Edith was exactly where Tamara had left her, in her safe room. It was lovely. There was a flower bed along one side, and a water fountain in the center. Currently she was seated on a bench watching some finches on a bird feeder.

Tamara's soothing voice reached her ears. "Are you comfortable?" Edith nodded. "Look around your safe place once again. This time, I want you to notice something you didn't see before. It might be a locked room, a storage chest, maybe a closet or a filing cabinet. What do you see?"

She left her bench and wandered down the path, looking around. Tamara was right, just around the corner there was something familiar between two lilac bushes. "My grandmother's wooden hope chest."

"Good," Tamara's voice encouraged. "Now this is important. You have absolute control over the chest and it's contents. Inside are your thoughts and memories. You can choose open it, pull out a memory and examine it, and you can put it away again whenever you like. Does that sound agreeable?"

Edith swallowed hard, glaring at the innocent-looking wooden chest before her. "Yes."

"Alright, dear. If you feel ready, go ahead and open it."

Kneeling on the soft ground, Edith suddenly found a key in her hand. She tried it in the lock on the chest, and to her surprise, it turned with a soft click.

"Very good, Edith! Now remember, you can stop any time you wish. Could you tell me if there is anything in the chest about a man named Howard Anderson?"

She pushed the curved lid open and peered inside. The chest was full of smaller containers. Rectangular shoe boxes, a round metal sewing tin, little jewelry boxes, and many others. She picked up a small velvet pouch and pulled it open, tipping the contents into her palm. Out tumbled a school ring, silver with a blue stone. Edith smiled. "Howie."

"Tell me about him."

She rubbed her thumb over the engraved sides of the ring. "We've been steady since junior year. He's a swell dancer." She notice the velvet pouch was not empty, and shook it again. Another ring fell out, this one simpler, more delicate. It was a wedding band. Edith put it on. "He's gonna make an honest woman out of me."

"Is that so?"

"He's so protective." She put the school ring back in the bag, and picked up a red shoe box. Her mouth went dry as she opened the lid. The shoe box was stuffed full of envelopes made out to her. Edith ran her fingers over the words, and her pulse sped up. "He'll never forgive me."

Tamara frowned. "For what, honey?"

She flipped through the stacks of letters, one after another. Her name was written in the same cursive hand on each one. She sorted through them frantically. "If I could just explain myself, if I could… make him understand." A few of the envelopes drifted to the ground, and some landed in her lap.

"Edith, do you want to put this back in the chest?"

She quickly shook her head. "He never gave me a chance." In the bottom of the shoe box, under all the letters, was a hairbrush. She held it in both hands, and a tear slid down her face. "It wasn't supposed to end like this!" Her fingers tightened around the brush. "He ruined everything."

"Let's put it away now, love, close the chest for me."

Edith began to scoop up the letters that had fallen. The tears in her eyes were making it hard to see. She rubbed them away with the back of her hand, taking a moment to catch her breath. When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the garden. "Tamara?" she called. No answer. She looked around. She was kneeling on the floor of someone's kitchen. Memories came back to her. This was her kitchen, no, their kitchen. She got to her feet. Her heart was racing.

Footsteps thundered into the room, and Edith turned with a gasp. She remembered this. The man glared at her, anger seething in his eyes. "Did you think it wouldn't get back to me?"

"Howie," she pleaded, "what on earth are you talking about?"

His fist slammed against the table. "I know you've screwing around. I just wanna hear you say it."

She reached her hands out. "That's aint true, darlin. I've been with nobody except for you."

"You whore," he spat out. "Lying to to my face now? Eddie saw you kissing a guy out behind the factory."

Edith shook her head. "That's not what you think. Howie, just listen…"

He slapped her across the cheek. She grabbed the table for support, gasping. His finger pointed accusingly. "I have had it with your stories. No more lies. Who is he?"

"Okay. No more lies. Howie, I- I worked something out. The guy, he was a broker, that's all, I swear."

"What are you thinking, making arrangements behind my back?" His lip curled up in disgust. "What the hell is wrong with you? Like you got anything to broker with anyhow!" He narrowed his eyes. "You better not've broke into my savings."

She shook her head frantically. "No Howie-"

His fingers closed around her arm. "My hard-earned money, and for what?" He yanked her violently back and forth. "What have you gone and done? Tell me!"

"It was for Herbie!"

The air in the kitchen grew thin as Howard dropped her arm and took a step back. He licked his lips. "Is that so?" Before she could reply, he turned and walked away.

Catching her breath, Edith rubbed her bruised arm. She listened to his steps retreating up the stairs. Then her heart skipped a few beats. He wouldn't dare. Not waiting to see if she was right, Edith pushed herself away from the table and ran down the hall. Howard was already coming back down the staircase. She rounded the corner and crossed the sitting room, flinging open the front door. Footsteps echoed down the hall. She raced down the porch steps.

Next door, Mrs. Newell was outside watering her petunias, and she looked up at Edith's hasty exit. A car cruised by. A boy was cutting grass across the street, and little Janet from down the block was headed this way, pushing her doll carriage. The girl waved hello, and Edith managed a smile.

A long bang filled the air, then another. Mrs. Newell screamed.

Edith tried to turn and see, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. The ground was rushing up toward her. She couldn't even lift her arms to brace for the impact. Her knees hit first, then she tipped forward, her cheek smashing against the sidewalk. Everything went black.

Tamara's voice came, very faint. "Edith, you're in control of this. Slam the lid."

Something tasted bitter. Her eyes shot open, and she coughed. She was lying face down on her own front walk. Embarrassing. Across the grass, she could see Mrs. Newell running toward her. Voices were shouting nearby, but it didn't seem important. Edith wanted to move. She dragged her left arm forward until she got it far enough to push up a little. She must have landed in a puddle, because the front of her dress clung wetly. Her arm trembling with the effort, she turned her head to see little Janet staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. Edith opened her mouth to tell the girl that everything was fine, but no sound came out.

A deafening bang filled the air. The little girl was crying now, looking past Edith at something behind. At least the shouting had stopped. In the silence, Edith realized what the noise had been. Howie's shotgun. She suddenly felt very tired. Letting her head drop to the ground, she exhaled with a wheezing rattle.

Someone was gently patting her face. "Come back to me now. You're safe, wake up."

Her eyes blinked opened. She took a deep breath, one hand clutching her chest. "I remember." She slumped back against the couch and inhaled deep gulps of air. Tamara squeezed her hand.