Donna Harmon's arms were loaded with groceries, so she backed through the front door, then pushed it shut with her foot.
'Steve, I in home,' she shouted cheerfully, as she deposited her packages on the counter next to the sink.
The house was dark. Donna turned on the kitchen light.
It was late and Donna assumed Steve would be home by now. She called out his name again as she walked down the hall to the living room. When the lights went on, Donna was startled to see her husband sitting silently by the fireplace.
'Why didn't you answer me?' she asked, still smiling.
But the smile faded as her husband looked up at her.
Mancini's eyes were bloodshot and his clothing was rumpled. He was holding a drink and it was obvious that it wasn't his first. The hand holding the glass was bandaged.
'What happened to your hand?'
'I cut it.'
'How?' she asked, crossing to him.
'If you were concerned about me, you would have been here when I needed you.'
The anger in Steve's voice made Donna Stop.
'I had no idea you were hurt, but I have something that will make you feel better. Veal and spinach pasta with a sauce I read about in Gourmet magazine.'
'Do you know what time it is?'
'I lost track of time. I was meeting with Peter about some research I did in Gary's case. I'm sorry if I'm late.'
'I'm sorry,' Mancini mimicked. 'Is that supposed to make everything better? I bust my ass all day for you and all I ask is that you have my dinner ready when I get home.'
Mancini stood up slowly and walked over to Donna.
He was speaking in a monotone. The muscles in his neck stood out and his face was flushed. For the first time since she'd known him, Donna was frightened of her husband. Mancini stopped in front of her. She could smell the thick odor of alcohol when he spoke.
'Now, let's get one thing straight here. You are not a lawyer and I don't expect you to pretend to be one.
You're a goddamned secretary and my wife. You work from eight to five, then you get your ass home. Is that clear?'
Donna was so hurt it was hard for her to speak. Tears welled up.
'I I said I'm sorry. I appreciate how hard you work ..
Mancini stared at his wife with what looked, unbelievably to her, like contempt.
'I would like a little less appreciation,' Steve said between clenched teeth, 'and some food. Do you think you can manage that?'
'You .. . You're not being fair,' Donna stuttered. 'I was trying to help Gary. I .. . I know I'm not as smart as you, but I can do research. I ... I can be useful.'
'What did I just say, you cunt?' Mancini shouted.
The first blow was backhand and rattled her teeth.
The second was openhanded and sent her stumbling backward. Donna was in shock. She gaped at her husband, unable to accept what was happening even though she could see Steve's fist moving toward her. The blow struck her in the solar plexus, driving all the air from her. Donna sank to her knees, then crumpled onto her side, flailing for oxygen. Mancini kicked her in the ribs and watched her writhe on the floor.
Mouth open, Donna sucked in air. She could not breathe and she thought she would die. Nothing but air mattered. Her lungs filled and a sob escaped from her As her breath returned, she was gripped by terror.
Donna rolled on her side and saw her husband put on his jacket. By the time she could speak, he was gone.
Had Steve really hit her? It seemed incredible, even though she knew it was true. Donna curled up on the floor and tried to piece together what had happened from the moment she opened the front door. What had she done to deserve a beating? She was late, but that was because she was helping Gary and Peter. She was sorry she was late. She was sorry dinner wasn't ready.
Sorry, sorry, sorry. But did she deserve to be beaten because she was late with Steve's dinner? There must be something else, but what could she have done, that was so awful that it had driven her husband to hit her?
Donna asked that question over and over as she lay sobbing on the living room floor.
Chapter FIFTEEN.
When Donna awoke, it was to the scent of roses. The pungent smell confused her, because there hadn't been any roses in her bedroom when she had finally passed out from exhaustion, alone, in the early hours of the morning. Donna sat up to find every inch of the bed, the floor and the furniture covered by roses of every color and her husband sitting in a corner of the room watching her. Memories of the night before flooded in. Donna shrank back against the headboard.
Steve was unshaven. His clothes appeared to have been slept in. There was no anger in him. Only contrition. He walked over to Donna and knelt by the side of the bed on a carpet of red and yellow roses. His head hung down.
'I have no excuse for what I did to you. All I can do is explain why it happened and pray for your- forgiveness.'
The rose fragrance was overpowering in the closed room. The memory of her husband looming above her as his blows rained on her body was vivid and frightening. But Steve seemed so chastened that Donna let him try to explain his savage attack.
'I'd been drinking. I started in the afternoon and never stopped.' Mancini paused and took a deep breath before continuing. 'The bank turned down the Mountain View loan.' There were tears in Steve's eyes, but Donna was still too frightened of him to move. 'I didn't know what to do,' he sobbed, and Donna's heart began to break. 'We could be ruined. I sank everything I had into that project.'
Her husband raised his eyes to hers. He looked so sad.
'Can you ever forgive me? I was so full of anger and so afraid, but I should never have taken it out on you.
Please, Donna, I don't want to lose you.'
'Where ... where have you been?' Donna asked, as she tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts and emotions.
'I drove around for hours thinking about what I'd done. When I was too tired to drive anymore I pulled into the first motel I saw, but I couldn't sleep. I felt so bad about ... about hurting you. God, how could I have hit you?'
Mancini's face crumpled. Kneeling by the bed, his head down, framed in the multihued bouquets of roses, Steve looked like a little boy. Donna reached out and touched him on the cheek. He took her hand and pressed his lips to the palm, then pressed it against his cheek again.
'I'm sorry about the loan,' Donna said, 'but we'll pull through. You have your practice and your brains and you have me.'
Steve looked at Donna with the rapt glow of a supplicant whose prayers have been answered. Then, he squeezed her hand and wiped away the tears that had clouded his vision.
'Thank you, Donna. I should have known you'd stand by me. But I was so depressed. I wanted Mountain View to succeed so much.'
'I love you, Steve. I don't need Mountain View to be happy.'
'You don't understand. I want to do things for you that I can't do now. I wanted us to be important, not just in Whitaker, but everywhere. If Mountain View is successful, we'll be rich. But now .. Mancini shook :10''
his head slowly. 'I don't think we can make tapped out and I can't think of any place to turn for money, now that the bank's turned us down.II 'Maybe .. .' Donna started. Mancini looked up at her. 'I could talk to my father.. .
