Strength For Tomorrow

[Based on Lillian Hellman's The Children's Hour]

Chapter 1

It had happened again. Karen had broken her heart once more with that horrible, empty word.

Martha, who had been standing with her back pressed helplessly against the door ever since her retreat to her room, sank down to the floor and let her tear-stained face fall to her knees. Somehow she had hoped that finally pouring her soul out to Karen would keep her best friend from using that word to brush the truth aside as she had for as long as Martha could remember. Anytime they argued or the subject took an unfavorable turn, the ever sweet and positive Karen would say it.

"Why don't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"It will all be better tomorrow, you'll see."

"Tomorrow we'll pick ourselves up."

Tomorrow…how could Karen even bear the thought of it? God couldn't possibly let Martha live this one down. Hell, she wasn't even sure that He should. True, the little demon had started the rumor, but Martha was just sure Mary had sensed it. The way those little eyes bored into her as they passed in the hallways of the schoolhouse always gave Martha chills. Mary had seen right through her all along. *The shocking nature of Martha's relationship with Karen that the child had professed knowledge of was in fact the lie with one ounce of truth. *

Martha Dobie had loved Karen Wright, though she may not have called it love back then, from the moment she laid eyes on her. The smart, skinny girl of sixteen spied the beautiful, curvy blonde on a sunny September afternoon from across the schoolyard. Martha felt this feeling rise up in her chest – a warm feeling that would surely shine brighter than every star in the sky were it not encompassed within her lanky, awkward frame. Martha clutched her books tight to her bosom in an effort to conceal her feelings and slowly began to back away, never letting her gaze fall from this strangely alluring sight.

The girl's golden curls bounced slightly as she threw her head back in an adorable and melodious laugh. The soft rays of late afternoon sunlight traced the outline of her small, yet perfectly shaped lips. Martha drew in quick, quiet breath as she noticed the way her skirt drifted away from those sloping hips and met her tight, white blouse that buttoned all the way up her chest and accentuated those exquisite –

The chain link fence rattled noisily as Martha unconsciously backed straight into it. As several of her classmates whirled around to find an embarrassed Martha, she stooped down to pick up her cardigan in hopes of avoiding eye contact and drowning out the ridiculing snickers. The warm feeling that had arisen in her chest was now residing between her thighs, and she suddenly felt as though she had snuck into a room that she had been forbidden to enter.

Martha draped the tan sweater back over her shoulders and turned to take the back way home when she felt a new and greater warmth as a kind hand touched her shoulder.

"Hey, where are you off to in such a hurry?" The tall blonde asked in a voice like warm, dripping honey. "Don't listen to them. We all have our clumsy moments."

Martha looked up into those sparkling blue eyes and immediately had to divert her stare to the ground, tucking a loose strand of chestnut brown hair behind her ear. "Uh, yeah, thanks, but I should really be getting –"

"Is that Peter Pan you're reading?"

Great. She noticed. That's what I get for reading for leisure at school. Oh well. Guess I'll never be showing my face here again.

"Mr. Barrie writes such amazing stories. Are you a fan of his work?"

Stunned, Martha chanced, "I…yes, I suppose I am."

"Oh how wonderful! To think I was almost too embarrassed to come over here and ask you. My father used to read passages to me every night before bed, and I'm going to read it to my students one day. Every child should dream of Neverland. It's such a beautiful place…no judgment, no worries…"

"You want to be a teacher too?" Martha blurted excitedly before she had time to filter her thoughts.

"Of course! For as long as I can remember. My parents were both wonderful schoolteachers, and I've always admired them for it."

Martha's lips involuntarily curved into a wide smile. She couldn't believe her ears. "They sound like very admirable people."

"Yes, they are…" Karen said thoughtfully. "Oh gosh! I'm sorry. I never even bothered to introduce myself. I'm Karen Wright. I've just moved here from Boston."

"Martha Dobie," was all she could manage.

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Martha. Perhaps we'll talk more tomorrow?"

Martha nodded as the goddess drifted out of sight.

They had talked more the next day. And the next. And the next. Karen and Martha became best friends and built their dream of becoming teachers together – powering through grueling years of schoolwork, training, and saving pennies until they finally found themselves here in their country schoolhouse living their dream.

All the while Martha had harbored that warm, glowing feeling that arose in her chest when she first saw Karen. The closer they were, the warmer it grew, so Martha took great pains to stay by Karen's side as much as possible. On occasion, when Karen would place a hand on her arm, or lean down close to Martha's face to whisper something she didn't want the children to overhear, the warm feeling would drift downward as it had on that very first day.

She never associated it with love – she didn't know what it was. Of course she knew that she loved Karen as one loves a friend, but she had no idea what this strange feeling meant. She supposed it was similar to the feeling that the other girls in high school had described at the sleepovers Karen started dragging her to once they became close. It was something like the "butterflies in your stomach" that they all talked about getting when they saw a handsome man, but it was much more than that. Besides, Martha could never relate to those girls much anyway. Men never seemed to give her butterflies. She always assumed that they must have been exaggerating in their immaturity. Karen and Martha often shared a laugh about those silly girls after the parties were over. Those were the moments that Martha enjoyed most – where she felt the closest to Karen.

Before long, though, Karen began to pester her about what boy Martha liked at school. She usually dodged the question because she didn't have an answer. High school boys had always looked goofy and oafish in her opinion. If she really thought about it, there were many men that she admired. Most of them reminded her of her father, and for that she respected them greatly. But Karen began to prod her so often that Martha had to start throwing out names, even though she wasn't remotely interested in a single one of them. She kept up the façade through graduation and in the first couple years of college, maintaining that she was too focused on her studies to make time for dating.

The girls shared a room in college, and Martha felt her admiration of Karen growing deeper each day. Nothing in the world could have possibly prepared Martha to deal with the experiences during their six years in those dingy little dorm rooms. Martha would never forget the first time that Karen had undressed in the middle of the room. After Karen nearly caught her staring, Martha always made sure to turn the opposite way when she changed her clothes, though something inside of her begged Martha to turn around again. It was those occasional glimpses of Karen's perfect, delicate skin that brought the warmth back between Martha's legs. The association of seeing Karen nearly naked and Martha's most intimate parts was what made the curious brunette feel the first shades of the now familiar sick and dirty feelings.

One night when they returned home from dinner, Karen asked Martha to come over and help her out of her new dress that had a hard-to-reach zipper. Martha reluctantly obliged, knowing where this would inevitably lead.

The terrified brunette cautiously crossed the room to the armoire where her best friend stood waiting in front of the mirror. Martha lifted a trembling hand to grasp the metal zipper that rested at the nape of Karen's neck, now exposed underneath the length of hair Karen held in her hand in order to keep it out of Martha's way.

Martha tugged, but the zipper needed support to slide down. Martha's eyes dropped to the sloping valley that was the small of Karen's back, and knew what she had to do. Martha placed her palm up against the dip in Karen's back, and immediately yanked on the zipper, which thankfully masked the sound of the sharp hitch in Martha's breath.

"Whoa, careful darling. New dress, remember?"

Darling…she loved when Karen called her that.

"Sorry, dear. Just a little tense about the exam tomorrow."

"You'll do marvelously, Martha. You always do. Please, stop worrying. Hey, will you go ahead and unclasp my bra as well? This one is such a pain. I swear it wasn't made right."

Martha stopped breathing. She couldn't possibly, and yet – she could deny Karen nothing.

With hands shaking even more intensely, Martha willed herself to make contact with the clasp. Out came one hook, two…

Almost there…you can do this, Martha…

And then a few of Karen's curls fell from her hands down in the middle of her back.

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

As Karen reached back to get her hair out of the way, the last hook on the clasp gave out, and her lacy white brassiere drifted slowly down her arms. Karen's breasts fell out of their enclosures and into plain view in the mirror.

Martha's eyes were locked on those perfect, round globes with perky, pink nipples protruding from their glorious surfaces. Through the space between Karen's side and her arm, Martha could make out the curve of Karen's left breast.

How easy it would be to weave my arms through and…

As Karen cleared her throat, Martha became acutely aware that she still held her fingertips to the place on her friend's back where the clasp would have been.

"Thank you Martha."

Karen covered quickly with the robe she had laid out.

"Martha, I've been thinking. Isn't it about time you started seeing someone? You know, Susan has a very handsome brother and she's mentioned how much he'd love to meet you. He's an aspiring playwright, you know. I think they'll both be at the picnic this Saturday. What do you say I have her introduce you?"

"All right."

Martha gave in. Though she dreaded it, she knew this would come eventually. She was tired of hearing Aunt Lily badger her about seeing men, but mostly she hated the looks of pity that Karen gave her when she left their room for the evening with a man on her arm. It was almost as if she thought less of her, and Martha couldn't bear that.

The mere subject of men brought bad memories for Martha. Of course, there was her father, whom she had never even met but had clearly been less than an upstanding gentleman. Then there were the gems that occasionally came to call on Aunt Lily. All that a greasy scoundrel would have to do is wink from the second row balcony, and the next thing Martha knew, she was spending the night trying to sleep while the strange men grunted and howled, her aunt's headboard banging rhythmically against the other side of the wall.

So, Martha accepted What's-His-Name's invitation begrudgingly, never letting her guard down for a second. This, along with a few other awkward dates, was apparently enough to appease Karen. Martha quickly discovered that telling Karen her tales of playing hard to get would bring them closer than ever.

"NO! Martha, you didn't!"

"Oh, but I did…"

Karen kicked her head back and Martha heard that melodious laugh once again. "You didn't even put out your hand to catch him? Oh he must have been mortified…."

"Karen, that weasel disguised as a man was so close to my face that I would have been forced to catch him with my lips, and I wasn't about to let him get that far on the very first date. So, I did what I had to do."

"So when he leaned forward, you just dove under the poor man's arm while he had his eyes closed and everything?"

"Well, at least he landed on the porch. Perhaps I would feel guilty if he had tumbled head first down our front steps."

Karen burst into laughter and Martha couldn't resist joining her. Even reliving one of the most embarrassing moments of her life could make her smile when Karen was around. When their laughter finally subsided, Karen brushed a tear from her eye and sighed as she allowed her head to fall on Martha's shoulder. Martha flinched ever so slightly, the connection of their bodies causing that familiar warmth.

"Oh Martha…sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had never met you...only you can make me laugh like that." Karen tilted her head up and smiled at Martha.

Martha's heart was overflowing, but she simply smiled back and replied to fill the silence.

"What are friends for?"

After college, the two newly-minted educators busied themselves working year after year in department stores and occasionally public schools to pay back their debts and the rent for their city apartment, and save every leftover cent they could manage. Thankfully, Karen was usually too distracted by exhaustion to comment on Martha's dating schedule, or lack thereof. Those years of barely getting by had been rough, but Martha was grateful to have spent them with Karen. The hard times made memorable the look on her beautiful, shining face when she opened the letter from her cousin that contained the deed to the country schoolhouse. Martha would never forget that embrace of pure joy they shared beside the kitchen table. She had wanted it to last forever.

It seemed that everything had fallen into place for Karen and Martha. They made the move to the schoolhouse with ease, renovations had been manageable, and just as Karen's cousin had predicted, they had plenty of girls lined up to apply for the first term. Of course, when Aunt Lily had gotten wind of their success, there was no leaving her out. When Martha began to seethe with anger over the prospect of her ridiculous aunt mooching off of their accomplishments, Karen was her strength.

"It's not fair. I swear that woman just looks for ways to ruin my life." Martha puffed furiously on her third cigarette of the night as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Oh let her come, Martha. She has no place else to go. I'm sure she understands how pathetic she is. You just have to remember that no matter what that silly woman does, she can't take our dream away from us."

Martha let herself unwind with a long sigh as she felt Karen's hand make contact with her shoulder from behind.

"Yes, I suppose you're right…"

Karen gave her shoulder a squeeze of approval and started to return to the wet dishes in the sink.

"…she is hopelessly pathetic, isn't she?"

Karen let out a playful groan of frustration and snapped her towel at Martha. They could scarcely stop giggling for the rest of the night.

A couple of weeks after Aunt Lily's arrival, there came another knock at the schoolhouse door. A young doctor named Joe Cardin had dropped by to offer his on call services to them at the school. They had invited him in for tea, of course, which Martha served dutifully as she observed him chatting with Karen and Aunt Lily. Later, Martha would concede that yes, Dr. Cardin was charming. If she had spoken a word against him, she would have surely had a riot on her hands. Martha liked the doctor, true enough, but his obvious passes at Karen had been a little off=putting. Joe was clearly a man's man, and Karen had always been so sensitive. Not that she couldn't handle anything that life threw at her, but this man was not someone she had ever pictured Karen with. But then again, no man would ever seem good enough for Karen.

Martha had known it would only be a matter of time before Aunt Lily would begin to incessantly nag her. One night, Martha couldn't manage to hide her disappointment when Karen went out for the third Saturday night in a row. Martha didn't think anyone was watching as she flung the dust cloth to the ground in a huff after the front door clicked shut yet again. Aunt Lily cleared her throat from the parlour desk and Martha jumped as she whirled around to face her aunt. Lily Mortar glared over her spectacles at her niece and told her to cheer up and make herself useful.

"Should a man ever come calling for you, Martha, the last thing he'll be looking for is a mopey old spinster!"

"Good!" Martha snapped back. "Then we'll be sure to tell him to stay away from you."

Aunt Lily didn't speak to her for over a week, and neither did anyone else, really. Karen would slip in after each date, quietly hitching the door behind her. Karen didn't think Martha knew how late she had been coming in, or what she had been doing on the front porch for twenty minutes after the car motor stopped. Things were clearly getting pretty serious, and Martha was hurt that Karen would keep something so special from her best friend. But then, of course, she wasn't exactly thrilled about the relationship in the first place. Nevertheless, Martha decided she was tired of feigning ignorance.

Martha spent an entire summer evening perched on the bottom step in the foyer dozing, reading, and avoiding eye contact when Aunt Lily passed by. Hour after hour the light breeze whistled through the window and brought with it the cricket's song. Martha felt her eyes flutter shut yet again just before she awoke with a jolt when the front door burst open.

"Oh!" Karen squealed. "Martha…"

"Hi. Remember me?"

"Oh Martha…don't be silly."

Click. Karen shut the door and took her jacket off. Martha rose to take it from her and put in on the coat tree. An awkward silence pervaded the dimly lit foyer.

"It's very late, you didn't have to wait up –"

"Listen, Karen…I know you're going steady with Joe. You know I know that. Why have you been hiding from me?"

Karen stood with her back to Martha for a few moments longer before letting her shoulders go limp and turning around to embrace her friend in one swift motion. Martha went rigid at the unexpected contact, but almost immediately melted away in Karen's arms.

"Martha I'm so sorry…" She pulled away slightly to look in her eyes. Karen looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment. "It's just…I know how much trouble you've had with dating…and now that I find myself becoming so happy I just…I didn't want you to feel – "

Martha placed a firm hand on each of her friend's shoulders and held her so that their eyes stayed locked.

"Karen – look at me." She leaned in even closer to Karen's face, noting the faint smell of wine on her stained lips. She suddenly wondered what they tasted like. "Are you happy?"

The pause seemed to last for decades. Karen hadn't expected this question, and she clearly needed more time to answer than either of them had anticipated. She closed her eyes and drew in a trembling breath. Martha could feel herself following her instincts and closing the gap between their faces. Karen, too, closed her eyes as her thin, soft lips parted slightly and –

"Yes…I am."

Martha completed her journey forward by wrapping her arms around Karen. Tears had collected in her eyes without warning, and with a centering breath, she said decidedly, "Then I'm happy for you."

And she was happy for her. She was happy for her the day that Joe showed up at their door with a bouquet of fresh flowers. She was happy for her when he called her nearly every night just to talk. She was happy for her the night that she burst into Martha's room with her arms wide open, uttering the statement for which she had braced herself for months.

"Martha!" Karen gasped breathlessly in the doorway of Martha's room. "I'm getting married…Joe proposed to me just moments ago, I…oh Martha…please say something."

Martha stood planted beside her bed, trying to remember how to breathe. Karen's voice had been fading away slowly in her head ever since she entered the room. Her expression had said it all – Martha never needed dialogue anymore to tell what Karen was thinking. She knew how this must look, and she realized that before long, she wouldn't be able to use shock as an excuse. Karen needed to know that Martha was happy for her, so that's what she would be. Martha took a deep breath and summoned a smile from somewhere deep within her heart.

"Oh Karen…I'm so happy for you."

Karen clasped her hands to her heart as a tear rolled down her defined, flushed cheeks. Her relieved smile brightened the lamp-lit room. Martha felt the warmth spread through her body again. How could she possibly resist her?

"Get over here!" She said through her own brimming tears.

Karen floated across the room and they embraced each other like never before. Their squeals of joy spread throughout the house. Martha knew she'd spend the next morning listening to her aunt complain about the racket, but she didn't care. This was Karen's night.

Martha suddenly became aware that she had grabbed Karen around the waist just below her chest and spun her around. She deserved to be treated like a princess. As Martha looked into Karen's eyes she knew for the first time without a doubt that she was in love with her.

Karen's eyes softened as their excitement subsided. She seemed to sense the level of seriousness that Martha had reached. Karen tipped her chin down and left a gentle kiss at the crown of Martha's head.

"Oh Martha…I'm so happy."

Martha silently panicked a little as she thought she might give herself away in the moment when Karen blurted in renewed excitement, "I feel like dancing. Dance with me Martha!"

She rushed over to the record player before Martha could possibly say anything to dispute her. If there was ever a time that Martha felt completely at the mercy of her best friend, it was when Karen reached this adorable level of excitement. Martha waited for the sounds of Moonlight Serenade – Karen's favorite – to fill the tiny room. Karen turned and clasped her small, soft hand with Martha's as her other hand swept slowly across the small of Martha's back before resting just at her waist. Martha willed her knees not to buckle as she swallowed a hitched breath. It only became harder and harder to breath when Martha realized that Karen was leading – a position that she despised and under normal circumstances always begged Martha to take. Although she was a bit thrown, Martha felt that warmth begin to creep back between her legs, and it was like she was sixteen all over again. For once, Martha felt like the princess. She let her head fall to Karen's shoulder as they nestled closer together; their body heat joining to create a stronger force between them. Martha could have stayed drifting in Karen's arms forever.

Martha's fantasy ended as the sentimental melody melded into something that was rather unfavorably up-tempo. Karen gave her a parting squeeze as she sighed, "What a beautiful night…you should have seen the stars that lit us home, Martha. They reminded me of that time in school when we sat out on fire escape and pretended that we didn't have a French exam the next morning just so we could wait all night for…"

"…the meteor shower!" Martha cut in and tried to let this memory hide her heartache. "Oh God…I really gave Mark Salinger a piece of my mind the next day for letting us believe there would actually be a shooting stars that night."

Karen giggled as she recalled, "Martha you called him a worthless buffoon and told him his mother must have - "

"Yes, I know. It shouldn't be repeated."

"Oh I thought I would never stop laughing at his face…"

"Well, his face was funny to begin with."

Karen's sweet laughter filled the room, temporarily remedying the wounds of Martha's heart. There she was, once again, helplessly smiling at the woman she loved.

A thought disrupted their reverie as Karen gasped, "Oh God – how on earth am I going to plan a wedding with the girls coming back next month? We may have to wait until next summer, even. I don't think Joe would be up for a holiday wedding…"

Karen babbled a little while longer before they exchanged goodnights sealed with a simple peck on the cheek, as always. This contact ritual was a pitiful drop of water compared to the twenty-gallon tank that would surely be required to put out the fire raging within Martha Dobie's body. She just didn't understand what Karen did to her, but she knew with unwavering certainty that it would never stop.

Martha ambled over to the record player and lifted the needle, causing that familiar jolting sound. Without stopping the turntable, she removed Karen's record and replaced it with one of her own. Somehow, Moonlight Sonata seemed more fitting with the mood that would accompany her into a dreamless night.

Martha quickly discovered that she wasn't much for wedding plans. As Karen plunged headlong into preparing for a "simple yet intimate and memorable" ceremony, Martha took solace in her long since neglected passion for books. Of course, throughout the year she spent between the pages of Whitman, Tennyson, Fitzgerald, and Hemingway, Martha was diverted by Karen's occasional requests for her opinion, which she gave reluctantly.

As the school year began in September, the large country house was almost constantly buzzing with the chatter of excitement that only little girls can bring, and yet the sound of wedding bells always seemed to drown them out. Especially when Joe starting dropping by the house more often, Martha just couldn't seem to get away from it, no matter how deeply she buried her nose beneath the pages. She had to admit; she had learned to like Joe. He was a good man with a grand sense of humor, but she just didn't think he was quite special enough for someone like Karen Wright.

On the Sundays that he didn't take her out, Joe stayed at the house nearly all day. Martha found it almost impossible to stay around and chat with them or lurk about in other rooms awkwardly in an attempt to give them privacy. So, eventually, she resolved to spend those days browsing and reading at her favorite little bookstore in town. Her new hobby was to pick up titles she had never heard of and finish them before the week was out so she could pick up another. This strategy led to the discovery of many new favorites, and Martha wondered why she hadn't been doing this all along. Often times when she returned home from the store in the evening, Joe would be gone, and Karen would give her undivided attention over to Martha's semi-dramatized summaries of whatever she happened to be reading that week. Needless to say, Martha looked forward to the next Sunday night the minute each Monday morning dawned.

One afternoon at the bookstore, Martha discovered an ancient looking French title misplaced among the classic mystery novels. She didn't consider herself fluent in the language, but she had always hoped to be one day. As she cracked the cover, she thought she might as well start with this book and see where her limited linguistic skills would take her. She was always up for a challenge.

Martha made it through the first several chapters with ease, finding that French was much easier to read and comprehend than speak. Accents were definitely not her forte. She barely noticed the sunlight fade into twilight in the shop window beside her, but as she gathered her things to head home, she was already planning out her summary for Karen.

Unfortunately, Martha returned to find that Karen was too busy for literary discussion. Joe was still there, and they had locked themselves in the den again. Martha rolled her eyes as she sat down at the kitchen table and waited for Karen to come out. She began to drum her fingers against the cover of her book for only a few moments, because a far more interesting sound had made its way under the crack of the den door.

Martha immediately recognized Karen's voice, but was also completely aware of the new implications such a tone carried. An instant and sharp warmth came between Martha's legs and up through her breasts as she was faced with the shocking realization. That was the glorious sound of Karen Wright rapt in pleasure.

Martha leapt up as though she had been launched from her chair and pressed her ear to the door. If she felt shame in eavesdropping, she would have to deal with it later. Martha Dobie was physically attached to that door.

"Uh…uh…Joe….please…"

"Mmm Karen…I want you…"

The sounds of wet, sloppy kisses filled each pause.

"Joe…"

"Karen…just lay down. Let me - "

"Joe, we talked about – ooo!"

Karen squealed sharply as though she had been touched unexpectedly. This was immediately followed by the sound of rustling couch cushions.

"Joe Cardin! Look at me. We talked about this. I don't want to take this any further until our wedding night. I thought you understood that I wanted it to be special."

"Ugh, Karen…you know I'd love for it to be special, but in order to have a wedding night at all, one needs to set a date and stick to it!"

Pause.

"Look…I'm sorry. I know it must be difficult balancing the school with all of this excitement. Would it be less stressful for you if we set a date for the summer? It doesn't have to be Easter. After all, my mother - "

"Joe, I don't even know if I'll be ready by this summer…"

Martha's eyebrows rose involuntarily as she longed to read Karen's facial expression.

"…What? What do you mean not ready? Karen, I asked you to marry me six mont-"

"Five and a half."

Martha smiled.

"Oh for God's sake, fine. Five and half. Regardless, you heartily agreed and I gave you that ring. You were ready then. What has changed since July?"

"Joe, I just have so much to deal with here at the school right now. Our materials are really not up to par so we have to work extra hard to compensate for that. There's a lot of reading and studying, not to mention taking care of the house and the girls and - "

"It's Martha, isn't it? She's jealous of you. Of what we have."

Martha stiffened at the mention of her name. Suddenly she felt exposed even behind the thick oak door.

"Don't you dare blame this on Martha!" Karen snapped vehemently. This out of character attack caused Martha's jaw to drop involuntarily as she pressed even closer to the door.

"Martha Dobie is the kindest, most considerate soul I've ever met. She is my dearest and most loyal friend, and the fact that you would stoop so low as to blame my indecision on her is exactly why I haven't set a date to become your wife. I don't know if I'm certain yet that you're the one for me, and that's something I feel I must be absolutely certain of."

"Karen, you know I love Martha…"

"Perhaps. You get along well enough, I suppose. But the truth is that you don't know her. Martha would move mountains to ensure my happiness. She's the most loyal friend I could ever ask for…I don't deserve her, and I don't thank her nearly as often as I should. If you don't know Martha well enough to know that, then I fear you don't know me either. I'd like to wait a little while longer, Joe."

He let out a long sigh, taking in the blow.

"How much longer?"

"Let's just see where this summer takes us."

"Jesus Karen that just means another – "

He steadied himself.

"All right. If that's what you want."

"Joe…"

"I've got to go. Have a lovely evening, Ms. Wright."

He made his swift exit out of the opposite door that emptied into the front room. Thankfully, the wall concealed Martha from his passing view. She could only pray that Karen wouldn't attempt to leave the den through this door. Somewhere between "most considerate soul" and "loyal friend" Martha's heart had stopped. She had never heard Karen, or anyone for that matter, speak so highly of her, and that wasn't even the half of it. Karen had just jeopardized her relationship to defend her. The strong and willful side of the ever-compassionate Karen had finally come out. Martha couldn't have left that spot if she had been threatened to move at gunpoint.

Then she heard the sound that made her want to melt into a puddle on the floor. Karen was sobbing quietly in the den, alone. Martha's heart broke as she longed to go to her, but if she revealed herself now, she would have to confess or pretend to have just arrived home, forcing Karen to lie about the miserable evening she underwent. She would never paint Joe in an unpleasant light.

Martha's heart broke into tiny pieces as she grabbed her things off of the kitchen table and crept into her room. She collapsed on her bed, crying softly for her friend. She replayed all of the wonderful things Karen had said. Martha could no longer remember any other compliments she had ever received in her life. Karen's esteem meant more than anything else. That's when she realized what she must do.

Martha wiped away her tears and grabbed her new book from the pile on the floor. She placed it in her nightstand drawer, locking it to make it more challenging for her future temptations. She had made the decision to turn from the pages and become a part of Karen's life again. She loved her, and if Karen wanted Joe, she would make it her mission in life to fix this relationship. And if that wasn't what Karen wanted, she would make it her business to find out what she did want. Martha would exist for the happiness of her dearest friend, for it was hopeless to seek it for herself.

And that is exactly what she did. She made every effort to be more helpful and supportive of Karen. She began to cook for her and Joe when he was around almost daily, and she found that sharing meals together brought them closer. Even Aunt Lily was easier to get along with at the dinner table. At times, they almost felt like a family. Not that Joe never got on Martha's nerves; she still felt that he was much too pushy and harsh in some instances, and she could do very little to conceal her feelings when she was angry with him. Unfortunately, those were the moments that Aunt Lily chose to focus on. Martha fought hard to suppress jealousy, and therefore she resented her aunt for always attempting to uncover it. Karen and Joe seemed to acknowledge the new sibling-esque relationship she had developed with Karen's fiancé, so why couldn't Aunt Lily just stick to the surface and leave her in peace?

Not that any of that mattered now. A being far more evil had crept into their lives and forced Martha to look her secret straight in the face.

As little Mary Tilford unleashed her lies, they manifested themselves in Martha's mind, each shocking image of Karen and Martha together seeming to be copies of personal longings and daydreams she had never fully allowed herself to have. She remembered standing in Mrs. Tilford's living room, gripping the back of the sofa and shaking her head slowly like a madwoman in utter disbelief. How did this little girl know her secret?

Of course Mary was lying about actually seeing them together. That had never even occurred in Martha's wildest dreams. But still, Mary knew. No matter how hard Martha tried to discredit it, she could never deny that it was the lie with one ounce of truth. She even found it difficult to deny on the witness stand. Those two powerful little eyes locked onto Martha's soul from the crowd and held her captive through the trial. The wrath of judgment was disguised as a little girl in pigtails.

For weeks Martha had been going over every detail in her head. Had she left any evidence to incriminate herself? Anything that would even allude to her affection for Karen beyond friendly gestures? She nearly drove herself crazy trying to reason it out. It didn't take her long to find it it.

They had been cooped in that house for nearly a week, and Martha had decided to distract her mind by cleaning the house. She started from the ground and worked her way up, and when she got upstairs, she found Evelyn and Peggy's room to be among the most atrocious. Papers and books were strewn about everywhere. How typical of them to have taken their toys and left their study materials behind. Play scripts, spelling lists, science books, Latin dictionaries, French –

The girls weren't set to learn French until next year when Martha hoped to be ready to teach it. Why on earth would the girls have a French book when neither of them could read a single word of the language? Martha bent down to pick up the book, and as she turned it over, she immediately recognized it from the cover.

It was the book that Martha had hidden from herself last summer. What the hell was it doing here…hadn't she locked it in her drawer? Her thoughts immediately went to Mary. She definitely wouldn't put picking that lock past her, and after all she had been very close with Peggy and Evelyn. Repressed memories of Mary babbling on about having a French tutor came flooding back to her. But why had this particular book interested them? Martha could barely even remember what the little portion she read had been about.

She sat down on the dusty bed and rapidly skimmed the pages, remembering the friendship of the two French seamstresses in the first few chapters. When she reached unfamiliar territory, she stopped to read.

A half an hour later, the words on the page became barely translatable and Martha began to shake like a leaf. She threw the book from her hands as though it were a poisonous snake. She could barely process what she had just read. This book had without a doubt been the source of Mary's fabrications…a combination of the words on those pages and Martha's inherent vulnerability. The child was a cunning and evil little genius.

Still trembling, she made her way out of the room, grasping onto every surface to keep herself from passing out. She drifted slowly down the stairs, steadying herself on the handrail the whole way. When she staggered out into the front room, Karen sat up from her spot on the couch in alarm.

"Martha? Are you alright? My God! You're terribly flushed…"

Martha blinked a few times to sort out what Karen had said, and miraculously an excuse came to her.

"I…I'm fine. It's just so damn dusty up there. My allergies…I have to go lie down. Goodnight, Karen."

"Oh, well all right. Goodnight."

Martha barely made it to her room before she sank to the floor. A cold chill swept over her as the sinful images bombarded her mind, all mingling around Mary's piercing eyes. Her sickly, saccharine voice accompanied them.

"I saw them, Grandma! I saw them!"

Martha grasped desperately for the quilt on her bed and pulled it down. She pressed it against her ears in hopes of drowning her out.

"…There were noises…we all heard them. Everybody heard them!"

Martha shut her eyes tight in an effort to push out the frightening visions and felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. Then, the solemn voice of the unwavering judge broke through the storm within her and uttered:

"Sinful – sexual – knowledge."

Mary smiled in victory as Martha blacked out.

Every night since her discovery, Martha had been plagued by dreams that caused her to awake in arousal, an embarrassing pool apparent between her legs. Martha had experienced this sensation many times before when Karen touched her for prolonged periods of time or when she had occasionally helped Martha out of her clothes, but she had never officially attributed it to sexual stimulation until it was clearly brought on by these new dreams.

Night after night, Karen would lie naked on top of her, her hair hanging wildly around her face and onto Martha's slip-clad body. They would kiss desperately as though each other was a cure for their own fatal disease while Karen ground herself up against Martha's exposed thigh. As she felt the essence of Karen accumulating on her burning skin, Martha cried out in ecstasy. The sound of Karen's name echoing back into her own ears would jolt her awake.

This morning had been no exception, and she was faced with the terrifying realization that she would have to explain herself to Karen before this secret drove her completely mad. She prayed for the world to end before she had to face that day, and yet, here she was. Lying in a heap against the door of her bedroom, Martha felt an incomprehensible mixture of freedom and despair.

Karen's relationship with Joe had been the last tie that bound Martha's secret in. Karen told her he wouldn't be coming back, and Aunt Lily would be leaving on the next train out of town if she planned on maintaining ownership of her head. It was just the two of them – the way it used to be. Karen's eyes had begged for the truth, and Martha could deny her nothing.

It was over. Her secret was out. Karen knew that Martha loved her as everyone said she did, and she reacted just as Martha had expected she would. Silent shock accompanied by another empty "tomorrow". More than likely, Karen hadn't moved from her spot on the couch since Martha left the room. Martha felt a surge of guilt like a knife through her stomach at the added pain she must be causing for her dear friend. The world would probably never see that radiant, beautiful blonde who marveled over Neverland with her long ago in a schoolyard. Martha would give anything to have her back.

She lifted her head from her tear soaked hands and stared hazily at the armoire where they kept their emergency revolver. Perhaps there would be hope for Karen if she no longer had to endure the shame of living with such a disgraceful woman.