by Ellen Kornetsky
“You know I’ll always love you, Andrew,” Helen begins gently, her voice barely audible, “but I want more... I need to live-” she continues, reaching out. Hesitating, Helen drops her hand; then, emboldened, she carries on: “Fuss and bother, Andrew, I’m getting married and you will just have to deal with it!” Helen matches Andrew’s penetrating gaze, so cool... silent... unwavering. Spinning smartly on her heel, she strides from the room, spine straight, head high. Does the glint in Andrew’s eye mean he approves, or is it just a reflection of the morning sun? Andrew keeps his secrets, and soon the portrait of Helen’s dead husband loses its prominent place on the bedroom wall.
Ellen Kornetsky is an honest-to-God Maine native, not one of those wannabes from away. She writes because she can't help it.