“Did you do it?”
“Yes. Last night,” The woman answered. She was sitting down by the window, peering out into the white scenery of Wotherton in winter. “I don’t think he even suspected anything.” She looked at her friend. “Will they—”
“No. The only people who know are you and me. You can be sure of that.”
“Sorry. I know, I trust you. It's just”— The tired woman’s hand strayed to her face—“oh…”
“Spit it out, Mary.”
“I don’t know. It doesn't feel real. I feel like I'm in a dream. Everything’s gone too smoothly. God will smite me, I know it.” Mary’s quick breaths punctured the air in sharp misty bursts. “Karma’s going to catch me—any moment now he’ll wake up and he’ll roar and he’ll know and then—” She gulped, trembling. “It’s just what I’d deserve.”
“But he won’t, Mary. I gave you the right tincture. You said you trust me, didn’t you? He’s gone. Gone for good. Breathe.”
The woman’s head fell onto her hands. “This is horrible. I don’t feel anything about it. No remorse—no nothing. Oh, I'm wicked!”
“No, you aren't! It's just right—shouldn’t feel remorse for a man like him. Good riddance!”
The bent head lifted a little. “You are certain it’s only between the two of us?”
“Very. Oh, lighten up, please, Mary, do. Look ahead. You finally have it—freedom!”
Mary shook her head. “No. Not yet. I still have to pay his debts and the house and everything but… Maybe, yes.” The worn woman’s gaze flickered back to the window. Outside. “It's terrible of me but it's lovely, this feeling. I don't want to go back to looking over my shoulder. That was terrible, too. Marriage oughtn’t feel like that, right? Right?”
“Yes, Mary. Very right. Let's have some tea, shall we? To calm you down.”
“Oh, please, no, I don't think I could stand the sight of tea right now. Let's just—look out the window. Appreciate the snow.” Her face turned fully to the landscape. “You know, it's been a long time since I could do that.”
“Oh, dear Mary.”
“I used to love winter. ‘Twas beautiful seeing all the snowflakes drifting down. And making snow angels. And throwing snowballs around with Mark and Jane.” Her fingers pressed to the panes, trembling as the cold seeped through her skin. “Oh, I was a very stupid girl, wasn't I?”
“Yes, you were. But we all are, at some point. And the girl’s gone, but I don’t think the memories are. Would you like to go outside?”
Mary smiled. “I’d like that.”