through only a quiet litthke code"vene-tian blinds open, blinds closed, theoccasional church van with food forthe shut-in, the glimmer of the blue TVfrom tight-shuttered windows at night.The Thurbers were little better, theOlsons, Mrs. Haversham two housesdown kept a Siamese cat that sylphlikewould on occasion appear at the kit-chen window, pass judgement on thepassing world with its soulless blueeyes. Sometimes Kathleen wishedthereTd be havoc, even the sounds ofstereos too loud would be preferable tothe mortuary stillness of this dying road.Old people only around her, she grownold herself, too old to pull pranks likethis, to draw police to her home.Would they send the police? She pray-ed not, let Mr. Gray come for her, shewould gladly give back the ring, leaveher job. Or if they sent the policemanat least let it not be Larry, the one whostayed free at the hotel in exchange forkeeping an eye on the place, not muchof a cop but a good man, and one sheTdrather not have to know. Their com-mon heritage was a bond for them; somany times heTd come in while shecleaned out his room and sheTd heardhim discordantly bellowing forth, JT7/bring you home again Kathleen.Home. She locked her car door me-chanically, walked up the rickety porchto the mailbox, not surprised to findnothing was in it. She pushed the doorhard to the wooden frame, jiggled thekey in the lock and went into theserene sour silence. She put her purseon the TV and turned on the lamp inthe living room. She switched on thetube out of habit, her eyes not on thehumming blue screen but on the pic-ture, MichaelTs picture, over the TV thatsmiled at her, teeth postbraces straightand dimpled chin. He looked so likehis father to her. To the sounds of ashow host consoling a losing contes-tant, she pulled the smock from her,with uncharacteristic abandon drapingit over the patched leather easy-chair asshe took the ring from the pocket itseared, looked at it in the light of thePAGEGSlamp, half-expecting it transformed intothe onerous thing it had become.It still shone radiantly. It promised abeauty and an elegance sheTd neverknown.There were no excuses for this. Shehad none to offer man nor God, but asshe looked at it, she knew sheTd not"27amreturn it. She wanted so much what itpromised. It was no more than shedeserved"surely sheTd not workedmore than half her life to slink into hersonTs wedding unadorned? Unadored.She felt a sharp pang of envy for thatwoman, that Ellen, that Vicki whoTdcaptured her son. She, whoTd not evena wedding ring to remember MichaelTsfather, still deserved.She took the ring into the bedroom,placed it carefully on her bed, in thecenter of her bedspread just as if itwere a stone amid that flowered field.She slid open the door to her closet,reached high for her sewing kit, pulledit down and opened it quickly enoughto upset it, rummaged through itshaphazard entrails.There past the spools of white threadwas a razor blade. She took the pillowoff her bed and pulled it from its fauxsatin cover, slit the seam alongonedark-stained end. The ring, wrapped inher old yellow scarf, would go in there.With a few neat stitches sheTd sealed itinside.Before she put up the basket, andundid all the evidence of her treasuretrove, she held the pillow to her breastand she wept, wept over the beautifulring.That night she dreamed of a young girlwith long hay-colored hair and laugh-ing black eyes that, if they were notpretty, appealed. She dreamed of asturdy young woman, supple roundarms and a full breast and a tendingfleshiness that had a charm of its ownto the type of young man who liked ayoung woman to snuggle. She dream-ed of Kathleen in her youth, MichaelTsfather spinning her round in a waltz,making her laugh and singhey nonnyunder her breath. The church hall wastransformed to a magic land, lightssparkling on windows, an old-fashion-ed lantern on the table where the greengrocerTs wife served the punch. Shesaw the light catch on the folds of thedancing girlTs white party dress, on thesilk ribbon that weaved through herhair. She saw her mother at the sidelinewith her sister, her nephew"all laugh-ing and loving and amazed that theirchangeling girl had such a handsomeyoung beau.How he had loved her. His words wereas sweet as persimmons, his hands sogentle around her she hadfelt precious,like pearls. HeTd kissed like a youngboy, clumsy and wet and impassioned,his hands trembling as he held heragainst him and pulled at the waist ofher skirt. It wasnTt his words that hadwon her, nor even his comeliness, butthat tremble. Oh, so earnestly he hadwanted and that want built desire inher. HeTd married her with a moment,with the thrust that had taken herinnocence, with the short weeks ofcourting before he had drifted away.What a gift he had given her"beauty.The dancing girl sang nonny hey.