She couldn't bring herself to tell Mona, couldn't say it after spending five minutes with her old friend. Mona would be shocked, and upset, and there had just been too many shocking and upsetting things for her in the last year. But sooner or later she would have to tell her, sooner or later everyone would know...
Reaching the street Sarah turned briskly away from the direction of home and the stuffy sitting room that contained her mother and her unfinished lace pillow cover. Crocheting be damned, she needed to clear her head the only way she knew how. The city of Boston was really just an overgrown town, and that added to the sweltering claustrophobia. Cabs and the occasional automobile crowded the streets, but instead of hailing one Sarah struck out on foot.
Jamaica Pond, surrounded by large summer homes, was the closest thing that Boston had to nature. It's a shock, after spending a year within a short walk of towering trees and complete solitude. This time of year, the trees were just beginning to leaf out and a few idle rowboats were dotted around the pond. Smiling, Sarah remembered the time she and Timothy had taken a boat out to one of the small islands in the center.
"For a picnic!" he had promised with a devilish grin. Halfway out he had dropped an oar and they had spent a hilarious if thoroughly frustrating hour trying to get it back. By the time they had arrived at the island all the marmalade had melted and run off their bread and the cold Coco-Colas that he had brought were warm and fizzing. Timothy, and her. So long ago. The world of higher education had aged her a lifetime.
Flopping down on the grass, she let herself drift into the blue sky, counting clouds and slowly letting her lids get heavy and close.
She is in a room with a slanted ceiling and a window that overlooks the back of the building and the thoroughfare that runs parallel to the building. Starlight plays off the wall, a candle gutters on the desk, almost burned out.
"It's late."
"Stay with me." His eyes are pleading, soft and grey. He curls his fingers along the back of her neck, tugging at the stray tendrils that have sprung out of her up-swept hair. He is beautiful, and in this moment they are the only two people in the world.
"I'm going to get chastised in Chapel already, it's an hour past curfew."
"If you're already in trouble, what's the point in hurrying?" He pulls slightly and she slips onto the low iron bed.
"You're trouble, that's what you are." His eyes spark with amusment.
"I know. And you're lovely when you're contrite. Now stay with me, I promise I'll get you home before you have to answer to your dorm mother."
"Ohh!" Sarah woke with a start. The light has changed from late afternoon to falling twilight. How long did she sleep? Gathering herself, she shuddered. Even this beautiful park wasn't safe for young women after dark. Silently cursing the unfair ways of the world that force women inside at nightfall, she hurried to catch a cab.
On the way home she twisted her glove off her hand. In the semi darkness she found the circular spot, located between the forefinger and thumb of her ink-stained gloves. This spot wasn't the dull grey of her reports and letters home-this spot was darker and rust colored. Holding it to her breast, she fully realized the lonely truth: not even Mona could know her secret.
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