Guilt made Molly imagine that the screech of metal as she turned the key in the lock was admonishment for what she planned to do. She knew she really shouldn't be doing it. Anger made her continue regardless.

The shed smelled musty. An odor of fresh lumber and maleness permeated her nostrils. Dust motes floated in the beams of sunlight that angled through the open door. The shed being Tom's domain, she rarely had reason to enter, until now.

The shed contained tools, pieces of wood and boxes of junk that she would not allow him to bring into the house. Tom was a hoarder by nature. She knew that if he had his way he would fill their home with clutter. She realized it might take her some time to find what she searched for, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her she would locate it eventually.

She began to hunt through boxes. Soon she came upon a photograph of Tom and some of his work colleagues, from a few years before they got married. In the photograph, Tom looked red and bloated, his eyes half closed. The sight of him obviously drunk was a painful reminder of the past few days. She tore the photograph into small pieces.

He had looked that way last night when he came inside after working in the shed, slurring his greeting and moving in to give her a kiss. His breath confirmed what his speech and appearance suggested. She knew whiskey when she smelled it.

"I'm going to bed. I have to get up early to take Anna to her ballet lesson tomorrow," she told him coldly.

That morning when she and Anna returned from the ballet lesson at eleven, Tom still slumbered. They changed into old clothes and went outside to garden, a hobby they both enjoyed.

As they dug up weeds in the plot near the shed Tom appeared, his face pale. Although usually immaculate, she noticed that today he hadn't shaved and still wore his pajamas. His eyes, though duller than usual, appeared furtive, hinting of panic. He avoided looking at her and his dry lips cracked in a way that repelled her when he accused, "You haven't been in my shed, have you?"

"No, why would I? By the way, your attitude stinks almost as much as you do. Maybe you should go inside, get a shower and drink some coffee," she replied before getting back to the weeds.

The incident reminded Molly of a childhood event. Her mother had been working late and they were eating dinner. Her father left the kitchen table to visit the bathroom. While he was gone, she had given her sister Veronica the unwanted carrots from her plate. As soon as her father re-entered the room she hurriedly told him that she hadn't given her carrots to Veronica. He had never accused her of doing so. It had taken Molly several years to work out how her father was so sure that she was lying.

Remembering the occasion with the carrots made Molly realize she needed to check the shed the next time Tom left the house. She got the opportunity that afternoon when he took Anna to the market to get a few groceries.

Despite misgivings, Molly knew in her heart that her search would bear fruit. She rummaged through several more boxes that contained tools, tattered paperbacks, board games, childhood toys, old clothes, antiquated records and unattractive family heirlooms that did not match the dcor in the house.

An old jacket of Tom's brought back the memory of an early date. It had been a pleasant autumn day and the leaves crunched under foot as they walked hand in hand through the local park. He candidly explained about his drinking problem, and what it had cost him. Alcoholism had ruined his first marriage and lost him a position with a well-known law firm. At the time of the date, he hadn't touched a drop in two years. He vowed that he never would again. His vivid blue eyes had seemed to reflect the sky, disarming her. The intensity of his embrace eliminated her worries.

In the shed Molly finally found what she was looking for among a box of old bills. The bottle of Johnny Walker was almost empty. She had all the rope she needed to hang her husband. However, the evidence did not make her feel smug. She stood up and retched, gripping the workbench to keep her balance.

Dinner was more silent than usual that evening, the stillness broken only by the sound of chewing and a remark or two from Anna concerning the revolting broccoli.

Later Molly got Anna tucked into bed for the night. Afterwards she found Tom washing up dishes. She grabbed a towel and said, "We need to talk, Tom. You know what it's about."

Tom's face became sly. He turned his head away and his voice took on the whining quality of a child caught misbehaving. "Oh for Christ's sake Molly do we have to do this now? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Molly reached into a cupboard to find what she wanted before hissing "Don't play games Tom. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Does this look at all familiar?" She slammed the whiskey bottle onto the table, her jaw clenched.

"What gives you the right to snoop around my stuff while I'm out?" Tom asked, coming nearer. Flecks of spit hit her face as he spoke. " Are you happy now? You certainly found what you were looking for."

"What do you think, Tom? Do you really believe I'm glad that the father of my child is a drunk, that I'm pleased to have thrown away the last six years of my life on an alcoholic? Sure, I'm delighted."

Tom wouldn't meet her eyes and seemed preoccupied by a loose piece of thread on his shirt. He was silent awhile. "So what now, Molly? Are you going to leave me?"

"I really don't know, Tom. I don't know anything anymore."

"I'm sorry, I know I messed up. I swear to you I won't do it again. Please, don't leave me. I couldn't bear it." Tom's eyes were beseeching.

Molly felt like hugging him and hitting him simultaneously. "Look it's getting late; I need space to think about everything. I'm not deciding anything now." She walked out of the kitchen, quickly returning with blankets and a pillow. "You know where you're sleeping Tom. Goodnight."

The next day Molly left Anna at her parents' house so she could talk to Tom in private. He was watching a football game on television when she got back. He didn't appear to notice that she had returned. She switched off the television, and sat down on a chair opposite his. " I was watching-" he began. The look on her face stopped him.

Molly rested her hands in her lap and inhaled deeply before she spoke. " Why did you do it? What's so bad about your life that you just had to have a drink?"

Tom slurped coffee before he answered. His voice sounded remote and indignant. " If you really want to know, you've been hell to live with ever since the miscarriage. You aren't the same woman I married. You nag me constantly and it seems like it would kill you to smile most days. You just aren't fun anymore. You act like Anna and I don't exist, as though you're the only one to have been hurt by what happened. That's why I drank again, Molly."

"That's right, Tom. Blame me for your weakness. Everything is my fault. You can never admit to anything!"

Molly's hands shook and here face wore a severe expression, "So our marriage hasn't been perfect lately. But other people have it harder, and they don't resort to drinking. You're weak, Tom, that's your problem."

"Maybe I am, Molly, but you knew what I was before you married me. I didn't try to hide it. It's hardly my fault you married me anyway. You could've ended things then if you'd really wanted to."

Molly didn't reply immediately. Tom had a couple of valid points. She had taken the miscarriage hard. He hadn't tried to deceive her about the past. Maybe she was being too hard on him. Still her voice was severe when she said, "That's true, Tom. You were honest about yourself a long time before you even proposed. Still, you weren't drinking then and I'm not going to bring up our daughter in the same house as an alcoholic. What kind of impression does that give her? She deserves better, and so do I."

His eyes grew frightened. " Molly, I swear to you it won't happen again. I'll stop. I promise."

"You know what, Tom? If I give you a second chance now I'm sure you will stop, at least for a while. But what's going to happen the next time something goes wrong? Tragedies occur; they're part of life. I need somebody strong around me at times like that, not someone who's going to reach for the bottle every time things get rough." Molly's voice cracked as she spoke. Her chin trembled.

Tom crossed to Molly's chair and took both of her hands in his. "Molly, I'll do what ever it takes. I'll go to more AA meetings. You're right- drink isn't the answer. I know that, darling, it's just that sometimes it's so hard to resist the temptation, especially when things aren't right between us. You and Anna mean everything to me. I'm so sorry."

Tom was crying and it made Molly uncomfortable. It was something she had only ever witnessed once before. Her resolve weakened. She stroked his hair and her voice was gentler when she spoke. "Don't cry. I want to give you another chance. I'm just so scared that you aren't going to be able to stay away from alcohol. I'm also afraid for our marriage. I'll try but there are going to be certain conditions."

Molly heard Tom exhale. Some of the anxiety had left his face when he replied, "Whatever I have to do, Molly, just name it."

She decided to tell him straight. "Well, first of all I think that going to more AA meetings is a wonderful idea, but we are going to need counseling to help our marriage too. I hate it when things aren't right between us, Tom, and it isn't good for Anna. Also, I want you to know that if you ever set foot in this house drunk again you'll be staying the night in a hotel while you sober up, and if you don't have your act together by this time next month then it's over between us. I may be letting you off this once but it isn't something I'm prepared to tolerate. You know that."

Tom held Molly so hard she thought her bones might splinter. His voice sounded relieved. "You won't regret it, Molly, I swear. I'll never let you down again."

Molly felt Tom tremble while he sobbed with relief. She wanted to believe what he was saying. However, she was realistic." I guess time will tell," was all she said.

Two weeks later Molly was at home preparing a pasta dish. Marinara sauce with scallops and shrimp had always been one of Tom's favorites. Anna was drawing a picture and chattering. Tom returned from work in high spirits. Anna reflected his enthusiasm, giggling delightedly when he swept her into his arms for a hug.

Molly smiled as Tom came to greet her. But her smile vanished when she smelled the combination of whiskey and spearmint gum on her husband's breath.

Tremulous with rage Molly disappeared into the bedroom. She returned fifteen minutes later and handed Tom a heavy suit case. She whispered in his ear, " I warned you what would happen if you came in here drunk again. I'm calling you a taxi. You better decide where you're staying tonight, because it won't be here."

Molly's body language told her husband that this time she was adamant. When the taxi came, Tom left his family to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives.