Six

On Eden's shore no words impede,

A lexicon of color.

Pure magic when a certain hue

Lies down against another.

The morning was unusually cold for September, and Andrea was still wearing her night shirt under a thick chenille robe that made her look like a child playing dress-up in her mother's clothes. The bustle of getting the children off to school was over and Andrea had settled down at the kitchen table to savor a cup of strong coffee sweetened with DaVinci Irish cream. It was a little pleasure, the only kind left to her; but Andrea was learning to accept her lot. Many people have far less, she told herself, looking around at her elegant surroundings. She remembered the excitement of remodeling the old kitchen when she and Jack moved to the house on Willow Creek Lane years ago. Andrea had chosen every detail, from the imported tile counter top, to the ceramic cabinet knobs she ordered from a Santa Fe potter. She'd been delighted at how beautifully it all came together. Jack had been proud of her too. What had happened to those days?

The daydream evaporated with the sight of Buddy peering in at the glass kitchen door. Finding it impossible to relax with the hungry animal staring, Andrea left her coffee on the table and opened the pantry. She was scooping Ken-L-Ration from a twenty-five pound bag into Buddy's bowl when the phone rang. Through the glass, the dog followed her movements as she stepped to answer it.