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few more final touches. "There," he said at last, pleased at the results. "Finished. Now you look more like yourself. The real you." He gave an ugly laugh. The laugh died as suddenly as he became aware that his cheek was on fire where the bitch had raked him with her long nails. He put his fingertips there, and they came away with his blood.
    "Bitch," he hissed. "Whore." He drew his hand back and slapped her full-force across the face, a purely satisfying sound in the silence. Her head lolled to one side. But his fury was not yet abated.
    Slowly, he began to undo his belt buckle.

 
    Six
     
    The day dawned clear and sunny. Ellen was on the road by nine o’clock, more than two hours before Gail’s flight was due in. She couldn’t wait in the house any longer.
    She glanced at the LOTS FOR SALE signs along her road as she drove. Soon, she wouldn’t know this place. According to the paper, land development would begin this spring. Now, after last night’s snow, it was picture-postcard pretty. But she knew she wouldn’t mind having neighbors. It would be nice to look out her window and see children flying down the hill on their sleds and toboggans, hearing their shrieks of fearful delight, bright scarves trailing like banners behind them.
    It had been different when Ed was alive. Born one of seven and raised in a tenement flat, this place was his dream, and she had been more than happy to share it with him. They had gone on picnics, taken long walks through the woods, armed with cameras. She had never failed to be awed by the unexpected sight of a deer, a bushy-tailed red fox, or a rabbit quivering in their path. But she knew these were not things she would be doing on her own . Nor with anyone else, for that matter. That time belonged to her and Ed. And though she would never lose her appreciation of the beauty of the land, the isolation no longer held the same appeal for her.
    ~ * ~
     
    The sun glinted hard off the airport window, through which, less than fifteen minutes ago, a crowd had stood watching the descent of flight 267. Now, only Ellen remained to gaze up at the vast expanse of blue sky—a sky that was empty of planes at the moment, with only wisps of dispersing jet stream to mar the blueness. She could feel the vibration of a jet engine starting up, its awesome power thrumming on the polished floor beneath her feet.
    What are you waiting for, she asked herself. Gail’s plane had already landed. She wasn’t on it. Feeling vaguely the way she had the time she’d gotten separated from her mother in Woolworth’s department store, Ellen shifted her bag to her other shoulder, glanced behind her, half-expecting to see people staring at her as they had stared then.
    She had been no more than two or three at the time. She remembered few details, just that same awful sense of panic, of being abandoned—which was ridiculous, of course. She was no longer that child, and there were a dozen perfectly reasonable explanations why someone would miss a plane.
    The big clock on the wall told her it was twenty-five—no, twenty-six minutes now since Gail’s plane had touched down.
    In her eagerness to see Gail, Ellen had gotten here more than an hour early. She’d put in the time drinking coffee in the little coffee shop and scanning through the pages of People magazine. At last she’d stood with the others watching excitedly as the plane emptied, anticipating her first glimpse of Gail among the passengers descending the narrow metal steps. She continued to watch for her even after it was quite clear that Gail was not on the plane. Her expectant smile had died slowly, in keeping with the sinking sensation in her stomach.
    Bewildered, she’d watched friends and relatives quickly find one another. After a flurry of backslapping, teary hugs and exchanged holiday greetings, during which Ellen searched each and every face, hoping against hope she had somehow missed Gail, the room had cleared. Baggage claimed , some passengers