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but if she did she wouldn’t have time to get dinner for Riley and the boys before she went to church for a Relief Society activity.
    She called out the back window for Bryan to keep an eye on Jeremy for a few minutes. “I’ve just got to drop off some books at the library.” The boys waved to her and continued their game.
    Fortunately, the book she’d seen on television was in at the library. Mickelle also picked out a stack of novels. She adored reading; sometimes it was the only highlight of her day. At the checkout counter, she noticed a stack of pamphlets that told about continuing education for adults. She took one, interested to see what courses were being offered. Of course, she couldn’t afford to take any classes now, but perhaps after she paid off the washer, she could save a little here and there—enough to pay for a class. Or maybe Riley would get his promotion.
    The elderly librarian smiled at her. “We just received this book yesterday,” she said, tapping the book Oprah had recommended.
    Mickelle’s heart quickened with embarrassment, but she willed her face not to flush. “How lucky for me,” she said, pulling it toward her and stacking the novels on top.
    The librarian’s white head bobbed with pleasure. “We have plenty more on that subject if you’d like me to show you . . .”
    “Not today, thanks. I’m in a hurry.” Mickelle flashed her a stiff smile and headed quickly for the door. Safely outside, she paused and took a breath of the fresh spring air. She shut her eyes, willing her heart to slow to normal. Why did it bother her so much to admit—even to herself—that she and Riley had serious problems?
    She got into the Snail and dumped the books onto the passenger seat. The abuse book fell on top. She again covered it with the novels. If Riley sees this . . .
    When she arrived home, the boys were still playing soccer and the phone was ringing. She answered it.
    “Where have you been?” a gruff voice demanded. It was Riley, calling from work.
    “The library.”
    “Why?”
    “I had some books that were due, that’s all.”
    “I’ve been calling for a long time.”
    “The boys are outside playing, or they would have picked up. I was only gone for half an hour.”
    “I think it was longer.”
    Mickelle knew better than to argue. Riley hated for her to go anywhere without telling him about it beforehand. Was that why she had stopped visiting her sisters? Her parents? Her friends? Her heart started beating oddly again, and she had to force herself to focus on what her husband was saying.
    “. . . dumb jerk gave it to Greg, can you believe it? When I think of all the favors and all the bootlicking . . . and then he gives the promotion to Greg. I’m so angry I could—I could kill him! Maybe I should quit! Then they’d all see how much they need me!”
    Panic rose in Mickelle’s heart. Money was tight enough without him thinking about such a drastic move. “There’ll be another promotion,” she soothed. “Probably a better one.”
    “I wanted to go to the new store in California. It would have been fun. No more snow and cold. Warm beaches. Ooh, I wish I dared do something . . . Now I’m going to be shoveling snow for another winter.”
    Mickelle felt a sudden absurd desire to laugh. Riley almost never shoveled snow; that task usually fell to her and the boys. Occasionally he’d do the front walk, but mostly he was at work, trying to make ends meet.
    “Maybe I’ll take a second job. Stop working overtime here.”
    Mickelle breathed easier. “You’ll think of something. Everything’ll be fine.”
    “I’ll be home in an hour,” Riley said. “I’m not staying late tonight. What are you going to do now?”
    “Make dinner.”
    “Good. Well, I’ve got to go.”
    “I love you.”
    “You, too.” He hung up.
    As Mickelle replaced the receiver, her eyes fell on the books she’d spread across the small bar where they normally ate their meals. She quickly gathered the