothing to say, but it didn’t matter. Tim continued. “I already know the answer to this question, but I”m gong to ask anyway. How have you been getting drunk?” He watched as Cherry’s face tightened. “You have to tell me. I need to trust you if I’m going to help you.”

She thought about Natasha, furtively making the fermented juice for Cherry. She knew her roommate would get in trouble, and for that Cherry felt overcome with guilt. But she knew she couldn’t lie to Tim – his tone permitted no resistance.

“I’ve been drinking juice that Natasha creates in our room.”

Tim pressed his lips together until they were nothing more than a thin line. A long pause followed, and Cherry could see him thinking. “I needed to hear it from you,” he said at last. “Now I have to get you into a new room.”

Cherry had just one question. “What did you mean when you said you already lied for me?”

Tim sighed. “I told Honor I had spoken to your mother-in-law, but I hadn’t. I just didn’t want her to know about your drinking. She would have kicked you out of the program, and I have no idea what would have happened to you then.”

“Will Natasha get kicked out?”

“Don’t worry,” Tim said grimly. “I’ll take care of her.”

CHAPTER 57

Nothing – not the memory of her previous struggle to stop drinking, not Tim’s reassuring words, not the knowledge that her pain would not last forever – could help Cherry muddle through her recovery. The days found her feeling weak and jumpy, her body exhausted but her nerves frayed. She could think of nothing but alcohol – the struggle hung over her head like a heavy umbrella. All she wanted was a drink, a sip, a drop.

Despite her physical condition, the nurse diligently arrived in her room each day. She took Cherry’s arm and led her on a thirty-minute walk. They trekked around the facility, into the back lot where snow and dead grass melded together in the same landscape. “Breathe deeply, inhale the fresh air so it clears your mind,” the nurse commanded. But the sharp December air only hurt Cherry’s weak lungs. It penetrated through her coat and mittens, pounding her bones until she shivered with the cold. She felt sick and started to think of herself as a convalescent.

After each walk, the nurse helped Cherry remove her winter gear and led her to the lunch room. The smell and sight of food brought wave after wave of nausea. But Tim sat with her at a corner table, the other personnel carefully avoiding what they saw. He commanded she eat although every twinge on her face suggested she couldn’t. “Eat your soup,” he ordered. When Cherry began to cry, he picked up the spoon and fed her himself. The broth slid down her throat whether Cherry wanted it or not.

“Drink some coffee,” he said after the soup was at last finished. He never suggested she drink juice – the yearning it might trigger couldn’t be risked. “Have more bread. Try some ice cream.” He was relentless, and Cherry had no choice but to listen.

The best part of lunch was the time that followed, when she went to the library and was at last alone. The administrator saw Cherry’s pinched face and took pity on her. She didn’t force Cherry to work. Instead, the kindly woman allowed her to rest in an oversized chair. Exhausted, Cherry could do nothing but sit. She didn’t think, she didn’t feel. She merely sat.

She quickly learned to dread nighttime, when the hallucinations started and she couldn’t tell reality from fantasy. She imagined two men in her room, a woman in a turban, animals, lightning. Tim heard her screams and came to her room, holding her to him until the sobs subsided. He retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it with cool water and wiped the sweat from Cherry’s face. Only then, with Tim by her side and the cool washcloth on her forehead, could she slip into sleep.

Every day, every night, brought more of the same. Cherry felt consumed by a cyclone. She was trapped and she knew it.

“The only way out is to keep going,” Tim told her during one of their sessions.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. The effort to speak was exhausting.

“I know you are. But you’re moving through the worst part of it.”

Cherry’s mood changed swiftly. “I need a drink,” she spat. “You can’t expect me to just quit. I need to wean myself slowly…”

But Tim had heard all the excuses before. Cherry was not the first patient to try to negotiate her own recovery. He was not moved. “You want a drink,” he replied calmly. “You need salvation.”

The anger evaporated as quickly as it had arrived. “I can’t do this.”

Tim smiled. “You’re already doing it.”

CHAPTER 58

The insomnia and physical exhaustion eventually spent itself. Cherry gradually felt better, she was able to once more think clearly and function efficiently. The day even came when she looked forward to her walk outside, to the sound of her boots crunching on fresh snow. She realized she was finally making progress.

The alcohol—or poison, as Tim called it—left Cherry’s body, and she lost the puffy look that had once plagued her. She was still excessively thin from eating so little in the rehab facility, but her skin was clear and her eyes bright. Even her hair had bounce, and she walked with a sense of purpose.

“You look fantastic,” Tim complimented after the first of the year.
Cherry smiled but then quickly sobered. She’d been thinking about an event that wouldn’t leave her mind. Although she hated to disturb the pleasant mood in Tim’s office, she had to ask.

“Last year, when you took over my case, you told Honor that Margaret had phoned and asked about my progress.” She looked at him. “Was that true?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I need to know. I don’t think Margaret has ever cared about me, but if she has, then I’ve been wrong.” She spread her hands helplessly. “I need to know.”

Tim rubbed his hand over a growth of faint stubble on his chin. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I made that up to convince Honor you needed to be taken out of her care. The truth is I’d been worried about you for a while, but Honor only dismissed my questions. I started paying attention and learned you weren’t speaking in your counseling sessions. Then I realized you were drinking…”

Cherry absorbed this information, and then another thought occurred to her. “Where is Honor?”

Tim answered Cherry without hesitation. “Honor is on vacation.”

“What does that mean?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know,” Cherry said in a quiet voice.

Tim ran his hand through his hair. His tone was impatient when he spoke. “She took a vacation. We discussed the situation here at the facility, and she agreed she needed some time off. She’s on a one-month sabbatical.” He sat up straighter and looked squarely at Cherry. “Now I ask the questions. Stop worrying about Honor, I’ll take care of her. Your only goal is to worry about yourself.” He paused. “Why did you start drinking in the first place?”

Cherry bent her head and stared at her jeans. She wasn’t prepared for Tim’s blunt approach. “Because my husband cheated on me.”

Tim all but leapt out of his chair. “No, that’s not the reason. Your husband’s infidelity didn’t force your hand to pour alcohol and drink it. Now, tell me the real reason.”

“I don’t know.” Cherry felt herself back away from the conversation, away even from Tim himself. She suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable.

“That’s not an answer. You’re going to have to dig deep, Cherry. I’m not letting you off the hook until you tell me the real reason.” He leaned forward and waited until Cherry met his gaze. “Why did you start drinking last year?”

“I’m weak,” Cherry murmured. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m weak, and I wanted to avoid my sorrows, so I drowned myself in alcohol. It was easier to face the ruin of my marriage from behind a fog.”

CHAPTER 59

Cherry knew she was finally making progress. She had put the excuses behind her and felt for the first time like a whole person. She even began thinking about the future, the time when she would at last be out of rehab. Her home, she knew, was no longer with Matt—they would never again be husband and wife. Curiously that didn’t upset her. It was a fact, one that she faced with all the courage she could muster. She was a 32-year-old, soon to be twice-divorced recovering alcoholic. And at the moment, she had no job and no place to live.

“The truth isn’t pretty,” she said to Tim with a small shrug. “But there it is. The white picket fence and hammock hanging from a tree didn’t quite come true.”

When Tim’s eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but credit him for her personal growth. He wanted nothing but unvarnished honesty. Whenever she tried to cower behind old pretenses, he didn’t hesitate to call her out.

“It’s not pretty,” he agreed, “but life is meant to be messy and complicated.” He paused and gave a rueful smile. “It helps shape your character.”

She thought about that after she left his office. Maybe Tim was right, maybe the perfect life she’d tried to have was unreasonable.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a flash of dark hair. There, in the staff corridor, she passed her former roommate Natasha.

Cherry tried to keep her composure and nodded in greeting, but she was anxious to get away.

Natasha, however, wanted more. “Hey,” she said, and placed cool fingers on Cherry’s arm to stop her. “Where have you been lately?”
Cherry faced the woman and remembered the bottles of fermented juice passing between them. The thought turned her stomach. She didn’t want to talk, but ignoring Natasha would have been uncomfortable. She drew a deep breath “Getting better,” she said. “I’ve been working on my demons.”

Natasha let the pointed remark pass. She looked around as if someone might be listening, and when she spoke again, her voice was octaves lower. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that, Cherry.”

“About what?”

The color drained from Natasha’s face. Her features were pinched with what Cherry could only describe as fear. “About the alcohol. It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want anything to do with it.”

Cherry stared in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Honor told me to make that juice so you wouldn’t get better.” Natasha’s tone was urgent. “Don’t you see? You weren’t supposed to overcome your addiction.”

Cherry reached behind her for the wall’s support. Natasha’s words hit her with the force of a blow. She thought of the betrayal and asked only one question—the only one that mattered. “Did Tim know about this?”

“Of course not. Honor was following your husband’s instructions.” Natasha’s next words sent a chill down Cherry’s spine. “He’s the one who wanted to break you.”

CHAPTER 60

Cherry understood that Natasha was not a friend. She had, after all, given Cherry countless bottles of fermented juice—she clearly lacked compassion. If the story she’d told about Matt and Honor held even a grain of truth, it was because she wanted to fuel the flames. She liked excitement, Cherry knew, and Cherry’s sordid life was ripe for the picking.

Knowing this didn’t put Cherry’s mind at ease. She could well imagine Matt—desperate to end the marriage but chained to his mother’s side and addicted to cocaine—working with Honor to sabotage Cherry’s progress at the facility. If Tim hadn’t stepped in,

Cherry might have wasted away by now. The only question that remained was why Honor had cooperated.

She got her answer several days later. It was early in the morning, she’d just showered and dressed, when Tim knocked on the door to her room. Cherry answered and was greeted by his unsmiling face.

“You have a visitor,” he said without prelude. He closed the door behind him and spoke grimly. “I don’t think you should speak to her, but I can’t make this decision for you.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s so important that you stay on track,” Tim continued. “I’m afraid that seeing people from your past will interrupt what we’ve started.”

Cherry felt her face grow warm at the word “we,” but she wasn’t completely distracted. “Who’s here to see me?”
Tim looked at her with anguish in his eyes. “Giovanna. She said it was urgent. If you speak to her, Cherry, you can’t get sucked in. You can’t go back down the rabbit hole.”

Cherry glanced out the window and saw fat, lazy snowflakes drifting to earth. Clouds swirled in the sky like milk in a glass of water. It was, she realized, the perfect day to sit before a fire and read. She marveled that some people had such a luxury and wished she, too, could forget about the world and all its troubles. She wished she wasn’t so fragile that she had to guard herself from other people.

She turned to Tim. “I don’t want to talk to her, but I’m intrigued. I can’t imagine why she’s here.”

Tim pressed his lips together. “I’ll tell her to come in. But if anything she says upsets you, just walk out. I’ll be standing right outside this room.”

Cherry felt her heart pound as Tim opened the door. She watched Giovanna walk into her room and look around. When the woman’s eyes settled on Cherry, she spoke in uncharacteristically nervous tones. “I’m not here to cause trouble.” She draw a deep, trembling breath. “Matt is cheating on me. I have no right to discuss this with you, I know, but I’m afraid. And I haven’t even told him yet, but I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER 61

Cherry grappled with the news. She took several deep breaths and, once the shock had passed, blurted the only words she could manage. “You’re pregnant?”

Giovanna set her purse on the bed. She wore a black coat with a hood and black tights. As always, Cherry admired her style. “Yes, I’m pregnant,” the woman confirmed. She did not flinch as she met Cherry’s eyes. “Matt doesn’t know. Nobody knows except you. I didn’t plan for this to happen…”

Cherry walked over to the window and thought. The same image kept repeating itself in her mind: Matt holding the hand of a chubby boy as he toddled down the sidewalk. She could see the situation for what it was, a sad twist of fate beyond her control. She wasn’t sad, merely wistful. “I always wanted kids,” she said at last. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

From behind, Cherry heard Giovanna sigh. “I know that what we did to you was unforgivable,” Giovanna said. “I see things now that I didn’t see before.”

Like what, Cherry wanted to ask. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She didn’t want to appear more vulnerable than being in rehab already made her.

“When Matt first began buying drugs from my brother, I blamed his addiction on you,” Giovanna continued. Curious, Cherry turned to face her. “He said he wasn’t happily married, that he’d tried to leave you and you wouldn’t let him.”

“I didn’t want a divorce,” Cherry agreed. She felt compelled to defend herself.

“Now I know he’s addicted because he sees nothing wrong in what he does.” Giovanna walked several steps closer to Cherry. “And his unhappiness in being married wasn’t your fault—it was his. He doesn’t want to be committed.”

Giovanna had strayed so close in her assessment that Cherry’s knees gave out. She sat in one of two vinyl chairs in her room. Her voice was not steady when she asked a question. “What makes you think he’s cheating on you?”

“Woman’s intuition?”

“What else?”

Giovanna thought for a moment. “He’s not been home on a Friday night in at least a month. He says he has classes to attend for work, but I know he’s lying. His hair is always cut perfectly, his shirts are pressed and he’s…” She searched for the right word, meeting Cherry’s gaze as she spoke bluntly. “Arrogant. Sure of himself. That’s what an affair does, you know. It builds your confidence.”

Cherry nodded. “Yes, I know.” She was silent as she sifted through Giovanna’s words. Something rankled…was it the timeline of a month? Was it Natasha’s confession about Honor and Matt? Cherry wasn’t ready yet to voice her suspicions, so she asked one more question of the woman carrying Matt’s child. “Do you still love him?”

CHAPTER 62

Giovanna stared out the same window that Cherry had. She seemed to focus on something in the distance. “Of course I love him,” she said without fanfare. She shrugged. “You know how it is, don’t you?”

Cherry didn’t answer. She could think of nothing to say because, of course, she did know. It seemed incredible that she was willing to help Giovanna, the woman who had broken her marriage. And yet, Cherry knew if it hadn’t been Giovanna, Matt certainly would have hooked up with somebody. He had never been committed to the marriage…with or without Giovanna, he wouldn’t have been faithful.

Giovanna snapped out of her reverie. “But I’m not a sentimental woman,” she said in a hard voice. “I’m not an innocent. I know that men come and go. Matt certainly is not unique.” She looked at Cherry. “So the only question is, what do I do now?”

* * *

Honor returned to work looking as fresh-faced as ever. Without meaning to, Cherry found herself watching the woman, trying to get a feel for her true personality. Cherry realized she’d been in rehab for almost six months and, although Honor had at one time been her counselor, the two knew virtually nothing about each other.

She must have known I was drinking again, Cherry thought to herself as she scrutinized Honor in the lunchroom. Natasha must have been right…there was no way Honor could have sat with me every day for an hour and not seen my physical and mental deterioration.

Honor was aware of the watchful gaze and went out of her way to offer kindness to Cherry. “Tim tells me your progressing very nicely,” she said as she sat next to Cherry in the library one day. “I’m happy to hear it.”

Cherry noted the smile on Honor’s lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The kindness was a front, and Cherry knew it.

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do out of rehab?”

Cherry blinked. “Some,” she said cautiously. “But I have no idea when I’ll go back home or what I’ll do once I’m there.”

Honor gave a twinkly laugh that reminded Cherry of rain falling on glass. “Surely Tim told you.” She paused, and the edge in her voice was unmistakable. “I’m discharging you next week.” She left before Cherry could reply.

Alone with her thoughts, Cherry’s heart started to pound. She didn’t want to stay in rehab, but she knew she had nowhere else to go. She had felt safe with Tim, confident in her steps forward. Now, as swiftly as a bolt of lightning, Honor had upended her whole world.

Cherry rose from her chair. Honor’s motives were as clear as day. She knew Giovanna was pregnant – she wanted to send Cherry back to the lion’s den and see how she fared. She was testing Cherry’s will, sending her home so soon after her recovery. Perhaps Natasha was right, but Cherry took it one step further. Was it possible Honor was the one who now occupied Matt’s attention?

Cherry had no answers, only questions. She needed to talk to Tim.

CHAPTER 63

She took her time walking to his office, trying to sort through her thoughts and align her emotions. But nothing could fight the well of anger that sprung inside her. By the time she stood outside Tim’s door, she had reached a decision. She would let him know about Honor’s duplicity, the kindness she used to hide her malice. She would at last expose Honor for the cold and calculating woman Cherry knew her to be.

The fact that Cherry could finally extract justice did not escape her. Even if Natasha had lied about Honor’s involvement with the juice, she surely must have known something was wrong with Cherry. She couldn’t call herself a counselor and be so blind as to miss Cherry’s drunken stupor. Honor should suffer for that if nothing else – for allowing Cherry to self-destruct even while in the facility’s care.

But Honor was already inside Tim’s office. Cherry stopped short when she saw her standing close to him, talking in a low, intimate voice with the door open. Tim saw Cherry waiting in the hall, but he didn’t stop his conversation. He barely even met Cherry’s eyes to acknowledge her.

Cherry felt her hands and feet go cold. She knew she was too late. His past with and trust in Honor—the woman he loved—could not be so easily dismissed. Honor was a master at this game, and Cherry was nothing more than a pawn.

Tim cleared his throat when Honor was finished speaking. Cherry hadn’t heard the woman’s words, but she knew the conversation’s gist. It would be about her and her need to leave the clinic. Surely Honor would have spun it so Cherry was at fault.

“Cherry, what can I do for you?” Tim asked stiffly.

She searched for something to say. Her reason for coming to the office could not now be explained. She shrugged and felt her face grow hot. “I wondered exactly what day I’m going home next week.”

“We were just discussing that,” Honor said sweetly as she turned to face Cherry. “I think it will be Monday.”

Cherry pressed her lips together and nodded. She couldn’t speak, and yet she couldn’t turn and leave. She stood rooted to the floor and gazed first at Honor and then at Tim. Shouldn’t they at least explain themselves?

“Cherry, why don’t you come inside?” Tim asked at last. “Honor has some paperwork to finish. She can get back to that, and you and I will discuss your discharge.”

Cherry nodded dumbly and watched as Honor raised a hand to Tim’s cheek. The woman held his face in her palm for just a moment, and then she breezed out the door and past Cherry with all the authority of a queen.

Tim stood in the doorway and watched until Honor was out of sight. Then he turned to Cherry and spoke. “I know why you’re here.”
Cherry looked around the office then stared at her hands. “I don’t understand why I’m being discharged.”

Tim sighed. “It was Honor’s idea. She’s afraid you’ve grown too attached to me, that you’ve crossed the patient boundary. She said if you don’t leave now, you never will.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid to say anything because I care about you. That could be clouding my judgment, so I have to respect Honor’s decision. I’m sorry, Cherry.”

CHAPTER 64

Cherry sat stoically on her bed and waited for Giovanna and Margaret . Her duffel bag was packed, her few belongings ready to leave when she did. Matt would not be coming—he was at work and, later, would be friends. Cherry dreaded the moment when she would at last see him. Having to be in his house, on his turf, would make their meeting even more uncomfortable.

The knowledge that she wasn’t ready to go home was so tangible she could taste it. The flavor was not pleasant, at once bitter and sour. She rinsed her mouth with water from a plastic cup, but nothing helped. What was done was done. She couldn’t go back to the life she knew because it no longer existed.

“I’m afraid because I don’t have a job, a home, I don’t even have a family. I haven’t spoken to my parents in months,” she recalled telling Tim the night before. “I don’t feel prepared at all.”

She saw the concern in his eyes, but he tried to remain positive. “You’ll get a job. And you don’t have to go home with your husband and mother-in-law. Have you considered calling your parents? That would be a much healthier environment-”

Cherry interrupted him. She couldn’t bear for him to be fooled. “Do you remember that contract Margaret presented to me the last time she was here? The one stipulating I would stay with Matt in exchange for financial security?”

Tim said nothing but sat and watched. Cherry knew he could guess what was to come next. “I signed it. Now I have to go back to him.” Her voice was low and flat. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “If I’m miserable, I have nobody to blame but myself.”

Tim’s face turned red in anger. “How could you have signed that? How could you have been so blind?”

Frustration tied a knot in Cherry’s throat, and she spat words that would haunt her for many days to come. “What difference does it make? You have your life and I have mine. I made my decision…it’s none of your business.”

Now, a nurse quietly entered her room. “Cherry, your family is here. Are you ready to leave?”

Cherry looked up in surprise. She’d rightfully told Tim she didn’t have any family. Her parents had forsaken her, and her husband was nowhere to be found. The two women who now waited for her did so out of duty, not love. But the nurse didn’t want to hear this. Cherry grabbed her bag off the bed and stood up. She took one last look around the room and walked out. Nobody was waiting to bid her farewell. Her only friend had been Tim, and she’d pushed him away because his feelings didn’t match her own.

Outside, she saw Margaret and Giovanna standing next to a dark and expensive-looking car. Cherry felt their expectations like a blanket over her shoulders, and she began to tremble. I’m not ready for this, she said to herself as she walked forward. I don’t want to go back to that house. I don’t want to pretend the situation is fine when I’m living with my cheating husband and one of his pregnant mistresses.

CHAPTER 65

Back at Matt’s house—a place Cherry could never again call home—she noted changes that seemed to cement her status as unwanted guest. Her bedroom was now off the rear of the house, in a room she had once used for the washer and dryer. Meanwhile, those appliances had been moved to the basement. There, Giovanna had also arranged a makeshift living room and kitchen for Cherry’s “private use.”

“This must be Matt’s way of dealing with me,” Cherry complained. She looked around and remembered the house as she had known it: the soft but affordable furniture she and Matt had purchased, the lighthouse curtains she’d had in the kitchen and the lavender bathroom she had painted herself. Now, all those traces had been removed and replaced. The living room contained expensive leather chairs and a matching sofa, the kitchen was modernized with faux wood blinds. Cherry hadn’t been invited to the second floor bathroom; she surmised that part of the house was only for Matt and Giovanna.

“Everything down here is new,” Giovanna replied. Her face revealed nothing. “I selected the furniture myself. I hoped to make it comfortable for you.”

Cherry wanted to feel grateful, but she couldn’t. “Nothing in this house will ever again be comfortable for me. The furniture, the rooms, they’re all irrelevant. What matters is how I feel, and I’m completely lost. I have to live here like a prisoner.”

Giovanna stared without answering. She maintained the same blank look until Cherry decided to explain herself. She drew a breath and sat on the couch. “I don’t still love Matt. If I could, I would file today for divorce. He makes messes and refuses to clean them. Look at the two of us, stuck together while he does what he wants. Even Margaret is off living her life.” Cherry looked at Giovanna. “How did we ever arrive at this point?”

Giovanna’s demeanor was cold and efficient. There had been no talk of her pregnancy, no mention of her earlier visit to Cherry in rehab. The two women were back to being rivals, and it seemed to Cherry they would live obliviously until something split the façade. Today, Giovanna seemed determined to keep Cherry in her place. “I’ll be upstairs,” she said. “I have work to do, and my office is up there.”

She turned to go but stopped before reaching the staircase. She looked back, and Cherry felt the other woman wanted to say something. But the moment passed, and the same icy reserve returned. “It would be best if you spent your time down here. I understand your bedroom is on the main floor, but I’ve tried to keep most of what you need in this space. I suggest we see as little of each other as possible.”

Cherry watched Giovanna go. She wasn’t foolish enough to want to be friends, but she had thought they’d arrived at an understanding during their last talk. Tired and confused, Cherry lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. She knew she could claim marital rights to the house. But putting up a fight seemed like a waste of time. All she really wanted was to leave. Somewhere her life was waiting for her; she just had to find where that place was.

CHAPTER 66

That night, Cherry lay under a blanket on the couch Giovanna had selected for her. It was blue and white plaid, senselessly cheerful for only one person. Giovanna’s attempts to create a comfortable space for Cherry were at odds with her icy conduct. Cherry tried to puzzle out the contrasts but realized she was too tired. She preferred instead to map a new journey for herself. She could not—would not—believe this was the last stop in her life.

She shifted on the couch until she lay on her side with one hand cradling her cheek. Shecould have gone upstairs to her bedroom, but she preferred to stay in the basement. Tomorrow she planned to take whatever was in her bedroom, minus the bed and dresser, and move it downstairs. She knew Giovanna was right—the less contact she had with them, the better. She still hadn’t seen Matt and wasn’t even sure if he’d come home. It didn’t matter to her—their marriage was nothing more than a piece of paper now. Giovanna could have him.

Cherry’s plan was to leave the house and put some distance between her and Matt. She thought about leaving the state altogether and moving someplace warm, maybe Georgia. The basement was damp, and the thought of sun drenched skies warmed her. The thought, however, was fleeting, and she shivered despite herself. She tried to snuggle under the blanket—which was nothing more than a light coverlet—and felt her toes grow cold. The basement really was no place for a person to sleep.

She sighed and remembered the first time she had seen the house. Spectacular windows on the back wall offered an abbreviated view of the lake. It was across the street and behind a seawall, but for Cherry it had been enough. She had genuinely tried to make the house as beautiful as possible, not only to enhance its natural charm, but also to demonstrate her love for Matt. Their marriage vows had meant something to her, she had believed in her heart they would spend the rest of their lives together.

Something her ex-husband’s grandfather had once told her came to mind. The memory startled Cherry even as the truth of his statement resonated throughout her body. “You can only know a person as well as they let you know them.” Matt had certainly only revealed of himself what he wanted. He’d kept his true character hidden, and in so doing had changed the course of Cherry’s life forever.

It felt odd to be in a space so familiar and yet totally unfamiliar. She heard a noise from upstairs and thought it might be the house settling. She had never understood that often-used explanation – “It’s just the house settling” – and couldn’t be comforted by it now. The realization that she was alone in the dark basement struck her anew. She stood from the couch at once, her earlier cold replaced by fear. Her ears perked at another sound, and Cherry abandoned the basement altogether. She would sleep upstairs, Matt and Giovanna be damned.

She fumbled in the dark, bumping her leg against the coffee table, and raced up the steps as fast as she could. Her heart raced. She was afraid of what lurked in the yawning dark behind her. Hurry, her mind screamed as she reached the door to the main house. She put her hand on the knob and burst into the kitchen, gasping for air. 

Whatever Cherry had expected did not greet her. No ghouls swarmed around her body. Instead, she found Giovanna lying on the tiled floor, her nightgown bunched up around her waist. Cherry’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at the kitchen table. A pair of knitting needles caught her eye, their aluminum gleaming in the dark. She knew without being told what Giovanna had tried to do.

On wobbly legs, Cherry made her way to Giovanna. The woman’s moans were deep and primitive, the same sounds that countless other women had uttered in response to unwanted pregnancies. “Are you alright?” Cherry whispered. She could barely speak around the fear in her throat.

Giovanna’s eyes were glazed when she looked at Cherry. The two never spoke – Giovanna winced and fainted.

CHAPTER 67

At the hospital, Cherry had to lie to the nurses in order to see Giovanna. “I’m her sister,” she said. She couldn’t fight an indescribable need to make sure Giovanna was alright. The woman’s health shouldn’t matter to her, but the scene in the kitchen it did.

Two of the nurses eyed each other before one turned to Cherry. “Follow me.”

She led Cherry down the corridor and into a sterile room. The hospital was hushed, the scent of disinfectant competing with that of illness. Cherry crinkled her nose in distaste but said nothing.

The nurse turned to Cherry at the door. “Take it easy on her,” she said in a serious voice. “She’s had a traumatic night. I wouldn’t ask any questions until morning.”

Cherry nodded. She had to know one thing. “Is the baby ok?”

The nurse’s face was grim. “Yes. But if she does it again, she might not be so lucky a second time.” She ducked and left Cherry alone in the hallway.

Cherry walked inside Giovanna’s room and glanced around. Everything was white—the walls, window blinds, bed sheets, and even the blankets. She stifled a yawn, it was three in the morning, and looked at Giovanna. The slim and chic Italian looked like a child lying still in the bed. Her eyes, rimmed with purple smudges, were open. Cherry thought she’d never seen such a blank stare before.
“Are you alright?” she whispered, afraid of the answer she might get.

Giovanna’s gaze focused on Cherry. She held it a moment before asking her own question. “Why are you here?” When Cherry didn’t answer, Giovanna turned her head. She looked too fragile to talk, and yet she seemed to need to speak. “It’s no secret why I did this, you know. I don’t want Matt’s baby.”

Cherry jumped at the chance to convince Giovanna otherwise. This was just the opening she had needed. She spoke fervently. “It’s not just his. It’s yours, too.”

Giovanna waved a thin hand in the air. “Of course. But imagine who would have more influence. My family is in Italy. His is here, and his mother is the mayor. What chance will I have to keep the baby from being like Matt?”

Cherry considered the question. An image of Margaret, always cool and in control, slid to the forefront of her mind. Giovanna had a point, she conceded silently. Margaret’s force was undeniable, and Giovanna seemed to have lost some of her swagger. Perhaps being on the other side of an adulterous relationship had changed her.

“You came to me once for help, and I’m still available to give it.” She paused. “It seems that you’re giving in to Matt and his mother.”

“Just as you once did.” Giovanna’s voice was hard and ugly. “Look at yourself, Cherry. Look at both of us. You said it yourself—we’re in this mess because of Matt. What do we do about it?”

CHAPTER 68

After Giovanna fell asleep, Cherry took a taxi home. The driver dropped her at the curb and she drew a deep breath before walking into the dark house. It had been a while since she had been there alone, although the blank rooms and still air were eerily familiar. They brought back memories of her marriage, that awful time when Matt was cheating and she was drinking.

She moved through the empty house without seeing. She recalled her desperation to stay married, the self-destructive love that had possessed her. Then, alone in the bedroom she had once shared with Matt, she switched on a light and looked around.

Everything had been purchased new except the bed—her bed.  Cherry shuddered to think she had once lain there with Matt. She ran her hand over the blanket, soft and silky to the touch. Her thoughts turned to Giovanna, a woman who would have been much better suited to Matt than Cherry was. Her taste was impeccable—Cherry couldn’t help but notice how much better the house looked under her tutelage. The colorful throw rugs scattered on hardwood floors, the elegant pillows to offset the leather living room furniture and the subtle cream and brown décor in the bedroom.

Giovanna was sophisticated. Cherry had known that right from the start. She was chic and confident, so much so that she allowed herself to get involved with a married man. Then she stayed in the relationship, even knowing his wife was still very much in the picture. Or perhaps, Cherry thought, that only made her a fool.

She stood from the bed and wandered around the spacious room. All of her things had, of course, been moved out of there. She wondered who had been responsible for packing and folding her clothes—Matt or Giovanna? Cherry realized in all likelihood a maid service had been paid to do the distasteful job.

She fingered a silver frame on the dresser and saw it contained a photo of Giovanna and another man—probably her father, Cherry guessed. He was much older but looked distinguished. Like Giovanna he had dark hair and wide, dark eyes. In the photo beside him, Giovanna’s eyes sparkled and cheeks glowed.

Cherry had almost forgotten how beautiful the other woman was. She didn’t need to think too hard to surmise why Matt had fallen in love with the lovely  Italian—she was everything a sophisticated woman should be. But some of her gloss had worn to a thin veneer, Cherry realized. Matt’s games and infidelity had taken a toll even on Giovanna. Her hair had lost some of its luster, her skin looked a little slack and tired. Certainly she’d gained weight with pregnancy, but the true changes in her appearance were because of unhappiness.

Cherry remembered the defeated look in Giovanna’s eyes at the hospital. Matt was wearing her down, anyone could see that. Cherry set the photo back down and realized Giovanna had become just another one of Matt’s victims. She couldn’t help but ask herself how many there were. Would anyone ever know the extent of his cheating, his lying? Cherry knew she had been taken for a fool by both Matt and Giovanna. She switched the light off in the bedroom and realized she minded that the most. It was one thing to be lied to…it was another to be treated like a doormat.

CHAPTER 69

Cherry fell asleep on the couch fully dressed. It felt just like old times, so much so that she had to remind herself she was not  waiting for her cheating husband to stumble in the door. The leather was soft and surprisingly warm. She shut her eyes and slept hard for several hours…the ordeal with Giovanna had exhausted her.

When she woke, she felt disoriented. She sat up and looked around, one hand automatically moving to the back of her neck. She had a crick. Her mouth felt dry. And instinctively she knew Matt was standing behind her, watching every move she made. She knew she was at a distinct disadvantage. In the watery sunlight, she glanced down at the outfit she was wearing—jeans and a faded pink shirt. Not very glamorous. She knew now he liked his women sleek, able to turn heads when they walked into a room. That description just didn’t fit her.

Cherry was afraid to look up and meet Matt’s gaze. She picked a loose strand of fuzz from her leg and straightened her shirt. Then she realized her hair was probably ratted and raised a hand to smooth it. She caught herself just in time, wondering what on earth she was doing. Her appearance was irrelevant. All that mattered was surviving this next phase of her life.

Embarrassed, Cherry took the first plunge. She did not turn around to speak. She simply opened her mouth and let the words drift from her lips. “I didn’t mean to be in here when you got home.” Her voice wobbled. “I’m going to grab some clothes out of my bedroom and head downstairs.” The basement seemed much less threatening with the arrival of daylight. It also afforded the space she needed from Matt. She rose from the couch, expecting Matt to wander down the hall so she could quietly leave.

But he did just the opposite. He spoke, his words clear and his tone conversational. “Is Giovanna pregnant?”

Caught off guard, Cherry answered without thinking. “Yes.” She looked up and met his gaze. She had forgotten how tall he was. He held a paper cup in one hand. His clothes looked expensive, his hair well-groomed. Cherry wondered if the change in his appearance was the result of Giovanna’s money.

He nodded in satisfaction. “I thought so.” He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. “I think she’s afraid to tell me because
she did it deliberately.”

There it was, the moment in which she should have excused herself from the room and made her way to her own space. Whatever else Giovanna may be, she was pregnant with Matt’s child. She was also lying in a hospital bed as they spoke. She deserved at least a nod of respect.

But Cherry, dazzled by Matt’s attention and caught in a self-made trap, stood her ground. She forgot all she knew and let herself cross the very line she was trying so hard to draw. “How’s your coffee?” she asked Matt. The question was inane, and his response would be equally tepid. None of that mattered to Cherry – she wanted only to be the one who caught Matt’s eyes. Somehow, with the briefest of looks and the barest exchange of words, she was once again lost.

Matt smiled. “It’s terrific. You know how I like my caffeine.” It was so unusual for him to speak kindly to her that Cherry hung on every word. “Are you happy to be home?”

He was so smooth, so sure of himself. Cherry envied his confidence.  She owed him nothing, and yet she felt compelled to please him. “Sure.” She hated herself for sounding so desperate, but she would not share with him her inner battles. To Matt, she needed to be something more than a recovering alcoholic and discarded wife. She needed to be OK, if only in his eyes. “It’s great.”

CHAPTER 70

The punishing words, the endless hurt, even the fact that Matt had strayed during their marriage – it all fled from Cherry’s mind. As if Matt had snapped his fingers and performed a magic trick, Cherry found herself catapulted back in time. She remembered the exquisite joy she had felt in marrying Matt. The sense that she would never again worry about being alone – she would always belong to somebody. She had felt young and ready for the next turn of events, expecting only good things because that’s what joy brought. Life had been so fresh and exciting, like a fruit newly blossomed and ready for plucking from the vine.

Cherry remembered quiet nights before the television with, her feet nestled snugly in Matt’s lap. She remembered his coming home with peanut butter fudge he had selected just for her. At one time, Matt had been the easiest person in the world for her to be with. She had, after all, married him. Something important had once existed between them, and Cherry now needed to know he had felt for her what she thought he had. She needed to know that love hadn’t existed only in her mind.

But perfect lovers can look like perfect fools. Cherry could not reach far enough back to remember she and Matt had little in common. She did not recall telling Tim once they were like two pianos, one playing high notes and the other playing low. “The problem is our notes had never blended, had never created a singular song that climbed to a crescendo and then, having reached its desired pitch, slowed and floated until finally gelling with the heavens.”

Tim had been impressed with the analogy. “You said that perfectly,” he complimented.

Cherry had laughed. “I have no idea where that came from. Must be all this personal work I’m doing on myself.”

Giovanna returned home from the hospital and forced Matt into their bedroom for a talk. Like a voyeur, Cherry sat in the living room with her ear cocked. She clearly heard Giovanna ask Matt where he spent his evenings lately. Although she couldn’t hear his answer, she realized it didn’t matter. Simply knowing his interest in Giovanna was waning filled her with hope.

“Your desire lasts only as long as the chase,” Giovanna retorted. Unlike Matt, she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “Once the pursuit is finished, you move along. But women don’t want to be chased and then dropped. The world just doesn’t work that way.”

As always, Cherry couldn’t help but be impressed with Giovanna’s accurate reading of the situation. When Matt emerged from the bedroom, he looked a little ruffled but otherwise in-tact. In that moment, Cherry knew he no longer cared for Giovanna. The thought made her hot and cold at the same time. If he turned away from his mistress as he had once turned away from Cherry, might he not want to work on his marriage?

Dimly, Cherry knew that coming home had been a mistake—it put her face-to-face with her enemy. With the dim haze of alcohol lifted, she saw how empty she was inside. No friends, no job, no lover. She longed for someone to make her feel alive. And for lack of imagination, Matt was her chosen target.

That’s why when he walked out of the bedroom that day, she halted him with a gentle hand. He looked at her in surprise but didn’t try to skirt her touch. Cherry took the opportunity to ask the most important question of her life. “I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I’ve wondered for so long…why did you marry me?”

Matt blinked. The answer he gave was so simple, so direct, that it made her heart flip. “Because I loved you.”

CHAPTER 70

Cherry’s head swirled. She reached behind her for the sofa—she needed something to prop her up. Nothing had prepared her for Matt’s words. Now, having heard them, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. The rush of her emotion made her feel fragile, and she didn’t want Matt to see her that way. She wanted him to see her as strong and capable, a woman who could love and be loved.

Back in the house they shared, still connected by a legal and binding marriage, Cherry couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. In rehab she had accepted the finality of her marriage. She had even accepted Giovanna’s pregnancy. But now, standing face to face with the man she had never stopped loving, she wondered at the future. She wanted to believe they could break out of the past and start again. She wanted somebody to take away the emptiness that sat like a hollow in her stomach. Otherwise, the pain of living with Matt and Giovanna was all for nothing, and she didn’t know how much more nothingness she could take.

“And Giovanna?” she asked Matt in a trembling voice.

“What about her?”

“Do you love her?”

Matt showed no surprise at the bold question. He stayed cool and calm. “You can love a lot of people in one lifetime. Many, many people.” He paused as, from down the hall, they heard the bedroom door opened. They both turned and watched Giovanna walk down the hall. Cherry could tell by the pained expression on her face that she was unwell. The sight stirred Cherry’s sympathy, but not enough to wish Giovanna a life of happiness with Matt.

“What about you, Cherry?” Matt asked. He turned back to his wife. “Who have you loved?”

“You,” she replied honestly.

“Not your first husband?”

Cherry thought back to Nathan and that time in her life when she’d been enveloped first in joy and then despair. The memory was still too painful, and she pushed it aside. “Like you said,” she replied lightly, “you can love many people in one lifetime.”

Matt chuckled. Giovanna had almost reached them. Giovanna had almost reached them. Cherry knew that once the mistress made her appearance, the conversation with Matt would be finished. She rushed to ask another question. “What went wrong with us?”

Matt’s face was kind. “Sometimes people just don’t make it.”

Cherry nodded, her mind was transfixed on something she had seen. Matt’s eyes were alight with an emotion she’d not before witnessed. Mistaking it for fondness, she felt her heart beat faster.

But the emotion Cherry saw was pity. Matt had exhausted himself on hatred for his wife – now he only pitied her desperation.

CHAPTER 71

Giovanna’s pregnancy was difficult. She was well beyond the first trimester, but her morning sickness persisted. The only thing she wanted was ginger ale, lightly flavored with fresh lemon. “It helps my stomach,” she said weakly as Cherry handed her a cold glass. The bedroom was dark and, without sunlight or fresh air, smelled sour.

Cherry straightened the blankets on the bed. They were ruffled and messy, caught between Giovanna’s legs to reveal white, swollen ankles. Cherry ignored the sight and, having smoothed the counterpane, glanced at Giovanna. “Would it help if you ate something?”

Giovanna tilted the glass and took a small sip of ginger ale, ice cubes clinking together. When finished, she let out a long sigh. “It would help if I didn’t lie here and think of things that might have been.”

Cherry didn’t want to hear anymore, she was tired of the same complaining. But she felt compelled to ask. “What do you mean?”

“I should be happy. I’m expecting a baby. Yet all I think about is going home. To Italy. That’s where I want to be, and that’s where my baby should be born.”

She put the glass down and struggled to sit up. Cherry watched as her face twisted in discomfort. “This house and this situation are poison.”

“There’s nothing to be done. You can’t leave in your condition.”

Giovanna’s eyes narrowed. “You would have me out of here in a flash, nightgown and all, if you thought you’d get Matt back.” Cherry’s cheeks flushed a hard red. “I don’t blame you,” Giovanna continued. “But look beyond his charm. Matt is nothing more than a pretty face and empty words.”

Cherry stared for a moment and then turned on her heel. If Giovanna felt that way, why had she stayed with Matt?

In the living room, Cherry tried to examine her own actions and was embarrassed at what she found. Giovanna was right—she
would love to see the woman leave. She helped take care of her only out of a sense of obligation. Giovanna was so weak she couldn’t stand in the shower by herself. Matt usually sponge bathed her and washed her hair in a pail from the garage. Taking care of his mistress and unborn child was an exhausting job.

But still he didn’t come home on some nights. Cherry longed to ask where he went, with whom he stayed. She knew in her bones he was with another woman. It shouldn’t have bothered her—it was easier to let him do what he wanted and just be happy for the roof over her head. But the groove in her heart was like a well-worn path, and it was there because of Matt. She’d learned to live without him in rehab, but now she couldn’t remember how the rift had ever grown between them. Perhaps Giovanna was the only one to blame.

Eager to please, Cherry occasionally cooked a meal after Matt got home. He presumably went to work during the day, although Cherry no longer knew for whom he worked or what he did. She knew Giovanna’s money – earned from an online consulting firm – supported the three of them. The situation was odd, but Cherry learned not to dwell on unseemly subjects. It was too easy to remember the numbing strength of alcohol, the way it pushed aside unwanted thoughts and feelings. To keep herself from wanting a drink, she learned to live without introspection.

Once Cherry surprised Matt with a meatloaf. He fussed over it and asked for seconds. She eagerly filled his plate and felt, briefly, like a wife. Another night she cooked tacos, and in a burst of ambition she even made grilled salmon and creamy risotto for his birthday. He scraped the plate and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. “That was a really sweet gesture,” he said as he handed over his dirty dishes.

Cherry smiled. The warmth that had suddenly sprung in the house felt pleasant, and she longed to hold onto it. But Giovanna saw everything, and Cherry could not ignore her watchful eyes. Filled with hurt and reproach, they reminded Cherry she was not free to enjoy her wifely duties. She was not free to enjoy anything.

CHAPTER 72

Giovanna’s family sent over an Italian woman to ease the burden of her pregnancy. Cherry was unclear as to how this transpired; perhaps Giovanna told them of her perpetual sickness and asked for assistance, or perhaps they sensed their daughter’s struggle with the life growing inside her. Surely they knew nothing of her recent dalliance with the metal clothes hanger. Cherry knew nothing about Giovanna’s heritage, but she could guess at the love her family shared. She didn’t think they would have responded lightly to their daughter’s desperation.

Adalina showed up the second week in March, when Giovanna was six months along. She was a no-nonsense woman with a head of short, ginger-colored curls. Her ample bosom and wide waist reminded Cherry of soft dough. Adalina’s personality, however, was anything but soft. Face free of makeup, she favored blouses layered under large sweaters. A small pair of diamond studs and a gold
cross necklace were her only items of adornment. She reserved her smiles for Giovanna. Cherry received cold, blank stares that made her heart tighten in fear.

“You need a job,” she informed Cherry upon her arrival. She installed herself in the bedroom across from Matt and Giovanna. Her tattered suitcases were unpacked and neatly stowed in the closet before Cherry fully grasped her presence. “A young woman with nothing to do asks only for trouble.”

Cherry’s face flushed. Adalina had been in the house less than one hour and was already trying to mold it into shape.

She eyed Cherry accusingly. “What are you doing with your life?”

Cherry cleared her throat and started to speak, but Adalina beat her to it. “My Giovanna has written to me.” In the back of her mind, Cherry gathered that Adalina was a family member. The woman’s accent was thick and ensconced in Cherry images of Italy: plump tomatoes scattered on kitchen counters, bustling women cooking for large families, bottles of red wine poured into stemmed glasses. “She’s told me about you. She thinks you’re a fool, but, caspita, my Giovanna is not heartless. She wants you to
be happy.” Adalina adjusted the small-framed glasses on her face. “What do you want for yourself?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. It seemed she didn’t even expect one. Adalina simply turned away, crossed the hall and walked into Giovanna’s bedroom. She closed the door behind her, effectively sending the message that Cherry was not welcome. Cherry tried to shrug off the insult—nothing the old Italian woman said should matter. She didn’t know Cherry. She was there for an altogether
different purpose—to deliver Giovanna of Matt’s child—and naturally didn’t want Cherry in the way.

Cherry felt shaky. The sight of the cross necklace had made an impression. It seemed to give Adalina a sense of authority and righteousness that Cherry couldn’t ignore. She hadn’t thought about religion in a long time. She didn’t want to think about it now—she had strayed far from her Catholic roots—but Adalina’s presence forced her to take stock.

CHAPTER 73

Adalina devoted herself to Giovanna—she cooked fragrant, nourishing meals in the tradition of her Italian ancestors. Grilled polenta, pasta with broccoli rabe and white beans, chicken and feta on toast, and gnocchi with tomatoes and wilted watercress. Each day, after the noon meal settled, she patiently washed and brushed Giovanna’s hair. While Giovanna napped, she washed linens and prepared supper. She was always busy, even when she sat in the chair at Giovanna’s bedside. Then she knitted or read her Bible, a leather-bound book worn down with age.

Matt was pushed out of his own bed so Giovanna could regain her strength. He began sleeping on the couch without complaint, but Cherry could see the old restlessness. He wore it like a mantle. She knew without being told he didn’t want to be stuck in a house with his wife, pregnant mistress and a middle-aged Italian woman. Within a few weeks of Adalina’s arrival, Matt clearly found refuge somewhere else – the time he spent at home became nothing more than brief visits.

Adalina and Giovanna pretended not to notice, but Cherry couldn’t rise above the circumstances. She spent evenings with one ear cocked for his key in the door. Once he arrived home, she allowed herself to relax.

“You spend too much time worrying about men,” Adalina told her. Curled on the couch, Cherry turned and watched Adalina fold towels. It’s true she was supposed to be in the basement, but the feeling of isolation down there chilled her to the bone. She sat upstairs as much as possible just to feel like she belonged.

“You have nothing to do? I’ll give you something.” Adalina wore her usual scowl. “Learn a skill, something valuable. Go to the kitchen and cook, or go outside and plant a garden. You sit, always, and let your mind sit, too. Caspita, that’s why you’re so uninteresting. You do nothing, have nothing to say.”

The words cut through Cherry like a knife. She wanted to hurt back. “If Giovanna wasn’t here, I might be motivated. But there she is, around the clock, constantly watching. Maybe she’s the one who needs to find something to do.”

Adalina shook her head. “You cannot blame your troubles on my Giovanna. She had her own, you know. It’s not easy for her to watch you with your husband.”

“What is she watching? There’s nothing to see.”

“Precisely.” Adalina’s voice was triumphant, and Cherry knew she had walked into a trap. “There’s nothing to see because the marriage is dead. Caspita, you are in danger of losing yourself.”

Cherry wanted to lash out, to defend herself before these accusations. But she could think of no words – Adalina was right. She felt exhausted by her attempts to mentally glue together something that just wouldn’t mend. It’s true Matt had lately been cordial, friendly even. Although it meant much to her, she knew it didn’t to him. The dinners, the light flirtations, even their fleeting moments of honesty with each other – nothing had changed between them, and Cherry knew it. Matt had not approached her for a reconciliation, he hadn’t even given her a hug.

As if sensing Cherry’s dark thoughts, Adalina sighed. “You must not trick yourself into thinking Giovanna is in a better position than you, caspita. She’s not. The difference is she realizes it. And she does not yearn for love – she wants only to have a home for her baby. Surely you understand her desperation.”

Yes, Cherry thought silently. I understand her desperation. But I’m not ready to give up yet. I can’t…there’s nothing else for me.

CHAPTER 74

Under Adalina’s constant care, some of the color came back into Giovanna’s cheeks. She seemed better, stronger. Cherry could see her growing belly under the bed sheets and wondered what kind of child would be brought into their lives. An articulate boy? A girl talented in the arts?

Rather than heed Adalina’s advice, Cherry learned to avoid the woman’s wrath. She looked for things to do and organized the hall closet, alphabetized the movie collection in the living room and rearranged her bedroom. The activities were meaningless, and yet she took a small pleasure in doing them. It felt good to be busy.

The three women fell into a makeshift routine – Adalina cooked breakfast and lunch while Cherry usually prepared supper. Giovanna occasionally rose to wander from her bedroom. Cherry made herself scarce then and retreated to the basement, where she watched television. But for most of the day Giovanna and Adalina stayed inside the master bedroom, their voices speaking softly as Cherry performed menial tasks.

An invisible but tangible wall separated Cherry from the other two women, and she couldn’t help but envy their closeness. Adalina genuinely cared for Giovanna, and Cherry recognized for the first time in her life the different forms in which love exists. She saw Giovanna’s face light up with Adalina and understood relationships of all kinds have strength and bring pleasure. It was an interesting spin from what she had always believed – that romantic love is the only kind a person should cherish.

This introspection was interrupted by Matt, who rudely walked in the door around seven o’clock one morning. He bore all the signs of a rowdy night – rumpled shirt, choppy hair and the peculiar odor of sweat and beer. As ever, he didn’t offer an explanation. He merely let himself in the door and slinked through the house.

Cherry remembered other times when Matt had chosen a long night with a strange woman instead of home, and she felt herself grow angry. Her rage wasn’t necessarily for herself, but rather for Matt’s lack of emotion. He needed to be held accountable.

Adalina apparently felt the same way. She had kept silent for some time where Matt’s activities were concerned. Cherry didn’t know if she sought to protect Giovanna or just maintain peace. Now, however, Cherry watched from her makeshift bed on the couch as Adalina switched on the hall light. Matt stopped dead in his tracks, clearly unprepared to answer questions.

“Santa Patata,” Adalina swore. Her whole body quivered with anger. “Are you finished amusing yourself for the night? Is that why you come home, to throw your filthy laundry in the hamper and wash the stink from your body? Then you go out and do it all over again?”

Matt stumbled. Hidden by shadows, Cherry was free to watch. She saw his eyes were still bleary with drink and knew he would hate the confrontation. And yet Adalina’s words seemed to simply skim off him. His face betrayed no emotion.

Adalina stood directly before him and spoke with her lips just inches from his. “My daughter is in there fighting for her life and for your baby. Have you no compassion at all?”

Cherry’s head reeled—Adalina was Giovanna’s mother? Before she could map out this fact in her mind, she realized she shouldn’t be in the room with Matt and Adalina. Their argument had nothing to do with her. But she couldn’t fight the urge to listen. She wanted—no, needed—to hear what Matt said for himself.

But he disappointed her. He didn’t try to excuse or explain himself. “Go back to bed,” was all he said to Adalina. The words came out slow and thick, his mouth struggling to form them. He started to brush past Adalina in his usual dismissive manner, but the older woman caught his arm.

“You’ll get yours,” she hissed. Matt shook his arm free and headed for the spare bedroom Cherry was meant to sleep in. “Women, drugs and booze…it’ll catch up with you sooner or later,” Adalina called after him. He closed the door and turned the lock so nobody could bother him.

Cherry said nothing for several long moments. She wasn’t even sure if Adalina knew she was in the living room. Except for the dim hallway light, the house was cast in dark. But eventually the woman spoke. “That is your husband,” she said in a heavy voice.
She stood rooted to the same spot. “Remember this morning and the way he smelled and looked. It’s easy to forget when someone pretends to be what you want. But nobody’s mask stays in place for long.”

Cherry watched, her face still hidden, as Adalina shuffled back to her bedroom. After she closed the door, Cherry was again by herself.

She rose from the couch 30 minutes later. Then she took a shower, dressed in the best outfit she had—black pants and a pink blouse, both of which were rough against her skin—and walked to the bus stop. She rode with the morning light streaming through the windows until she reached the rehab facility where she had spent more than six months of her life. A chill ran down her spine as she walked inside the familiar building, but she kept moving. Outside Tim’s office door, she knocked once and then walked inside. “Will you give me a job?” she said to his startled face.

CHAPTER 75

Tim’s face revealed his surprise. “I take it you’ve recovered from your anger with me?”

Cherry swallowed. She knew that going to him would be a gamble, but he was the only one she could think of when overcome with the urge to rebuild her life. Watching Matt stumble into the house that morning had proven what she already knew: he would never change. After finally admitting the fact to herself, she realized she could no longer sit and wait for something to happen. She needed to take action for herself.

Watching Cherry’s face, Tim switched tactics. He leaned in his chair – a familiar pose Cherry had seen many times – and eyed Cherry carefully. “What kind of job?”

Relief flooded Cherry’s veins. “Anything,” she said eagerly. “Anything. I can file, answer phones, work in the library. Just tell me what you need.”

“Why do you want to work here?”

The answer came before Cherry could think. “I’m comfortable here, and I desperately need to do something. I can’t sit at home and let the wold spin while I stand still. I have to stop wasting my life.” She looked down at her hands, which she noticed were the color of chalk. “I will prove myself to you. I’ve messed up many times, I know, but I think I’m on a better path…”

She let the sentence hang there, but Tim understood. His chair creaked as he leaned forward. Cherry noticed his hair had been recently cut, and he wore what appeared to be a new sweater. He looked well, and she felt suddenly nervous to be in front of him. Surely he must think she had lost her mind to just barge into his office unannounced.

But Tim had always been good on his feet, and Cherry’s unexpected visit didn’t rattle him. At least, not that Cherry could see. He had been surprised but now seemed perfectly composed. “I do have something you can do,” he said at last. “We need a patient advocate. You probably don’t know this, but a lot of women in this facility are here because they’ve been in trouble with the law. Your role would be to attend court hearings with them, possibly speak on their behalf and ensure they received the treatment recommended by the court. You’d be a go-between.”

Cherry thought for a moment. She had envisioned herself as a receptionist or file clerk, not a professional. “You trust me with those responsibilities?”

Tim ignored her question. “I would also need you to perform some community outreach. We want to get into schools and other organizations to discuss the impact of addiction. Are you comfortable with public speaking?”

“No.”

Tim sighed. His tone was impatient. “Look, do you want the job or not? I can’t hold your hand, Cherry. You came to me, and now I’m offering you the best that I can. What do you want to do?”

For once, Cherry did not hesitate. As seriously as she could, she answered. “I want the job. I’ll learn to do public speaking. When do I start?”

His look softened. “You never stop surprising me.” He picked up a pen from the desk and started tapping it against a pad of paper. “Can you start next Monday?”

Cherry nodded. “Yes. But I have to know, why are you giving me this chance?”

“You’ve been through what these girls are facing. You can help them realize there’s more to the world than what they see. They’re so wrapped up in their addictions they can’t look beyond themselves.” Tim paused. “You do feel up to this, don’t you?”

Cherry rose from her seat. Tim was wise—if she stayed too long, he would see that she herself had only started to see the many dimensions of life. She didn’t want him to know just how desperate she was to have work. That was the first step in claiming her independence. From there, she would begin to earn money and could then – finally – get a home of her own. Once she was out of the house, she would at last be free of Matt and Giovanna. To hell with that contract of Margaret’s, she thought. I can’t stay with those two another moment.

Remembering where she was, Cherry collected her thoughts. “I’m up to it,” she replied. Despite her insecurity, she already felt a glimmer of strength. Getting out was good for her. “But what will Honor think?”

“Honor doesn’t work here anymore.”

Cherry couldn’t stop herself from asking the next question. “Are the two of you still together?”

Tim sighed again. “Good bye, Cherry. I’ll see you Monday morning at eight.”

“Wait,” Cherry said. “I have one more question. Is Natasha still here?”

A puzzled look crossed Tim’s face, and then he remembered. “Natasha…yes, she just got re-admitted a few days ago.” He frowned before he spoke again. “It will be ideal for her to see you and your progress. She’s not doing well – if she doesn’t turn her life around, I don’t expect her to make it.”

CHAPTER 76

Cherry rode the bus back home and saw without really seeing all the other riders. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Honor, who to Cherry had always seemed in charge of the rehab facility. Now Tim was clearly in charge, and Cherry couldn’t help but wonder why Honor had left.

She recalled having speculated that Matt and Honor were engaged in an affair. Natasha had planted the seed when she told Cherry the two had collaborated to keep Cherry in rehab. The bus made a stop at the local shopping center, and Cherry sighed. Of course
Natasha could not be trusted as a reliable source of information. She had her own demons to battle, and she certainly hadn’t proven a friend to Cherry. So why had she once made such a damaging accusation?

Cherry shrugged off her doubts. She was relieved to not have to work alongside Honor. They had never mended their differences, and having to tolerate each other in the same place of employment would have been difficult. Funny, Cherry thought as she slumped in the bus seat, but I never even thought of Honor when I decided to see Tim. I only thought of the help he’d given me in the past.

The bus stopped at her block, and Cherry grabbed her old brown purse and stepped onto the sidewalk. She turned the corner and saw her house – Matt’s house, she corrected herself silently. Long ago, at the beginning of her marriage, she had felt a sense of welcome each time she pulled into the driveway. The orange brick and sand-colored siding had always reminded her of a warm sunset. It had not been the hous eof her choosing, but she’d made it her home both mentally and figuratively the moment she took Matt’s last name.

No longer did the house beckon to her. Inside its walls were secrets, lies and feelings too deep for wading. Inside that house Cherry had almost drowned. It was no wonder she now hated its shape, its unique location in the world. She wanted something the house and its owner could never give her – security.

She opened the door and went upstairs, the main floor, in search of Adalina. Surprisingly, he was the first person Cherry had thought of after accepting Tim’s job offer. Cherry wanted to see her reaction when she heard the good news.

But Adalina offered no words of cheer or praise. She continued chopping vegetables near the sink and asked a pointed question. “Have you told your parents?”

Cherry stared at her. “No… I’ve not spoken to them in quite some time.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Cherry let her voice trail off. To answer the question truthfully, she would have to tell Adalina they didn’t approve of Cherry’s choices in life—the drinking, her marriage, living in a home filled with sin. With that thought, Cherry’s eyes wandered to the cross around Adalina’s neck. “I might start attending church,” she said uncertainly.

“Church!” Adalina’s tone was mocking. “What would you do in church? Pray to God to restore love to your miserable marriage?”

Cherry felt the elation of her job drain from her body. She shouldn’t have expected anything else from Adalina, but somehow she had believed the woman would be happy for her. Now, she realized she should have kept the news to herself. “If I went to church, it would be in search of comfort. I can’t seem to find much of that these days.”

Adalina missed the sarcasm. She stopped chopping and faced Cherry. “You get right with yourself, and Lord Jesus will offer you comfort.” She turned back to the cutting board. “So when are you going to tell your parents the good news?”

Cherry began to make excuses, to protest that they didn’t care. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. They sounded hollow even in her own mind. She knew her parents cared—they just hadn’t been able to cope with the disaster of Cherry’s life. Both of them had stepped to the side, waiting silently until their daughter found the path she was supposed to be take. Not the one she chosen out of fear and misjudgment.

She tapped her fingers on one end of the kitchen counter. The thought of going home and seeing her family filled her with a new kind of hope. She realized that’s where she wanted to be – in the safety of the dwelling her parents had created. The dining room with wood paneling, the yard that gave way to field, the powder blue living room. All those details brought a burst of love to Cherry’s heart for her parents.

An image of her mother fussing in the kitchen and her father tinkering in the basement rose to the surface. Cherry hadn’t thought about them in so long, but suddenly the urge to be in their presence was overwhelming. She stood up straight. “I’ll be back later,” she told Adalina. “I’m going to see my mom right now.”

She grabbed her purse and headed again for the door. Once Cherry was out of the house, Adalina allowed herself a small smile. She could see that Cherry was finally learning to live.