Maxwell brushed the curtains aside, staring into the dismal Sacramento sky. The morning, which held the promise of a spectacular summer day, quickly turned cold and unfriendly by the afternoon. He sighed, letting the curtains fall back in place.

As Maxwell sipped his tea, he slowly became aware of the silence that engulfed their suite. He checked his watch and was shocked to find that it was mid-afternoon. Setting the newspaper aside, Maxwell headed toward the bedroom.

He paused in the doorway, watching Fran sleep. As he drew closer to the bed, he recognized the book that lay just out of reach as one of the many journals she pulled from the boxes a few days ago.

Kneeling on the bed, Maxwell was careful not to disturb her. As he scanned her resting frame, illicit ideas of how to disturb her dominated in his thoughts. Maybe later. A smile crept across his face. Definitely later.

He slipped the book from the bed and was about to place it on the nightstand when curiosity got the better of him. Maxwell convinced himself that he was not invading her privacy.

He was Fran's husband and over the past twenty-one years, they shared friendship, hopes, thoughts, and dreams not to mention five children and their marital bed.

Have we shared everything? Do I really have the right to go poking about in her past? His conscious warned him, but ignoring his reasonable side, Maxwell began to read. She changed their names but the situation left little doubt that this was about himself and Fran.

...Alain spurned her one too many times. Why couldn't he love me, she wondered. Why can't he for once stop being a coward, hiding behind his feelings? Just once couldn't what he wanted physically be in sync with what he couldn't say verbally?

Raven was at the end of her rope. She couldn't take the highs and lows of their alleged relationship. This had to end. Now.

She had no recollection of walking up the stairs. The next thing Raven knew she was silently making her way down the hallway toward Alain's room. She stepped inside. His bed beckoned her. That's were I belong, she thought. In his bed. In his arms.

She sat on the side of his bed and stared at him. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Raven hoped that divine intervention would answer her questions of why Alain pushed her away every time they seemed to inch closer to a love that would last forever.

Raven hadn't realized she held a knife in her hand until she saw the moonlight bounce off its edge. It mocked her, daring her to use it. She could hear its voice instructing her.

"It would be simple. Plunge the knife into his heart the way his rejection has been thrust into yours." Tears fell as she shook her head. "No. I can't. I love him too much."

Raven leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Her body ached for Alain's touch. She took his hand and kissed the tips of his fingers before pressing her breast into the palm of his hand.

In his subconscious, his need for her body, her touch, flourished. He murmured her name in his sleep. She could feel his desire for her grow rapidly beneath the bedcovers. And yet she knew even if he woke to find her there, ready, willing and very able, he'd still turn her away.

The voice came back, this time more seductive. "Since you won't alleviate your pain and anguish through him, you have to take the next step. Draw a warm bath. Take me with you.

Let me kiss your delicate wrists. Let the pain flow from you as easily as your blood. Lie back and sink into the pleasure of our dance. He won't be able to hurt you ever again."

Raven nodded, comforted by those words. She leaned down and kissed him for the last time. "Goodbye my love."

She left his room and wandered down the hall to meet her fate. ...

Maxwell stared, horrified by Fran's words. Is this what she's been hiding? Had she contemplated my murder and her suicide during our courtship? Had I hurt her that deeply?

Fran's eyes fluttered open. She stretched, looking at her watch. It can't be. I've been asleep for almost four hours? She reached for her book only to find an empty space. Her eyes scanned the room until she fell upon the sight of Maxwell reading her book.

Anger swept through her mind, unable to process the scene before her. She was at a loss for words behind his violation. He was still unaware that Fran was no longer sleeping until she spoke.

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?"

The book tumbled from his hands at the sound of her voice. He shivered at the mix of hurt and anger reflected in her eyes. Fran slid off the bed and picked the book off the floor. Maxwell was flushed with embarrassment. His mind refused to string a coherent thought together.

"Fran, I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - it's just that - " He stopped. There was no way he could explain his intrusion of her privacy. "I've been trying to figure out how to ask you why you've spent so much time in the basement lately."

"So you'd thought the answer would be in my book instead of asking me directly?"

"I know I should have asked you and I'm very sorry Fran but I didn't know what to do."

"I can't believe you would do this to me." Drawing a deep breath, she asked, "How much have you read?"

"I didn't really read that much." He paused and recollected his thoughts. "No, I'm not going to lie to you. I read a few pages."

"Maxwell, my writing is very personal."

"I'm so sorry darling," he implored, "please forgive me."

He drew her in his arms, praying she'd forgive him. As he cradled her in his arms, Fran's words troubled him but he wasn't sure why. She never mentioned the writing like he intruded on her private thoughts. It wasn't personal like a journal. She referred to it as her book.

"What did you think?"

"What?"

"What did you think about what you read? Did you like it?"

"I don't know what to say. I'm just so surprised."

Fran moved away from him. "I knew you wouldn't like my story."

Story? Maxwell turned her to face him. "You're writing?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand. Why is it such a big secret?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Well explain it to me so I can."

Fran paced the floor. She knew Maxwell would find out. It was only a matter of time. Sitting on the side of the bed, she patted the empty space beside her. He settled next to Fran, waiting for her to begin.

"Max, you know I love you."

"Of course Fran," he replied, taking her hand in his. "I love you too."

"Please, let me finish this without interruptions. I love you. I love our family but there are so many emotions surging through me. My life is changing. Maggie has her own family, Brighton has his career, Gracie has school, and the twins are almost at the point in their lives where they don't really need me anymore. I need to channel the emptiness I feel in my life in a positive direction. I think I found my outlet in writing."

"Didn't you think I'd understand? You could have told me about it."

"No I couldn't."

"Why not?"

She looked into his eyes, hoping that he would understand the logic behind her reasoning.

"You had the privilege of attending the best schools, receiving the best education, and enhancing your knowledge through your travels. I wasn't the best student and only after I met and fell in love with you did my world open up."

"I may have been privileged by my education and wealth but you were privileged by the love of your family and friends. Your education was through life experience; a grounded reality that can never be obtained in any learning institution or by any amount of money."

She lowered her eyes, watching their intertwined fingers. "As long as we've known each other, as long as we've been married, there are times that I feel so inadequate around you and our friends. I couldn't risk letting you read something I wrote because I was afraid you'd think less of me and see me as that simple girl from Queens who showed up on your door step twenty- one years ago."

"Fran, you should never be ashamed of your background nor should you feel inadequate because of it. We are compliments to each other. We are two halves that became whole. You should know that I would support you in any endeavor you wish to pursue. Besides, I fell in love with that girl when she boldly and provocatively made her way down the staircase in my home wearing that shocking red gown," Maxwell replied.

"Sometimes I feel a bit overshadowed by you. There are times, even now, that I'm in awe of you."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You shouldn't. You are an intelligent beautiful woman. You have a gift, a knack for understanding people and situations. That gives you a view of life that most people don't have. I think writing is an excellent outlet for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Fran from what I read, you've got real potential. Don't let anything or anyone stand in the way of your dreams and desires. That includes family."

"I'm so lucky to have a gracious and understanding husband," she said and kissed his cheek.

"I am the lucky one Fran. You breathed life into this soulless shell of a man and saved me from myself. You rescued our eldest children and healed us to make us whole. My fortunes multiplied when you became my wife and presented me with the gift of our youngest children. And with these blessings, I shall forever be in your debt. You have my love for eternity."

"See, that's what I mean!" Fran said rising from the bed in frustration. Leaning against the windowsill, she cast her eyes to the floor. "Look how you express your feelings for me. I can never do that."

He rose from the bed to stand in front of her. Maxwell lifted her chin, forcing her eyes meet his.

"Yes you can. You can do anything you set your mind to. When you write, you speak from experience, from the heart. The mark of a great writer is the ability to draw readers into their world and share their failures and triumphs, their loves and losses. Maybe you should join a writing group or take some writing courses."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. Joining a writing group or attending classes could be the inspiration and confidence you need to work on your writing. Sweetheart, you didn't need to hide this from me. I'm behind you one hundred percent!" He kissed her, cradling her face in his hands. "And in spite of what you think, our children, all of our children need you. I need you. Niles, CC, and Madeline need you too."

Tilting her head to the side, Fran replied, "Niles and Madeline maybe. I'm not to sure about CC."

Maxwell laughed. He was happy to see a smile on his wife's face again.

"All I'm saying is that our lives are interwoven and you play a significant part in it."

Fran kissed Maxwell. "Thank you for putting things in perspective."

"Anytime darling." They remained wrapped in a comfortable silence, happily bound by the depth and security of their love. "Fran?"

"Yes Max?"

"Did I really – Had you thought of – I mean over our relationship?"

She pulled back to look at him. "Can you ask a complete question?"

He closed his eyes to refocus his question. Opening his eyes, Maxwell looked at Fran and began again.

"Had you really thought of harming me or yourself because of the difficulties in our courtship?"

"First of all, they were your difficulties and second, no I didn't. I just borrowed things from the past and used a little creative license."

"What would you have done?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

Fran studied Maxwell. She was torn between telling the truth and telling him something he'd want to hear.

"Does it really matter? We're together now."

"Of course it matters. I - " He paused. "Oh my God. You were going to leave me weren't you?"

"Max, let's not - "

"No. I want to know if it's true. Would you have left me Fran?"

"Yes." As Maxwell pulled away from her, Fran continued. "You knew that already. We had known each other for five years and you wouldn't call me by my first name. Our relationship, whatever it was or wasn't, was breaking my heart. Didn't you believe me when I told you I was going to quit?"

"Initially I thought it might have been a ploy. I guess I didn't realize the gravity of the situation until I saw you with your coat on, ready to walk out of my life forever."

"What I don't understand is why something that happened sixteen years ago is bothering you now? I love you. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me until the end."

"I know it shouldn't bother me but it does. You know I never meant to hurt you. I had so many unresolved issues surrounding Sara's death. I couldn't properly love you the way you deserved."

"I can understand that now but at the time, all I saw was how much you hurt me. And for my own sake, my own sanity, I was ready to leave everything behind and start over."

"I'm glad you're my wife," he said kissing her softly. "I can't image my life without you."

Fran grazed Maxwell's lips. "And I can't image my life without you. Are we okay now?"

"Of course sweetheart. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Just checking."

"Well now that the air is clear, what do you say I take you out for a nice romantic dinner? And then afterwards, we can - " Maxwell whispered his plans. His hand caressed her until she pulled away from him. "What's wrong?"

"Wanting to know about my journals; is that the reason why you mentally disappeared on me this week?"

"Yes. I know I should have just been upfront with you."

"Sometimes I wonder how we've managed to stay together all these years when we have problems communicating."

"Think of our miscommunications as the extra spice to our relationship," Maxwell replied resuming his kisses. "Besides, we always manage to work things out."