Jack was walking home in the late afternoon, his jacket hanging on one finger over his shoulder. It was almost the end of October and while there had already been one small snowstorm in Denver, that had all melted and today was sunny and mild. He was hoping that before the last light faded he and Rose could take Byron for a walk. He just hoped that Rose was not too tired. She had only about ten more weeks to go with her pregnancy and sometimes, by the time he got home she was exhausted.

For Jack himself it had been a long and difficult week at work. Mr. Thompson, his boss, had given him an unusual amount for work and to get it all finished, he had been coming in early, and skipping lunch. Finally, today he was done. And he was worn out. Yes, a nice walk with Rose in the brisk air would do both of them good.

He put his foot on the first step of the back porch. Suddenly the screen door flew open and one of the students that Rose tutored, rushed out. Tears were streaming down her face.

"What's wrong, Jane?" he asked, as the girl tore past him.

She flew down the walk and merely shrugged her shoulders at his question.

"Now what?" Jack wondered.

He went into the kitchen and surveyed the situation. There were dishes everywhere. An iron sat on the stove. In a wicker laundry basket was a pile of his shirts, the top one sporting a huge scorch mark. Rose sat at the table with her head in her hands.

"Rose? Hi. What's going on? What was the matter with Jane?" he wanted to know.

He walked over to her and made an attempt to reach down and kiss her. But she brushed him away.

"Don't start with me Jack. Everything has gone wrong. Can't you see that? The dinner, the wash, that stupid girl who was just here."

All the while, the pitch in her voice was rising.

"I don't know what to do. I can't do this. I need help."

"Rose, you know we can't afford to have help. You knew that," he said matter of factly, trying very hard to be reasonable in his tired state.

"Well, if you expect a well run home and expect me to do this tutoring work, I need help," she said sounding like the old society Rose.

"Listen, Rose," said Jack, his patience slipping away, "don't give me that Philadelphia tone of voice. That is just the way it has to be."

"Don't give me any orders and tell me it has to be this way or that."

She stood up slowly from the table. Her now very pregnant state made her movements awkward.

"And look at me. I can't move. I can't walk. I hate being like this," rubbing her hands over the front of her enlarged body.

Rose, it's not all my fault you know. You wanted it too. "Put you hands on me Jack." You should have known that something could happen," he said irritably.

Rose clenched her hand into a fist. Her lips were drawn so tightly together that they turned white.

"Owwwwww, how can you say such things," she cried.

Rose punched the table with all her strength. Her beautiful teapot that was sitting close to the edge fell and now was on the floor, ruined.

Both of them looked at each other with contempt in their eyes.

"Rose, sometimes you are such a child," he said, his anger building. "Don't call me a child," she shouted at him. "I thought that when I married you, you would take care of me."

Jack's eyes narrowed into two slits.

"I didn't mean that I would be your nanny."

"How dare you," cried Rose. "You leave me with this everyday and you come home and want your dinner and everything perfect and you complain about having to be MY nanny?"

"I never said it had to be perfect. I never said anything except that it was nice to come home to the peace and quiet," Jack said angrily.

He walked back toward the door, his face working with emotion. Then he turned to face her.

"You know Rose, once I told you were you a spoiled little brat. Well, I was right. You were then and you are now. I think getting married was a big mistake for me. And marrying you was an even bigger one."

Jack put his jacket on and grabbed the doorknob.

"Get out Jack," she yelled at him. "Just get out of my sight. Don't come near me or even try to touch me, if that's the way you feel."

Her chest rose heavily over her swollen stomach. Her eyes filled with tears.

Jack pulled the door open and he stood there looking at her.

"Believe me, I won't come anywhere near you. Good bye, Rose."

And with that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him. Jack ran down the stairs and around to the front of the house, not knowing where he was going. He just knew he wanted to get away from here, away from Rose.

"Oh, God, Jack, Jack, come back," she cried weakly, sinking back into her chair. Byron, who had been lying by the stove, came over to her. He nudged Rose's leg. She reached down automatically to pet him.

Then she laid her head on the table and cried.

"Oh, Jack, what have I done?"