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dislike her even more to make certain he never made a
move on her.
    She had gone to an exclusive women's college
back east, and after graduation had spent a couple of weeks with a friend who
lived in Philadelphia . During that visit she'd met Roger Beckman, scion of
one of the oldest and richest families in town. He was tall and black haired,
and he even had a trim mustache. His resemblance to John was slight, except for
those points, and Michelle couldn't say that she had consciously married Roger
because he reminded her of John, but she was very much afraid that
subconsciously she had done exactly that.
    Roger was a lot of fun. He had a lazy manner
about him, his eyes wrinkled at the edges from smiling so much, and he loved
organized crazy games, like scavenger hunts. In his company Michelle could
forget about John and simply have fun. She was genuinely fond of Roger, and
came to love him as much as she would ever love any man who wasn't John
Rafferty. The best thing she could do was forget about John, put him behind
her, and get on with her life. After all, there had never been anything between
them except her own fantasies, and Roger absolutely adored her. So she had
married him, to the delight of both her father and his parents.
    It was a mistake that had almost cost her her
life.
    At first everything had been fine. Then Roger
had begun to show signs of jealousy whenever Michelle was friendly to another
man. Had he sensed that she didn't love him as she should? That he owned only
the most superficial part of her heart? Guilt ate at her even now, because
Roger's jealousy hadn't been groundless. He hadn't been able to find the true
target, so he'd lashed out whenever she smiled at any man, danced with any man.
    The scenes had gotten worse, and one night
he'd actually slapped her during a screaming fight after a party; she'd made
the mistake of speaking to the same man twice while they raided the buffet
table. Shocked, her face burning, Michelle had stared at her husband's twisted
features and realized that his jealousy had driven him out of control. For the
first time, she was afraid of him.
    His action had shocked Roger, too, and he'd
buried his face in her lap, clinging to her as he wept and begged her
forgiveness. He'd sworn never to hurt her again; he'd said he would rather cut
off his own hands than hurt her. Shaken to the core, Michelle did what
thousands of women did when their husbands turned on them: she forgave him.
    But it wasn't the last time. Instead, it got
worse.
    Michelle had been too ashamed and shocked to
tell anyone, but finally she couldn't take any more and pressed charges against
him. To her horror, his parents quietly bought off everyone involved, and
Michelle was left without a legal leg to stand on, all evidence destroyed. Come
hell or high water, the Beckmans would protect their son.
    Finally she tried to leave him, but she had
gotten no further than Baltimore before he caught up with her, his face livid with
rage. It was then that Michelle realized he wasn't quite sane; his jealousy had
pushed him over the edge. Holding her arm in a grip that left bruises for two
weeks, he made the threat that kept her with him for the next two years: if she
left him again, he'd have her father killed.
    She hadn't doubted him, nor did she doubt
that he'd get away with it; he was too well protected by his family's money and
prestige, by a network of old family friends in the law business. So she'd
stayed, terrified that he might kill her in one of his rages, but not daring to
leave. No matter what, she had to protect her father.
    But finally she found a way to escape. Roger
had beaten her with a belt one night. But his parents had been in Europe on vacation, and by the time they found out about the incident it was too late
to use their influence. Michelle had crept out of the house, gone to a hospital
where her bruises and lacerations were treated and recorded, and she'd gotten
copies of the records. Those records