Chapter 6

Autumn came to New York State a little early that year. By mid-October the leaves on the tall maples in front of the spacious suburban home had already turned crimson and were beginning to fall on the well-trimmed lawn. Jane Brighton noticed this as she paused from the light housework she had been doing and lit a cigarette by the living room window. Bob had gone out to the liquor store to pick up provisions for the party they had planned for that evening, and she looked anxiously up the block for a sign of the station wagon returning to the house.

Weekends had been a joy to both of them since they had returned from North Carolina at the end of July, and the reasons for this were still somewhat perplexing to her. By all rights, she thought as she resumed her dusting, what had transpired in that sordid little country shack should have given both of them nervous breakdowns. But it hadn't. After a few weeks of recovery from the violent shock of her abduction, she had found herself opening to her husband in ways she had never before considered possible. He too had changed considerably; he had forgiven her for responding so lustfully to those mountain men--had shown that he really understood why she had done it--and there was a tenderness in his voice and a gentleness to his touch during lovemaking that hadn't been present before their misadventure. Divine providence? she didn't know and cared less, she giggled to herself as she pranced through the back door and shook out a living room rug in the brisk autumn wind. What counted was that they had changed for the better; they had suffered through a moment of crisis and had drawn on untapped resources of strength and understanding that had brought them closer together.

Jane shivered as she flung the rug over the back clothesline and returned to the house. The summer shorts she had been wearing for housecleaning were quite out-of-season and much too skimpy for someone of her modesty, she smiled, but she knew she looked good, deliciously good Bob had said, when she wore them, and she would be the last one to give up a good thing when she knew she had one.

She moved into the living room and double checked to see if everything was ready and in order for that evening. Some of Bob's business associates and the new neighbors down the block had been invited, and she looked forward to showing off the new fondue set and the china she had purchased for the occasion.

"Hey, there, hotpants," she heard from the driveway, and she turned to see Bob struggling in the front door, his arms filled with packages.

"Oh, darling, let me help you," she exclaimed, rushing toward him and lifting one large sack piled against his chest. "Such a strong, virile young husband," she whispered into his flushed cheek warmly, and assisted him with the liquor and groceries into the kitchen.