The Commander was late for dinner and when Mrs. Cole tried to engage him in conversation, his responses were clipped. As I was clearing their plates, he placed a hand on my wrist.

"Upstairs, 8 o'clock. Do something nice with your hair."

I gave a slight nod and prayed that the mortified heat radiating from my face looked like a blush.

I let my hair down for the occasion, the dirty blonde waves falling to my waist. Even before I became a Handmaid, before I'd married Connor, my father hadn't let me cut my hair. He said it was unnatural for my hair to be any length other than what God intended. For some reason, that didn't apply to men. Now I wasn't allowed anywhere near scissors. I wished I could cut it. My hair had always been thick, and any length much past my shoulder blades made my head ache with the weight of it pinned up in a bun.

I added a few small braids in addition to the one Jade and I wore together. I wondered if she still kept the braid after all that had happened. She probably didn't.

I checked my reflection in the window, the best I could do since the bathroom mirror had long been removed before I came. The shadowy, gaunt face looked nothing like I had once looked. My long nose stuck out painfully far compared to my flat cheeks. I used to be tan, but now I was sallow enough I imagined I could see the pale green of veins around my mouth.

I sighed, pinched my cheeks and bit my lips for color, and knocked on the Commander's door just as the clock struck 8.

I traced patterns with my finger on the Commander's chest. The rustling sound it made through his chest hair and his ragged panting filled the room. I examined his face. His eyes were closed and rimmed with purple shadows. Light gray stubble lined his jaw and sweat gleamed on his brow. Despite the signs of stress, his brow was unfurrowed and the tension in his face had left.

Now was as good a time as any to ply him for information.

"I hate that you are leaving so soon after we've rekindled our flame," I murmured in his ear.

His lips twitched. "Mm, it's only for a few days."

"And each one will be an eternity for me," I replied. "It'll be so much harder not knowing when I'll get to see you you at least tell me when you'll return?"

"I will return next Tuesday."

"But that's six full days!"

"They'll be over before you know it, my pet."

"Can I come with you?"

He cracked open an eye at this. "Why do you ask that?"

My heart sped up. I hoped I hadn't come on too strong to make him suspicious.

I flopped beside him so he couldn't see how I fought to keep composure. "It's just that six days is an awfully long time to be without any of the comforts of home. You'll only have James with you. Surely it would be nice to have someone take care of you in the evenings."

"This is urgent business, most of my time in D.C. will be attending to affairs at the R.G.B. There will hardly be an evening at all between negotiations with delegates and cooling a certain incident which has come up. Maybe next time I'll consider bringing you along."

I hungrily memorized what he had said. I'd have to go over it as often as I could to make sure I didn't forget anything by the time I could meet with Everett.

"An incident? Hopefully it's nothing too serious."

"Commanders will cause trouble, it's what they do. Now enough politics…"

The opportunity to ask further questions didn't arise, so I chose a different tactic. It didn't take long to wear him down tonight, only a couple hours before he was snoring soundly next to me. After assuring myself he was sleeping deeply, I crept out of the bed and searched the drawers in the room for anything that might be useful. I found some risqué magazines and a sex toy, but nothing useful. He must keep everything important in his office.

I know he kept his office locked when he wasn't there. Maria had to wait to clean it until he was around. Somehow I'd have to figure out how to get in. His keys were in his pant pocket, hanging on the chair, perhaps I could grab them and let myself in.

I shook my head to myself. No, that was too risky. My footsteps at night weren't suspicious anymore since I'd made it a habit to wander around, but the jingling of keys certainly would be. Protected or not, I'd lose what freedom I had if I was caught breaking into the Commander's office.

A thought niggled in my mind. Yes, that just might work.

I lingered in the kitchen under the guise of washing the dishes while Anne made bread dough. James left with the Commander, Maria was doing the laundry, and Mrs. Cole was trimming her topiaries. The Guardians wandered the house and grounds, but other than that Anne and I were alone. As good as I'd get to talk to her.

"Anne, you remember how the Thorpe's lost their baby?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the pan I was scrubbing.

"Yes. What about it?"

"I heard a rumor going around about it and was wondering if you knew anything about it."

Anne sniffed disdainfully. "I keep my nose out of those sorts of things. It doesn't do to gossip."

"Of course, I know I shouldn't gossip," I backtracked. "It's just that this particular rumor has me worried, since we're neighbors to the Thorpe's."

"Worried? What about?"

"The Cole's baby."

Anne's rolling pin clattered onto the floor. She muttered something under her breath as she came up beside me to wash it off.

"Alright, you've got my attention," she said lowly. "What's this rumor you heard?"

"I heard that the Thorpe's suspect Ofmilton was poisoned which caused the stillbirth. Some say the Cole's did it out of jealousy."

Anne scoffed. "I've never heard such nonsense before in my life. Babies are rare enough as it is, they'd be fools to go killing one. Besides, there's plenty of other reasons a baby could be stillborn nowadays."

"So you don't think the Cole's would do something like that?" I asked.

"No, they are many things, but they aren't fools."

"Mrs. Thorpe doesn't agree, it seems. I heard from a reliable source that she blames the Cole's too and that she wants their baby-and me-dead."

"And you think she'll retaliate by poisoning you." Anne said matter of factly.

"Yes. I thought I should let you know and ask you to be on the lookout for that sort of thing."

"I'm always on the lookout, why do you think I don't want you or Maria messing with my cooking? The Cole's are powerful people with powerful enemies. Someone in this very house could be trying to off them as we speak, and if they do it'll be my head on the chopping block."

"So you'll make sure no one poisons me to kill the baby?"

She shooed me away. "Yes, yes that's what I said isn't it? Now leave me alone if you've finished with the dishes. Shouldn't you do the shopping soon?"

I forced Jade to let us take the short route to the shops the next morning, claiming pregnancy fatigue. At every stand I positioned myself so I could see the faces of the other Handmaids. At Loaves and Fishes, I found who I was looking for.

"Blessed be the fruit, Ofluke."

"May the Lord open, Ofmartin."

"You haven't had your doctor's appointment today yet, right?"

"Yes, do you have something to pass along?"

"Can you tell Everett to bring a sedative? Something strong that I can slip into food or drink unnoticed would be best."

"Sure thing. Getting it to you will be tough though."

"Don't worry about that part, we have a system in place."

Ofluke's eyes widened, but she didn't press further.

"Also, Commander Cole left for D.C. today. He'll return Tuesday. Said he's going to the R.G.B. to handle an incident and negotiate with some delegates from a foreign country. I don't have any details unfortunately."

"I'll pass on the message. Under His eye."

"Under His eye."

With the Commander gone, Mrs. Cole took to calling on her fellow Wives for brunch, tea, and greenhouse parties. I was brought along to these though she'd never wanted me around her friends before.

Today's outing was hosted by Mrs. Harris. Hers was one of the smallest houses on our street, but was still huge by most standards. There weren't Guardians visible on the grounds either, something most of the other Commanders' homes had in common. The Thorpes kept a similar amount to the Cole's. Perhaps it indicated rank.

Holly bushes lined the path to the front door, a fresh breath of life against the dreary stagnation of winter. I rang the doorbell. The light rap-tap-tap of rain on the porch roof ticked away the seconds.

Mrs. Harris answered the door herself. She was a short, round-faced woman with ruddy cheeks and high eyebrows which made her look like a surprised cherub.

"Oh, Mrs. Cole! Praise be that you were able to make it on such short notice." She said hurriedly, ushering us in. "Come, come inside we have a lovely fire and a fresh pot of tea that'll warm you right up. Let Laura take your cloak Mrs. Cole."

Mrs. Harris' Martha began to take my cloak as well. Mrs. Harris smacked her hand.

"No, Laura, not the Handmaid's cloak. She's pregnant, you know. Better let her keep the cloak on while she warms up, we don't want the baby catching a chill."

Chastened, the Martha withdrew with Mrs. Cole's cloak. Mrs. Harris led the way to her sitting room where a small gaggle of Wives sat chattering away. One was playing quietly on the piano, but stopped when she noticed Mrs. Cole enter. A cluster formed around Mrs. Cole and I, and the standard tea party script was run through: the weather, questions about Mrs. Cole's health and family, questions about the baby etc. Mrs. Cole basked in the attention, years of scowl lines and shadowed eyes fading.

It all became a blur as I was sat on a beige couch by the fire, a cup of tea thrust into my hands. So many eyes on me.

"Has she been eating enough? She's awfully skinny for someone in her condition."

"Yes, too skinny indeed. What are you feeding her?"

"Is she getting enough rest?"

"Rest? She needs exercise that will liven her up."

My chest tightened at the barrage of questions. Everyone was looking at me. It hadn't bothered me before, but now I couldn't stand it. My stomach twinged and I nearly choked on my tea. I was miscarrying again, I was sure of it. I'd thought I was in the clear but now this, just like last time. Panic froze me in place. If I stood and saw blood…I'd be dead, sure as I ever lived. Mrs. Cole's screams rang in my head, my body ached in memory. It was all going to happen again and I was powerless to stop it.

"Mrs. Harris, thank you for the lovely time." Mrs. Thorpe's monotone voice dragged me out of my spiral. "But I am suddenly feeling under the weather. Martha, summon my driver please."

She threw a cold look at me and left. I shuddered. I'd forgotten to watch her, I should've been watching her. I was supposed to be watching how she acted around Mrs. Cole. I should've made sure she didn't slip something in the tea.

I set my teacup on the coffee table, the smell now nauseating.

Mrs. Harris smiled knowingly at me, offering me a plate. "Have a slice of pie dear, Laura just baked it. You ought to keep your strength up now that you are eating for two. She makes the best cherry pie."

One look at the pie, leaking burgundy like blood from a wound sent me over the edge. I ran to the nearest bathroom and heaved my lunch into the toilet. My hands trembled as I fumbled with my dress and undergarments. I had to know, I couldn't go out there until I was sure.

My underwear was unstained. I slumped against the toilet, letting the porcelain cool my fevered skin. I'd imagined it all. The baby was safe and Mrs. Cole wouldn't kill me. Tears streamed down my face but I couldn't tell if it was from fear or relief. I washed my face and forced myself to go back to the party. A few sympathetic smiles were sent my way, before the arrival of Mrs. Stevens and her Handmaid redirected their attention.

I knew a few of the Wives brought their Handmaids everywhere they went. Usually these were the Wives new to their status, their husbands having been recently promoted to Commander status. To them having a Handmaid was a status symbol rather than a symbol of a Wife failing her duty to bear children.

Mrs. Stevens was one such Wife oblivious to the shame that came with a Handmaid. Her Handmaid, Molly, attended every gathering Mrs. Stevens was invited to. The Stevens' already had a child, a 9 year old Son taken from his real parents at the start of Gilead. Only the higher ranking Commanders were given Handmaids rather than adopted children. The Stevens' were a rare case, being assigned a Handmaid despite having a child already. Mrs. Stevens' was proud of it. She wouldn't be if she could see how the other Wives sneered behind her back.

Molly wasn't allowed to sit with me-she was kept busy passing out food and refilling drinks wherever we went-but when she passed by, she always smiled. I couldn't understand how she managed it. She'd smiled after we'd been beaten bloody too. She was unhinged, that was the only explanation. Sweet, but unhinged.