"
"I had to have it for Emma."
"The church will find good use for the money."
Emma. The church. They fell silent. It was late and still. There were
no distractions. Suzanne turned toward Oliver. Her face was rueful and
sweet and helpless. He slapped her hard, turning her head sideways. It
was like a snake striking.
She turned her face slowly back to him. A tear welled up in each eye.
Oliver's mouth was open in shock. "Suzanne . . ." he said, horrified.
"It's all right, Baby," she said. The tears slid down her cheek. "You
can hit me again, if you want to. It would only help me remember you."
"_No, no!_ I never want to hit anybody again, let alone you. I don't
know what happened."
"It's the strain of what we're doing. I feel it, too." She was speaking
the truth for both of them. She was braver than he was. "We have to
stop," she said.
"It's true," Oliver said. "Suzanne," the words came in a rush, "you
would be such a wonderful mother. You are so special. You deserve
better." A bitter wind was tugging at his heart. "You're right--we have
to stop." He stood up. "This is hard. Better to get it over with."
"You have been so good to me," she said, standing slowly.
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