It Lurks- By Susan Thomas

It's not supposed to happen,
not to you anyway.
We all think it
as we watch that movie
with a over sized bowl of popcorn.
Stories of possession and demonic hauntings
just don't happen in the real world
but the thought is fearful.
It seems ridiculous and absurd.
When that evil creeps into your home
you can't accept it.
Things like that don't happen.
You make excuses
for what can't be explained.
It was the TV.
It was the wind.
It was only a dream.
Ignore the chill creeping up your spine.
Ignore the terror in your gut.
Never mind you avoid going home.
Those arguments that come from nowhere
that make no sense
that have no winner
are just part of human nature.
Your babe's spine tingling scream of terror,
is just a cry.
He must be hungry.
The evil intensifies.
Growling, cursing, yelling
all with that rancid voice.
Surely it was your imagination.
Nothing to worry about.
Still you begin to pray more.
Prayer once a chore
now a small comfort.
You still run from acceptance,
but ask the pastor to bless the house.
Perhaps it will ease your stomach.
In the back of your mind
you know the truth
as the crosses on the walls begin to multiply.
Still in denial
the evil angry
it wants you gone
it will do anything to make you leave.
It attacks your precious babe.
The sound of your boy
unable to breathe
terrifies you to your very soul.
Rush in horror to his crib
he can breathe now
he screams in terror
The claw like hand print
on his chest
jars you from your slumber of denial.
It dared attack your baby.
You curse the thing.
Let it know that God dwells with your family.
You know you haven't the strength for this battle.
You know it's time to leave.
You pack
praying it doesn't follow
praying that god will protect your family
You leave
and never return
to that house where evil lives.

Honor of a Name- By Susan Thomas

Why should the name offend?
Isn't it an honor to hear the name?
Redskin, Indian.
Affecntionate terms our ancestors,
called yours.
Don't they bring back fond memories?
Redskin is an honor of a name,
don't you think?
Much like nigger.
I'm sure the memories of how they came here,
are nothing but pleasent.
Or even chink,
surely there is no negative in such a name.
Just as redskin,
is harmless.
Does it really matter,
that our ancestors shouted that name,
as they raped and murdered your people?
It couldn't bother you,
that it was probably used
as your people were beaten
on that godforsaken march.
A march that killed so many.
Don't you find in honor in it?
Surely the name is a proud one,
just like savage,
nigger,
chink,
or even cracker.
Why complain?
How could a name,
with such rich history,
possibly offend?

Judgement Day- By Susan Thomas

No one expects to die really. We all just kind of muddle our way through life expecting to live forever. Never thinking that one day we will be the ones in a coffin. Unfortunately reality had caught up to me sooner than I expected. I was only around forty and had died of a very sudden heart attack. Despite dying earlier than I had expected I was confident that I would soon be enjoying the pleasures of heaven. There was a short line of recently deceased all waiting to be judged. I was at the end.

The two men in front of me I recognized. I never knew them personally, but one had been on the news and the other had been a neighbor.  The man who had been on the news hadn't exactly been a role model as you may have guessed. He had made the news a few days ago because he had shot and killed his family as they slept. He then called 911 and then shot himself in the head before the authorities could arrive. He left a note saying he didn't have a choice. That he thought killing them would make the voices go away, but they still screamed and swore. So he blew his brains out to make it all stop. No one I knew felt sorry for the man. I couldn't wait to see the man dragged down to hell where he would suffer for the crime he had committed.

The other man had been a neighbor. A man that disgusted me just by looking at him. He was openly gay and wasn't sorry for it. Him and his partner even had adopted a little girl. I felt sorry for the child not because she had just lost a dad, but because she had been exposed to such perverse behavior at such a young age. The child wouldn't have a chance in life. He hated to think of the man being condemned to hell, but he had made his choices. Now he would have to pay the price for his decisions.

The line moved steadily. Inching its way forward in a steady pace. I couldn't believe how fast the line was moving. I wished lines had moved like this when I was still alive. Finally it was the murderer's turn to be judged. I was close enough that I could hear and see what was going on. The man stood before God. He listened as God listed all his sins. To my surprise the man broke down sobbing. As if he might really be sorry.

     "I'm so sorry lord. I truly am. I don't why I did most of those things. I've already readied myself for your punishment. Please send me away from your sight. It's the least I deserve."

Then to my astonishment Jesus who had been at his Father's side stepped forward and looked at the man with nothing but compassion. He walked up to the man and wiped his tear and turned back to his father.

    "Father, I know this man. I suffered with him and I paid his price."

God nodded and opened a giant book. It had a slight glow and he scanned the pages. A smile came across his face as he found what he was looking for. His smile was huge and heart warming. He looked at the man with nothing but love.

    "Sir, you sinned, but you embraced my son. You knew him and so he died for you. You are free to pass. You will find that your family is already waiting for you. They hold no grudge towards you. They are just happy that you no longer suffer."

     The man was then escorted by two brillant and terrifying angels to the gates of heaven. It was then I noticed the demonic presence in the room. They booed and hissed as they saw the man's soul saved and escorted to heaven.

     "We'll claim a soul yet, you bastard!" shouted one of them to God and his son.

It was then my neighbor's turn. I turned to watch his judgement. This was going to be painful to watch. He seemed like a good man, but he chose to sin. I braced myself for the worst. He stood before God and listened without response to his list of sins. He just seemed to stand there and let them soak in. I couldn't hear the sins. It confused me, but perhaps the sins were only meant to be heard by the one being judged at the time.

     "I'm sorry Lord for my sins. I tried to follow you, but I was selfish. I kept thinking of what I wanted and forgot  that you already had something in mind for me."

Jesus once again stood up and walked over to the man being judged. He smiled and embraced him warmly. As if greeting an old friend and then turned to his father. He paused for a moment as if thinking what to say. The demons in the backround hissed in antcipation.

    "Father, once more I must say I know this man. I know him well. He and I have been friends for a very long time. I know he messed up from time to time, but I paid that price. I died for him. His bill has been taken care of."

I was astounded at his words. The man was a sinner. Did he not have to be condemened? Once again God checked his book and that same warm smile crept across his face. He welcomed him and even aplogized for the behavior of those who claimed to follow him. Two angels escorted him to the gates of heaven as the demons once agained hissed and booed.

At this point I was so furious that God could accept such horrible people that I didn't hear them call my name. It was my turn to be judged. An angel nudged me forward. The demons seemed happy to see me. It was creepy. I took my place before God. He then began to list my sins. The list seemed to go on forever. It was making me dizzy. I thought I might pass out from the lengthy list.  When he finished he looked at me waiting for a response. I paused waiting for Jesus to stand and greet me as well, but he just looked at me with a deep sorrow.

     "I know I sinned. I'm not perfect, but I tried hard to follow you. To live a life you would be proud of? Surely your son knows this!"

Jesus looked at me for a moment, but did not stand.

     "My dear stranger, I knocked at the door of your heart every day for years. Many times I thought you might actually invite me in, but your hate and judgement of others was more important to you. I found that door being slammed in my face time and time again."

I couldn't believe it. Were they rejecting me? I memorized whole passages of the bible, spread his word, and lived life proclaiming his name. How on earth could I be turned away! They had to know me.

     "My lords,  I read the word, spread the good news, and lived life never denying you. I have shown nothing but devotion to you!"

As the words passed my lips I saw a sudden furry come over God. He looked at me with anger and what seeemed like disdain.

"Yes, you read the word, but did not understand it! I told you to love your neighbor and your enemies. Instead you laid judgement on them and allowed hate to grow in your heart. You did not spread any news I support. You took the word. Took the message and distorted it. You told people that I wouldn't accept them for who they are. You told them my kingdom was for people like you alone! You have destroyed faith in others and given the people the impression that I am a hateful and bigoted God. Your words were posion and came only from the devil. You denied me everyday. Everytime you whispered words of disgust about people you did not know or understand you denyed me! If you knew me you would have embraced them and welcomed them as friends! Get out of my sight stranger! I know you not and neither does my son!"

Before I knew what happened laughing and cackling demons surrounded me and began to drag me to hell as I screamed for mercy. I tried to remind god who I was with my screams as I was dragged away, but to my dismay another was already standing before him being judged.

War Cry- By Susan Thomas

Anger, an all consuming emotion.
Many hold tight to it as if it were gold.
Holding it tight,
letting the anger twist and contort their heart.
Fearful that forgiveness,
might inflict a pain that is worse.
Perhaps forgiving will tear them apart.

Believing with conviction,
that forgiveness,
makes unspeakable evils right.
That to forgive,
means to approve the horrid.
Thinking that to forgive a tyrant, like Hitler,
makes the blood he shed,
with his tongue of hate,
somehow justified.

That to forgive means,
forgetting the knife in your back,
forgetting the pain inflicted,
declaring that being a victim is pleasurable.

Oh, how wrong they are.
Forgiveness is a wonderfully selfish thing.
It's refusing to bow down to the past.
Rejecting cruelty and tyranny.
It heals your heart and soul.

To forgive is letting out a war cry.
A cry against the hurt,
against the betrayl.
A cry declaring,
determination to move on.
Stating to the world,
you will be your own master.
Pain is not a road block,
but fuel to keep moving.

"Nothing of Love" Chapter 3 - Elsie Heberling

    Springtime was slowly advancing over the earth, sweeping before it a promise of warmer, brighter days.  But there was little brightness in the outlook of Philip DuFrow as he walked slowly toward the small church.

    As he took his place with the class of young men, some of whom were of the second generation he had taught since entering this work, his thoughts were dark indeed.  But his interpretations and explanations, his visions and inspirations, were up to his usual standards.  The responses and eager questions he received were the means by which he was partly sustained during the ordeal he was passing through.  He looked up to see Maggie in another  class and wondered how she could reconcile her professed religious beliefs with her real actions.

    With the conclusion of the service, Philip stopped to speak with his father.  After inquiring for his mothers' welfare, he decided to tell his father of his plans to sell his home.

    The elder DuFrow was perplexed.  "But why, Philip, why, when you have one of the nicest and most modern homes in town, why give it up?"
      "There are reasons, father, that I would rather not go into."
    Anxiously, he asked, "Is it financial, Phil?"
      "No, nothing like that, if it were, I could find a way to deal with it, but I'm afraid you would not understand if I tried to tell you."  After a pause in which neither one spoke, Philip said again, "I'm afraid I don't understand it myself."
    Another pause, then, "Is it Maggie?"
      "I would rather not talk of it now, dad, maybe another time.  Tell mother I'll see her soon."  With that he walked quickly away, leaving his father to look after him with very sad eyes.

    Edward DuFrow looked up from his luncheon plate to find his wife's eyes fastened on his face.  When their eyes met, she asked, "What troubles you, Edward?"
      "Well, I guess I may as well tell you that Phil is going to sell his home and move into one of those new apartments in Northwood."
    Nelda DuFrow was aghast.  "Oh, no, Edward!"
      "Yes, that's right, he wouldn't tell me the reason, but it's not hard to guess."
    Tears came into Nelda's eyes as she exclaimed, "Maggie is a devil!"
      "Those are pretty strong words, Nelda."
    Anger flared in Nelda.  "They are not strong enough to express what I feel.  I don't see how we could have been so deceived by her."
      "I often wonder too, but it's too late now to speculate, we must continue treating her as we always have."

    In Philip's home they were all seated at the luncheon table, all but Maggie, who was eating alone in the kitchen, as she had for some time.  The children had become accustomed to this arrangement by now, having been told that their mother was in a nervous state, and it was necessary for her to be quiet, especially at meals.  If they had their own opinions on this, they kept them to themselves.  It was never mentioned after the first two or three days.  Their father hated this with all his soul, but felt helpless in the situation.  He knew he could never tell them the truth.  To tell them it was because their mother hated him, and felt contaminated in his presence for having (in her own words) forced a large family on her, and that in her belief, they were not really married, was unthinkable.

    It was still early evening when Philip walked down the street on his way to the hardware store.  Passing the Kenwick home, he saw Tom and Mary in the yard, trimming the shrubbery, and decided to stop and chat for a short while.
   
    He was greeted by his father-in-law, saying, "Well, how's the preacher."
    Irked, Phil replied, "I am not a preacher, Kenwick, and as I have said before, I would thank you to stop referring to me as such."

    Tom Kenwick looked down from his greater height, as if seeing Phil for the first time.  "I don't know why I allowed my girl to marry you in the first place."

    Philip had been insulted by this man so many times, that he had come to the place where he could ignore it, but now replied with cold sarcasm, "Maggie was old enough to marry without your consent, and you wanted a son-in-lay who would be an easy tough for a loan."
      'Not don't be a smart alek, runt."

    Anger rose in Phil like a strong wind.  He was not a runt, but certainly much shorter than the big man who stood before him.  "Alright, so I'm a runt, but I can beat hell out of your anytime you are ready."  With blazing eyes he stood waiting, but when the other once did not move, he walked away.

    Mary, with the small wrinkled face and sad eyes, hurried after him.  "Philip, don't be angry with Tom.  He don't mean the things he says, though I know he shouldn't say them."  She placed her hand on his arms as she spoke.  Now he looked into the troubled eyes, as he said, "Never mind, little mother, I'll just forget it, but I'll not be coming around again.  No use antagonizing each other over nothing, and you take good care of yourself,"  He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and left.

    He had always liked this small woman, who was in constant struggle to appease her husbands' belligerence.  Tom Kenwick reveled in the situation.  Thrusting him into the center of attention from his family as it did, gave him a sense of satisfaction, and at times, as of this evening, as feeling of unholy glee.

    Tom did not dislike Philip, it was his way of bringing other people, as he expressed it, down to earth.  That certain ones needed this assistance always puzzled them, especially to be brought down by one like Tom.

    Philip entered the hardware store of Rodney Benson, finding himself the only customer at the moment, and being greeted by Rod.  "I was beginning to wonder if it paid to stay open in the evenings.  You're the first customer I've had in half an hour."
      "Well, I'm glad you are open tonight anyway, I couldn't find the time today, and I need a new lock for my garage door.  Someone broke the one I had, got in, and  some of my tools have disappeared."
      "That's hard luck, Phil, do you have any idea of who did it?"
      "Not, I  don't, not the slightest.  I know almost everyone in town and I haven't the least suspicion of who it could have been."
      "Well, you know, there are a lot of new people coming in faster than we can provide housing for them, and that new town at Northwood is bringing in all kinds."
      "I know, Rod, and it is bringing in new business for us.  The Bellfried Lumber Co. business has just about doubled for us."
      "That's great, but what's this I hear about your selling your home?"
      "You've heard it right, Rod, I'm selling and moving into an apartment in Northwood."

    Rod Benson looked at his friend with unbelieving eyes, "But why, Phil, you have a beautiful home, and practically new, besides, this is your home."
      "I know all that, Rod, and please don't ask me why, all I can say is that it is not my wish."
      "Just as you say, Phil, but I think it a darned shame.  We'll miss you."

    Phil tried making it sound casual, but his voice had a slight huskiness as he replied, "Oh, I'll be back every day, I expect to keep my place in the business."  Rod Benson watched his friend walk toward the street, and was sure his steps were not as brisk as usual.

    The following morning Grace Benson made a call on her friend, Lois Elliot.  "I just had to tell you, Lois, that it's true that the DuFrows are leaving town.  Phil told Rod last night, but he also told him it was not by his choice they were going, so what do you make of that?"
    Wonderingly, Lois replied, "Well, if not his wish, who is left to make such a decision but Maggie."
      "You're right, but why Maggie, why does she want to leave?"
      "I'm sure I wouldn't know, Grace, and I have had no intention of mentioning this to anyone, but since this has come about, I'm asking you if you have notice anything strange about Maggie recently?"
      "Well, yes, in a certain way...but she continues to be the same kind of considerate person she's always been."

    Lois was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Now Grace, I don't want to start anything, an unpleasant rumor, so say nothing, but has it occured to you that she and Philip are having marital difficulties?"
      "I'll confess I've had a thought about that, but never entertained it long, because they both are such fine persons, that it really could not be."
      "I'm glad you feel that way, I would hate to see it happen."
      "Me too, Lois, but now I must get home again, I just wanted you to know it was true they are going."

    That evening the household of Philip and Maggie was thrown into a state of excitement by a telephone call from David Douglas with the news that a baby boy had been born to Betsy and himself.  Both the mother and infant were doing fine.

    Ruth was especially happy.  "At last we have a cousin, I thought that was never going to happen."  Young Edward advanced the thought that it would "be a long time before he could be a cub scout."  Jennifer wondered what his name would be.  Paul was "Sure Aunt Betsey would be a good mother."  Maggie's only remark - "Betsy had as much right to have a baby as anyone else, and I never understood why Susan never had one."  That comment was not exactly one for family discussion, which thus dribbled into silence.  Philip noticed a note of spite in Maggie's voice when she spoke of Susan, so said nothing.  He was happy for Betsy and David.

    Kerry Kenwick was thirty-two, five years younger than his sister Maggie.  Never having married, he now felt he had found a girl he wished to make his own.  Kerry was tall and sturdy like his father, but bore his mother's nature, with the dark handsomeness of many Irishmen.  Polly Dixson was tall and blond and very much in love with Kerry.  His mother was pleased, as she felt he should marry and sometimes wondered if he ever would find one whom he wanted.  The wedding would be in June.

    When Philip and Maggie learned of their plans, Philip was first to offer congratulations.  "I'm happy for both of you, Kerry, but we'll be in Northwood by that time."
    Kerry was surprised.  "You mean you are going through with that, Phil?"
      "Yes, that's right, and I don't mind telling you that I have no choice if I want to keep my family."

    Kerry turned to his sister with a look in his eyes such as she had never seen before.  She cringed as he said, "Maggie, you're a fool!"  Never had he spoken to her in that manner.  Now she was hurt and humiliated.  As brother and sister, they had been found of each other, now she didn't understand.  As she turned away, she replied, "You know nothing about it, so keep your opinions to yourself."

    And Kerry did.  Never again did he mention the subject between his sister and Philip, but secretly, he was in sympathy with Philip.  The two men walked slowly across the lawn that was already turning green, when Kerry said, "It's too bad you are leaving before the wedding, because I was going to ask permission to have the reception in your garden.  It's the loveliest spot in this town."
    Phil didn't look up.  "You know, Kerry, I've put as many work hours into this garden as it took to build the house."
      "And that is not included in the selling price?"
      "No, Kerry, there is no price for that, it has all been a work of love, first because I wanted my family to have it, secondly, I like creating things with my own hands."  Phil's voice ended on a sad note which did not escape the man beside him.
      "Well, Phil, all I can say is, that your giving it up is the damnedest arrangement I ever heard of."  Philip did not answer and the two walked in silence to the sidewalk.  "I'll see you later, Phil."  "Sure, Kerry."

    Philip watched the other disappear, then turned slowly and walked to the back of the house where he had been mulching the soil around the rose bushes, remembering this would be the last time he would be performing this task.  And why he was doing it now, he didn't know, except he loved doing the work.  Perhaps the new owner would permit him to come back in the summer and sit awhile.

    He was not well acquainted with the man, only the hour or two when he had shown him the house and premises, which had been his only contact with him.  All transactions had been carried out with an agent.  Philip know only that he was an official of the new steel mill at Northwood, and that he must vacate by the first of May.

    The stone that had lodged in his heart a long time ago, grew in weight each day.  He was seeing his garden now as it would be in summer.  He had traveled many miles to acquire rare plants and shrubbery to feast their eyes on.  The pool yawned empty, but later would be filled with sparkling water where the lillies would lift their pure white faces with their golden hearts, and gold fish would cavort.  The big fat frogs that had so delighted the children, would sound off with the mournful croaking of their loneliness.  The rustic furniture he had himself built, would be in plance for others to enjoy.  It all added up to a pain that at times became all but unbearable.

   

An Affair-by Susan Thomas

Oh to write, to create.
An affair to remember.
The passion was not unlike two lovers.
You gave me the power of God,
the ability to create worlds,
and to meet characters
no one else knew.

You gave me the ability to escape.
Escape my misery and sorrow,
run to a place where it didn't matter.
A place that was safe.
A place that kept secrets.

Looking now,
I wonder where the passion went.
What happened to the desire?
Why tire of God like power?
Perhaps no need to escape,
happiness now within,
the passion faded like an ember on the wind.
New passions took root.
The real world even better.
No need to write,
but perhaps we can still sit
and remember our affair.

"Nothing of Love" Chapter 2 Part 4 - by Elsie Heberling

    Nelda DeFrow had been ailing for several days.  Dr. Bradley had been encouraging, but recommended that she remain in bed for a time and rest.  Being an active person, she had not felt this as necessary, she was not that ill.  But Edward DuFrow had though otherwise, doctors' orders were to be obeyed, so Nelda remained in bed.  That evening in Philips' home, their mother's illness was spoken of, and Phil turned to Maggie.

      "Perhaps you would go over and help Betsey, since you are in the nursing business."
      "I think not.  Betsey will do just fine.  Besides, old Mrs. Rodgers needs me more than your mother  does."
      "Well, I'm going over in a few minutes, would you like to go with me?"
      "No, I'm tire."
Eagerly, Ruth said, "I'll go with you father."
      "Good. I'll be ready in twenty minutes."
Little Eddie said, "Me, too, daddy!"
      "You, too, Eddie."

    Philips' family had always adored their grandmother DuFrow, as she had loved them.  Now to see her in bed with sickness was new for them, never having seen her so.  Ruth approached the sick woman's bed, leaned over and kissed her cheek.  Before she could say anything, Nelda said with a smile,  "And how's my girl this evening?"
      "Oh, I'm fine, grandma, but you are sick."
      "Not very sick, my dear, I'll be up and around again in a few days."
      "I hope so, grandma, we don't like seeing you like this."

    Philip felt better about his mother after finding her so cheerful.  His father assured him that it was nothing serious.  Rest was all she needed.

    Phillips' sister Betsey, and her husband, David Douglas were staying at the DuFrow home during their mothers' illness.  They now walked with Philip and his children, to the outside, as they were leaving.
    David was saying, "What's this I hear about you selling your house?"
      "Where did you hear that, David?"
      "Chuck Corey asked me about it the other day.  Seems that Maggie told Alice about it."

    A sad, pained expression appeared on Philips' face, and he was silent for a long moment, then replied,  "I don't know why Maggie tells these things, she knows I am not going to sell."
      "I wondered over it, I didn't think you were, Phil."
      "Forget it, Dave, and if you hear it mentioned again, deny it."
      "Sure will."

    Betsey watched her brother and his children walk down the street, as she turned to her husband and asked, "Did it occur to you that Maggie has a nasty streak in her?"
      "I've known for some time there was something wrong with her, but didn't want to say anything."
      "Well, I'm growing depressed over the way she treats Phil."
      "Now, my dear, that will never do.  Phil can take care of himself."
    He placed his arm around her, drawing her onto the porch, where he sat down on the swing, and drew her beside him.  "Sit down, sweetheart, and I'll tell you something else I heard today."

    Betsey yielded to the pressure of his arm and leaned her head against him saying, "Now hurry and tell me, it's growing cold out here."
      "You're right, it is growing colder, come we'll go inside."  The late October evenings were indeed growing colder.  Betsey shivered as they entered the house.  Inside, the house was shadowed with early dusk.

    Before lights could be turned on,  Edward DuFrow came quietly down the stairs.  "Your mother is sleeping now, and I wanted to talk to Philip."

      "Philip has gone, father."
      "I'm sorry, but since you are here, I'll tell you and see Philip later."  He was silent for a moment, while the others waited.  Without raising his head to look at them, he spoke.  "I expect to sell part of my land.  Since my boys have left home, I find I cannot manage too well.  Outside help is hard to find, as all the young fellows are going into the new steel plant to work, and since there is such demand for property, I felt that this is the time to sell."  Then very sadly, he finished speaking, "I guess no one wants to be a farmer any more."

    The two young people were shocked by the news, but after a moments silence, Betsey cried, "Oh, father, our beautiful home land, how can we part with it?"
      "It won't be easy, Betsey.  This land has meant more to me than I could ever tell you, but there comes a time in a man's life..."  He left the sentence unfinished, and not yet looking at them, he slowly left the room.

    Quietness filled the room for several minutes.  David rose from the couch where he was sitting and turned on the lights.  Glancing at his wife, he said softly, "Your father is right, Betsey, now is the time to sell.  It is not only the steel mills, but there are other industries coming into the area."

      "I know, David, but you can't feel about it as I do.  Why, do you know, when we were kids, we roamed all over the meadowlands, the wheat and corn fields, we used to pretend the corn shocks were teepees, and we were the Indians.  And you would never believe how many battles we fought with the white man."  He looked tenderly at his wife as she continued.  "I wanted so much for our little one to enjoy this land as we did."

      "I know dear, I feel the same way, but until our baby is born and old enough to enjoy that kind of life, these fields will be turned into new homes.  And please, Betsey, let's not make things harder for your father, because I'm convinced he hates doing this as much as we."

    Pensively, she replied, "I wonder what Philip will say..."

    When Phil returned home after visiting his mother, he found Maggie knitting, and at once asked,     "Where are the other children?"
      "They're in their rooms."  Ruth said.  "And that is where I'm going.  I have lessons to study."  She immediately left, as her mother called after her, "See that little Eddie sets to bed first."
      "Sure, come on Eddie."

    The house grew quiet except for the endless clicking of the knitting needles.  Philip was reading his Sunday school lesson for the next week, when suddenly Maggie said, "Father was here while you were gone."

      "Yes - did he want anything?"  Philip had learned a long time before, that big Tom Kenwick never came to their home without asking a favor.

      "Yes, he did, he wanted you to lend him some money for a short time."

    A deep frown etched itself on Philip's face as he answered, "But he never repaid the last loan I gave him."

    In a petulant voice, Maggie demanded, "But he needs it, and father is growing old, too, you know."
      "Of course I know, I also know your father is as strong as I am, and as able to work as any man."
     "Now listen to the preacher talk - that is what your Christianity amounts to, refusing to help one who needs it."

    Philip was angry as he said, "I have never refused help to anyone who needs it, but I refuse to be a soft tough any longer to fellows who never try to save their money, and never repay me.  I haven't that much to give away."
      "But your strut around town trying to look lie a big tycoon."

    He quickly go to his feet, a terrible anger sweeping over him.  Maggie sensed his mood, and she too, stood up as he grasped her by the shoulders, shaking her as a baby shakes his rattle.  Her knitting fell to the floor, she was frightened, never having seen Philip so angry, causing her to burst into tears.

    At the sight of her tears, he released her and hurriedly went up the stairs.  In his room he sat heavily down on his bed and collapsed, asking himself, "What has happened to me."  He was deeply concerned over his frequent fits of anger that had tormented him the last year.  Being of a patient, tolerant nature, he was forced to realize that it was always Maggie who managed to be insulting when there was no reason for it, that always brought these ugly spells on him.  He simply did not know how to deal with her.

    This act of his tonight of laying hands on her had been a brutal thing to do, and he was shamed with it.  A real man never used violence against a woman, and Maggie was his wife.  Slowly he made himself ready for bed, and his pillow was wet with his tears before he slept.

    Philip was not weak or a coward.  In school, he had held his own with other fellows, never running away from a difficult situation, or backing down from an aggressor, and often cam through the winner.  But Maggie baffled him.

    Perhaps he started wrong, always being kind and gently, because he loved her.  And Maggie loved to dominate.  He refused to place his marriage on a contest basis, each one competing to master the other.  Such a situation was obnoxious to him.  That she no longer loved him was plainly evident, but what could he do.  His children were the first considerations and perhaps Maggie might yet change, and he lived with that hope.  There were times when she would be endearing, but those times were infrequent and short-lived.

    When Philip entered the big kitchen the following morning, his breakfast was waiting for him.  His first glimpse of Maggie by the table caused his heart to skip a beat.  Her brown curls were drawn back and tied with a blue ribbon, as he remembered first seeing her, her morning robe of blue, and innocent wide eyes, stirred him profoundly.  Maggie was still a lovely woman, the mother of two, but still maintaining her girlish figure.  After the usual morning greeting between them, there was nothing more said.

    When Philip had finished his breakfast, he looked at his wife across the table and said, "How much money did your father want?"
    Her face brightened as she answered, "Fifty dollars."
      "I'll have it for him this evening, but I'm warning you, it will be the last."  She made no reply, and he left the house to begin his day's work, while the children came trooping down for their breakfast.

    When they were all off to school, Maggie hurried to clean up her morning work, then dressed and was on her way to see Mrs. Evans, who was confined to her bed with sickness.
   
      "Ah, my dear Maggie, you never fail me, what would I do without you."
      "There would be someone else, Emily, to care for you."
      "I don't know who it would be, neighbors are not what they used to be, and since my dear Joe has gone, I can tell you, it leaves me pretty much alone."

    Mrs. Evans was a small woman, sixty years of age, and a childless widow.  As Maggie proceeded to bathe the frail body, place fresh linen on her and the bed, the sick woman continued talking.  "You are a very lucky woman to have such a wonderful husband and lovely children.  Now if we could have had a family, as we always wanted, everything would be different now."

    Maggie didn't want to hear anything more of Emily Evans' disappointments, and said quickly, "I have been told ther is to be a new hospital built in Northwood, and I hope it's true - I would like to work in one."

      "But why would you want to work outside your lovely home and away from your children?"
      "Sometimes, Emily, one's home is not quite enough."  Maggie didn't want to continue this particular conversation, so added, "Now you be a good girl and I'll see you tomorrow."

    Out on the street she though to herself, "So - she wanted a family, well, if she had had one baby, she would never want another one.  It's always these woman who never say, that want them, or think they do."

    It was late that evening, and all the DuFrow family had retired but Maggie and Phil, with Maggie at her incessant knitting.  Phil and laid aside the paper he had been reading, and dropped his head back against the chair back, closing his tried eyes.

    After a long silence, Maggie asked, "Did you give father the money?"
      "Yes, I stopped on the way home."
    After a long silence, then Philip spoke softly.  "Maggie, may I come to your room tonight?"
      "You certainly may not."
      "But why, Maggie, why, I need you."  He had raised his head to look at her when her cruel answer came to him.
      "I don't need you, besides, we are not legally married, and never have been."
    He sprang to his feet, facing her and almost shouting, "What are your talking about?"
      "You heard what I said, we are not married, because I am a Catholic, and we were not married by a priest."
    Philip was so stunned by this pronouncement, that he did not move.  He found himself speechless with this erratic behavior of Maggies'.  And Maggie continued her knitting as calmly as though she had announced only that it was raining outside.  She had not looked up from her work.  Philip stood looking down at her for several minutes, then spoke to her in a low, even voice.

      "Maggie, after almost nineteen years together, and four children, you say we are not married."
      "I not only say it, I believe it."

    With great patience, he spoke as to a child.  "You have never been a member of a Catholic church, there is not one within twenty-five miles of here, furthermore, you have never been inside one!  What makes you think you are a Catholic?"
      "Because my parents were members of that faith when they were in Ireland."
      "But in heaven's name, Maggie, it is forty years since they came to this country, and they have never been in a Catholic church since they arrived.  Or any other church!  Your father had never believed in churches, whatever their faith."

    She didn't answer, only her needles clicked faster and sharper, and he again said,  "And why have you though of this only now?"  His voice rose on a higher note as he reminded her, "You wanted to be married, and were very pleased to have our minister perform the ceremony."
      "Oh, Phil, will you please keep quiet, you have made me drop several stitches, and I must get little Eddie's sweater finished."

    Philip tossed in his bed, his eyes burning from needed sleep, yet sleep would not come.  He stared through the window at the darkness, but no answers came.  He was puzzled, frustrated, and angry, wondering how Maggie had come to such an outrageous decision.  Had she been talking to someone, had another person planted the idea in her mind?  In all their years together, this had been the first mention of this subject.  The whole thing was so preposterous he could scarcely believe he had heard clearly.  But the next few days convinced Philip that he had heard all to well.

    Maggie's fanaticism grew as the days passed.  Several evenings later she prepared the usual good dinner and placed it on the table.  When the family were all assembled, Maggie retired to the kitchen with the remark, "Don't wait for me."  After a few minutes, Philip called to her, "Your dinner is growing cold,"  There was no answer, and their meal continued.  With his thoughts on his work, and conversation with the children, he had momentarily forgotten Maggie.  Now, with the start, he realized she had not come to the dining table.  Immediately going to the kitchen, he found her eating at the work table, alone.

      Angrily he demanded, "Now what in heavens name is the meaning of this?"
    With the saintly expression she had come to assume she answered, "I told you we are not married, and I mean to see to it that we see as little of each other as possible."
      "Alright,"  he replied heatedly, "stay as far away from me as you like - but have you no consideration for the children?"
      "The children will understand."
    With bitter sarcasm he replied, "And I suppose you will tell them."
      "Of course, they must know the truth."
    In desperate alarm, he now cried out, "In God's name, Maggie, have you no conscience?  Where will that leave them, what are they to think of themsevles?"
    Very blandly, her answer came.  "They will get over it, they are young and intelligent."

    At that point Ruth entered the kitchen, exclaiming, "Mother, why haven't you come to your dinner?"  Seeing the unfinished on the plate, she started speaking again, when her father quickly interrupted.
      "Never mind, Ruth, your mother does not feel well this evening - and isn't it time you were beginning your studies?"  With these words, he placed his arm around her shoulders, guiding her form the kitchen.
      "But father, if mother is not well, I should stay and help her."
      "It's not necessary, Ruth, I'll help her if she needs it.  Now you get busy with your school work."

    When Philip turned back to his wife, he was still angry and determined.  She had risen from her chair, and turned her back to him.  "Sit down Maggie, I want to talk to you."  She obeyed him but said nothing.  He was surprised that she did me, and started speaking at once.

      "Now I positively forbid you to speak of this matter to the children, now, or any time in the future!"
    Her voice had a mocking tone, "You forbid!"
      "I demand that you keep silent on this subject.  If you should tell them, they will hate you for it, and you will gain nothing."
      "And if I don't, where will that leave you?"
    Philip looked steadily at her as he said, "At least with their respect, all the rest you may ignore."
    A sly smile passed over her lips as she said, "What will you do to reward me for not telling?"

    For the first time in their lives together, Philip was feeling an aversion toward Maggie.  He had loved her with all the love of which a man is capable, overlooking her idiosyncrasies, being patient with her whims and stubborness.  But this was different, at last he saw her as a woman willing to bargain for the love and respect of her own children.  Philip loved his children as only a good man can.  His own family had been an affectionate and close one.  That his own children should otherwise was an intolerable thought.

      "I'll do anything within reason, if you promise not to destroy the lives of our children."  The great pity was that Philip knew Maggie would keep her word about telling them, and according to his standards, anything would be better than that.

      "Alright, now that that much is understood, you can sell this house and move to Northwood."

    Her words were like blows in his face, thinking she had forgotten that, as it had not been spoken of for a long time.  Without answering, he left her and went to his room with a stone in his heart.