I woke early on Thursday feeling broken. I nursed Charlie went downstairs. I wanted to go over to the old house as soon as possible and finish up before we had to catch the train back to Bend. The thought of being separated from Charlie while I sorted through my things in the attic at the old house caused me great anxiety. It was a silly thought but I kept imagining Jeff arriving at Carmen's with police officers, boys I'd grown up with, now men. I envisioned them taking Charlie. Not because they wanted to but because they had no other choice. There would be nothing Carmen could do. I knew it wasn't really a possibility but I felt I had lost so much the night before out in the dark. I had given Jeff back what he had—or at least some of what he had. A mass of feelings had formed inside of me, mostly fear. Where there had been none, confusion existed. A part of me asked why he hadn't found another woman to take my place? I tried to consider the real possibility that he wanted to be with Charlie, but each time I imagined a future that included Jeff, an image of him walking down the street with his little daughter on his shoulders invaded. I hadn't thought much of it when Carmen had related it to me. Something about his walking by with his daughter, sometimes his wife. Carmen had sensed something that I now sensed too. Maybe he hadn't loved me. Perhaps, for some reason he had wanted to overtake me. If it hadn't been for Charlie perhaps he would have looked for another way to control me. Once our love affair was over, without the pregnancy, what would have had over me?

"The kids are still sleeping," Carmen whispered. She was wearing a long, satin bathrobe. He hair was ruffled from sleep but still retained its pretty waves. She poured me a coffee. Charlie was fussing and twirling his fingers in my hair. He would let out loud squeals and then look at me.

"He's going to be very funny. He already has a sense of humor."

'I think he gets it from you and Harry."

She raised her eyebrow and pulled a cigarette from her pack. She lit it and inhaled deeply. Charlie let out a little wet cough.

"Is he getting sick?" Carmen asked, her eyes growing concerned. She walked over and put a hand on his forehead. "He's got a little wheeze. I hope you'll be all right on the train back today."

"He does. I think he's got croup again. He was up last night. I had to take him and walk him out in the cold—in the night air—until his breathing improved."

"You mustn't have slept at all."

She looked up over to the clock. "It's early darling, are you going right over?"

I nodded looking down at the Formica tabletop. My eyes traced the burgundy stripe that ran down the center. I wanted to tell her about seeing Jeff, but I thought it would make things worse. My life was again on a precipice. Anything to disrupt it would make everything I was building topple. I would have nothing. I was so frightened on the inside, the anxiety was like waiting for bad news, but I had already received bad news. It was like a dream, the images of the three of us, in the dark outside the community house. I shouldn't have let him intimidate me. I could have stood up for myself. I felt so ridiculously weak. I hated myself.

As I sat with Carmen my mind lingered on this new development with Jeff. I didn't pick up my coffee, it sat in front of me. I had forgotten where I was. My emotions were so strong that I was almost paralyzed. As small and weak as I felt, maybe I had stood up to him. Maybe that was why he pushed back so hard. Jeff had always grown cold when I disagreed with him or argued with him. Isn't that exactly what happened last night? My feelings vacillated again. I knew he would follow through his threat. Would he really do what he said? I tried to piece his words together. What could he do to me? Then, it descended on me. The whole picture of his power. Just as he threatened, he could drive up to Bend—he already had before—he'd pull into the driveway and he'd walk past Charlie and me and ask Mary to get Frank. Mary would try to stop him, but he would be insistent. She'd run inside and look for Frank and try her best to prepare him and discredit Jeff. I knew in this fearful scenario that Jeff would not even look at me while I stood off to the side in the foyer, holding Charlie. I would ask him not to tell, but he would be determined. Things would be in motion and picking up velocity. Then, later Mary and I would wait in the kitchen while the men spoke, Mary straining to listen. I knew she would find a way to sneak out and get close enough to hear their conversation. I knew that Jeff would soften Frank, convince him. He'd find something to inflame Frank's worry for Charlie. I knew Mary would come back into the warm kitchen. Her face gone white, trying to find words for me. We'd both wait for Frank to come in and ask for Charlie, tell us that his father wants to see him.

"Evie, darling" Carmen interrupted my thoughts, "you look as if you've seen a ghost. What is it?"

"I just want to be on the train back to Bend."

"I wish I could go over to the house with you sweetheart and help you go through all those memories. I just don't think it would be a good idea to have the baby out where others might see. The last thing I'd want is for Jeff Lambert to get wind of your visit."

I looked at her, then towards the window. I had no feeling what so ever. It must have been clear to Carmen. "Evie. What's gotten you so upset? Maybe you didn't get enough sleep. Why Don't I take Charlie for a little while and you go back to bed. It's so early and you don't need to be to the train until 1:00."

"No," I whispered. I hardly had any voice at all. The fear was so great that it was hard to swallow.

"Why don't you go over and get it done and then you can rest before your trip back to Bend?"

Charlie squealed. I put him on my lap and bounced him gently. He was laughing and making cooing baby sounds. He put his hands on the saltshaker and lifted it to his mouth. I didn't even notice him doing. It.

Carmen put her cigarette in the ashtray and rose. "Now. Now. Little man. You can't eat Auntie's salt shaker." She lifted him into her arms and he immediately began reaching for her nose. She scrunched up her face and shook it gently close to his. He erupted in peals of laughter, his fingers covered in drool.

"You know Evie, I think he's teething." Carmen rubbed her finger on his bottom gum. "Yes, there it is, right under the skin. Maybe that's why he's been so fussy." Carmen moved to the drawer by the sink and retrieved a washrag. She ran it under cool water, squeezed it out with one hand and pressed it on Charlie's lower gum. "See there baby?" Charlie greedily chewed on the cloth and when Carmen looked out the window to my house next door, he pulled the rag out and dropped it on the floor. Carmen turned back, "oh he is a handful!" She picked the cloth up and put it in the sink. She retrieved another and prepared it. Charlie blew raspberries with his tongue and Carmen copied him. Then she put the corner of the cool rag in his mouth. She turned back to me with Charlie on her hip.

"He is one smart baby, Evie."

My heart did swell with pride when Carmen said that, but it was so heavy with dread that all I could do was stand and walk over to them. I gave Carmen a kiss on the cheek, and leaned in and kissed Charlie's forehead. His fresh baby smell lingered in my thoughts. It was so overwhelming, the love that just being near him evoked.

"I'll go over and get this done with."

"Let Harry walk you over. He's not leaving for work for a bit. That way he can tell the renters who you are." She bounced Charlie, holding him in one arm as she picked up her cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag. She blew the smoke away from Charlie's face. "Here put this out for me." She handed me the cigarette and I extinguished it in the ashtray.

She was right. It would seem strange to have an unfamiliar woman come inside the house and up to the attic. "Is he up?"

"Let me go see." She handed Charlie back to me, and he was still up to his impish tricks, reaching for my nose and then with an open mouth covering my nose.

"Oh Charlie!" I looked at his smiling little face as he gurgled and made sounds, and when he let out a squeal I could see the baby tooth just breaking through his bottom gum. He grew quiet and let out a little cough. His eyes met mine and we looked at each other for a moment. There were these times when it felt as if he was older and wiser. I smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. He cuddled up next to me, nuzzling up to my chest and blowing raspberries and chewing on his index finger. The image of Jeff holding him flashed into my thoughts. How Charlie took to him the same way as he did me. My little boy must have trusted his father.

"All right, Miss Evie." Harry said as he walked into the room.

"Don't you want a coffee first?" Carmen said as followed him into the kitchen.

"It won't be a minute. Save it for me." He kissed her on the lips.

"It's not going anywhere Harry," she teased.

"Ok, here you go again." I handed Charlie back to her, "I think he's quieting down again."

Carmen lifted him up in the air above her, "are you tired little man?" She looked up at me and smiled, "I don't know if he's tired but he needs a diaper change."

Harry and I walked out of their yard and into my driveway, "you all right Eve?" He said softly? I looked up at him and nodded.

"Harry?" I asked. "What did you say to Jeff back before Charlie was born?"

Harry stopped and we stood under the gum tree. The bare branches looked brittle and like a mass of gray spider webs crisscrossing under the early light. A gust of wind blew and the air felt icy as it hit my cheeks.

"I told him..." Harry stopped and looked down at the ground as if he were searching to remember the words. "That man is an arrogant ass, Eve. I know he's the boy's father. But, he's worthless."

I nodded. "I know. I just wondered what you said to him."

"Frankly, Eve. I can't remember the exact words. I can tell you, I went over to the art museum and asked to speak to him there. I figured that way he'd know I meant business. No man wants his problems tangled up in his work."

"How did he respond?"

Harry looked at me for a long moment. "I can tell you this, he didn't want trouble."

I looked towards the rose buses on the side of the house. They looked like they hadn't been pruned since the day I left. I could see all the shoots and rosehips taking over. I remembered canning rosehip jelly, how tart I'd make it because Nick didn't like it too sweet. I'd tease him, "How can you eat this?" There he was. In my thoughts. Nick. How had I forgotten my memories of Nick for so long? When I thought of sorting through the things in the attic, finding Nick's old letters and journals, my unspoken intention was to preserve keepsakes for Charlie. Things about his father for him to look back on. I had somewhere deep inside convinced myself that Nick really was Charlie's father. But, I never had let the real Nick back into my consciousness. Just the fictional Nick, the one Jeff read about in the Bend newspaper. The widow who announced the hero soldier's baby. I took a deep breath and let it out.

"It's cold out here," Harry said. "Let's go in."

"Wait." I said. "Did you tell me all of it?"

"Did I tell you what Evie?"

"What you said to Jeff? What you two spoke about. What did he say to you?"

"Eve I think its better left alone. He got my message. At least for a while. Why? Has he bothered you again?"

I must have furrowed my brow and assumed a worried look.

Harry raised is eyebrows and his face grew a little angry as if this might just be the excuse he was looking for to put Jeff in his place.

"No." I said.

"Eve, I've seen him a couple of different times around the neighborhood. I would just stay away from him if I were you. If he writes to you, just leave it alone. I think you made the right choice. Stay in Bend and don't come back here until Charlie's older. We'll visit you. You'll always have us. You'll meet someone else and all this business will be long gone."

I smiled and we started walking towards the front door.

"Could we go in the back way? I'd like to see the garden."

"Eve, we haven't kept it up. Carmen tried but she couldn't do what you did."

"It's all right." I led the way through the wooden gate. I prepared myself for the worst. That time of year, everything's dormant. I expected that. But, as I entered, I could see the gardens were dead. Frozen weeds clung to the earth, partly covering the paths. The shrubs in the back had stalks growing in every which direction. I could see fallen leaves had collected all over the ground. The overgrown grass was wet and rotting.

"I'm all right Harry," I said. "I'd like to be alone."

"Shouldn't I introduce you to the boarders?"

"No. I'm all right."

"Ok honey. I'll be back at the house then Carmen and I will drive you to the train station." He walked over and gave me a big hug. "Evie you are such a wonderful mother. But, sweetheart, I'm worried for you. I don't know why I just get this feeling this mess with Jeff Lambert isn't over."

I nodded and smiled. "I love you all so much."

"We love you too." He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and walked out the back gate.

That morning was my last time back in my Sellwood garden. I realized that the things in the attic didn't matter. Carmen would be able to sort it all out, figure out what was important. She'd told me so many times that she wouldn't mind going through my things for me. The garden was my home. It had weathered over last few months just as I had. It showed the damage of hardship. I bit my lip and ventured deeper. The stone bench was covered in matted, wet leaves and there was still evidence that the nasturtium must have gone wild last summer. There were dried, rotting nasturtium vines covering the area under the arbor. It looked like a mass of white threads curled up around each other. I had planted the seeds in the spring. For some reason, the abundant flowers always loved my yard and formed swaths of yellow, orange and green. Waves of color. I removed my gloves and wiped the bench. It was still damp but I sat down anyway. The grape arbor was a tangled mess above me. After such neglect, there would have been no way to separate the branches and train them to stay on the arbor without severely cutting it back. It would take at least a year after that to produce as many grapes again. I let out a breath and watched the condensation escape. I put my head down. Maybe when I left my garden, all those memories would evaporate. Maybe then that old life would be released. I would be free. I wiped tears from my eyes. That was such a childish thought, but I wished it were true. I reached and touched a vine that hung down from the arbor and curled its way along the side of the bench. A few yellow, brown leaves clung to it. The stem of one leaf was nearly rotted. I could see how fragile the attachment was. I would just need to disturb the vine slightly and the dead leaves would separate, fall to the ground and decompose.

I looked around. It was so cold, but I wasn't ready to leave. I remembered all the hours Jeff and I had spent in the garden together. On those days Jeff would be more relaxed than usual. He didn't wear a tie and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned. His shirt would be un-tucked and hung loose around his waist. I had thought he looked so handsome that way; that was when he seemed most like an artist to me. We'd set up a blanket in the shade and he'd study a plant or a flower, sketching uninterrupted. I would tend to another part of the garden or read a book. Sometimes I would lie on the blanket beside him and just daydream. When he finished drawing, sometimes hours would have passed. He'd come sit beside me and open his book. Then he'd show me what he'd drawn in lead or colored pencils. Mostly they were studies for larger works that he would later create in his studio. I remembered a page with many renderings of the same hydrangea sketched from so many different angles, lined up across a page, each a small study of the flower's overall architecture. He'd scratch little squares of color on the bottom of some pages. Each one capturing a different effect of light on the same hue, all within one flower. Some of his drawings were detailed renderings of an unexpected perspective on a place in the garden. One of my favorites was a depiction of the space under the arbor. Even though I wasn't an artist I could see the piece was a study in shading and light. The grape leaves seemed translucent in places, with light on some grapes coming from one direction compared to those where the sun was obscured by the foliage above.

I couldn't imagine anyone else ever sharing something so personal with me. He wouldn't tease me or flirt while he talked about his art. He was so focused and would sometimes look at me for a moment while he paused. I'd felt he was reading my emotions, the effect his art had on me. I'd watch his fingers, stained with pencil lead, as he turned the pages of his sketch book and told me what the garden made him feel, why certain images had inspired him. He offered a rationale for why he was so focused on botanicals for the series he was putting together. Sometimes he'd ask me questions about the plantings and the garden design. Then, after we'd talked, often he would lay back and close his eyes, I'd move beside him and he'd take my hand in his and that would be the rest of our afternoon.

It was getting too cold to stay sitting there in the garden, but I really didn't want to let it go. It wasn't just Jeff although my thoughts kept returning to him. My heart had been in that garden even before him. It reminded me of the people I'd loved most. The only people who'd really known and loved me: my mother, Nick, Carmen. The garden had been a part of my life with them, all of those years. Sitting there I could see and feel that my garden had died too. It was the most terrible feeling. That magical place had become part of the tomb that was the rest of the house, the life I had lived there. As rain began to fall, I stood and started walking back to Carmen's. All I wanted was my son and to return to Bend, back to my new life.

When we got to the station, we saw that the train to Bend had already left. Somehow there was a mistake when I had looked at the train schedule that morning. I had read 1:00. The man behind the ticket counter looked at me, at first with blank look. "Sorry miss. There's nothing I can do about it." He was indifferent. That must have happened all the time. He was younger than Harry, thin and he wore a mustache. He was in his uniform and it looked wrinkled, as if he'd been working all day, hadn't ironed it before putting it on. He looked back down, counting his money and doing something with the tickets. I stared at the metal bars and at the clock behind him. It was just 12:45. I would have ben on time.

Then, Carmen handed Charlie to me and moved past me. She tried talking with the man on my behalf. When he saw me holding the baby, his eyes turned sympathetic. He looked at my hand. I was still wearing Nick's ring. It was part of my web of lies.

"She needs to get back tonight, isn't there another train?"

"Not to Bend. Not until tomorrow."

"Well is there anything she can do?"

"She may be able to go through Eugene." He looked